Page 13 of Mistress of Bones
“This is not your concern,” one of the men told the newcomer. “Scamper.”
“Scamper, you say,” the newcomer answered. “What am I, ten?” His rapier was halfway out of its sheath, the glint of the little Anchor left in the river’s bottom reflecting on the metal.
Miguel Esparza knew how to make an entrance, De Anví had to admit.
The men’s leader, realizing he was stuck between two combatants in a narrow passage, pushed his rapier back into its scabbard.
“Another time, then.” Giving his back to the count, he motioned the other two toward the end of the alleyway.
De Anví felt a pang of disappointment at the men’s easy capitulation, his heart still beating an eager rhythm.
“Not so fast,” Esparza said. “Who are you and what do you want with His Honor?”
“Not your affair,” the man in front of him said. Before Esparza could reply, he’d shoved past him, the other two following.
“Hold,” Esparza demanded. “On the City Guard’s order!”
But the men’s steps had hastened into a half run, and in the next breath, they were out of sight.
Esparza cursed before turning to the count. “Where is your shadow?”
De Anví rearranged his half cape and closed the distance between them, gesturing for the other man to walk ahead of him. “Which one?”
“Not the one under your feet.”
“I told Tonio not to come with me tonight.”
“Tonio should know better than that. A count, a high-ranking member of the Royal Guard walking alone without his personalprotection? One day, Death might receive your invitation.” Esparza clucked. “And what of your other shadow?”
“The Witch,” De Anví answered, his jaw tightening, “I’ll meet later.”
“Don’t mind me if I tag along for now.”
De Anví didn’t mind, still hungry for somethingmoresince the masked strangers had given so little.
They emerged from the alleyway and crossed onto the next island. A few minutes later, they took their usual seats in the small hole of Casa Rojita. Ale promptly followed.
De Anví took a sip, then idly studied the tavern. Most of the customers were familiar, although he did not know who they were—unlike the countryside, city dwellers were not free with their names. There was a kind of safety in this room full of known strangers that made De Anví return again and again, mindless of dark alleys and the danger his rich clothing attracted. Besides, he was used to people greeding for what he owned. He had spent a third of his life at court, after all.
“Who were those men?” Esparza asked after sipping his own drink. He grimaced in disgust, then heartened himself and drank some more.
De Anví shrugged.
“You’re too cavalier with your safety, De Anví.”
The count snorted. “I did not see you calling for help.”
It was Esparza’s turn to dismiss the words. “They’d have been easy pickings for the both of us.”
“Perhaps.”
“What did they want?”
“I’ve not yet the gift of reading minds.”
“You are like this, and then I no longer wonder why you aren’t married.”
De Anví froze until even his eyes were as cold as metal. Forcing himself to relax again, he said conversationally, “You court the Lord Death with your words, Miguel. You will find him one of these days.”
