Patricia Briggs: Steal the Dragon

Laeth allowed her to draw away and then said, “I’m sorry, Marri. I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to your father. I’m sorry that you’re worried.” He slanted a faint grin at her and lightened his tone. “I’m even sorry that I’m a stupid mule. Karsten is a good man, even if he is my brother.”

He took Marri’s arm in a formal hold and escorted her to the door. “Thank you for your warning, lady. I’ll keep it in mind. If you find out who started the rumor that I’m behind the assassination attempt, I would like to know his name—but send a servant with a message.”

He put a hand on the door to open it, and Rialla casually attempted to use the remnants of her talent to scan for someone lurking in the hall. She suspected that even if there were someone there, she wouldn’t be able to tell—so she was astounded when she found something.

“Laeth, stop,” she hissed urgently, abandoning her post against the wall to sprint to the door and hold it shut. “There’s someone out there. Wait.” Taking a deep breath, she pressed her forehead against the smooth wood of the door. The person outside the room was in a consuming rage; only the force of his emotions allowed her contact at all. Sweating, she tried to find out more.

The anger she felt was directed at… the cat. The miserable, sharp-toed, speedy tabby who’d left with the tasty scrap of meat he was saving for a snack… Rialla could feel the flush of embarrassment that crept up her fair skin. It was one of the castle dogs. The hunting dogs were allowed full run of the keep—one of Karsten’s little eccentricities.

Animal thoughts had always been easier to pick up than human ones—their thoughts were simpler and more tightly connected to their emotions. She could pick up their thoughts almost as easily as she could touch their emotions.

She was just about to turn and try to explain why she’d stopped Marri from going out when she caught the last edge of a thought… a whisper of resentment at the leash that kept him from the cat. She tried again, without success, to touch the person on the other side of the door, but only the dog came in clear.

Her head was starting to ache with the effort of stretching the old scars that limited her empathy, but she ignored it. Unable to reach the person, she touched the animal a different way. Clearly audible on the other side of the door, the guard dog began barking.

Laeth narrowed his eyes at her, but waving Marri out of sight of the door, he called out in a loud voice, “Girl! Go see what is wrong with that plaguing dog, and shut it up!” He strode to the bed and sat down on it, beginning to struggle with the remaining close-fitting, knee-high boot.

“Yes, Master,” Rialla replied demurely and yanked at the ties that held her hair up. She bit her lips to make them look kissed and opened the ties at the top of her tunic.

She cracked the door and slipped out, but not before she gave the man outside a clear view of Laeth tugging at his boot. She didn’t recognize the man holding the dog, but that wasn’t surprising. He wore the uniform of the guards—they kept mostly to the grounds and away from the keep; she only knew the indoor servants.

He took a good look at her and lost a few more inches of leather to the straining dog. She bit her bottom lip and leaned back against the door with all the sultriness a dance-trained slave was capable of displaying.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked in a husky voice.

The man’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Laeth’s voice carried clearly through the door. “Shut that beast up now!”

Rialla gave a squeak of fright and ran to the dog, crooning, “Shh, puppy, that’s a good boy.”

That pulled the guard’s attention from the shadows of her cleavage. “Don’t. He’s a trained guard dog… He’ll kill you.” He said the last in a small voice as the dog rolled over in ecstasy onto the slave’s lap while she rubbed his belly.

She turned her big emerald eyes at the guard and said inanely, “I’ve always had a way with dogs. Do you think that he’ll start barking again, if I quit petting him? My master has an awful temper: if he hears the dog bark again, he’s liable to kill it.” She watched the guard closely and whispered, “And probably you as well.”

Everyone knew that Laeth had spent the last two years training in Sianim. Rumor had it, truthfully enough, that Laeth’s temper was even more impressive than his outrageousness.

The big guard swallowed and grabbed the dog’s collar. As he did so, Rialla touched his hand briefly for a minute and caught a stray thought:… couldn’t use the coppers I’ll get for this job if I were a corpse …

He’d been paid to spy, but on whom? Rialla watched as the guard tugged the dog down the hall and around the corner. Once she could have read him as easily as she could close her eyes. She hit the floor in frustration and jumped to her feet.

Opening the door to Laeth’s chambers, Rialla said, “All clear.”

Marri slipped out and gave Rialla a penetrating look before leaving in the opposite direction the guard had taken. Rialla stepped into the room and closed the door gently behind her.

“All right, Ria, just how did you know someone was there?” Laeth was lying on top of the colorful tick on the bed with his hands behind his head and his legs crossed.

Rialla leaned against the door and said, “Would you believe that I heard them?”

“After the dog started barking, yes. But I doubt you could hear them walking from the opposite side of that door,” replied Laeth shortly.

“Hmm,” said Rialla in a frivolous tone, tapping her chin in thought. “How about…”

“The truth,” said Laeth firmly.

“You won’t like it, and probably won’t believe it either,” commented Rialla, wandering back over to the little table she’d sat on before and fiddling with a hideous purple glass vase.

“Ria.” He sounded impatient.

She put the vase back. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I am an empath. Sort of anyway.”

“A what?” asked Laeth incredulously.

“An empath. You know, ‘I know what you feel… I know your thoughts.’ ” Her voice took on a sonorous and slightly sinister tone, but she easily dropped it again as she continued, “Like the mindspeakers in the traveling fairs.”

He sat up and said with obvious disbelief, “You can read people’s minds?”

“Well, I used to be able to, but not much anymore.” She picked up a crude figurine and continued, “Animals are easier. I can pick up emotions pretty clearly if they’re strong ones, and occasionally the thoughts that go with them. Marri thinks that you’re as handsome as ever.” She nodded at his start of surprise.

“You read Marri?” This time there was a strong thread of anger in his tone.

“Nothing that anyone couldn’t have seen in her face if they were looking.” Her voice was noncommittal and she set the figurine next to the vase. She wanted to back away from his anger; somehow it was harder to resist her conditioning while wearing the garb of a slave.

“Plague it, Rialla, that’s worse than eavesdropping. You violated her privacy!” He stood up, and she could see his outrage tightening the muscles of his arms. She could feel her heartbeat pick up as he closed in on her.

She could either fight back or cower. The latter was smarter, but if she cowered she might as well be the slave whose guise she wore.

“You Darranians and your overdeveloped sense of propriety,” she said with a quiet bitterness that stopped him short. “I know all about the rules by which you live your lives. Take the aristocratic, immaculate Lord Jarroh, your brother’s best friend and staunchest ally. He frequented the little bar where I danced. He never spilled a drop of the single glass of white wine he drank. One must never be excessive when imbibing alcohol. He always tipped the waiter—just the proper amount. Then he went upstairs and beat the little slave girl he kept there. Sometimes he used a whip, sometimes he used his fist. Crippled as I am, I still felt her pain every time, including the last time—when he killed her.” She smiled at him humorlessly. “His slave had seen twelve summers when she died.”