Fate's Edge

we’ll get on splendidly, Master Brossard. Please enjoy the refreshments.”

FOURTEEN
    THE refreshments consisted of tiny pieces of things on toast. As they walked to their seats, Audrey stole one from the nearest platter and nibbled on it. Some sort of fish? She and Cerise sat on the chairs. William positioned himself behind them like some grim sentry.
    The square room spread before them. Elaborate carvings decorated the walls, cut out of soft, pale stone and sealed with some sort of finish that made them shine. A large silk rug sheathed the floor of brown tile. Three enormous chandeliers dripped crystals in complex cascades, but instead of bulbs, the crystals themselves glowed with gentle radiance. Chairs set against the walls, in groupings of three or four together. A mahogany table in the middle, carved with the Weird’s swirls and flourishes, supported a multitude of trays. Servants in pastel turquoise uniforms circulated through the room, carrying additional platters. Armed men stood by the doorways: the giant veekings, all over seven feet in height, all muscled like bulls, all watching the crowd like wolves looking for an injured sheep. Not one cracked a smile. It was as if Morell had kidnapped the University of Nebraska’s defensive line, put them through Marine Corps boot camp, and given them huge knives to hack people to bits with. To make matters worse, the Texas sharpshooters with their musketeer hats occupied a balcony above. One stray movement, and she’d be down with a bullet in her brain. On the plus side, she would probably never feel death coming.
    Cerise leaned toward her. “How are you feeling?”
    “Better, thank you.”
    Morell de Braose drifted over to them. He held himself straight, not arrogant, perhaps even friendly, but firm, like a magnanimous king of all he surveyed. The eyes didn’t lie, though. In unguarded moments, his irises were cold. He would kill in an instant with no remorse.
    “How is your traveling companion?” Morell asked.
    “I’m afraid she’s putting on a brave front for my sake.” Cerise reached over and affectionately squeezed her hand. William gave de Braose an ugly stare. Morell smiled. “Let me know if there is anything I can do to ease your stay. My staff are at your disposal.”
    “You are too kind.” Cerise smiled at him.
    A servant appeared in the doorway, carrying an ornate box, and made a beeline for Morell.
    Morell moved on. His stride tightened. He was walking somewhere with a purpose.
    Both she and Cerise watched him.
    Morell stopped before George, who nursed a cup of weak wine. “My lord.”
    “Baron.”
    They both bowed.
    In the corner, Jack tensed.
    “I understand you have a most unusual magic talent.” Morell raised his voice. The gathering instantly focused on him.
    “My dear baron, you give me too much credit,” George answered.
    They must’ve put them through an etiquette steel wringer in the Weird. Broken teenagers didn’t radiate cold dignity like that. But then, George and Jack both were one of a kind. It was more important to George especially, Audrey reflected. George didn’t want to be viewed as an Edge rat. “I wonder if you would deign to entertain our guests with a small demonstration? I myself have never witnessed necromancy in action.”
    It was a test, Audrey realized. Kaldar had passed his evaluation, but Morell still wanted to be sure he wasn’t being conned.
    The servant opened the box. Audrey rose to see. Three small dead birds lay inside, their blue feathers dull. Above the room on the right balcony a Texas sharpshooter sighted George through the scope of his rifle.
    “I do hope you didn’t take these lives for mere entertainment,” George said.
    “No, this was the result of an unfortunate accident, I’m afraid,” Morell said.
    George surveyed the birds. “Beautiful plumage. Are these a common bird to California?”
    George was screwing with him. It was a dangerous game to play.
    “Yes.”
    Come on, George. Come on.
    “Do they sing?”
    “I have no idea.” Morell still had his smile, but his patience was wearing thin.
    The tension in the room grew so tight, it was difficult to breathe.
    George stared straight at Morell. “Let’s find out.”
    He passed his hand over the birds.
    A second passed. Another.
    Morell’s smile gained a predatory edge.
    The three birds spread their wings and shot into the air, chirping a trilling melody. Someone cried out in surprise.
    Jack glanced at Kaldar, a question