“You sound like one of them,” Lucas said bitterly.
“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Vance snapped in reply. It was, obviously, which meant I had to let Vance speak even if it gave me chills to hear him talking like a mercenary.
“They have already executed the witch responsible for the crime,” Laurence asserted. “A witch whose actions were not even condoned by the Family. And though I hate to admit it, I fear they have probably taken Amber—our messenger—as well. They can’t …” He trailed off, unable to complete the statement, which he had to know was so optimistically naive: They can’t possibly ask for more than this.
“His actions were condoned by the sakkri,” I said, trying to remember that these people before me—especially the young man so close to my own age—were not entirely innocent. They feigned ignorance, but they were the rulers of this realm. An attempt to assassinate the leaders of Midnight could only have been made with their consent, or if they turned a blind eye to it.
Of course, if the plan had worked, they wouldn’t have been considered culpable; they would have been hailed as heroes. Did that make them martyrs now?
Shane sat at the edge of the dais. He didn’t look up, didn’t meet anyone’s gaze as he spoke.
“Everyone knows Midnight is seeking slaves with magic,” he said flatly. “I personally have little magical training, but every Shantel has the same potential for power regardless of bloodline. It doesn’t need to be awakened with obscure rituals like the Azteka. That makes me more valuable than any bloodwitch.”
Except for the few hitches in his voice, he made the speech coldly, stating facts that he had obviously considered carefully. His brother looked away, as if he could not stand to keep his gaze on the young man who had so coldly assessed his own value and prepared to sacrifice himself.
“Just out of curiosity,” I asked, “did you three draw straws? Or was it just the younger son’s lot to sell himself to slavery?”
“I made the decision,” Shane said.
“I offered myself,” Laurence said, “but Shane rightly pointed out that Midnight is unlikely to accept a man past his prime, whose ruling power has already passed to his son. I cannot do the value assessment as rationally as my son, but I do know that one broken-down king will not make Midnight’s point. Equal value is the excuse. The truth is they want us to hurt.”
“What’s your excuse?” Vance asked Lucas.
The prince flinched. “The sakkri will not allow it.”
“Which one?” I wondered aloud, recalling the way the two women had argued in front of us.
I hadn’t intended to offend anyone—this time—but the three men reacted as if I had slapped one of them. It was Shane who finally bit out, “The sakkri speaks with one voice. Her power passes from one mortal body to the next as she meets the needs of each generation, but there is only one.”
“There are clearly two.” Stupid, I chastised myself for being so tactless. They were obviously describing something mystical, and my words were apparently heresy … but if the women were arguing with each other, they were clearly not “one voice.”
“The sakkri may live for centuries, but she is born as a helpless infant, as we all are,” Laurence said, with the same long-suffering tone I remembered from frustrated teachers in the serpiente dancer’s nest. “She must come of age before her full power manifests. We are at a cusp right now, as the sakkri’s new form has just come into her power, but her old form has not yet returned to the forest.”
I decided it was time to stop asking questions, though I had a few, like what happened to the older sakkri once the younger one was ready to take over, and more importantly, whether or not they agreed on Shane’s plan. I didn’t think they did.
I didn’t think I did.
Midnight would value Shane’s pretty face, but not the mind and heart that had prompted him to sit for hours with a hurting little girl. Everyone else had argued with me, telling me not to be afraid. That I was fine and safe. Shane had known better. His instincts had told him that I needed a friend, but wasn’t able to tolerate one yet.
“If you are all in agreement about this deal,” I asked, “why do you need us?”
“We need a neutral party to negotiate for us,” Lucas explained. “If Shane goes to propose this deal, they could claim him as they did Amber and still demand more, and he would have no leverage with which to barter. If you speak for us, Midnight will need to agree to terms before …”
“Before it can get its hands on the merchandise,” Vance concluded, when Lucas’s voice hitched and silenced. “So what do we get?”
“Vance!” I protested. His earlier words had been blunt but practical, regarding what Midnight would or wouldn’t accept from the Shantel. This was going too far.
“They want us to go to Midnight proper for them,” Vance snapped at me, and for the first time, I saw the genuine fury in his eyes. I heard an echo of the words he had spoken to me the day before: I could even stand to face the market, because Midnight didn’t have any power over me anymore. I was annoyed with the Shantel, but I couldn’t help responding to their desperate situation. Vance was terrified, and that made him angry. “They want us to make a deal. Mercenaries don’t work for free, so if that’s what they want to turn us into, I want to know what’s in it for us.”
“Excuse me,” Shane whispered, his composure finally breaking. As he turned, walking swiftly from the room, he said, “I’ve done my part. My father and brother can see to the details.”
The door slammed behind him.
LUCAS WATCHED HIS brother leave, then turned on us with renewed malice in his tone. “You act like we’re insulting your honor,” he spat. “You’re already mercenaries—your whole guild is. You get free passage in Midnight’s markets, and an open invitation to walk in their halls, because you’re bloodtraitors from the start and all the way through. You’ve betrayed the serpiente and the avians, and now you expect us to trust you? Half your guild was created by Midnight, and the other half scurries to do their work as if—”
“Enough!” Laurence interrupted his son with a shout. “The Obsidian guild has never hidden its loyalties—or lack thereof. Will you drive them away for being exactly what we need?”
I knew I shouldn’t care what these people thought of me, but Vance’s words were still raw in my mind—What reason have we given anyone to doubt?—and Lucas’s and Laurence’s words stung more than they should have. I couldn’t resist trying to defend myself.
“Everything you hear about the Obsidian guild comes to you through the serpiente royal house,” I said. “It is skewed by their perspective.”
Lucas drew a slow breath, as if struggling to get his emotions under control. “I’m willing to believe that you are guiltless, Kadee,” he said, “and I understand why you think you owe that guild loyalty, but if you truly believe your chosen cohorts are all blameless victims, then I pity you.”
Vance shot me a look that said he knew perfectly well we were all far from innocent, but I should let the point drop for now. To Lucas, he said, “So we return to my original point. If we’re mercenaries, what do we get out of this deal?”
“What do you want?” Laurence asked with a sigh, a hand on Lucas’s shoulder halting his retort.
We don’t want to do this, I thought, but Vance’s critical gaze cut me off just as the king’s gentle hand had silenced his son.
“What terms do Nathaniel and Acise get?” Vance asked.
Nathaniel and Acise were two of Midnight’s vampires. They were the faces those of us outside of Midnight saw most often, because they brokered the deals, and handled the messy job of transporting soon-to-be slaves. Nathaniel had taken Misha and Shkei off Diente Julian’s hands, when taxes were due and the serpiente came up short. Acise had bought Alasdair Shardae from us.
When Lucas spoke again, his face had assumed a porcelain quality. His expression and tone were carefully composed. “Midnight’s professional mercenaries are given free passage throu
gh the outer portions of our land, and permission to travel—escorted—as far as the Family Courtyard if they have business here. They also share Midnight’s rates at our markets.”
The deal wasn’t anything special for us. Vance and I already had free passage in Shantel land or we wouldn’t have been here. I didn’t understand what Vance was angling for, but the thoughtful caution on Lucas’s face suggested he did.
“The same should apply to all of our guild,” Vance asserted.
That could be useful, since Shantel land bordered serpiente land. Free passage would mean any child of Obsidian being pursued by the serpiente could cross the border and hopefully escape. I still didn’t think that was Vance’s primary goal, however.
Lucas and Laurence exchanged a look, but then Lucas nodded. “If you agree to this,” Lucas said, “Midnight will hold you to the laws regarding its employees. You lose legal status as one of us, instead of one of them. Do you know what that means?”
My eyes widened as I suddenly understood. Midnight’s laws said that shapeshifters were freeblood unless sold by their “own kind,” but the rules were vague on what “own kind” meant. One kind of shapeshifter was as good as another to the vampires, which was why a group of serpiente had been allowed to sell a hawk that the vampires couldn’t otherwise legally acquire. Midnight’s employees, however, didn’t count. Bloodtraitors didn’t get to call serpiente, avians, Shantel, or anyone else their own.
Vance wasn’t trying to get a trade advantage, or freedom to move in the forest. He wasn’t content to know that he personally would never choose to engage in slave-trading; he was making a deal to ensure the choice could never be offered to us again.
“I understand,” Vance answered.
“Kadee?” Lucas looked at me. “Is he able to negotiate for your entire guild?”
“No single individual can speak for the entire Obsidian guild,” I admitted, “but …” I ran what I knew of Midnight’s laws through my mind. Given the purpose of the deal—to deliver Shane—and the fact that Vance himself was negotiating it, I was sure Midnight’s vampires would recognize the terms as binding regardless of what the other children of Obsidian thought. “On behalf of myself and our guild, I will agree to the terms.”
What would Farrell think? Would he be relieved, as I was? The deal with Alasdair had been nasty, soul-sucking business, which none of us ever wanted to repeat. On the other hand, if we had made this deal with the Shantel a year ago, we wouldn’t have been able to save Misha.
Perhaps that would have been a good thing.
“Then we are agreed,” Lucas said, looking to both of us. Hostility gone from his tone, he added, “Thank you.”
Vance said, “I will do my best to negotiate for you, but I cannot promise Midnight will agree.”
Lucas stepped forward, and Vance reached out his hand. They clasped each other’s wrists while remaining at arm’s length, Vance copying the way I had greeted Shane, though with more tension in his stance.
“Kadee should stay here,” Vance added, “to ensure Shane does not run.”
“He won’t run,” Lucas said.
Vance shrugged. “I believe that, but Midnight won’t.” I almost spoke up, but Vance looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read. If it was fear I saw on his face, then why was he going, much less alone? Or was it anger? “And anyway, I could use some time alone.”
“Be careful if their trainers try to help you ‘understand,’ ” Lucas cautioned. “I don’t approve of the actions your guild has taken, but trainers have a way of distorting facts to their own benefit.”
“Trust me, I know,” Vance assured him.
“I suppose you do. Word was, Jeshickah considered making you a trainer,” Lucas said. When Vance just nodded, eyes unreadable, Lucas asked, “Do you know how she gets her trainers?”
“No.”
“She purchased each of them, just like any slave,” Lucas explained. “If she decides she still wants you, she will go to Farrell Obsidian. The deal you just made won’t protect you—either of you—from your own guild. So watch your back.”
Vance shuddered. “That is the second most terrifying thing I’ve heard today.”
I wanted to speak up, to say that Farrell wouldn’t do that to any of us, but my mouth felt full of paste. I trusted Farrell to the end of the earth, but Lucas’s warning didn’t just include him, and there were others in our guild I wasn’t so certain of.
Vance glanced at the window. “The light’s still good, so I might as well get on my way. Can I have my weapons back?”
Lucas nodded and gestured to one of the guards in the back of the room, who handed over Vance’s and my weapons without asking questions.
“Vance—” I caught his arm as he slid his knife back into place. I didn’t like his taking all his fears and doubts to that place. Like Lucas had said, Midnight’s trainers would love to put their own spin on any doubts Vance brought to them.
“I’ll let them call me a mercenary,” Vance said, “but I won’t be one. I’ll help this once if it means I’ll never have to do it again. But that doesn’t mean I want you to see it.”
Without a farewell, he changed shape, freeing himself from my grasp. The brilliant green and red bird, with its long tail streaming behind it, took to the air and slipped through the open window with ease, leaving me behind.
Stupid bird! I thought with frustration. I didn’t care about his pride; he shouldn’t go to Midnight alone, and he knew it. Chasing him wouldn’t help, though, not when I was on foot and he was on wing.
Lucas raised a hand again, this time to summon a woman who had been waiting by the door. She had olive skin and mahogany hair, and I recognized her immediately. Her name was Marcel, and she was a wanderwitch. She had once explained to me how her magic drove her to roam far from these lands, exploring, seeking new places, new people, and new knowledge.
That was how she had found me eight years ago—a half serpiente girl, living in a human town, with human parents.
“Marcel often acts as escort when outsiders come to our land,” Lucas said, as if I weren’t staring at my “escort” as if she were a particularly gross spider. “I suppose it is an added boon that she is familiar to you already. She will see to it that you have anything you need while you’re here.”
“Vance was just making an excuse to get rid of me,” I pointed out. “I don’t really need to stay here, and a prolonged absence may make my guild come looking for me.”
And I do not want to talk to this woman.
“You do need to,” Lucas replied, “because it was a condition of Vance’s assistance. Ignoring any of those conditions is sufficient reason to invalidate any deal he makes. I’ll send a messenger to your guild, letting them know we have engaged your services.”
This whole world talks like Midnight, I thought. Conditions, deals, and values placed on things—and people—that should be priceless.
I needed to push. I couldn’t help it. That perfect, judgmental poise, especially after his earlier shift from venomous to patronizing, sparked my fury. “You mean the deal to sell your younger brother into torture and slavery?”
His only visible reaction was a slight narrowing of his eyes. Softly, he warned me, “It would not be difficult for me to confide to the serpiente guards at what place and time you might emerge from our forest.”
The threat was enough to silence me.
“Go,” Lucas commanded. To Marcel, he said, “She probably isn’t dangerous, so she may go where she likes, as long as she is escorted. She will need access to Shane.”
“Yes, sir,” Marcel replied, her voice absolutely neutral. I wondered what was going on behind her eyes, which were a green-gold color that seemed to catch and reflect the late-afternoon light. Did she know about the deal? Did she know why I was here? Was she not allowed to question her prince, or did she just not care?
Once outside, I didn’t know where to go. I wanted to go back to the Obsidian camp, but that wasn’t an option. Why had
Vance insisted on going alone? Was he really so ashamed that he couldn’t stand for me to see him and would rather face the vampires on his own? Or was that just an excuse, and he was still angry with me about Alasdair?
Did he, like the Shantel king and prince, believe the worst of Farrell and the others? Did he believe what Hara said about Elise?
Did Farrell really have the previous Naga assassinated? Why would he?
He wasn’t a murderer, and there was no imaginable benefit for our guild. And if somehow he had been involved, it must not have been the way Hara told it. There had to be another side to the story, just like there was when I killed Hara’s guard to protect Shkei, and like there was now, with the whole world thinking we betrayed the Shantel.
It’s not your crime to bear, I told myself, ignoring the sudden guilt that cut at me as I recalled the relief I had felt when Jeshickah declared us innocent and blamed only the Shantel for the plague in Midnight. The Shantel planned their treason without regard for anyone else who might get hurt. They were willing to sacrifice Vance. They wouldn’t have lifted a hand to help the Obsidian guild if Jeshickah had taken her wrath out on you all. You did what you could. You don’t owe them anything now.
If I told myself I was innocent enough times, would I start believing it? Or would I just keep seeing Shane’s exhaustion and despair? Keep remembering that they could have turned the blame on me and mine instead of taking it on themselves, but they hadn’t?
You shouldn’t need to do this, I thought to Vance, who was flying somewhere above the trees to a building he hated and feared. If anyone was innocent, it was Vance, who had joined us after all our crimes had been committed. But please … do it well. It is the least we can do for these people, who tried to save us all.
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