A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings #1) - Kevin Hearne Page 0,272

I imagine.”

“Right you are. So, the terms of your surrender are simple: Stop the fire. Then get on your boats and sail back to Hathrir. Or die here.”

She glowered at him for a moment, then nodded. “May I offer a third option that will be to our mutual benefit?”

He made her wait before saying, “Go ahead.”

“There is nothing for me—or for many of us—back in Hathrir. My father will simply arrange another political marriage for me, and most of us can expect less welcome than that. We will choke on ash from Mount Thayil, and our keeping will be begrudged. But we can be of use to Ghurana Nent, and you can offer us a home—in the Gravewood.”

Hennedigha gave a short bark of laughter. “In the Gravewood? Nonsense.” He shook his head, but the viceroy pretended he hadn’t spoken.

“What did you have in mind?”

“A city surrounded by rich resources open to people of all kennings or of no kenning. Far in the north, above Ar Balesh. We’ll build the road to the northern coast as we go. All the taxes benefit Ghurana Nent, and you will have a new center of commerce in addition to this site’s potential. We few Hathrim can help fuel your country’s expansion.”

Melishev looked perplexed. “But you’ll be eaten by gravemaws or worse.”

“Even gravemaws are afraid of fire.”

“If it were that easy, it would have been done already.”

“You have not heard me say it would be easy. You are correct that we may die. And if we do, what do you care? But if we succeed, Ghurana Nent’s coffers will be filled. To us it is preferable to returning to Hathrir. Please consider it. We were not brought here of our own free will. We came with the Mogens because they had a way to escape Mount Thayil, that is all. Now they are dead, and we reject their plan to take this land by force. We have no desire to invade but a desire to coexist and fill the coffers of your government—with your permission.”

“Let me think on it,” the viceroy said. “How many more lavaborn do you have?”

“There are only we two,” Olet said, hooking a thumb at the priestess. I wondered why she shaved her head.

“If I may,” the bard broke in, “which tent was Gorin Mogen’s?” Olet pointed out a large one near the southern gate. “May I look inside?”

The giantess shrugged. “Of course. Take whatever you like. They are gone. They are no relations of mine. We have no interest in their possessions or secrets.”

The bard spun around immediately and ran at top speed for the tent. He emerged a short while later carrying a journal, and it reminded me that Melishev carried one as well. I stole a glance at his tunic and saw the telltale outline of it in his pocket. He only had eyes for Olet Kanek.

“Stop the fire,” he said to her. “Remain here until the morning. Understand that you’re surrounded by twenty thousand men and your good behavior will go a long way toward deciding what we choose. We’ll give you an answer then.”

She nodded, and we departed, returning to the standoff at the oceanside. Once we explained, Lanner and the other houndsmen agreed to throw in their lot with Olet Kanek, and then, much to everyone’s surprise, I said I’d join them.

“You’ll join…the Hathrim?” Melishev said.

“Well, if they’ll have me, sure. I’d like to see the Gravewood if you let them do that. I can protect everyone from the animals there. And I’ll be out of your way, Viceroy.” I saw immediately that this idea appealed to him.

“As you wish,” he said, and the sly look in his eyes told me he’d do his best to make sure we met misfortune somewhere along the way.

A horrible accident when the archers were taking target practice.

An unfortunate food poisoning—I must have eaten some spoiled meat on the plains!

An outright ambush arranged somewhere around Ar Balesh.

And it occurred to me then that if I could imagine the viceroy doing such things so easily, he should not be a leader at all. Tamhan would do so much better. Though I may simply be paranoid.

—

Fintan dispelled the seeming of the plaguebringer and sighed. “The aftermath of a battle will haunt you; it certainly haunts me. The bodies you see are the ends of so many stories, and most of them never get told. It was my duty to collect what stories I could—a duty drilled into me as an apprentice—but