Best Served Cold

She was lucky a ring was all she’d lost back in Puranti, though. She’d been careless, and it had nearly been the end of her. She had to stop smoking. Make a new beginning. Had to, and yet she was smoking more than ever. Each time she woke from sweet oblivion she told herself it would have to be the last, but a few hours later and she’d be sweating desperation from every pore. Waves of sick need, like an incoming tide, each one higher than the last. Each one resisted took a heroic effort, and Monza was no hero, however the people of Talins might once have cheered for her. She’d thrown her pipe away, then in a sticky panic bought another. She wasn’t sure how many times she’d hidden the dwindling lump of husk down at the bottom of one bag or another. But she’d found there’s a problem with hiding a thing yourself.

You always know where it is.

“I do not care for this country.” Morveer stood from his swaying seat and peered out across the flat land. “This is good country for an ambush.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Monza growled back. Hedgerows, the odd stand of trees, brown houses and barns alone or in groups away across the fields-plenty of hiding places. Scarcely a thing moved. Scarcely a sound but for the crows, the wind flapping the canvas on the cart, the wheels rattling, splattering through an occasional puddle.

“Are you sure it is prudent to put your faith in Rogont?”

“You don’t win battles with prudence.”

“No, one plans murders with it. Rogont is notoriously untrustworthy even for a grand duke, and an old enemy of yours besides.”

“I can trust him as far as what’s in his own interest.” The question was all the more irritating as it was one she’d been asking herself ever since they left Puranti. “Small risk for him killing Faithful Carpi, but a hell of a pay-off if I can bring him the Thousand Swords.”

“But it would hardly be your first miscalculation. What if we are marooned out here in the path of an army? You are paying me to kill one man at a time, not fight a war single-”

“I paid you to kill one man in Westport, and you murdered fifty at a throw. I need no lessons from you in taking care.”

“Scarcely more than forty, and that was due to too much care to get your man, not too little! Was your butcher’s bill any shorter at Cardotti’s House of Leisure? Or in Duke Salier’s palace? Or at Caprile, for that matter? Forgive me if I have scant faith in your ability to keep violence contained!”

“Enough!” she snarled at him. “You’re like a goat that won’t stop bleating! Do the job I pay you for, and that’s the end of it!”

Morveer pulled up the cart suddenly with a haul on the reins and Day squawked as she nearly fumbled her apple. “Is this the thanks I get for your timely rescue in Visserine? After you so pointedly ignored my sage advice?”

Vitari, sprawling among the supplies on the back of the cart, stuck up one long arm. “That rescue was as much my doing as his. No one’s thanked me.”

Morveer ignored her. “Perhaps I should find a more grateful employer!”

“Perhaps I should find a more obedient fucking poisoner!”

“Perhaps…! But wait.” Morveer held up a finger, squeezing his eyes shut. “But wait.” He puckered his lips and sucked in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then slowly blew it out. And again. Shivers rode up, raised his one eyebrow at Monza. One more breath, and Morveer’s eyes came open, and he gave a chuckle of sickening falseness. “Perhaps… I should most sincerely apologise.”

“What?”

“I realise I am… not always the easiest company.” A sharp burst of laughter from Vitari and Morveer winced, but carried on. “If I seem always contrary it is because I want only the best for you and your venture. It has ever been a failing of mine to be too intransigent in my pursuit of excellence. There is no more important characteristic than pliability in a man who must, perforce, be your humble servant. Can I entreat you to make with me… a heroic effort? To put this unpleasantness behind us?” He snapped the reins and moved the cart on, still smiling thinly over his shoulder. “I feel it! A new beginning!”

Monza caught Day’s eye as she passed, rocking gently on her seat. The blond girl lifted her brows, stripped her apple to the last fragment of stalk and flicked it away into the field. Vitari was on the back of the cart, just pulling off her coat and sprawling out on the canvas in the sunlight. “Sun’s coming out. New beginning.” She pointed across the country, one hand pressed to her chest. “And aaaaaaaw, a rainbow! You know, they say there’s an elf-glade where it touches the ground!”

Monza scowled after them. Seemed more likely they’d stumble on an elf-glade than that Morveer would make a new beginning. She trusted this sudden obedience even less than his endless carping.

“Maybe he just wants to be loved,” came Shivers’ whispery voice as they set off again.

“If men can change like that.” And Monza snapped her fingers in his face.