Page 134 of Quicksilver
“Gods alive!” I spun around, my pulse beating everywhere, and found the warrior sitting in an armchair by the fire. “Could have warned me we weren't alone anymore,” I hissed at Carrion.
“Don't get shitty with me. I tried to tell you, and you told me to shush. You were very rude.”
“I didn't mean to scare you,” Lorreth said, getting to his feet. “Sorry. Watch out.”
Carrion and I both leaned back as hundreds of glinting pieces of metal rose into the air again, this time courtesy of Lorreth, who used his magic to gather all of the pieces into one floating bundle before he gestured for them to drop into a ceramic pot on the mantelpiece above the fire. He collected the pot and brought it over, handing it to me with a self-satisfied grin. “There we go. Easy.”
A lot of things were easier when you had magic. I clutched the pot to my chest, the beginnings of excitement churning in my veins. If I could convince the quicksilver to enter into this kind of a bargain, then the rings should be easy. And I got to make a sword. Not some tiny dagger, barely capable of inflicting a paper cut. A proper fucking sword.
Wolfishly, I grinned up at the dark-haired warrior. “Lorreth. What a coincidence. I was just about to go looking for you.”
29
BALLAD OF THE AJUN GATE
The forge washotter than the fifth burning pit of hell. Sweat ran down my back, soaking through my shirt. My pants clung to my legs, but damp clothes were a small price to pay for progress, and, Gods, was I making progress.
Danya's sword smelted perfectly. The quicksilver didn't laugh at me at all as I worked. It didn't split from the steel and refuse to recombine. For once, it was silentandcooperative. But its attention was a hand resting on my shoulder. It was curious. It wanted to see what kind of weapon I would create with it, and if I was capable of upholding my end of our bargain.
I'd dreamed of getting to create something like this for years. I’d had so many sketchbooks back in Zilvaren full of designs that I had never been able to forge thanks to lack of materials. If the quicksilver wanted to be turned into a weapon that would demand people's attention, then I wasn't going to disappoint it. There were areas of the casting that I was going to need help with, though. Areas I didn't have much experience with.
The sun was going down when I stepped out of the forge into the snow, looking for Lorreth. He sat on a rock by the fire, hurling a throwing dagger at a dead tree trunk that was alreadychipped into oblivion, full of blade marks. Carrion was cooking something in a pot over the fire, his mouth drawn into a flat line. He saw me and pointed at Lorreth, scowling. “These fuckers are all cheats.”
Lorreth laughed heartily, extending his hand. The dagger he'd just imbedded into the tree trunk dislodged itself and whipped backward, landing in his palm hilt-first. “Andyouare a sore loser,” he said.
“He just took me for eleven chits. That's half of my money.”
“You can't even spend them here, Carrion,” I reminded him.
“It's not about that. It's about being fucking tricksy. We had a gentleman's bet. We were supposed to try and hit the target as many times as we could in a row. The person who held the longest streak won.”
“And? How has he tricked you?” I tried not to smile.
“And I did the honorable thing and let him go first.”
“And?”
“And he hasn't missed once! I asked him if he'd played this game before,and he said no,”Carrion growled in an accusatory tone.
“I haven't played before.” Lorreth flicked his wrist, and the dagger shot from his palm, propelled through the air at a ferocious velocity. The dagger's handle juddered when the blade bit into the tree trunk. “When I throw this thing, it isn’t a game. I’m usually throwing it at a vampire's head. It pays not to miss underthoseconditions.”
Carrion's cheeks were mottled red with annoyance. “How the fuck was I supposed to beat him when he's some kind of killing machine?”
I snorted. “How many times has he hit the tree?” It was cruel to ask, but it was a rare thing, seeing Carrion this piqued, and damn it, I was going to make the most of it.
“I don't know,” he snapped. “More than fifty.”
“Two hundred and seventeen,” Lorreth said. The knife jerked free of the trunk, darted back to Lorreth's hand, and he threw it again, all in one fluid motion. “Two hundred and eighteen.” Again, he repeated the process, not even looking at the tree this time. “Two hundred and nineteen.”
“All right, all right, you can stop now. I'm already making the godscursed food, anyway.”
“That's what you bet him?” I asked Lorreth. “That he'd have to cook?”
The warrior shrugged. The tips of his canines were just visible in the waning half-light when he grinned. “I was hungry.”
“Tricksy,” Carrion muttered again, stirring the contents of the pot bubbling over the fire.
“He didn't trick you,” I told him. “He gave you a taste of your own medicine. How many of these unfairly weighted, unwinnable bets have you allowed Hayden to enter into, huh?”
