Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [30]
The sea rolled, and waves came and went as the two gods viewed this deal from every angle.
Finally, Zeboim said graciously, “I promise Mina will be restored to you. I know how to deal with my brother. Provided, of course, that you free my son’s soul in return.”
Chemosh was likewise gracious. “I could agree to that. I want Krell for myself. In return, I give you the monk.”
Chemosh is up to something. He is giving in too easily, Zeboim thought, eyeing him.
She is giving in too easily. Zeboim is up to something, Chemosh thought, eyeing her.
Still, thought both, I’m getting the best of this bargain.
Zeboim held out her hand.
Chemosh took her hand and they concluded the deal.
“Bring Mina to me, and I will start your son’s soul on its journey to its next bloody conquest,” said the Lord of Death.
“I will return with Mina,” said Zeboim, “and I will let you know what I find out about this Tower. I’m sure there must be some mistake. My brother would never deceive me.”
Liar, thought Chemosh.
“I merely told you as a courtesy,” he replied nonchalantly. “What Nuitari does or does not do with his Tower holds no interest for me.”
Liar, thought Zeboim.
“Until we meet again, dear friend,” she gushed.
“Until we meet again,” said Chemosh suavely.
“Ugh, how I hate that wretch!” Zeboim said to herself as she strode across the ocean floor. “I’ll make him pay!”
“Conniving witch,” Chemosh muttered. “I’ll fix her.” He raised his voice. “Krell! You can come out now! Mina will soon be restored to us, and when she is, I want to be ready to act.”
naware his life had been used as a bargaining chip by his goddess, Rhys remained in Solace, as he had promised Gerard. Several days passed after their conversation, during which time Rhys saw very little of the sheriff. Whenever he did run across him, Gerard would always rush past with a wave of his hand and the muttered words, “Can’t talk now, but soon. Very soon.”
Rhys returned to his work at the inn, where he received a warm welcome from the inn’s proprietor.
“I’m glad you’re back, Brother,” said Laura, wiping her hands on her apron. “We missed you, and not just for cutting up potatoes, either, though no one else around here can cut them into those neat little squares like you do.”
“I am pleased to be back,” Rhys said.
“You have a way about you, Brother,” Laura continued, bustling about the kitchen. She lifted a lid and a gush of spicy steam rolled out of a kettle. She peered into the pot, dipped in a spoon, and shook her head. “Needs more salt. Where was I? Oh, yes. You have a kind of calm that spreads over everyone when you’re around, Brother, and evaporates when you’re not.”
Lifting a ball of bread dough from a crock, she began to deftly knead it, working as she talked.
“The day you left, Cook quarreled with the scullery maid, who was so upset she spilled a pot of ham and beans and nearly scalded herself. Not to mention the two fistfights we had in the yard, and then there was the youngster who took a notion to slide all the way down the banister from tree-level to ground and ended up breaking his arm. When you’re here, Brother, nothing like that ever happens. Everything just seems to go as smooth as my lady’s backside.
“Oh, dear!” Laura clapped her hand to her mouth and flushed bright red. “I beg your pardon, Brother. I didn’t mean to be talking about my lady’s backside.”
Rhys smiled. “I think you overrate my influence, Mistress Laura. Now, since it is close to supper, I should be starting on those potatoes …”
Rhys sliced potatoes and onions, hauled water, and listened sympathetically to Cook’s complaints about the scullery maid, then he soothed the scullery maid, who didn’t know what she could ever do to please Cook. He enjoyed working in the inn’s kitchen. He liked the hectic times, such as dinner and supper, when he was often doing three things at once, working with his sleeves rolled up past the elbow, rushing about with no time to think of