Third law: Kill everyone who interferes with rules one or two.
—Mercenaries’ Guild, Blood-bound laws
CHAPTER SIX
I’m exhausted by the time Elianna finally thinks I’ve taken in the bare minimum knowledge to fool anyone who pokes at my false identity as a poisoner.
“And this succulent that only grows in the Desert of Sharnon is deadly and always fatal when boiled in milk,” I recite, holding the small vial of ladle-shaped leaves as far from me as possible. “Are you sure the cork stopper is safe enough?”
She takes the jar from me, fixes it into a slot in a bandolier-like case, and fastens its clasps. “Yes. At worst, if you touch the leaves with bare skin, you may blister. We should sleep now.”
I blink at the transition before my tired mind catches up. “Yes. Please. May I at least take this book with me to study along the way? I’ve readAn Encyclopedic Guide to Poisons of Altarraa few times before, but not when my life depended on knowing its contents.”
“Of course. Do you have any questions?”
“Any?” I want to know how direct I can be.
“Any.” Her gold eyes glow, and I wonder what magic that signifies, but I don’t want to waste a question asking. Instead, I go straight for the heart of the matter.
“Why aren’t you coming with us?”
The sorcerer looks at her shoes. At her hands, clasped in her lap. Everywhere but at me.
I keep waiting.
Finally, she blows out a breath. “I can’t. The Guild … We’re not welcome in many of the places where you’ll have to travel.”
“Neither are those with Gray Mind,” I say. My words shatter against my small store of courage like shards of pottery on stone when the truth I hadn’t thought of before hits me. “In fact, I can be killed or captured if anyone sees my brand.”
I rise and start to pace, clutching my wrist. “What is the king thinking? What wereyouthinking? I’ll be marked for death or permanent servitude the moment I step out of Pyrrh. Why choose someone with such a disadvantage?”
She spreads her hands and gives me a helpless look. “Because you fit, Soli. The amulet—thegoddess—chose you. And I was right. Iwas,” she repeats, as if trying to convince herself it was okay to risk lives.
To risk Lil’s life.
To cause Lil’s death.
The amulet lies heavy against my chest beneath my fine new shirt. “You were right. But did you think beyond that?”
“I—No. Not far enough.” Her voice is as bleak as my future. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Soli.”
She leans over and grabs a small piece of parchment off a table, then carefully inks a word and hands it to me.
Persevere.
My throat is dry as dust, but I twist the parchment into a coil and braid it into my hair. “Persevere. I suppose I may as well, since I have no other options.”
“You should try on your clothes.”
Almost numbly, I pull the bag closer and draw out garments I’d be thrilled to wear if circumstances were different. Butter-soft brown leather pants. Three colorful shirts. All are too large, but the sorcerer says I may gain weight on the journey, now that I’ll have enough to eat.
When I ask about a snugly fitted leather vest, she says it’s to go over my shirt “for protection.”
“Against what?”
“Stabbing, I suppose,” she says absently, sorting through vials of foul-looking liquid.
Naturally.
