Free Duskfall by Christopher B. Husberg Page A

resonance of it in her mind, like the vibration of a lute string that had been cut.
    Nash sighed, blowing out his cheeks. “Variants,” he said.
    Kali scoffed, but eyed Nash with a frown. He stood up, closing his eyes. He was stressed; Kali knew the signs.
    Kali lounged against a large desk in one corner of the room. Their lacuna, Elsi, stood nearby, staring blankly. Nash was now pacing in front of the door. Kali sighed.
    They were in an office of sorts, but they had already scoured the headquarters and taken anything useful. A half-dozen frost crystals, a disappointing amount of money—this particular
cotir
obviously didn’t get much work—and a bunch of nightsbane. The nightsbane surprised Kali; the herb was rare, particularly in the north. How that pair came across such a prize was beyond her comprehension.
    The fools hadn’t even left a note.
Dear actuals
, Kali imagined them writing.
Gone to get ourselves killed in the vain hope of glory. Don’t wait up.
The glaring display of inadequacy was an unfortunate metaphor for the Nazaniin as a whole, lately. An organization of assassins that had once been feared throughout the Sfaera was now hardly more than a spy network, and an inept one at that.
    Kali stood, closing her eyes. Her head still rang from the severed link.
    “I can’t say I’m disappointed,” Kali said. “I wasn’t particularly looking forward to working with another
cotir
. Especially a pair of variants.”
    Kali didn’t care for variants. They were inferior psimancers, after all. Variants required a terribly dangerous drug to manifest abilities that actuals—people like Kali and Nash—could use innately. Variants were unreliable. And most variants Kali knew used their limited psimantic ability as an excuse for incompetence.
    “Why can’t everyone be more like me?” Kali said. Joking, of course. For the most part. “I obey orders. I make smart decisions. Why is that so hard?”
    Nash snorted. “You’re on the other extreme,” he said with a smirk. “All business and logic. There’s no artistry to your methods.”
    Kali’s frown deepened. “Obedience doesn’t require artistry; only competence.”
    Nash laughed, but Kali wasn’t bothered. They’d had this conversation many times before, and both were set in their views. Of course, that was what made them such a good team. As long as they agreed, anyway. Kali wondered what would happen if their differences ever got the better of them.
    “We should change our approach,” Nash said. “If the Cinestean
cotir
really has been eliminated, we need to be careful. Lathe is too dangerous to underestimate.” He said nothing of variants, which didn’t surprise Kali. He, too, thought them deficient, but he would never say so out loud. Another difference between them.
    “The fools couldn’t wait a day or so?” Kali wasn’t interested in dropping the subject quite yet. “Hours, really. That’s all we needed.” Nash was right, of course. They
would
have to be careful. Lathe had always been dangerous, but even more so since he’d become so damn unpredictable.
    Nash shrugged. “They didn’t know how close we were,” he said. “They took a risk. It didn’t pay off.”
    Kali raised an eyebrow. “You’re defending them?”
    When Nash didn’t respond, she felt a sliver of guilt. This was no time to argue. “You’re right, we need to change our approach. If Lathe killed them, he’s probably already left the city. We’ll make a pass at each gate on the off-chance we can catch him.”
    “What about the tiellan quarter?” Nash asked.
    “Good point. He has some connection with the elves. I’ll check the gates. You check the elven quarter.”
    “You have to call them that?”
    “Do I have to? Of course not. But I’ll do as I damn well please, and a horse is a horse, a fish is a fish, and an elf is an elf.”
    Nash shrugged, and said nothing more.
Damn right
, Kali thought. Kali was no Kamite, not by any stretch. She had met tiellans