The Tyrant's Law (Dagger and the Coin)

hearth and happy home of our northern brothers?”
    “We are a theater company,” Kit said. “Seeking new audiences.”
    “Well,” Dar Cinlama said, “this is a place to find them. This is likely the most Firstblood any of these orders have seen in years.”
    “And perhaps the last,” Kit said. “I can’t say we’ve found quite as many audiences as we’d hoped.”
    “Should have come in summer,” Dar Cinlama said. “Bugs the size of your fist trying to drink you dry, but at least the sky isn’t trying to kill you.”
    “Been here since then, have you?” Marcus asked, trying to keep his voice casual.
    “Yes, I have,” Dar Cinlama said, “and likely I’ll be coming back next summer. But once the weather clears, we’re going down to Borja. Winter in Tauendak or Lôdi.”
    At the far end of the lodge house, the door opened, and the woman who’d saved them from the cold came back in. From a distance, her cloak looked no heavier than something Marcus might have worn on a cool day in spring. She brushed the snow and ice out of her hair and walked over to Kirot. As they bent their heads together in conversation, the draft of cold air finally reached them, and Marcus shuddered.
    “I think we may follow your lead,” Kit said. “We were thinking of following the King’s Hunt in Antea, but the company has been there a little too long, and we chose to come here.”
    “Bad, bad decision,” Sandr said weakly, so maybe he wasn’t asleep after all.
    “Is your work in the north finished as well?” Kit asked, and Marcus could feel the edge in the question. He couldn’t help feeling a small thrill of excitement.
    “Work’s never finished,” Dar Cinlama said expansively. “The world’s too big and too old for that. I was following the story that a giant was buried in the north with a sword of flame that could slaughter armies.”
    “Really?” Marcus said.
    “There’s really a story,” Dar Cinlama said. “And maybe there’s a giant and a sword to go with it, but we haven’t found it yet. I’ve found other hints. Part of it mentions a lake where the stars come to die, and I’ve found an inlet about three days from here where the fish take on a glow. Get a whole school of them, and it could be what the story meant.”
    At the far end of the lodge, Kirot nodded his head once sharply, then started coming down toward them. Marcus watched him without seeming to. Better for now if Kit could pull information from the Dartinae without interruption, but that was looking unlikely.
    “That’s what you do, then?” Kit asked. “Find old stories and match them to bits of landscape?”
    “It’s part,” the Dartinae said. “I’ll chase rumors and old tales, or I’ll just head off to places where no one looks and look there. Can’t know what you’ll find.”
    “That’s truth,” Marcus said. Kirot was almost upon them. “No luck this time, though?”
    “There were a few times I thought we were close. Old stories that made it seem like we were close to something, but nothing came of it. Next time, I’m going further inland. Takynpal. maybe.”
    Kirot loomed up behind.
    “We put your cart and your horses in the deep stables,” he said to Marcus. “Tradition is you give the host a gift for our kindness. We were thinking one of the horses would be good.”
    “Seems fair,” Marcus said.
    “Do you truly think there is something to be found?” Kit said, his attention still on the adventurer.
    “There’s not,” Kirot said. “No such thing as giants, much less magical fire swords.”
    Kit’s eyebrows rose and his head shifted up to Kirot.
    “No?” the old actor said, his voice all innocence.
    “Not a goddam thing,” Kirot said. “Only thing that comes of your kind coming up to Hallskar is a fat load of bones when the drifts melt.”
    “There are always secrets waiting to be found,” Dar Cinlama said, sounding wounded.
    “Not here there aren’t,” Kirot said. “But you go on killing yourself trying to chase whatever it is down. We’ll keep your things safe once you’re dead.”
    The old Haaverkin turned and trundled away, puffing at his pipe.
    “Kirot’s bad-tempered,” Dar Cinlama said, “but harmless if you don’t cross him. Seems like that’s the way for all the Orders. Sour. Your people should come with me. When the storm breaks we can all go down to Borja together. Lôdi’s a real city. You’ll draw real crowds there.”
    “I think we’ll stay a bit,” Kit