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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

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SHIANAN DID NOT HAVE to wait long; Connor Kudo was not important enough to keep him waiting. “My lord commander?”

Shianan took a seat at his desk. “How are the audits progressing, my lord?”

Kudo exhaled a long, exasperated breath. “We very much appreciate your discovery of the fraud, of course, and it’s all to the good, but that is a lot of accounting to check.” He rubbed at his eyes and gestured at the ledgers stacked on the end of his desk. “I’ll be reconciling numbers into my grave.”

Shianan produced a sheet of paper and spread it upon Kudo’s desk. “Would it help if you knew exactly where to look?”

He had recopied Jarrick Roald’s incriminating list so that the man’s handwriting could not be recognized. It would do no good to send Luca home to a family just before their arrest and collapse.

Kudo held the paper at arm’s length and squinted at it. “Is this a list of defrauders?”

“These are the merchants I am confident you should look at most closely.” Shianan leaned conspiratorially over the desk. “And as I did not learn this by my own accounting and I should like to protect my source, I ask that if you should add any name to this list, please confirm it with me first to avoid exposing my informant.”

Kudo nodded eagerly. “Given the months of effort and headache your informant has just spared me, I will gladly spare him. As far as I am concerned, this list is complete.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Shianan returned to his office, glad of his strike against the murderous alliance but also freshly wounded. Jarrick’s list had not been Luca’s price, but it was too near the loss.

The outer door opened without a warning knock, and Shianan raised his head from his paperwork, prepared to snap at the soldier who entered without permission. But it was Ewan Hazelrig who came through the door, swathed in his white cloak, and Shianan bit back his rebuke. No matter his mood, he could not vent it on the White Mage.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Hazelrig offered by way of greeting, raising an eyebrow.

Shianan smoothed his expression into what he hoped was a polite mask. “Not at all, my lord mage. Please sit.”

“Thank you.” Hazelrig seated himself, settling his official robes. “Blasted things,” he complained amiably. “Such a nuisance. Show every little speck.” He raised his eyes to meet Shianan’s. “Have you a few minutes, my lord commander, for us to speak in private?”

Shianan’s spine stiffened. “My lord?”

Hazelrig did not so much as blink. “Have you? Or should I come another time?”

Shianan swallowed, nervous for no reason he could define. He rose and locked the door behind the mage. “We won’t be disturbed. What may I do for you, my lord mage?”

The mage looked at him steadily. “I thought you might have something to say,” he began mildly. “I came to make it convenient for you, if you wished.”

“Convenient?”

“To ask your questions, your lordship, without danger of being overheard in the Wheel.”

Shianan took a breath. “It is not the place of a commander to question the White Mage.”

“I believe it was you who said we could not afford to stand on formality.”

Shianan bit back a curse. “Then, if we must be blunt, that was when we shared secrets, my lord mage. We traded one secret for another, and that concluded our contract. I did not even know you had such a prize in your hands now.”

Hazelrig shook his head. “You observed that I had a guest—not a prisoner.”

Shianan clenched his fist. “Pairvyn ni’Ai is no guest in this land.”

“The Pairvyn ni’Ai has been a guest in my home for much of your lifetime,” the mage replied, a hint of acidity creeping into his voice, “and I owe him the life of my daughter twice over—which is once more than I owe the same to you, my lord commander, grateful as I am.”

Shianan could not answer.

Hazelrig settled again in his seat. “Tamaryl returned to our world to seek a missing friend,” he explained, his voice smooth again, “who is now found. I owe Maru my gratitude as well, as it was he who nursed Ariana through her illness in the Ryuven world.”

Shianan swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I do not disregard the service to you and your daughter,” he muttered. “But there are Ryuven raids happening around the countryside.”

“I assure you that Tamaryl is not leading them.”

“The Circle seems to believe that they are isolated bands of Ryuven trapped within the shield.”

“They do.” Hazelrig’s face was impassive.

Shianan clenched his jaw. “I am sworn to defend this land against the Ryuven—as are you, my lord mage.”

“Then when my guests show themselves a threat, we will respond together,” Hazelrig answered. “Until then, I am more concerned about why the only pitcher in my workroom is filled with a bunch of wilting flowers.”

“My lord mage?”

“You were a more frequent visitor before you risked your life to give my daughter a chance at coming home. After proving your friendship and admirable devotion, you have been to the Wheel only rarely, and to our home not even once. Why?”

“Why?” Shianan looked down, growing warm. “You need ask? There is a Ryuven in your workroom, which I cannot condone, and more, your daughter loves this Ryuven. Why would you have me come nearer to witness my defeat at the hands of my bitterest enemy? There is enough cruelty in this world, my lord mage.”

“Of course she loves him. Why should that stop you?”

“She sheltered him when he breached the shield,” Shianan said angrily. “She risks her life every day he is here, just to watch over him! She is committing treason for him! I can see that she loves him—there is no need to make things more difficult for us all.”

Hazelrig looked at him gravely. “There are different kinds of love,” he said after a moment. “The slave you sent to me, Luca—he risked himself in leaving his rightful master and going to you while you were under guard, all for your sake. He loved you, but not in the way you love Ariana.” He gestured vaguely. “She grew up beside Tam. He is like family to her. She loves him, in one way, and I think she could grow to love him in another. But you are a military commander, your lordship—would you leave the field to your opponent and then merely hope for victory?”

Shianan stared at the inky surface of his desk, the grain marred by scratches and stains. “I would not enter a battlefield without a reasonable hope of success.”

“If you are looking for promises and guarantees, my lord, then there are few in this world. And I do not pretend to know my daughter’s mind. But there is a makeshift vase of flowers in the very room where she hosts your rival.” He rose and drew his white cloak about him. “There will be two Ryuven staying with me for a time. The second is a prisoner of war, perfectly legal, so you needn’t worry about that. I hope they will both be safely gone soon. In the meantime, consider yourself invited to supper.” He went to the door and nodded toward Shianan’s speechless form. “Good day, my lord commander.”