Chapter 14. Flirtation and Chocolate
In many cases, minstrels are essentially the priestesses of the courts they serve. However, a few minstrels choose to dig deeper than their basic training. Their school houses the oldest library in Wefrivain. Some of the old ballads and epics contain kernels of truth that make our High Priestess and her dragons uneasy.
—Gwain, The Truth About Wyverns
Silveo stopped his banter at once. “You met whom?”
“Gwain.” Gerard started away. “In a teahouse.”
Silveo had to trot to keep up. “Which teahouse? Where?”
“You know who Gwain is?” asked Gerard.
“Of course, I know who he is. He’s a nuisance. I’d love to carpet my library with his pelt.”
“Arundel didn’t seem to think he’s a real person.”
“Arundel doesn’t think anyone but himself is a real person,” retorted Silveo, and then he seemed to remember who he was talking to and that his command was listening. “Holovar, I demand that you stop and explain yourself. That’s an order. Then, you’re going to lead us to this teahouse.”
Gerard stopped walking. He realized belatedly that the price of Silveo’s help was Silveo’s interference. “Listen: they think they’ve poisoned me. They don’t know that I know. Let’s not kick the hornet’s nest yet. I think we can learn a little more.”
“What you’ll learn,” growled Silveo, “is that the whole arrangement is up and gone by tomorrow. You don’t poison a Captain of Police and then stay in town to see what happens.” His eyes lit up. “We could burn Ocelon Town for this. It’s been a nest of Resistance traitors for ages. This would give us the perfect excuse. The magister will whine about it, but the king won’t care.”
Burn it? Gerard thought of the children staring up at him shyly from their jumping game scrawled in the dirt. He took a deep breath. “So we’ll make enemies of every ocelon in Wefrivain? They’ll hate us, and they’ll never help us.”
“They already hate us,” said Silveo. “Besides, not many will survive the fire to hold grudges. If you think you can make friends out of them, you’re dumber than I thought.”
They were about to have a full-blown argument, and Gerard had the sinking feeling he would lose. The sailors with Silveo had backed off to a respectful distance. Gerard understood their nervousness. When superiors fought, the loser often took out his frustration on the nearest subordinate. However, before either of them could say another word, a messenger came running up the street. He bowed.
“Magister Alvert says that he is honored at the presence of both the Temple Sea Watch and Police on his island—”
“Honored,” muttered Silveo, “more like scared witless.”
“—and he would like to invite sirs to dinner at his city estate. He also begs me to tell the Captain of Police that his wife is here to see him.”
Gerard’s breath caught in his throat. “Thess is here?”
The messenger kept his eyes downcast. “She said that you would not be pleased. She asked me to tell you that she is blind, not crippled.”
Silveo started to laugh. “I like her already.”
Gerard shot him a look. If you come anywhere near her, I will break you in half.
“Would sirs come with me now?” asked the messenger.
“Yes, yes,” said Gerard, “lead the way.”
The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers Page 17