Page 83 of Magick and Lead
Charlie reached a hand down. I hesitated for an instant, then took it and let him pull me up.
We emerged in the middle of a small room filled with food. Bags of flour, hanging chains of sausages, shelves of bread loaves, racks of wine bottles, and sacks of peppers, onions, and potatoes surrounded us.
I eased the trapdoor shut and cut Charlie a glance, sending him a thought via the simnal.We Skrathan have a saying:beware the mission that starts easy.
His lips made a grim line, and he nodded. We’d be careful.
He stepped toward me, and for a second, I thought he was coming in for a kiss, and my heart tripped faster. Instead, he reached past me and took an apron from a hook on the wall behind me. He draped it over my head and put one on himself, too. It might not be the greatest disguise, but if someone saw us, they might think we were kitchen staff rather than intruders—at least at first glance. He reached into a flour bag, stuck a finger in it, and dabbed it on my nose with a teasing wink, completing our disguise.
I glared at him, smiling in spite of myself.
Together, we looked to the pantry door. I hadn’t gotten to fight in many real battles as a Skrathan before becoming Irska. Still, I was experienced enough to know that at the start of any mission, there was a mental hourglass that tipped. Sand was slipping through ours now, and with every grain that fell, the danger of being discovered increased. We dared not delay any longer.
Charlie handed me a ream of cheese and picked up a basket of carrots. Then, giving me a nod, he led the way out the pantry door.
Men and women in aprons just like ours bustled about, putting the finishing touches on dishes, dozens of which were laid out on a metal counter. Nobody paid us any mind as we passed among them. A set of swinging double doors stood at the far end of the room, and we made our way to them and peeked out the round windows.
Men in Admarian suits and women in formal gowns stood in groups, chatting. Kortoi, with his long, dark hair and flowing black robes, would have been easy to spot. But he wasn’t there.
“The president isn’t here, either,” Charlie said, clearly thinking the same thing I was.
I closed my eyes for a moment, using my dragon intuition. It was always strongest when it came to sniffing out prey, and it didn’t disappoint now. I nodded toward the far end of the large dining room, where an arched doorway opened up into a hallway.
“They’re over there,” I said. Setting down the cheese wheel, I grabbed one of the plates full of food, handing it to Charlie, then picking up one of my own.
“We can’t just waltz through that room full of diplomats,” Charlie hissed.
Before I could answer, a man in a white uniform and a chef’s hat came rushing up to us.
“What are you doing with those plates?” he demanded. “You’re not servers.”
“Aranum etas porthaeme tsamam,” I snapped at him. It was the first thing that had come to mind, a saying in old Maethalian—a derivation of the language of elves that meant, roughly,butt out and mind your own business.
The chef looked confused.
“For the Maethalian guest. President’s orders,” Charlie said with a shrug, and we both turned on our heels and walked out the double doors.
A few heads turned toward us as we made our way across the room, but even as they noticed us, they dismissed us just as quickly as a pair of lowly kitchen assistants.
“I think you pissed off the chef,” Charlie whispered as we walked.
“It’s what I do best.”
“What? Talking your way out of tricky situations?”
“No. Pissing off men,” I said with a smile.
We passed through the arched doorway and into the broad hallway, passing several doors on our left and our right. But there was no mystery which door we were looking for. Two black-suited bodyguards stood outside of it, watching us as we approached.
“Alright, how do you plan to piss these guys off?” Charlie asked.
“I don’t pisseveryoneoff,” I said. “Sometimes I give gifts.”
“Who requested these—?” one of the guards started to ask, but before he could finish, I smashed him in the face with the plate of food. His head banged against the wall, and as it rebounded, I brought an elbow across his face. The man went down in a heap.
Charlie plated his guard in the face, too. With one hand, he swiped the mashed potatoes from his eyes. With the other, he went for his gun—but I was quicker. I pulled the dagger from beneath my apron and brought it across his throat in one quick swipe. Blood poured from the wound as he took a single step, then fell.
“Sophi in heaven!” Charlie hissed, staring down at him. “You didn’t have to kill the guy.”
