Page 60 of Ties of Frost

Mind made up, I proceeded to the teahouse. Upon entering, I spotted a ginger human with a lute hanging on the back of her seat. I grinned. Our eyes met, and she jumped to her feet.

“Kyrundar!”

“Laine.” I helped myself to one of the three empty chairs at her table. After the host took my order, I leaned back and looked to Laine. “How is troubadour life?”

“Same as always.” She grinned back. “Dusty roads and demanding audiences. Speaking of which,pleasetell me you have new Kyrmaris stories. I need material to incorporate into the song I’m writing about you two receiving the Merit together.”

Something twisted inside me, but I kept my smile in place. “I’m afraid not.”

The host brought over my tea, and I thanked him and poured myself a cup before continuing the conversation. “I’m actually looking to get information.”

Laine sighed melodramatically. “Are you hunting for a mission or investigating something specific? Because I’ve been trying to get someone to look into a death, but the two rengir I’ve talked to said there’s nothing they can do since the city inspector ruled it wasn’t murder.”

I frowned. “A friend of yours?”

“No, but an occasional patron.” Laine refilled her teacup, her expression pinched. “A wealthy merchant who loved hosting parties, Teague Carlower. I performed at his townhouse in Cadevelde three weeks ago, and at the end of the night, he was drunkenly ranting about how he’d been threatened to include strangers in his next caravan. He said he wouldn’t be threatened, even by a group of powerful heretics who are infiltrating the government to take over the empire.”

Alarm coursed through me as I remembered the shifter assassin insulting Iskyr. “Heretics?”

She shook her head and sipped her tea. “I’m not sure what he meant. All I know is the next day, Carlower was dead. Suffocated, the physician said, but without signs of a break-in or struggle, and there was nothing lodged in his airway. Like he just…choked on nothing.”

Or like he was strangled by a night elf’s shadows. “Are you putting any of that in a song?” I asked, trying not to sound too worried. I didn’t want assassins to target another friend.

Laine’s eyes widened. “Void-cursed monsters, of course not! If there is a group of people up to conspiracy, sacrilege, and murder, I don’t want their attention. Besides,conspiracies and fear-mongering don’t elicit the emotions that make audiences loose their purse strings.” She smiled sweetly and leaned closer. “What audiences would love to know is where Kyrmaris went together after the Dawning Festival.”

Just then, the door to the teahouse opened. A wave of anger flashed through the heartbond without me accessing it. Trailed by Sajen, Zidra marched over, her expression deceptively calm. Her gaze moved purposefully from me to my teatime companion to the lute hanging from the back of Laine’s chair and back to me. She sat in the unoccupied chair to my left, across from the troubadour, and skewered me with a look.

I considered moving my chair away from Laine, but that would make me look guilty. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, and Laine was just an acquaintance and source of information—but I didn’t know how to politely explain that to Zidra in front of Laine.

“Telling more stories?” Zidra asked.

Accusation hid behind the sharp question. I winced. She was probably wondering if I was telling every bard, clerk, troubadour, and busybody in Gamnica about our recent adventures and her current predicament, and I couldn’t really blame her.

I smiled reassuringly. “Hearing them, actually. Zidra, this is Laine. Laine, Rengir Zidra Eilmaris.”

“The honor is assuredly mine.” Laine rested a freckled forearm on the tabletop and leaned forward. Her ginger hair slid over her shoulder and hung dangerously close to herhalf-full teacup. “Do I understand there are new Kyrmaris stories to be told? Ilifir is being irritatingly tight-lipped.” She slid her narrowed eyes over to me and affected a dramatic pout.

On my other side, Zidra stiffened. Sajen watched both women before lowering himself into the seat opposite me. He tilted his head with a far too merry expression. Easy for him to think this was funny when he wasn’t the one caught between a suspicious wyveri and a cunning human who was adept at flirting, cajoling, bribing, and otherwise convincing people to give her sensational gossip.

“Traveling makes boring stories,” Zidra said dryly.

“Exactly.” I nodded as if that settled the matter. Zidra studied me for a moment before returning her attention to Laine.

“Then what were you two discussing?” Zidra’s mouth pinched downward.

“Rumors and shadows of rumors and the ever-shifting mists of secrets hinted at but left unspoken,” Laine replied, a bit of performer flare mixing with snappishness. She leaned back and pointedly turned toward me. “Did you have any other questions?”

“Do you know anything about Gautindar Rouven?”

Laine shook her head. “Doesn’t sound familiar, sorry.” She tossed back the rest of her tea and stood. “Always a pleasure, Ilifir. Iskyr guide you all.”

“And you,” the three of us replied in unison.

The troubadour nodded to each of us in turn, then slung her lute on her back and departed.

“I wasn’t flirting,” I said. “I’m not interested in Laine.”

Zidra stared at me, and then her posture eased and she nodded. “Did you learn anything useful?”

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