The Tainted City by Courtney Schafer Page A

sure Ruslan was too busy to spellcast at a specific time. What worried me more were the implications of the ultra-cautious Council taking such a drastic step merely to save a few weeks’ travel time.
    “How close are your wards to failing?” If the Council was truly desperate, Kiran and I might have a hell of a lot more leverage than I’d thought.
    The ironic glint in Martennan’s eyes said he knew perfectly well why I’d asked. “The situation is not dire. Merely urgent. But the Council would prefer I complete my investigation in Ninavel within weeks, not months.”
    He turned to Kiran. “If the Council should agree your binding may be removed in Ninavel, would that satisfy you? Once in the city, we’d need a little time to prepare the casting, but no more than a day. I promise you, you’d be safe until then. And afterward, for that matter, though I can understand your desire to mount your own defenses.”
    Kiran stood silent, his head bowed. When he spoke, his voice was so low I could barely hear him. “If the Council agrees, and you show me their authorization and give me your personal word you’ll remove the binding in Ninavel—then yes, I’ll go. But Marten, if you lie to me in this…” His voice cracked and he stopped, his hands fisting at his sides.
    “Kiran.” Martennan’s voice was soft. “I have never lied to you.”
    “There’s always a first time,” I snapped. Yeah, men like Martennan didn’t lie. They didn’t need to. Play on a mark’s emotions, earn his trust, and he’ll fill in any omissions with his own assumptions and walk placid as a lamb to his own funeral. “Tell me, Martennan, if you want Kiran to go so badly, why the song and dance? You and I both know the Council could’ve ordered him there. Told him either he goes, or they hand him straight over to Ruslan.”
    From Kiran’s dark glance at me, he wished I hadn’t suggested that idea. But if he thought Martennan hadn’t considered it, he wasn’t nearly as wary of the man as he should be. Personally, I suspected Martennan didn’t have the Council’s full support in this little plan to take along his own personal blood mage. But I wanted to hear what Martennan would say in answer.
    Martennan spoke with cool confidence. “This investigation is my responsibility, and as such, I choose what methods to use, not the Council. Our task in Ninavel will be challenging—and yes, dangerous, I don’t deny it. I want people at my side whose efforts are wholehearted, not grudgingly given under duress.”
    Kiran looked reassured. I wasn’t. Martennan certainly had an interesting definition of duress. Despite my distrust, I’d play his game so long as I thought we had the slightest chance of survival. Crazy as this venture was, no question it was my best hope for Melly’s freedom, and my own.
    * * *
    I spidered sideways along the garden wall, my fingers cramping from clinging to tiny imperfections on the stone. Beneath me lurked the thorny sea of rosebushes, and above, the wards that prevented me from touching the wall’s lip. Between roses and wards, the traverse was as challenging as an overhanging ascent up chossy sandstone. My forearms burned by the time I reached the wall’s end, and I nearly impaled myself on a set of thorns as long as my thumb when I jumped down to the flagstone path.
    Lena sat on one of the benches beside the fountain, the vivid red of the cinnabar wood contrasting with the muted fabric of her uniform. After Martennan had left, she’d agreed readily enough when I asked if I might traverse the wall for a bit of exercise, though she’d watched me keen as a banehawk the whole while.
    I dodged around flowerbeds to cross to her bench. The sun had set only moments ago, and the thin clouds streaking the sky glowed in a brilliant display of carmine and orange. Fireflies sparked green in the shadows, and the splashing of the fountain’s water mixed with a growing chorus of nightbugs in the trees. Beyond Lena,