The Misbegotten (An Assassin's Blade Book 1) by Justin DePaoli Page B

brought with me the head of the bastard who killed your friend, as you requested.”
    Serith’s mouth twisted. “You brought me the head of a wolf.”
    I nodded. “Exactly. Of course, we couldn’t be sure. He did die while hunting, so who knows. It could have been a boar, a wolf, a bear — do you have bears here? At any rate, it could have been anything, but you’d like to think it was a wolf, wouldn’t you? Who wants to be killed by a pig? And a bear? Gods, you’d think you could spot one of those from a half mile away. But wolves… they slink through the woods, eying their prey for half a day, and then they strike without notice, without sound, without sight.”
    Serith tilted back his head and pressed the stein to his mouth. He wiped his lips. “Drink.”
    I smiled and tapped a finger on the stein. “I like to savor my wine.”
    His heavy-lidded eyes closed, and his teeth began chattering. His lips formed words, but only air squeaked out.
    “My apologies” he said, smiling devilishly. “So why are you here, Shepherd? To kill me?”
    “You would have never let me in if you thought that’s why I was here.”
    “Not unless,” he said, lifting an emaciated finger sagely, “it is my wish to die.”
    He stared hard into my eyes, trying to pry loose a few words through intimidation. But I remained silent, and I was rewarded with a throaty laugh that quickly turned into a choking cough.
    Serith pounded his chest until his hacking stopped. “It’s not an outlandish wish, death. Is it? The process has already begun.”
    “A man like you,” I said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if this is all a ruse. Just to show you can pull the wool over even the Reaper’s eyes when he comes for you and discovers you have quite a bit of life left in your bones.”
    Serith smiled and sipped from his stein. “I could use someone like you on my council. My advisers all walk around with a twig stuck up their butts.”
    I swirled my wine around into a funnel. “Advisers and guards, that’s about all you have left, it seems. And I’m not even sure about the former, given the emptiness of your keep. Your people all run away from you?”
    “I dispersed them into the north, far away from Vereumene. Forcing them out, all the men who weren’t guards, all the lasses, the kiddies, that was the best decision I’ve made in the past nineteen years. And the first one too. With my own mind.”
    I leaned back comfortably. “Lookie there, Serith Rabthorn knew why I came to visit him all along.”
    He rolled his eyes. “Of course I knew. Can you fault me for trying to get other information out from between those ears of yours? No, I knew from the moment I heard your voice. The Black Rot arriving not two weeks after Sybil Tath discovers me shattered and stuttering like a mad fool? That’s no coincidence.”
    I finally took a drink of the wine. The aftertaste lingered bitterly on my tongue, but otherwise it’d do a fine job of letting my mind soar into the clouds.
    “I’ve a lot of questions,” I said. “Lots and lots of questions.”
    “You would do well to remember, Shepherd, that a conversation with me is never a one-sided affair. Just as the Rots must be paid to kill, I must be paid to talk.”
    I shrugged. “There’s plenty of gold in my coffers.”
    “I don’t want monetary payments. I want my daughter’s safety guaranteed when you leave here. You will take her with you. You will protect her. You will not let harm come to her, in any way, from any hand — natural or occult.”
    “Your daughter?” I said, feigning ignorance. “Oh, that daughter. The one you claimed you never had? The one who, if I’m not mistaken, is rumored to be a… what do you call them?” I snapped my fingers and said, “Oh, right. A conjurer.”
    Serith heaved his arms onto the table and set his jaw in a way that said he was done talking until I agreed to the stipulation.
    Hauling around a conjurer is dangerous business, but sometimes you’ve