In the Shadow of the Gods by Rachel Dunne Page B

solution; this one would take some more thought.
    He thought about ignoring Dirrakara’s earlier invitation, of going instead to his own room and attending to his shadowseeker business. But Dirrakara was a nightmare when she was angry, and taking a bit of time now to make sure he didn’t have to deal with her bitter anger for a week was an easy enough choice to make.
    He entered her room without knocking; after so long, there wasn’t any point in knocking anymore. She was at her worktable, where she was often to be found these days, wearing only a simple linen shift. Her discarded robe was a crumpled pile on the floor, likely cast aside in a flash of inspiration—she’d often complained that the robe’s sleeves weren’t made for rolling and just got in her way. A soft crunching sound filledthe room, pestle grinding seeds to powder, holding all her bright-eyed attention. Joros almost didn’t see her manservant, Haro, standing dutifully nearby in case she needed anything; the man was so innocuous he might as well have been a wall. Haro noticed Joros before Dirrakara did, but the man never did anything without his mistress’s command.
    Joros didn’t like catching her like this—focused, forehead wrinkled, her thoughts swirling behind her eyes. She was useful, and a good enough companion, but he didn’t always like to be reminded that she was more as well; that she had ambitions of her own beyond the ones he’d aligned her for. It reminded him that he didn’t know her nearly as well as she knew him.
    Absorbed in her work, she didn’t even notice him staring, waiting. Finally he cleared his throat and she looked up from grinding seeds, smiling broadly. “There you are. I was starting to worry you’d forgotten about me.” Joros shrugged noncommittally and dropped into the room’s single chair. She had piles of cushions scattered around that she swore were more comfortable, but he’d persuaded her to have Haro find him a chair. “How are the children?”
    That earned another shrug. “No smarter than they’ve ever been.”
    â€œWhat did they have to show you?”
    â€œThey found a storeroom full of string. Just piles and piles of balls of string.”
    She laughed at that; her face always lit up when she talked of the children. “I’m sure they had a tale of why the string was so important, didn’t they?”
    â€œSomething about spider eggs. I told you, they’re still idiots.”
    She threw a shelled nut at him with a snort. He threw itback to her, knowing better than to eat anything that came off her worktable. “Strange, that they would want to show you of all people.”
    â€œI was just the first poor fool they stumbled across. They would have shown anyone they could find. You said you had something for me?”
    It took a moment for her to answer—she was likely balancing whether or not to pursue the topic. “I do,” she said after a beat, smiling again. “Haro, would you?” The manservant bowed slightly and drifted into the adjoining room. Dirrakara wiped her hands against the front of her shift as she walked around the worktable and came to stand behind Joros, her hands resting lightly against his shoulders. It made him slightly edgy, the touch combined with not being able to see her. Her breath tickled against his ear, and her hair tumbled down over his chest, and a slow shiver worked its way up his spine. Joros could feel her smile against his cheek as Haro returned and she said, “Here he is. Your present.”
    Haro dragged in the tallest man Joros had ever seen—stick thin and wearing soiled clothing, and there was a burlap sack over his head that muffled his cries somewhat, though not nearly enough. “Help me please help me I’ll do anything please please please.” A mindless gibbering that set Joros’s teeth on edge.
    Haro set a foot to the