The King's Blood

bench as a Firstblood woman with brown hair, brown eyes, and a vast birthmark purpling her neck brought them mugs of hard cider. For a time, they talked about the company—Sandr and Smit and Hornet. Mikel and Cary. Charlit Soon, the new actor they’d picked up in Porte Oliva before they’d left for the north. It was the usual gossip and stories, but Marcus thought there was fear behind it.
    When Kit paused once a bit too long, Marcus pressed the issue.
    “Did something happen with the company?” he asked.
    “Nothing more than losing an actor, I hope. I think they are really quite a talented group. Without me, I’d weigh their chances as good as anyone’s.”
    “But you left them.”
    “I did. Not from want. I’ve found something I need to do that I didn’t want them exposed to. It was hard enough losing Opal, and what happened to her was her own doing.”
    Marcus sat forward. They weren’t too far from the stretch of wall where Opal, leading lady of Kit’s actors and Cithrin’s betrayer, had ended her life. Marcus felt like he should recall better how she’d died, but for the most part he just remembered that he’d done it and pitched her body through the gap in the seawall.
    “Is that why you wanted me?” Marcus asked. “Is this about Opal?”
    “No,” Kit said. “It isn’t.”
    Marcus nodded.
    “What’s the issue, then?”
    The old man laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. His eyes had dark pouches under them and he held his cup in both hands, as if weary.
    “I have come here from Camnipol to talk with you, and now that I’m here I’m finding it hard to choose the words. All right. I am going on an errand. I expect it to be very dangerous. I may not survive it.”
    “What is this, Kit?”
    “I believe something… evil has been loosed in the world. I can’t think of anyone beside myself who is in the position to oppose it. I feel I must go, and for some rather complicated reasons, I would rather not go alone. In all my travels, I’ve met very few people who I thought would be well suited to a task like this. You are one. I would like you to come with me.”
    As if in answer, the pigeons rose up as one: fluttering pearly wings and a rush of dung-scented air. Marcus drank some of his cider to give himself a moment’s thought.
    “The most likely thing is you’ve spent too long playing at stories and it’s gone to your head,” Marcus said.
    “I wish I could think that was true.” Kit sighed. “If I were mad, it would only be one lost man in a world of people. But I think I’m sane.”
    “Madmen often do. What’s this thing you’re supposed to defeat?”
    “The details might not make me seem saner,” Master Kit said. “And I think they wouldn’t be safe to share. Not yet. Not here. But say you’ll come with me, and I promise I will give you proof that some at least of what I say is true. I’m going south and then east. Far east. I think it won’t be safe, but it would be safer if I had you.”
    “I can recommend some bodyguards,” Marcus said. “I just lost a few that I wish I’d been able to keep, so I even know where there are some swords looking for coin. I can’t go anywhere. I have a job.”
    “You’re still happy working for Cithrin and the bank, then?”
    “Being happy isn’t what makes it a job,” Marcus said. “It’s what I do.”
    “How long is your contract?”
    “I work for Cithrin.”
    Kit’s eyebrows came together, knotting up like caterpillars.
    “I see.”
    “I can find you good men,” Marcus said.
    “I don’t want good men. I want you,” Kit said, then laughed. Despite his anxiety, he had a warm laugh. “Oh, I think that didn’t come out the way I meant. I wish you would agree to this, Marcus. I don’t want to force the issue.”
    “You couldn’t.”
    “I could,” Kit said. “And I am tempted to. But I consider you a friend, and I choose not to. I hope that carries some weight. I have some preparation still to do. I will stay nearby as long as I can, in case you have a change of heart. I would, however, appreciate it if we could keep my presence quiet.”
    “Is someone hunting for you?”
    “Yes,” Kit said and took another long bite of his cider.
    The birthmarked woman came forward, pointing to their cups. Marcus shook his head. He didn’t need more alcohol.
    “If you need help, I’ll do what I can for you during the quiet days when the bank doesn’t need me,” Marcus said. “That’s the best I’ve