“Thepuppeteer’s thralls are magically capable,” Isaac said.“Each one of them isdeadly.Ambushes and stealth are going to be our best chance.”
“Inthat case, take this.”
Sheheld out her dagger, which was still wrapped in the leather sheath.The hiltalone was massive.It was designed for zoanthrope hands, and Isaac would haveto wield it more like a sword.
“Lastresort,” Zaria said.“I’ve seen how winded you get when the fighting’s thick.Might be vital in a pinch.”
“Areyou sure?You could use it, yourself.”
“I’llmanage.Any human who tries to attack me in close quarter is a foolhardy sort.”She gave him a look.“As you know.”
He tookthe sheathed blade, stuffing it into a hip pocket.“Thanks, Z.”
“Huh?”
“I saidthank you.”
“Yousaid something else, too.”
“Idon’t—no, I didn’t.”
“Oh,yes you did.”
Isaachad prepared himself to speak with confidence.Instead, now that the moment hadactually come, he was blushing terribly.“I, um—you know—you keep, uh....”
Shewaited, grinning.Her hyena complexion was surrounded by glassware and rottedbellows.He had to crane his neck to look up at her, which did not help at all.
“Well,”Isaac said, more firmly than he felt, “since you are very persistent in callingme squire, I thought I would give you a nickname, as well.You know—Z.It’sshort.Simple.Unlike asquire, it’s not horribly offensive to yourtalents.It’s a nice, modest diminutive.”
Shegave an exaggerated gasp, which echoed down the laboratory.“Are you attemptin’ to give me a cutesy moniker?”
“It’sjust for convenience’s sake.”
“Am Iyour special missus?”
“Don’ttake it that far.”
“Shouldn’tI, now?Suppose I take this as a warning sign, for all your boyish desire?”
“By thegods,” Isaac said.“Just forget I said anything.”
“Atthis rate, I expect you’ll worship at my feet.”
“Zaria—”
“No,no, no.Look at me, squire.This is serious now.You best believe I’ll want youto call me that in front of those grand wizards of yours.Your father,especially.”
Isaactook a deep breath.
“I’llcertainly want you to moan it lovingly, while licking me from cunt to tail.”
“Ivtarrpreserve me.”
“Butlisten here.That’s as far as she goes.I’d be a dry whore’s cunt before I let youask my hand in marriage.You hear me, squire?I am insulted by the notion.Youexpectin’ a vicious outlaw to be your wife?”
“Pleasestop.”
“Imagineme,” she said, gesturing at her leather and fur, “wielding naught but apron andladle, tending the stew, pining for the moment you grace the door of our wizardtower.Offends the senses, does it not?”
