Pell did not talk in the open. He walked Chris along the outer wall to a recessed alcove where the stones blocked the wind and the light and any line of sight from the fortress windows.
"I am going to be direct," Pell said. "House Bren finds your Warlord's hospitality stifling. We came here to negotiate a trade route. Three weeks later, we are still here. Maren does not want a trade route. He wants our copper fields, and he is using our delegation as leverage until we agree."
Chris leaned against the stone. His ribs ached. "And this involves me how?"
"You made Kett look foolish today. Kett is one of our best. House Bren sent her here as a show of strength, see what our Forged can do. Maren put you against her to prove the opposite." Pell folded his hands. "Politics with fists is very traditional."
"So I was a message. Kett too. The whole fight was two old men talking through their properties." "What do you want from me?"
"Information. Maren keeps his court isolated. Our delegation sees only what he shows us. But you" Pell looked at Chris "you move through this fortress in a way no visiting noble can. You see the guards, the schedules, the rooms. You hear the conversations in the yard."
Chris looked at him. The proposition was clear enough. Spy for House Bren. Pass along what he saw. In exchange what? He did not ask, asking meant considering, and considering meant he might say yes, and he was not ready for that trouble yet.
"What makes you think I would betray the man who owns me?"
"You would not be betraying him. You would be making an investment." Pell's painted eyes were steady. "Maren's favor is temporary. You know this. You are valuable until you are not. When that day comes, it helps to have friends outside these walls."
Friends. The word was so wrong it made him chuckle.
"I'll think about it," Chris said.
Pell nodded. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small copper coin, stamped with a Bren sigil. He pressed it into Chris's palm. "When you have something, leave this at the kitchen steps under the third stone from the east wall. Someone will find it."
Chris closed his fingers around the coin. Warm from Pell's pocket. He put it in his pocket.
Pell left quietly, too comfortable in the dark for a visiting lord.
Chris stayed in the alcove for a while after.
'A spy huh . if i get caught I'll be dead immediately. If i won't do it I'll be the warlord's dog for the rest of my short life .great option to choose between '
He went back inside. He climbed the stairs to the second tier and went to his room.
He closed the door. Lit the lamp on the shelf. And looked at himself in the small mirror mounted beside the window. He had not looked in a mirror since the Wearing.
The Face changed how others saw you, but it also changed the physical .
subtle shifts in the skin, the jaw, the set of the eyes. He had avoided it because he did not want to know how much of him was left.
The face in the mirror grinned back at him. His grin was wider than it used to be.
His eyes were the same color but the skin around them was tighter, drawn back, giving him a look of permanent amusement even when the grin faded to its resting state. His jaw had sharpened enough that his face did not match the one in his memory.
He raised a hand to his cheek. The face in the mirror raised a hand. Same movement. Same timing. But the person behind the it felt further away than the glass.
The swelling in his nose was already going down. That was wrong. Kett's headbutt had cracked it , he had heard the sound.
A broken nose should take weeks. This one was straightening itself overnight, the skin pulling back into place, the bone settling.
The Wearing did not just change how you looked. It changed how you healed. How you aged.
He turned from the mirror. Sat on the mattress. Pulled out the key and the coin. Held one in each palm. Iron on the left, copper on the right. Maren's chain and Pell's offer.
He put the key back but kept the coin out. Looked at the Bren sigil a hammer crossed with a wheat stalk. House strength and House trade. The things they valued stamped on their money.
Morning came too fast. Chris woke with his face pressed into the mattress and the coin still in his hand, leaving a pressed circle on his palm. He put it away before opening the door.
The gray attendant was there.
"You always show up on my door?"
"The Warlord requires your presence in the court."
Chris had never been to the court. He had seen it from below the raised platform in the main hall where Maren received visitors and settled disputes but he had never stood on it.
'This is new. Voss said clean wins and short bouts. Court duty was not in the list.'
He changed into the clean Gray clothes were left outside his door, gray this time instead of the brown ones.
Then he followed the attendant down. The main hall was busier than he expected. Maren's soldiers lined the walls. The Bren delegation occupied the left side, Pell among them, painted and pleasant, showing no recognition when Chris walked in. The right side held people Chris did not recognize,local merchants and minor lords.
Maren sat on the raised platform. Voss stood behind him. The Warlord watched Chris cross the hall with the same quiet satisfaction he had shown in his study. "Chris of House Casteran," Maren said. The hall went quiet. "You fought well yesterday. House Bren's champion tested you, and you did not break."
Polite applause from the right side. The Bren delegation stayed still.
"I have decided you will serve in the court during our guests' stay. You will entertain. Consider it a change of schedule." Maren's eyes were flat. "Commander Voss will outline your duties."
Court duty. Entertainment. Maren was not just showing off his fighter anymore. He was putting Chris on display .a Jester in the literal sense, a pet fool for visiting nobles.
'He's putting me in the same room as Pell every day. maybe he knows about our meeting and this is a test. Either way, I see myself getting killed.'
Voss caught him after, in the corridor outside the hall. "You will not speak to the Bren delegation unless spoken to. You will not accept gifts. You will not leave the court during sessions. You will perform when the Warlord signals you and stay silent when he does not."
"Easy easy, and if someone talks to me anyway?"
Voss's expression did not change. "Then you will report every word to me." Chris looked at him.Voss knew, or suspected, or was laying a trap of his own. The commander had positioned himself at every exit.
"I understand," Chris said. Voss held his gaze for a long moment. Then stepped aside.
Chris walked back toward the second tier.
He passed the kitchen steps. Sera was there this time, knees drawn up, watching the yard. She looked at him. Looked at the fresh clothes, the healing face.
"You look different."
"I am different."
She studied him. "Your nose was broken yesterday."
"Was it?" He touched the bridge. Straight. Almost like it never happened. Then grinned "Must have imagined it."
Sera's eyes went to his hands, his jaw, the line of his cheeks. She was seeing what he had seen in the mirror.
"It's not just the grin, is it," she said.
Chris sat beside her.
"No," he said. "It's not just the grin."
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A/N: I hope you enjoy this novel. Support by adding to your library and giving a power stone or two. Thank you.