Free Iron and Blood by Auston Habershaw Page A

standing there and watching. Eventually, Artus noticed him in the doorway. “What? What’re you gonna do about it, huh?”
    â€œNothing.” Tyvian held up his right hand. The ring gleamed dully in the lamplight.
    Artus straightened. “You didn’t take it off?”
    â€œThe Artificer failed. Why are you destroying my bed?”
    Artus jutted out his lower lip. “ ’Cause you’re a jerk and you deserve it. You gonna kick me out?”
    â€œAre you going to leave?” Tyvian asked. The question hung in the air. Both of them looked at the floor.
    â€œI should leave,” Artus said, sitting on the ruined bed.
    â€œI should throw you out.”
    Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Tyvian sat in a chair Artus hadn’t gotten around to destroying. Artus looked at him. “What’s this? What’s going on?”
    Tyvian didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to put it; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know how to put it. “How . . . how would you like another job?”
    â€œWhat, carrying your stuff again? No thanks.”
    â€œNo, this time you’d be working on your own. I’d be relying on you to complete a very dangerous task; my life would be in your hands.”
    Artus leaned back on the bed. “How much?”
    Tyvian almost said, The forty marks you owe me for buying you off the Watch, but didn’t. He sighed. “Name your price.”
    â€œFive hundred.”
    Tyvian coughed. “I’ll give it to you, boy—­you aren’t shy.”
    â€œTake it or leave it, jerk.” Artus smiled.
    Tyvian found himself smiling back. “Fine—­it’s a deal. You’ll need some equipment before I give you instructions, though. Go in the back of my closet—­you’ll find a chest there with a bottle of perfume. Bring it out here.”
    Artus frowned. “I’m not gonna have to wear perfume, am I?”
    â€œIt’s not really perfume.”
    Artus went into the walk-­in closet and started rummaging around. “Well, what’s it do, then?”
    â€œIt makes you look like me.”
    Artus’s head popped out of the closet like a rabbit from a hole. “What?”
    Tyvian smiled. “After you find it, I need to teach you how to use a seekwand.”
    Artus came out with the perfume bottle in one hand, holding it up to the light. “Who am I going to find?”
    Tyvian produced a handkerchief from inside his shirt and threw it on the end table under the lamp. The monogram read TR. Artus looked at it, face blank with incomprehension. Tyvian rolled his eyes. “I forgot you can’t read—­me, Artus. You’re going to find me .”

 
    CHAPTER 6
    CAGE FOR A SMUGGLER
    T yvian shifted from side to side among the plush cushions of Carlo’s coach, his hands clenched into fists on his knees.
    â€œNow who’s nervous?” Carlo snickered. “I told you she accepted the deal.”
    Tyvian scowled at the Verisi. “She’s going to double-­cross us, Carlo. You must know that.”
    Carlo shook his head. “No, no—­not for that she won’t.” He pointed at the drugged form of Myreon Alafarr, who was leaning against a wall of the coach, snoring through an open mouth.
    Tyvian snorted. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    â€œIf you are so certain, then why are you going?” Carlo asked, pulling out his crystal eye and polishing it.
    â€œA calculated risk, Carlo. Besides, I have a backup plan.”
    â€œOh?” Carlo chuckled. “Do tell!”
    Tyvian produced a pair of thunder-­orbs from up his sleeve. “Courtesy of Hacklar Jaevis. Not the most elegant of emergency plans, but certainly effective.”
    Carlo shook his head, replacing his eye. “Great gods, Tyvian, you are losing your flair for the sophisticated, I’m afraid.”
    â€œAnd you are losing your keen wit.