corson was in a much better temper when she returned from her meeting with Ioseth ash Ondra. Soon she’d be on the road again, and this time for a fee that would make it worthwhile to brave the winter weather. Her new employer had revealed very little about the job he offered, but he had been particularly clear about the price the Merchants’ Guild was willing to pay her for her services. Corson, who knew better than to ask too many questions, was quite satisfied with what she’d been told.
One of the young scullions, who slept in the kitchen, recognized the familiar sound of her cursing and kicking at the door, and rose reluctantly to let her in. When Corson not only thanked him, but actually gave him a silver penny for his trouble, he thought he must still be asleep and dreaming.
Corson stood in the doorway of Steifann’s room for a few moments, watching him sleep. He lay to one side of the large bed, as if to leave room for her, and one arm was stretched out over the space where she usually lay. The sight of him was so inviting and reassuring that she felt a pang at the thought of leaving him again so soon. “Asye, I’ve not gone yet, and already I miss him,” she sighed.
Making no attempt to be quiet, she shut the door behind her and sat down on the bed to pull off her boots. Steifann stopped in the middle of a snore, mumbled something, started to snore again, then changed his mind and woke up instead. He rolled onto his side and lay watching with drowsy approval as Corson undressed by candlelight. “So her ladyship honors me with her company, eh?” he rumbled.
“What do the Ondra want with you?”
“I don’t know,” Corson admitted, “and I don’t much care-it means fifty crescents in gold, and they paid half in advance.” She leaned over and jingled her money-pouch in his face.
At this, Steifann woke more fully. “Fifty-! Corson, they’ll want murder done.”
“Nothing so simple as that, I fancy. My mission’s sanctioned by the Guild.”
Though Chiastelm was ostensibly governed by a council of its nobility, it was no secret that the powerful Merchants’ Guild really made the town’s laws and saw to their enforcement. Members of the Guild represented Chiastelm in the Maritime Alliance, while maintaining a purely formal fiction that they were acting in the name of the aristocracy.
“They’re paying for my silence as much as for my sword,” Corson continued. “The matter’s so secret that I don’t yet know where I’m bound, much less what I’m to do when I get there. A few days’ ride to the south was all he said-and that was probably a lie. I expect I’ll be guarding something precious, or accompanying someone important-an imperial emissary to the Alliance, I shouldn’t wonder.
They’re worth a fortune in ransom, so I’ve heard.”
“Well, if you don’t know where you’re going or why, do you at least know when?”
Corson hung her sword-belt over the bedpost. “Tomorrow morning,” she said ruefully, “but I’ll be back within the week.”
“Tomorrow? Then why in the Hlann’s name didn’t they give you your instructions tonight?”
“They don’t mean to let me have time to sell the secret. They’ll not give the game away till we’ve started out. Every bandit between here and Ochram would be watching the roads, if word of this business got out, and the Guild’s taking no chances that I’m in league with them-that’s my guess. They even made sure that I wouldn’t be seen going to this meeting by summoning me in the dead of night.”
Corson unpinned her long braid and shook out her hair, taking up her fine silver brush. “I thought I’d come back tonight and find you in bed with Destiver-with my comb.”
Steifann chuckled sleepily. “Not likely, when Annin’s in the mood. Those two are old flames. But how she could prefer anyone else to me I’ll never understand.”
Corson couldn’t understand it either, though she wasn’t sure which woman he meant. She quickly finished brushing her hair and admired her reflection in a basin of water. “Well, anyone who’d want that scarecrow harridan Destiver deserves her. I’m worth three of her.”
Steifann yawned. “You’re three times as big, to be sure.”
“Nyc says I’m beautiful as a dream,” Corson said smugly, and blew out the candles.
Steifann pulled the blankets up around his ears and turned away. “Speaking of dreams, I need some sleep.”
Corson grinned vengefully as she climbed into the warm bed. Turn his back on her, would he! She was still quite cold from the out of doors, and when she slid in beside him she suddenly clamped one icy hand to the back of his neck, and clutched at his stomach with the other.
“Arrh! Get away, you’re freezing! Rutting bitch!”
Steifann rolled over and tried to push her out of the bed, but Corson clung to him, laughing. “I thought you didn’t want me to catch a chill.”
“Let go-”
“You said you’d keep me warm,” Corson reminded him, dragging him over on top of her.
Once she had his attention, she soon changed his mind about sleeping. “Well, since you’re going away so soon…” he said.