Page 246 of Scorched Earth

“What possible obligations could be greater than this?” High Lord Pitolt demanded.

The centurion gave a small smile. “Matters above my rank, I’m sure. But the legatus gave clear instructions as to my duties here even as he professed his deepest regrets for having to delegate the matter.”

Helene circled the table, and as she stepped toward the centurion, his men lowered their spears and stepped forward. Helene froze.

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” the centurion said, lifting a casual hand to wave back his men. “It appears they see you as a threat.”

It wasn’t Helene who concerned them, but Killian could sense the legionnaires’ agitation. They sensed something was wrong, sensed the threat, their eyes searching for the source. Killian didn’t fail to notice that it was to him their eyes moved most, despite the fact he wore no weapon.

Helene gave a nervous giggle. “They flatter me, for I’ve never lifted a weapon in my life.” She continued her progress around the table, stopping before the centurion. “I had hoped to meet the legatus. So that we might negotiate in person.”

“I’ve no doubt that your paths will cross in the future and that he’ll be delighted to make your acquaintance.” The centurion’s voice was calm and steady, but Killian didn’t miss his fingers moving. A silent signal to the men behind him, who all tensed. The last line of their ranks pivoted as one, spears and attention on the beach.

They sense danger.

Killian silently cursed because the giants weren’t yet in position, and the other ship waiting in deeper waters was full of more men just as dangerous as these.

The centurion took a steel cylinder from one of his men and extracted a thick roll of paper. “It is my understanding that negotiations are complete. The terms have been laid out here, in Cel and again in your language, and the legatus has already signed on behalf of the Senate. If you would sign, Your Majesty, and hand over the woman known as both Kitaryia Falorn and Lydia Valerius, we shall return to Revat and make ready to take next steps.”

“Yes, well, this is her.” Helene had lost all her color, her motion stiff as she gestured to Lydia. “Lydia goes willingly, as does her bodyguard. They both understand this agreement is for the good of Mudamora.”

One of the legionnaires said something in Cel, and the centurion gave a tight nod to Lydia. “Your face is known to us, Domina. It is my understanding that your betrothal to the Dictator still stands, and you will be wed upon your return. So it would be best if yourbodyguardremains here. We will do you the courtesy of keeping your…indiscretionsin the West.”

“How kind of you.” Lydia’s voice was cool. “But before we take this step, tell me: How does Celendor aim to destroy the blight that plagues Mudamora?”

“That remains to be seen.” The man’s words were terse, his patience for this conversation fading as his instincts sensed the rising threat. “No doubt we will enlist experts in botany from the collegium to advise.”

“The blight is not aplant,” Lydia retorted. “The blight is death itself. I was not aware that the collegium had experts on such things.”

The centurion eyed her for a moment, then said, “Having not seen the substance myself, it would be speaking out of turn for me to give an opinion on its nature.”

“Has Marcus seen it?”

His eyes moved from Lydia to again survey the surroundings. “You might reconsider your familiarity.”

“Oh, we’ve met.” Lydia’s head tilted. “I’m sure you’re aware.”

“I don’t know if he’s seen it. He does not hold me in close confidence, so to make assumptions would be a presumption.”

“And yet you stand here on his behalf, and”—Lydia gestured to the document—“he has signed an agreement that says, and I quote, ‘The Empire commits to invest significant resources into the eradication of the blight.’” She rested an elbow on the table, giving the centurion a small smile. “Perhaps you might explain to me what that means before I surrender my life into your care.”

“Lydia, what are you doing?” Helene hissed. “You agreed to this.”

“I would like to hear the answer, Your Grace.” High Lord Pitolt’s eyes narrowed, for while he was an ambitious coward, he was no fool. “What resources? What is the Empire’s plan?”

The centurion gave an irritated shake of his head, his eyes going to Helene. “We had an agreement, Your Grace. While elements of that agreement may take time to achieve, the surrender of Lydia Valerius is not one of them. She is the betrothed to the Dictator of Celendor, which means that you are withholding his property from him.”

Killian’s whole body stiffened, and the centurion’s eyes shot to him, civility disappearing in an instant. “Your face and name are known to us, Killian Calorian, as is your reputation. Keep your ass on that chair and you might survive this. Get to your feet, and you breathe your last, am I understood?”

Killian didn’t answer.

The centurion’s mouth twisted, the pulse in his throat throbbing rapidly. “Your Majesty, please sign. We have a long journey and wish to depart.”

“Helene, do not sign.” High Lord Pitolt rose, resting his hands on the table. “I dislike this boy’s tone and find myself questioning his master’s true intent.”

Hurry,Killian silently begged Bercola, but there was no sign of motion in the water.

“It strikes me that you have not been negotiating in good faith,” the centurion snapped. “Do you wish Celendor to deliver you from the Queen of Derin and her blight, or do you wish us to leave you to fight on alone? Tolosealone, for that is surely what is to occur?”