"The man is dead. The man has been dead for years. That is the official truth and I co-signed it." The Queen's gray eyes came up. "Your folio says the dead man fathered a child on a peasant woman six months before he died, and that the child is now under the guard of a knight-errant. And your folio also says, in the fine print at the bottom, in your clever little hand, broker, one sentence: 'He is not dead. He went south. Ask the demon war.'"
Silence.
"The winning bid," the Queen said, "buys the folio and your silence. My personal elite company rides south within the week. To the demon war." She drew on her gloves. "And broker. If your fine print is a lie, I will not need assassins. I will simply outlive my disappointment, and then you will need them."
"The fine print," Latina said, "is the only honest part of the auction."
The inn on the south trade road was called the Spent Arrow, and it burned on the third night after the auction.
