The Dragon's Path

a bank of windows behind it looking out into the branches of a tree. The shifting branches gave the room a sense of shadow and cool that it didn’t deserve. The Cinnae mercenary rose to his feet as Cithrin stepped into the room and sat again when she did. The Tralgu woman and the representative of the local merchant houses didn’t attend.
    “Good year,” the Cinnae man said. “Have you been down to the ships, Magistra?”
    “I haven’t had the opportunity,” Cithrin said. “My schedule’s been remarkably full.”
    “You should make the time. There were boxes of the most fascinating baubles this year. Little globes of colored glass that chime when you rub them. Quite lovely. I bought three for my granddaughter.”
    “I hope the world has been treating you gently, sir,” Qahuar Em said. His voice was almost sharp.
Why would he be angry?
she wondered.
    “Quite well,” the Cinnae said, ignoring the tone. “Quite excellently well, thank you.”
    The private door slid open and the governor stepped in. His round face was sweat-sheened, but cheerful. When they began to rise, he waved them back to their seats.
    “No need for ceremony,” he said, easing himself into his own chair. “Can I offer any of you something to drink?”
    Qahuar Em shook his head, the Cinnae mercenary doing the same half a moment later as if he’d been waiting to see what Qahuar would do. Cithrin’s belly tightened in warning. Something was going on that she didn’t understand.
    “Thank you both for coming,” the governor said. “I very much appreciate the work you have all done, and your dedication to Porte Oliva, to me, and to the queen. I am excited to have such excellent minds turning toward the welfare of the city. This is always the most difficult part, isn’t it? Making the decision?”
    His wistful sigh said he was enjoying himself. Cithrin answered with a tight smile. Qahuar wasn’t meeting her eyes.
    “I have been over the proposals very carefully,” the governor said. “Either of them would have been, I think, an excellent pathway to the prosperity of the city. But I think the flexibility of the five-year contract offered by the gentlemen here present would better serve than the eight that the Medean bank requires.”
    Cithrin felt her breath leave her. Despite the heat, something cold settled into her throat and breast. Qahuar Em hadn’t been offering five years. It had been ten.
    “Eight years is a very long time,” the Cinnae mercenarysaid, nodding slowly. His grave expression was a poor mask for his pleasure.
    “Between that and the somewhat higher annual fees,” the governor said, “I am very sorry to turn away your proposal, Magistra Cithrin.”
    “I quite understand,” Cithrin said as if someone else were speaking. “Now that it’s settled, might I enquire what rates Master Em offered?”
    “Oh, it’s a partnership,” the Cinnae said. “Not just his clan, you know. We’re in this together, he and I.”
    “I can’t think that there’s need to go into the details,” Qahuar Em said, still not looking at her. His attempts to spare her more humiliation were worse than the mercenary’s gloating.
    “It isn’t as though it won’t be known,” the governor said. “Out of courtesy and respect, Magistra, the fees asked were ten hundredths without guarantee or fourteen with.”
    The wrong numbers. They were the wrong numbers. It was supposed to be sixteen and nineteen, not ten and fourteen. The offer she’d found in his office had been a trap, and she had fallen into it.
    “Thank you, my Lord Governor,” Cithrin said with a nod. “The holding company will very much appreciate your candor.”
    “There will be no acrimony, I hope,” the governor said. “The Medean bank is new to our city, but very much honored.”
    “None at all,” Cithrin said. Given the hollowness in her chest, she was surprised the words didn’t echo. This couldn’t be happening. “Thank you very much for the courtesy of meeting with me. But I assume you gentlemen have details to discuss.”
    They all rose when she did, the governor taking her hand in his greasy fingers and pressing it to his lips. She kept her smile amused and world-wise in defeat, a mask of who she wished she had been. She bowed to the Cinnae mercenary and then to Qahuar Em. The emptiness in her shifted, and something painful bloomed in its place.
    She walked carefully from the room, down the stairs, and out through the entrance hall to the