Page 17 of Poisoned Kingdom
Then what? Who can I count on to help me with Jagon?
I quickly catalogued potential allies. Jagon controlled the chapter of poisoners and alchemists, so they’d follow wherever he led. I was sure the Blades—the Brotherhood’s chapter of undercover assassins and blades for hire—were entirely under Irsha’s command. And my childhood friend would sooner fall on his dagger than betray Boyan.
That left the Mules and the Observers.
The Mules liked their money. Knowing them, those smugglers and traders were most likely helping Jagon with the srebrec ore, which left the Observers as my only unknown.
‘Bloody perfect,’ I grunted.
The Observers were a difficult bunch—spies and troublemakers. Their intelligence and cunning often led them down individual paths, and their master, Bolko, controlled his chapter in name only.
‘So, we’re at an impasse . . .’ I mused, looking at my weapon, ‘or maybe not?’
I smiled at my thoughts. If I could persuade the mages to investigate the illegal srebrec trade, the Mules would have enough troubles to deal with to continue to support Jagon . . . The Observers, on the other hand, always followed power, and I knew exactly who could change the tide. If the king of Dagome learned he had an enemy in the Brotherhood trying to break the covenant, he would surely support the person who brought the news.
My chaotic scheme was beginning to shape itself into a plan that made my chest ache with bittersweet sadness when I realised how easily I had slipped back into my old ways, my old life. A life in which I was always scheming, always keeping people at arm’s length—the grand master’s shadow once again.
Well,I thought.Welcome back, Nightshade.It’s like you never left,I thought to myself.
1.Rusalka— a water spirit; a fair maiden with blond or green hair that protects the waters and sometimes lures men into dancing with her until they die from exhaustion.
2.Makosh— goddess of family and females, sometimes called the mother of gods.
Chapter 7
Roksana
Ileft the merchant as soon as we passed the guard post at the entrance, sighing in relief when I wasn’t stopped.
The city was just as I remembered. Loud, constantly busy, and filled with people trying to turn their luck into gold. I swallowed hard, nostalgia tightening my throat at the sight of market stalls blocking the street.
Here, in the poor quarter, the merchandise was mainly household goods, not-too-fresh food, and trade supplies. But as I walked towards the city centre, colourful wood replaced cloth, delicious aromas filled the air, and small but inviting shops could be found between the haggling merchants, showcasingtreasures from all over the Tir ha Mor continent, not just the Lowland Kingdoms.
‘Come on, make your move,’ I whispered, waiting for someone to make contact. I knew they were watching, and uneasiness crawled down my spine like an army of ants, but no one greeted me.
‘You look tired, traveller,’ came a voice from behind as a hand brushed over mine. ‘If you need a place to stay, I know the perfect inn.’
I turned. The man facing me was a common thug who likely thought he’d spotted a poor, naïve peasant girl he could snatch off the street. As beautiful as Truso was, the city had two souls. The first was hardworking and mostly honest. But the second? It was ancient and as dark as death itself. That was where the Brotherhood thrived.
Brushing my hair in what could be considered an alluring gesture, I uncovered the small tattoo just above my temple. ‘What are you offering?’
The man paled, disappearing in the crowd faster than I could blink, and I smiled at how much power the small mark carried.
I passed by an old tavern, pushing my way through the crowd gathered to listen to a bard, when, this time, the tip of a blade pressed against my kidney. A slim male arm wrapped around my neck as if a lover was playfully gathering me into his embrace, and I was dragged into a dark alley.
‘Welcome back, Nightshade, we missed you. But announcing your affiliation like that . . . tsk. I was forced to kill the poor bastard. And for what? The woman I remember wasn’t this reckless—and certainly didn’t smell like she’d crawled out a ram’s arse,’ he murmured, voice distorted by the mask he was wearing. ‘Now, if you could be so kind, come with me before I have to cut that mark off your skin.’
I slipped my blade from its hiding place and laid its edge against the throbbing artery in my assailant’s groin. ‘Thank you, but no,’ I replied, pressing the tip forward. ‘Though perhaps you could relay a message for me?’
‘Sweetheart, I’m too old for posturing. I’ll make it hurt if you insist on playing with that toy. What can your little letter opener do? Shave my balls?’
‘Men have always told me size doesn’t matter. Oh well . . .’ I chuckled, my throaty laughter giving him pause. ‘Should we test to see how fast you’ll be serenading Veles on your trip across the Veil when my poison fills your blood?’ As if by magic, the bard in the tavern chose that moment to warble a long, earsplittingly high note. I winced. ‘I wonder . . . will you sound as talented as that crooning fool?’
He stilled, and the knife pressed to my back trembled ever so slightly. ‘Still as brazen as a cocksure sailor, I see. Jagon’s men are looking for you, and Boyan has ordered you to leave Truso, so let’s go. I’ll escort you out of the city walls.’
‘Is Jagon in the city?’
‘No, he’s rarely here. Last I heard, he went to Wiosna.’ The man’s throaty huff made me smile. ‘It looks like both he and the king lost something there. Anyway, if I’ve learned anything about his habits, he’ll be back within the week. Now, enough questions. You need to come with me.’
