“Many talents and few words,” I muttered.
“Isn’t it lovely?” he shot back, smiling sharply.
Vallan grunted. “You’ve gotten more words out of me this evening than I’ve spoken in years, woman.”
I hid a smile. “How do you make a firebomb?”
“Ah, a potential student!” Garroway exclaimed.
I gave him a healthy dose of side-eye.
Vallan said, “Simple. Saltpeter. Charcoal. Sulfur. And then make sure you don’t fuck up.”
“Oh. Right.Simple.” I snorted and went to sit on the edge of the bed. “What’s next?”
“Bored, silverblood?”
Okay, now he’s the one pushingmybuttons. I get it, Vallan.
“I’ll deliver the silver to the Sisters,” he told Garroway. “You will take the pots to our friends in Nuhav.”
“You havefriends?” I blurted.
He scowled. “Shut up, woman.”
I snickered, bowing my head—but then it shot up, all the levity gone from my face. “Wait, did you say Nuhav?”
Vallan eyed me for a long time. “Take the girl with you, Garro.” The shadow of a smile returned to his bearded face, lathered in wickedness. “Tempt her with visions of home.”
“I have no home,” I announced firmly, standing.
“Let’s see if you still believe that once you’re there.” Vallan turned away and hoisted the sack of silver over his shoulder. “Skar will return before daybreak if all things go well at the manor. We will reconvene then and see what’s on his mind for our next course of action.”
Chapter 32
I finally had Garroway Kuffich alone. No Skartovius or Vallan to lead the way, which meant I could ask my myriad questions.
I held off for a while, trying to time it so I didn’t sound desperate for knowledge. Plus, I marveled at the way he slipped effortlessly between Olhav and Nuhav, which only added more questions to my list.
Once Vallan departed from the safehouse with the sack of silver, leaving us with the firebombs, Garroway stuffed the pots carefully into a bag and we headed out.
We descended the southern side of the Olhavian Peaks by keeping to the fringes of the steep road, avoiding detection from any guard processions or merchant carriages. Not that he would have been in trouble if we’d been seen—he was allowed to be in both cities, evidently. But I got the sense he preferred to sneak around rather than make himself known.
Toward the bottom of the winding road, I asked, “Do the guards we keep seeing make you nervous, Garro?”
I felt comfortable enough with him at this point to shorten his name without feeling self-conscious or flustered.
“Not in so many words, lass. Guards keep tallies. Every sighting is possible gossip for the rumor mill. Possible information that can be used against me.”
I grunted, sounding awfully like Vallan when the sound left my lips. “Makes sense. Stay elusive and hidden and you create limitless alibis for yourself.”
“Exactly.”
“Who are we meeting in Nuhav to give these firebombs to?” I asked, trudging alongside him. We were nearing the gate with the black-cloaked vampiric sentinel who had allowed Lukain’s carriages entry into Olhav in the past.
“One of the many street gangs. It’s a peace offering.”
When he said nothing more and pulled his cloak tight around his wiry frame, I shut up. Garro kept low to the ground along the last bit of road leading to the gates. Trees and hedges lined the roads and he seemed to make a decision, grabbing my arm with a nod and skirting off into the darkness of the trees.
