“You’ve had three coves trailing you since you left the castle close,” Han said. “Sarie had orders to shake them off before bringing you here. They were very good. It took a while.”
“Who would follow me?” Fiona muttered, wetting her lips, looking a little shaken. “And why?”
Han leaned back in his chair. “You sure you’re ready to play this game?”
That pricked her. “Don’t be so cocky, Alister,” she said. “After a seemingly quick start, I haven’t seen much from you lately.”
Flinn brought in the food and drink, giving Fiona the hard eye before he left. Han sliced up the bread and made himself a sandwich. “Want one?” he asked, waving it at her.
Fiona’s eyes followed the moving sandwich. “All right,” she conceded, and watched as he assembled it.
“What’s this?” she asked suspiciously, sniffing at the stingo. She took a cautious sip, and her eyes widened. “What is this?” she repeated, sputtering, but managing not to spew it over the table.
“Stingo,” Han said, handing over her sandwich. “It’s a little strong.”
She sipped again, better prepared this time, and set the tankard down. She picked up the sandwich and gave it a good look-over before she took a bite.
“Well,” Han said, “this is your meeting. What do you want?”
“I told you what I wanted at the Wizard Council House,” Fiona said. “You don’t seem to understand the urgency of this. Believe me, if we don’t act, Micah will be High Wizard and married to the queen.”
“Which will make it difficult for you to get what you want,” Han said, nodding. “Urgent for you, then. You’re that sure she’ll accept him?”
“Micah has always been able to seduce any girl he wants,” Fiona said bitterly. “Raisa is a bit more resistant than most, that’s all. She won’t hold out forever.”
“Well,” Han said, looking into Fiona’s frosty blue eyes. “You could kill Micah. Then your father wouldn’t have any choice but to support you.”
“You are as cold-blooded as they say,” Fiona said, in an admiring way. “That still doesn’t deal with the problem of Raisa.”
A problem you want me to solve for you, Han thought.
“Based on our last conversation, I thought by now you’d have killed the queen and named yourself king.” Fiona took a bite of sandwich and chewed.
“I’m not going to do your dirty work for a kiss and a promise,” Han said. “You want to work with me, you need to put in yourself.”
Fiona reached across the table and rested her hand on his arm. “I’ve told you that I find you attractive,” she said, her voice low and throaty. “I think we could be very—”
“I need your help with the Wizard Council,” Han said bluntly.
Fiona snatched back her hand, color staining her pale cheeks. “What?”
“I want to be High Wizard,” Han said.
“High Wizard?” Fiona said, drawing her pale brows together. “You’re aiming for king. Why would you want to be High Wizard?”
Han couldn’t very well say, Because Queen Raisa and my dead ancestor the Demon King want it. Or, To thwart your father’s plans.
So he said, “To keep your brother from winning. Right now I’m next door to Queen Raisa in the palace. Right now I have easy access. If Micah becomes High Wizard, you can bet he’ll boot me out on my backside. Not to mention putting up all kinds of protections around her.” He paused. “Plus, do you really want him to have an excuse to spend all that time with her? Cozy meetings in her private suite and all that?”
Fiona scowled. “No, of course not. But I still don’t see why you haven’t acted already, if you have access to the queen.”
“I want to be king of everyone,” Han said, doing his best to be convincing. “Not just the Valefolk. That means I have to deal with the Wizard Council. Otherwise I’ll just end up fighting them off after the queen is gone. Especially your family,” he said pointedly.
“I understand your reasoning,” Fiona said, sipping at her stingo. “But I’m not on the council. There’s not much I can do to help you become High Wizard. It seems to me that my father has the votes to put Micah into office.”
“You’re not on the council, but you have influence over someone who is,” Han said. “Adam Gryphon.”
“Adam?” Fiona seemed totally confused. “What makes you think I have any—”
“He’s sweet on you, Fiona,” Han said. “You’re sort of betrothed. You could persuade him to vote my way.”
“I told you—Adam Gryphon is pathetic,” Fiona said. “He’s been mooning after me for years. As if I would ever even consider…” Fiona furrowed her brow, thinking.
Han took a bite of sandwich followed by a swig of stingo, trying to drown a twinge of guilt. He had nothing in particular against his old teacher, even though Gryphon had abused him often enough in class. The fact was, Han needed his vote and was unlikely to get it any other way. He just hated siccing Fiona on him, especially given the recent loss of his parents.
“What possible reason could I give for asking Adam to vote against my own brother?” Fiona said.
“Come on, Fiona, I’m sure you can come up with a reason on your own,” Han said. “Tell him you want to make him consort. Just don’t tell him it’s because you’re sweet on me, all right?” Han grinned to show he wasn’t exactly serious. Exactly.
“When do you expect it to happen?” Fiona said. “The vote, I mean?”
“We meet again in four days,” Han said. “Your father will want to get Micah voted in before Mordra deVilliers gets here. So we’ll likely vote at the next meeting.”
“You expect me to win over Adam Gryphon in four days?” Fiona grumbled.
“It shouldn’t be too hard. He’s not all that fond of Micah, you know,” Han said.
“Really? How does he feel about you?” Fiona asked, acidly.
Han shrugged. He honestly didn’t know.
“All right,” Fiona said. “I’ll convince him.” She examined her hands and sniffed. “I don’t anticipate any problem.”
“Good. Do it quick, all right? I need to hear back from you before the meeting so I know what to expect when it comes to a vote. Otherwise I might be sticking my neck out for nothing.” Han finished his sandwich, licking his fingers. “This is just the start of it, though. I need to know: How far are you willing to go to get what you want? To put wizards on the throne of the Fells. You and me, specifically.”
“I’ve already walked five miles through a festering slum,” Fiona said, “risking life and limb to get here.”
“You’ll have to do better than that. I do that much every day and twice on Sundays.”
Fiona’s voice rose. “I’ve told you that I…” She looked around, lowering her voice. “I’ve accepted that we have to rid ourselves of Queen Raisa and her sister.”
“I know you’re willing to let me kill the queen,” Han said sardonically. “Are you willing to go against your family?”
“I’m rebelling against their marriage plans. I’m meeting with you,” Fiona hissed. “How do you think they would feel if—”
“And supposedly you’re playing me for a fool,” Han said. “You’re winning my trust, right? That’s the story. You aren’t risking much, here. Not like me.” He paused. “In order to get what I want, I need to take your father down. When it gets into the dirt, are you willing to go along with that, too?”
“Take him down?” Fiona looked around as if her father’s spies might be creeping up on them. “Do you mean…kill him? Or…”
“It might come to that,” Han said. “Let’s not be all romantic about this. How do you think he’ll react when you thwart his plan to put Micah on the throne? When you refuse to marry Adam. Do you think he’ll roll over for it? Do you?”
Fiona shook her head. “No,” she said.
“I’ll make you a promise,” Han said. “I will destroy your father. I will disgrace him. That’s the only way he won’t be a threat. I won’t
kill him unless I have to. But if it comes down to him or me, I will kill him. And I need to know that you won’t lose your nerve.”
Fiona stared at Han. Swallowed hard. Fingered her hair. And nodded. “No,” she whispered. “I won’t lose my nerve.”
C H A P T E R S I X T E E N
LOOSE ENDS
When Han left the Smiling Dog, he took to the rooftops for a distance, making sure he wasn’t being followed. When he was certain of that, he descended to street level and made his way to Pilfer Alley and his warehouse lair.
As usual, Fire Dancer was in his foundry on the first floor, metal bits and fittings arrayed on the table in front of him. He was finishing an elaborate neck piece studded with opals, their dark hearts flaming in the sunlight that shafted through a skylight overhead.
Sarie Dobbs was huddled over a solitary game of nicks-and-bones in the corner. It was easy work, watching Fire Dancer, but it would turn to hard work if wizard assassins showed up to kill him.
Han stood over Sarie. “Have you seen anybody suspicious hanging around?” he asked. “Has anybody been asking questions about the flash-and-staff?”
Sarie blinked up at him. “Your gang sign is known all over the market and Southbridge. You wanted it that way, right?”
Well. He had. He just hadn’t planned on anyone lifting it.
Han dismissed Sarie with a flick of his hand, then crossed to Dancer and sat down opposite him.
Dancer’s hands stilled over his work. “Hunts Alone!” His eyes shifted to Sarie as she shuffled out. Then back to Han. “What’s the news? Are we still on for Thursday?”
Han nodded, poking through enameled beads with his forefinger. Worry sat sour in his stomach. Or maybe it was the stingo. “I’m going to stand for High Wizard,” he said.
“Really?” Dancer tilted his head. “Any chance you’ll win?”
“I don’t know,” Han confessed. “I’m trying to scrape up the votes, but I really have no idea if I’ll succeed.”
“I’m sure it will work out,” Dancer said, with the confidence of someone who didn’t have to make it happen.
“I spoke to the queen about my replacement, in case I’m actually voted in,” Han said. “I want someone I can count on, to have my back on the council.”
Dancer raised an eyebrow, mildly curious. “Who would that be? Are there any wizards you can really trust?”
Han took a deep breath and pulled Raisa’s writ out of his pocket. “I asked her to appoint you,” he said, tapping the paper on the tabletop.
“No,” Dancer said. “Find someone else.”
“I need that vote,” Han said. “As High Wizard, I only vote as a tiebreaker. If I’m replaced by someone in Bayar’s camp, I lose a vote.”
Dancer shook his head stubbornly. “Find somebody else.”
“Like you said, who else can I trust?”
Dancer gestured, taking in their surroundings. “I hate this.”
“This?”
“The city.” Dancer leaned over the neck piece, smoothing the metal with a rasp.
Han watched Dancer work for a few minutes. After a while, Dancer couldn’t stand it anymore and looked up. “What?”
“You don’t have to stay on the council forever,” Han said. “Only long enough for me to get what I want. Then Queen Raisa can appoint someone else.”
“What you want keeps changing,” Dancer said.
“No, it hasn’t,” Han said. “It hasn’t changed at all. Just my tactics have.”
Dancer sighed and quit pretending to work. “What I want is to go back to Marisa Pines and live in peace,” he said.
“That’s not going to happen if things continue as they are,” Han said. “It’s going to come to a war.”
“And you’ll prevent it?” Dancer rubbed his eyes. “I think you’re more likely to start a war than prevent one.”
“I probably won’t be elected, anyway,” Han said.
“No.”
“Do you want revenge for what Bayar did to your mother or not?” Han said, unsheathing his sharpest blade. “Remember what we talked about at Marisa Pines? Somebody has to hold him accountable. Somebody has to stand up to him.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you are relentless?” Dancer said. “All right. I will serve, assuming you are elected and we all make it off Gray Lady alive. Speaking of, I’d better finish this in case we don’t.”
“Thank you,” Han said. “I am sorry that I have to ask you to do this.”
“You’re the one who has to tell Willo,” Dancer said. “She won’t like the idea at all.”
Han nodded. “I will. But there’s one more thing I need before Thursday.”
“Of course there is,” Dancer said, throwing up his hands in disgust.
“Somehow, I’ve lost the piper talisman you gave me,” Han said. “I don’t think I’d better go into that council meeting without some kind of protection. Would you have any ready-made?”
Dancer nodded. “I have the ones I’ve been making for your streetrunners. They are not as elaborate, but…” He leaned over and rummaged in a trunk next to the table, producing one of the familiar beaten copper pendants with the Demon King sign on it, a rowan charm dangling from it. “Here. This should do.”
Han felt safer with the talisman around his neck. Especially since his next meeting would be with Dean Abelard. Only, she didn’t know it yet.
Twice a week, Dean Abelard visited a rare bookshop on Regent Street, just outside the castle close. It was there she met with the eyes and ears she’d assigned to Han. Recently their reports hadn’t been that enlightening, since now they were working for him.
She was just emerging from the shop with an armful of books when Han Alister stepped out of a tavern next door, startling her so much she nearly dropped her load.
“Dean Abelard!” Han said, feigning surprise. “This is good luck! I need to talk to you.”
Abelard’s eyes narrowed. She took a step back, looking up and down the street as if suspecting an ambush.
“It won’t take long,” Han said. He nodded toward the tavern. “Shall we?”
“I prefer to talk in here,” Abelard said, swiveling and stalking back into the bookshop. Which was fine with Han, since that was what he’d intended all along.
This would be the tricky one. If Abelard wouldn’t go along, his plans were in ruins. Not to mention the fact that she might lose her famous temper and try to reduce him to ash.
They met in the back room, amid stacks of musty-smelling leather-bound books. It was where she usually met with her footpads. She sat down in her usual chair, while Han sat on the stepladder used to reach the higher shelves.
“My, my, Alister, we are armored up today, aren’t we?” Abelard said, quickly regaining her footing. “Are you anticipating an attack? Does this mean that you are going to tell me something I’m not going to like?” Her hand crept nearer to her amulet.
Han silently swore. He should have known the powerful dean could spot magical protection. Well, at least it gave him easy entry to a topic that was hard to bring up.
“That’s possible,” he said, feigning indifference. “The truth doesn’t sit well with some people.”
“You’re going to tell me the truth? How refreshing,” Abelard said, raking back her hair. “Do go on.”
“There’s no chance you’ll win a vote for High Wizard,” Han said. “If the vote goes ahead as planned, Micah Bayar will win.”
“That’s a rather gloomy prediction, coming from one of my supporters.” That she didn’t argue about it told Han she expected the same. “Perhaps we can convince Lord Bayar to put off the vote again, until Mordra arrives.”
Han shook his head. “Unlikely. Why would he delay? Even Lord Gryphon agreed to take a vote at this meeting, with or without Mordra.”
“I had thought that Gryphon might excuse himself from attending,” Abelard said, scowling. “You heard about his parents?” She fixed Han with her sharp gaze.
Han nodded, wond
ering if she knew more about Gryphon’s parents’ death than she was letting on. “But he is coming?”
“Yes.” Abelard shrugged. “That seems coldhearted, don’t you think?”
Maybe the dean had met with Gryphon, had tried to win his vote, and had failed.
This was the dangerous part. Han had a story, but didn’t know if Abelard would buy it. He couldn’t very well tell her that Fiona Bayar was his ally.
“Gryphon and I had our differences at Oden’s Ford, but we’ve worked that out since he came back home,” Han said.
“Really,” Abelard said skeptically. “This is the same Master Gryphon who expelled you from class?”
Right, Han thought. The Gryphon you treated like dirt, not knowing he’d end up on the council. That’s the one.
“He’s different,” Han said. “Now that he’s no longer in the role of teacher, we get on better.”
Han could tell from the dean’s expression that she wasn’t buying it. She’d been keeping tabs, and she knew that Han and Gryphon hadn’t been tipping any glasses together.
“I tried to convince him to vote for you,” Han said. “He refused. He wouldn’t say why.” He shrugged. “So, I thought, well, there’s no way you can win with just your vote and mine. I don’t want Micah Bayar elected, so I asked if Gryphon would be willing to support me.”
“And he said yes?”
Han nodded. “Guess he’d rather see me High Wizard than Micah.” He paused. “With Mordra missing, there’s five votes total, not counting Lord Bayar. With your vote, and my vote, and Gryphon’s, I can win and avoid the tiebreaker.”
“You have this all worked out, don’t you?” Abelard murmured, her eyes slitted like a cat’s.
“I don’t see any alternative,’’ Han said. “It’s me or Micah. Which would you rather?”
In truth, he wasn’t absolutely sure how she’d answer that question.
“I don’t like it,” Abelard said, rising and pacing back and forth. “It’s a permanent appointment. A street thief ruling the council. Living hip to hip with the queen.”
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