Free King's Man and Thief by Christie Golden Page B

Vandaris would have to face the door, not the window. Damir had no desire to explain how that window had gotten broken.
    Vandaris looked puzzled. "Your reputation precedes you, my lord. Your good brother hasn't had to say much. I'd venture to say that every lawman and councilman in Byrn knows of His Lordship Damir Larath, ambassador of His Majesty. You've got a bit of a nickname in the diplomatic circles, you know." His old eyes twinkled with mirth. 'They call you the Problem Solver."
    Surprised and amused, Damir laughed aloud. "Do they really?"
     
    "Mmmmm," affirmed Vandaris. 'They say that if only the king would send you, and not his armies, to confront the Ghil, you'd have a treaty signed within a week."
     
    "Quite the compliment. And do you say that, Lord Vandaris?"
    "I'm an old man, and I've seen a great deal in my day. I don't take the measure of a man by his reputation alone," Vandaris replied. "I like to see, and converse with, someone before I'll credit him with miracle making."
    "No miracles, alas, but I do indeed solve problems."
    "And what problem do you intend to solve here in Braedon?" Vandaris leaned back comfortably in the chair, but his eyes never left Damir's. "What problem is too big, or delicate, or dangerous, that we simple councilmen here can't handle it?"
    Tread gently, Damir thought. Of course, Vandaris was wary. He assumed that Damir was in Braedon because of the recent murders. What a shock that must have been. Damir wondered how they were explaining it; probably as a tavern brawl that had gotten out of hand. The populace might not question that—as long as the exact number of bodies hadn't been made public.
    Damir hesitated, then decided to trust Vandaris. His spies had reported nothing but positive things about the chief councilman of Braedon. And his own delicate mental probing of the man revealed nothing to contradict those reports.
    "The problem to be solved involves Braedon only indirectly. The real problem —" a brief pause to sense once again for other minds; they were indeed alone "—originates in Mhar. That troubled country may very soon be in a state of war with Byrn. The young king wishes to conduct secret peace negotiations before things get to that point. In fact, he may come here seeking more than a place to negotiate—he may come to Braedon seeking asylum, at least temporarily. I can make the city safe to a certain degree, but I'll need cooperation from you and perhaps the entire Council. Do I have it?"
    Vandaris had paled and his bright eyes had grown enormous. Damir wondered if the old man might have a seizure. Instead, he began laughing, and color flooded his pallid face. "You lay down all the cards, don't you?"
    Damir remained unruffled, smiling slightly. "Hardly," he replied. "What kind of a gambler would I be if I did? And you haven't answered my question."
    Suddenly Damir sensed a presence. Simultaneously, behind Vandaris, a small, pale face appeared in the window. No, it was two small faces—one that of a child, the other the grinning visage of the stuffed doll she carried. He knew who it had to be at once. By Love's smile, Damir thought to himself, she does look like my Talitha. Horror transformed the hunger-sharpened features of the girl as she realized that she was locking gazes not with Deveren, as she had clearly expected, but with Damir. She quickly ducked out of sight.
    Damir's face moved not a muscle as, waiting for Vandaris's reply, he moved casually over to the window and leaned against it, his hands linked loosely behind his back. "Can we count on your cooperation—and discretion?"
    "I'd need to see some sort of proof that this will occur," Vandaris hedged. "And I'd need to be able to speak to a few of my men—the ones I'd trust with my own life."
    Damir hesitated. He was used to ordering, not asking, but the situation was delicate and risky. "Very well. I have documents in my room, signed by His Majesty. I'm sure that you recognize the royal seal. As for