The Elder Blood Chronicles Bk 1 In Shades of Grey (19 page)

He lost sight of the beast as Jenna continued
to lead them through the city. Soldiers paused in their training as
they made their way through, and Victory noted that not a single
expression was a friendly one. Despite how many times they had
gotten lost on their way down here, it was quite possible that
getting in here was going to be much easier than getting out. He
paid careful attention to the buildings they passed, memorizing
every turn and landmark that he could spot. By Havoc’s silence, he
guessed his partner had come to the same conclusion. Though in a
pinch, Havoc’s solution would most likely be to burn as much of the
city as he could, rather than running.

Jenna stopped outside a large building in the
merchant district and led them up a narrow flight of stairs to a
stone door. With a gentle push on a panel, the door slid open and
light sounds of music and conversation drifted out. The air inside
was thick with the scent of beer and smoke. An inn, Victory
realized, or a bar at the very least. All in all, it was far better
than the interrogation room he had been expecting. She led them
through the room, passing tables of off-duty soldiers and scantily
clad waitresses who fell silent at their approach. Jenna did not
even so much as spare them a glance as she crossed the room and
began climbing a set of stairs to the second floor.

This floor held no crowd, but a single table
stood in the large open stone room. There was a balcony lining one
wall looking down over the taproom below, and guards stood at each
corner of it. The other three walls were bare, with not even a door
in evidence. Graves sat at the head of the table watching them
approach. He was not your typical Immortal. No flash or glamour to
mark his power. He wore simple black rough-spun. He had his
daughter’s same dusky skin and darker hair. His eyes were what drew
their attention, so dark they seemed black and filled with
intelligence. Beside him, lounging in a chair, sat Kithkanon, the
eldest and sole surviving son of General Kithvaryn. This was
unexpected, and Victory did his best to conceal his surprise.
Kithkanon watched them with amusement; his mouth set in what
Victory was sure was a permanent smirk. He was known to be
dangerous and unpredictable. It was rumored he was the reason
Kithvaryn had no other surviving sons, and from the stories,
Victory tended to believe those rumors.
We should lock him and
Havoc in a room together and see who comes out
, he mused to
himself, and had to suppress a smile. Kithkanon was one of the top
swordsmen in the prison, but if it came down to a bet, his money
would be on Havoc. He had seen the Firym survive things that would
have killed most others.

“You owe me a gate,” Graves said in greeting,
his tone light with no trace of anger.

“You shouldn’t hide your gates if you don’t
want them destroyed,” Havoc replied as he leaned back against the
balcony and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were more on
Kithkanon than they were Graves.

“I hide my gates so only invited guests can
find them. You were not invited,” Graves pointed out mildly.

“Should hide them better then, in that case.
I found it,” Havoc countered

“We were sent here by Caspian. I’m sorry that
we hadn’t the chance to send word ahead of our coming,” Victory cut
in before Havoc could rouse the mercenary lord’s anger.

“As I have heard,” Graves agreed. “Kithkanon
tells me you have sent people to his father, as well. How perfectly
interesting.”

Victory nodded and tried to ignore the
growing dizziness the shackles were creating. He needed his mind
clear now not muddled by weakness. If the talking were left to
Havoc, they would be at war within the hour. “Caspian wishes to
arrange a contract and we are here to negotiate the terms,” he
explained.

“Mmm…this I have heard, as well. Caspian
wishes to pay me to do nothing.” Graves gave a short laugh and
leaned forward on the table. With casual ease, he took a sip from
his wine and eyed the two of them. “Jenna, remove those shackles
before you kill the Faydwer,” he said as he sat the wine goblet
back down. Jenna rushed to her father’s command, and Victory let
out a sigh of relief as the hated metal was removed.

He gave Graves a grateful smile and rubbed
some feeling back into his wrists. “Thank you, Milord.”

Graves snorted in amusement. “Do I look a
lord to you, boy?” he asked. He glanced at Havoc and then to Jenna.
“Tell me, Jenna, why did you shackle one and leave the other
unbound? Do you find the Faydwer frightening?” he asked.

Jenna frowned and looked away, obviously not
wanting to answer. “Havoc is difficult, and I thought the effort of
shackling him would be too great,” she answered at last.

Graves gave a short nod and raised an
eyebrow. “So you shackle the peaceful diplomatic one, and leave the
dangerous unpredictable one loose.” He clicked his tongue in a
chiding way and shook his head. “We will talk of tactics later.
Obviously you need a refresher.” Jenna nodded and stared at the
wall opposite her, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“I’ve a question for you two,” Kithkanon said
as he dropped his legs back to the floor. He leaned forward, his
chain mail rattling faintly with his movements. He seemed almost
ghostly pale seated next to the darker Graves, but was easily the
bigger of the two men. Graves was slight more a rogue in build than
a warrior. Kithkanon, however, was thick in the shoulders, with
arms that were corded with muscle. There was no doubt of his
profession. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body, and by the
scars lacing his pale skin, one could tell at a glance, Kithkanon
lived by the sword. His long dark hair fell down over his face as
he leaned forward, and he casually brushed it away. “Why would
Caspian want us to sit on our hands and do nothing?” he asked

Graves nodded. “I’d like that answer as
well.”

“There will be a change in politics soon, and
Caspian wants it done bloodlessly,” Victory answered, giving as
little away as he possibly could. Although he knew well enough,
once things began to take shape in the world above, both of these
men would know.

“Bloodlessly?” Kithkanon seemed to taste the
word as if it were an unfamiliar thing. “Why on earth would we ever
agree to such a thing?” he asked.

Graves raised his glass again for more wine,
apparently content to let Kithkanon ask the questions for now.

“Seems to me, it doesn’t matter if you agree
or not, Kithkanon. As I recall, you hold no power in your father’s
army. You are what? A captain at best? This is a choice for Graves
and Kithvaryn. What you think hardly matters,” Havoc said with a
smile.

Kithkanon fell silent and glared at Havoc
with hatred clear on his face. His position in the army was a
well-known sore point, and Havoc had just poked an open wound.
“Mercenaries depend on blood to survive,” he growled.

“Suppose, if they say yes, then you had
better consider a new career. A nice stout lad like you should be
able to find work on any dock in the land and they won’t even mind
your bad attitude if you unload the ships quickly,” Havoc
replied.

“I’m not sure what their long-term plan is
Graves. I know only that they wish to buy your acceptance for a
time,” Victory cut in. Kithkanon looked ready to launch from his
chair, and whether Havoc cared to remember it or not, he was
unarmed and the man he was provoking was fully armed.

Graves looked between Havoc and Kithkanon and
then to Victory. “Such hot tempers,” he said with a sigh, and shook
his head in dismissal. “Kithkanon does bear a valid point, Victory.
If you buy my peace for now, and lasting peace is the result of it,
where does that leave me?” he asked.

“In a better world,” Victory answered
simply.

Graves laughed and gave him a smile. “Ahh…but
my people thrive from war, in a better world we would starve,” he
said.

“Hardly, I think, for your people have
thrived since the raising of the Barrier, and I sincerely doubt you
have squandered that wealth. I think your people are well
provisioned and that you are a versatile enough leader that you
could find ways other than war, to profit,” Victory replied with a
matching smile.

“While that may be true, what makes you think
we wish to?” Kithkanon asked, his glare turning to Victory.

“Hush boy, the big people are talking,” Havoc
said, his voice thick with contempt.

Kithkanon rose from his seat and his hands
went to his hilts. “One more word, Firym, and I’ll feed you your
own tongue,” he warned.

Victory sighed and wished he had his own
swords. Graves, he felt, he could work with easily, but Kithkanon
was another matter entirely. There were so few ways this day could
end well he decided.

Havoc stuck his tongue out and squeezed it a
few times with his fingers as if testing the tenderness. With a
slight shake of his head, he pushed off the balcony railing and
rolled his shoulders. It was a move Victory had witnessed too many
times. It was the first sign of impending idiocy.

“Havoc, please don’t,” Victory pleaded. Havoc
met his eyes and grinned. It was perhaps the least reassuring thing
he could have done. Victory let out a long sigh and mentally
calculated how much magic he had lost to the shackles. It had been
rebuilding slowly, once the metal had been removed, but even so, he
barely had enough for a few minor spells, and without his swords he
was virtually helpless. He had been trained as a knight and in
magic, not in brawling.

“These are my halls, Kithkanon, and you are a
guest here. Do not presume to harm another here without my
permission,” Graves broke in. Kithkanon stiffened noticeably, but
Graves ignored it. He turned his attention to Havoc. “Many do not
understand the Firym, but I do. I know your father well, and while
it may seem all temper and chaos to others, I know your people
always have a strategy to their actions, no matter how convoluted
it might be. So tell me young man, why are you provoking
Kithkanon?”

“Because I want your full attention on
Victory, not the braying of that ass. I want Victory to succeed
here, and if Kithkanon has his way he won’t. That is doubtless the
reason Kithvaryn chose to send him as a messenger boy here, so he
could actually listen to Solace speak. If he attacks me, I’ll
silence him, and Victory will be the only voice left to listen to,”
Havoc replied.

Graves snorted and gave a slight nod. “That
would be an excellent example of Firym logic. Have you forgotten
you are unarmed, and Kithkanon is a very dangerous opponent? What
if he silences you instead?”

“While that is highly unlikely, if he did
actually manage to silence me, this would no longer be a concern of
mine, now would it,” Havoc answered.

Graves grinned and looked to Victory. “You
have a good friend here, Faydwer. Though I know from my own
experiences with their people, it can be hard to see at times.
Relax, you are safe in my halls. There will be no bloodshed unless
I will it.” He took another sip of wine, his smile still showing.
“I have always liked the Firym. They are so very entertaining.”

“That is hardly the word I would choose.”
Victory sighed and let himself relax. While the mercenary lord did
have a rather infamous reputation on the battlefield, he was known
for his honor in times of peace. If he said they were safe here, it
was likely true. Kithkanon slowly sat back down, his anger still
obvious. There would be retribution for this later on, of that
Victory was certain. Nothing to be done for it, though. In Havoc’s
own twisted little way, he had been trying to help.

“Not too sure if I like the term entertaining
either but I’ll accept it,” Havoc smiled. “I’m going to grab a
beer, want one Vic?” he asked, as he headed for the stairs,
apparently choosing to ignore the fact that neither Jenna nor her
father had officially altered their position as prisoners. He
continued down the stairs, not waiting for an answer, and Victory
had to smother a laugh at the indecisive looks on the guard’s
faces. They were clearly not sure if they should stop him or follow
him.

Graves gave another chuckle and motioned
Victory to a seat. Taking this as a very good sign, Victory chose
the seat farthest from Kithkanon, and kept his attention focused on
Graves.

“I’ll tell you what I will do, Victory, and
then you can see if this meets your acceptance. If you agree to my
terms, we will negotiate a price. Fair enough?” Graves asked.

“More than fair,” Victory agreed.

“I will agree to stay out of political wars.
I will remain neutral among the High Houses, but that is the limit
to the peace I will offer. I will still accept contracts from the
other territories. There are times when my men hire out to defend
the unguarded lands, and this I will not stop. I will also accept
contracts from the High Lords that deal with their own lands. There
are times when they hire my men to root out bandits and the like,
or to deal with a Genji hive. It’s not glamorous work, and
certainly doesn’t have the glory of war, but it keeps my men paid
without digging into my coffers,” he finished, and leaned back,
watching Victory’s expression.

Victory considered the proposal quietly and
nodded his agreement. “That meets the requirements that Caspian has
set. On one condition, however.”

Graves raised an eyebrow. “And what would
that be?” he asked.

“That you not hire on against the Fionaveir.
There are several High Lords that consider us little better than
the Genji, though I do like to think we are far better than
goblins,” he answered.

“Clever, I wondered if you would catch that
point. I will agree to this.” Graves nodded his agreement as he
spoke and seemed amused.

Victory glanced up as Havoc dropped into a
chair beside him and slid a beer toward him. The Firym took a long
swallow of his beer and gave Graves a smile. “Well, now that’s
settled, let’s talk money and see if we can’t make it out of here
without being bent over the table. I’ve heard you haggle worse than
an Avanti merchant, Graves,” Havoc said as he sat his beer mug down
with a loud thump.