Free The Prophecy Con (Rogues of the Republic) by Patrick Weekes Page A

smiles to the priests and visitors in the temple’s large central hall.
    Justicar Pyvic was pacing at the far end. “. . . confirm that it’s Ajeveth,” he was saying into a small blue crystal he held near his mouth. “I don’t have anything from the dwarves yet. I’ll be in contact once I do. Good luck.” He thumbed the crystal off, then started when he saw her.
    “You should have told her you loved her,” Desidora said, and gave Pyvic a hug. His aura was a little uncomfortable with that, either because he found her attractive and was a bit nervous or because he had once seen her smash a blood-gargoyle so hard it had actually popped.
    “She knows.”
    “Of course she does,” Desidora said, smiling. “She still likes to hear it.”
    Pyvic smiled, but he was still troubled. “I’ve got a problem. I could use your help.”
    “Is this a matter of love?” Desidora asked, although she doubted it. Loch and Pyvic had a strong and healthy relationship, if somewhat more competitive than she would have preferred personally.
    “It’s a matter of love songs ,” Pyvic said. “One in particular. The Love Song of Eillenfiniel.”
    Desidora blinked, then gestured at a small meeting room off to the side. “In here.”
    He followed her into the room lit by rose-colored candles. It had no windows, but the walls were hung with gently curving satin curtains nevertheless. It contained a lovely bed and a small pool whose water was heated and scented with lavender.
    “Did it have to be this room?” Pyvic asked, looking around for someplace to sit.
    “Would you prefer the one themed as a dungeon?” Desidora asked, tossing Ghylspwr onto the bed. “The shackles can be adjusted to fit anyone . . . or anywhere.”
    “Thank you, no, I believe Loch and I are doing fine without exploring any of the sacred mysteries of intimacy,” Pyvic said. “I’d rather just stop the Republic and the Empire from going to war.”
    “Again?” Desidora ran her fingers through her hair. “Because of that book?”
    “Apparently. Loch’s on her way to Ajeveth to try to recover it.”
    “And you aren’t with her.”
    “She needed thieves, not justicars,” he said, and grinned.
    “You don’t have to do that,” Desidora said, settling on the edge of the bed.
    “Do what?”
    “Pretend you aren’t worried for her and sad not to be at her side.”
    “You can stop reading my aura any time you like, Sister.”
    “Sorry. It’s been a long day.” She sighed. “How can I help? You already know where the book is.”
    “We know what, and we know where,” Pyvic said. “I’m looking for why .”

    “I’m thinking the airship needs a name,” Kail said a few days later as he set the team down in the landing field outside Ajeveth.
    “No,” said Icy, who had changed back into his robes now that they were dry, if somewhat wrinkled.
    “You’re remembering that we stole this airship, Kail?” said Loch.
    “Also, we’re all sick to death of this ship and hoping never to see it again,” said Tern, who had proven to have a weak stomach for long flights.
    “How about Iofegemet ?” Kail said after a pause just long enough for Loch to hope he was going to drop it. “It means ‘lying helpfully’ in the language of the ancients.”
    “How about something we can say ?” said Tern. Loch hopped down from the airship that was ideally not going to be named Iofegemet and stretched her legs and shoulders as she got used to being on land again. Around her, other airships were tied to docking posts, a great field of canvas balloons on either side. Up ahead, the walls of Ajeveth rose imposingly before her, great gray stone arches like the mountains behind them.
    Ajeveth was a border town. Although technically part of the Republic, it was controlled by the dwarves, who understood that the humans who wanted their goods would have a difficult time getting into the mountains where the dwarves lived. The city had been built on the lower slopes of