Zariastared at him.
Isaacplaced a hand on his chest, feigning a confident smile.He wasn’t used tosmiling, and it took some effort.“I believe you’ve found your champion.”
“You?My champion?”
“Thatis what I said.Thank you for listening.”
“Oh, Iheard you.I’m just giving you a chance to think better.”
“Whosaid I was going to fight fair?”
Heconjured another ball of fire.She watched the flame spin above his palm, the lightreflecting in her eye.She opened her mouth to speak.She closed it.Her eyesremained locked on his magic.
Slowly,her expression grew thoughtful.
Down inthe palace courtyard, Soren was strolling through the middle of the open space,still leaving bloody prints with the paws of her feet.Her eyes were locked onthe bodies of the thralls which had not yet been dragged away.Around her, theair was filled with motion and shouts.
With anidle sweep, she leaned over, drew her cutlass, and decapitated one of thebodies.
As thehead rolled across the pavement, she grabbed it by the hair and lifted itclose, her sword dripping blood at her side.She rubbed the carved sigil on itsforehead, as if digging into the mottled scar.Her expression seemed curious.She clearly did not understand what magic was at play.After a moment, shedipped a finger through the neck hole and tasted the blood.She spat on thepavement.With a grunt, she tossed the head into the air and kicked it like achild’s ball.It went sailing off into the city beyond.
Morerumbling shook the ground.Beneath the quakes, there was a deeper, moremelodious voice.It was the warning call of a sandwyrm.Isaac had heard it manytimes on his trek across the desert.It seemed that the creature had mistakenSoren’s bombs for the approach of a rival.
It wasgoing to be territorial.
Evennow, a single vibration would likely spell its attack.
Zariaturned her attention back to the palace.She wasn’t looking at Soren—instead,she was tracking the crew as they raced across the courtyard, taking note ofthe souls repairing the walls, treating the wounded, rationing out portions ofmeat and rum.She would know their names.She would also know the ones nowlying dead on the pavement.Over the years, they might’ve worked as deckhands,sharing meals, sharing bunks, sharing the same hauls of treasure.
It musthave taken a lot for her to kill the ones she had.
Hersilence was heavy.
“Hey,”Isaac said.“Do you think Soren’s crew wants to be stuck down here, in thistomb?”
Thehyena snorted.“Pirates are worse than crones.Anything and everything is acurse.Most of ‘em would be swimming in piss if Soren weren’t barking orders.”
“So, ifwe kill Soren, and weonlykill Soren, they will probably run away.Right?”
Zarialooked back at him.
“Inthat case,” Isaac said, “you could argue that we would be saving their lives.It seems the right thing to do.Kill the person whowants you dead, and spare the crew who are having second thoughts.”
She didnot answer.
“Right?”he asked.
“Isaac,”she said.“I won’t ask you to do this.This is my business.My concern.You gotyour mission to worry about—don’t start feeling obligated for me.”
“I amworried about my mission.Soren is getting in the way of it.In terms of myduty to the Diet, I’d say I’m compelled to end her life.”He shrugged.“Itcould just be that I want to defeat a murderous pirate, as well.That would bea good deed for the world.You know, help a few people.”
Shegave him an expression somewhere between shock and laughter.“You realize theyoutnumber us ten to one?”
“Sure.”
“Shehas crossbows.Explosives.She brought a whole fuckin’ cannon.None the least,all the crew at her back are veteran hands.They’re all risking blackness andevil to have a chance at my head.”
“Thatseems accurate.”
