Page 104 of Throwing Fire

“Yes. Do I?” Drogan asks.

“So far,” I say, still not amused. “I got nothin’ against you, or any Mod. Or any E.C.er, as long as you don’t threaten me an’ mine.”

“Ah.” Drogan nods at Acker again. “You were right.”

“As I told you. I’m certain that Mister Snow and Miz Kerryon had nothing to do with this.” He flares his claws at the mess around us. “Or the push into the E.C.”

“The push?” I ask.

Drogan looks at me levelly. “How the faithless choose to poison their minds and bodies is a sadness but does not concern me. But when you seek to spread your poison into the Holy Land? That concerns me a very great deal. I met with the Honorable Tyng here on the Clouds less than a year ago. He gave me his word that none of his poison would reach our shores. But I have learned that in only days enough fly-strike to destroy the minds and bodies of every Horse-Man running Asdel’s Plains will leave from here, bound for Ystrile, my very city. The Honorable Tyng has been in the ground for three weeks. Has his death changed so much that his word is so quickly broken?”

Actually, Tyng was cremated. But Drogan’s obviously got a serious thing about connecting with the land, so I don’t enlighten him.

Beside me, Kez says quietly, “We didn’t know, but now that we do, we’ll shut it down. You havemyword on that.”

“Lightfoot.” Drogan bows his head to her. “Even if Acker had not vouched for you, I know your word is good.”

Kez and her street cred. Evidently, it extends all the way to the E.C.

“Then why put a hundred CeeBee bounty on my head?” Kez grits.

Acker grunts. Drogan bows his head. “Tanier, please give Mister Snow our gift.”

The boy who was helping the old man picks up an opaque plaz box from under the table, walks around to me and places it on the ground beside me before returning to his seat.

I glance at Acker, who nods.

I tap the magne-seal on the box, and when it clicks, slide back the cover. Then I slide it back on before it ruins Kez’s dinner.

I push the box under the table and put my arm around Kez. “Think that’s his way of sayin’ he don’t have anything to do with it.”

She looks up at me, a flash of big blues. “What’s in the box?”

The wide, white tail of Dom Fox. Probably all that’s left of him.

“Nothin’ you want to see right now. Eat your eel.” I nod at her plate. She picks up her chopsticks and sets in, which tells me how hungry she is ‘cause she only does what she’s told that fast when we’re in bed.

“Are you convinced of our good intentions, Mister Snow?” Drogan asks.

“Ain’t me you gotta convince,” I respond. I hook a thumb at Kez. “Talk to the boss.”

The Horse-Man looks from me to Kez and back at me. He smiles, flashing teeth too white to have ever seen kaffe. “You were right, uncle,” he says.

The old man grins at me. His teeth have seen some distance. “Drogan’smatona, Haf’ele, occupies very much the same place in his life as the Lightfoot occupies in yours, Mister Snow. I advocated for bringing her to this meeting, so that she could meet the Lightfoot, but Acker could not guarantee her safety with the Ojos’s attacks.”

Drogan holds his hands out. “She’s breeding. I could not risk her. But now that I have met you both, I wish she were here. She would know what to say to you, Lightfoot. And I must still face her wrath on my return.”

That gets chuckles all around. He may wish his woman was here to help butter Kez up, but he’s doing just fine on his own.

“I admit that I was very angry when I heard of the shipment,” Drogan continues. “I believed you had broken the word of the Honorable Tyng out of greed. And I may have spoken incautiously in my anger. But I would never pay anyone to hurt you, Lightfoot. Thatis not Helas’s way. It is to my shame that you ever believed that of us.”

Kez is too busy eating to respond, but I can see her thinking. I can also see how hungry she is, since she rarely eats with this much dedication, although Kez does like her food. She glances at me between bites and each time I nod back at her plate to keep her eating. Once she’s demolished most of the mountain, I cut my eyes at Drogan.

She taps her chopsticks against the side of her makeshift plate. The E.C.ers, who have been eating politely, if not with her concentration, look up. “If you thought we were breaking your deal with Mister Tyng, why didn’t you try to talk to us?” she asks.

Drogan’s brows come together into a thick, black line. “I did. I sent messages through the same channel that I used with the Honorable Tyng. When I received no response, I assumed you had no wish to speak with me.”

Kez glances at me.

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