“So, we’re just going to wait and hope that the random woman you met on the roads will handle this correctly?” Gadra asked.
Lerran had called a meeting between his siblings and he, a few days after his arrival back in Sheld. He squeezed his toes in the red carpet beneath his desk and took a sip of his mug before replying to his sister. “No, I’ll send a contract killer to make certain the job is done,” he said. “I’ll just pay him less beforehand, and he can collect a full contract if his skills are needed. You didn’t see Vaenuth and her friends. I’m quite sure the Jorath’s will be—”
“I saw Vaenuth,” Antha replied. She shrugged and said, “Send the assassin, just in case.”
Lerran nodded. “I am,” he replied. “Why do I need to repeat myself so much?” He took a drink of his rum and stood up.
“The Rebel King can handle gaining control of the mine in the aftermath?” Eseveer asked.
Gadra and Lerran answered in unison: “Yes.”
“And what of Erril’s letter from Var Nordos?” piped up Tassina. She sat near Yarua, but Lerran’s hot tempered sister said little on matters of strategy and leadership, as always. Tass was wearing her hair back and smiled at Lerran as she spoke, making it hard for him to form a reply quickly.
“Er, we should wait until this gold business is in hand,” Lerran explained. He glanced at Eseveer. “Wouldn’t the ownership of the city feel a little compromised if we were offering them the current situation?”
The secretarial sister nodded. “That’s what Borik wrote in his letter.”
Lerran nodded and sipped his rum again. Is Paksis still at the armourers? he wondered. But to the room he asked, “Any other business?”
“The trades are going smooth,” Gadra said, referring to the usual workings of the criminal organization—the smuggling, contracting, and the operation of brothels. “I’ve been dealing with Joran a bit, making sure they don’t slack on the operation of our ships. It requires a lot of organization, but we’ve got it under control. Oh, and it was Ren’s birthday the other day.”
“Right!” Lerran exclaimed. They all knew what he did, that Havard had claimed their vanished brother would one day return to them. “We’ll raise a toast to him at dinner, sisters. He’s twenty-two now, wherever he is.”
As his siblings filed out, his wife stepped closer to his desk and gave him a kiss when he stood up. “Now what?” she asked.
“I have to check on Paksis. She’s being fitted by the armourer. I’ve requisitioned a master-crafted set for her, but right now they’ll just be making adjustments to other armaments for her temporary set,” Lerran said. “But she should be back by now.”
“Armour? She’s huge. Are you that worried about the recent attacks?” Tass asked.
Lerran paused. He was a little, but instead he said, “Paksis is, and that’s enough reason to do something for her.”
Tassina nodded. “Alright, go to her. But come back to me when you’re done.”
They left the office at the same time, and Lerran sought out the blacksmith building, one of the other structures on his large property. Orkery had been their blacksmith since Lerran was ten, but he stood there, cowering, as Paksis brandished a half-finished pauldron over his head. “What’s going on?” Lerran demanded striding up.
Paksis turned to Lerran. “He is trying to design me armour like a normal soldier. Tell him to do as I say.”
“What do you say?” Lerran asked, confused.
Paksis sighed. “I don’t need armour for stopping power or absorbing strength. It’ll just break if someone with my power hits it hard enough. I need armour with angles, that’ll displace the weight of attacks. Glance it off the plate, instead of trying to absorb it.”
Lerran glanced at Orkery. “Do as she says.”
“Sir, I will, of course. But there will be too many openings if I follow her instructions,” the blacksmith explained. Most fights in plated armour involved a strategy of poking the holes and openings to find unprotected flesh.
Lerran looked at Paksis.
“Do it,” she said. Lerran had seen how much punishment her skin could take; he had seen deep blade gashes that did not bleed. If she wanted deflecting power instead of blocking, that was her decision. He nodded to Orkery and then marched out of the smithy with Paksis in tow.
“Thanks,” she said. “Drink in the tavern?”
Lerran shook his head, and shoved a thumb over his shoulder at the mansion. “Wife,” he said. She tried to thank him for the armour, again, but he just kept on striding, up the steps and indoors to see his Tass.