The Lost Reavers by Mike Truk

Author:Mike Truk [Truk, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2019-12-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“About six hundred crowns,” said Branka, sitting back on her heels and looking up at Hugh. “The rest we spent on restoring the more run-down buildings and supporting those in need.”

Hugh gazed down at the chest she’d hauled out from behind the false back of her wardrobe. It was small, neatly built and bound in black iron. Filled to bursting with gold. He crouched beside her, took up a crown, and turned it over. The previous emperor’s face in profile, the Fate Maker’s scales on the reverse. An old coin from the imperial mint. Not seeing his brother’s face on the coin somehow made it a little easier to bear.

“Six hundred. A fair sum. Enough to hire masons to begin rebuilding the fort, at any rate.” The coin clinked as he dropped it back onto the pile. “Any suggestions as to where the best can be hired?”

“Masons? No professionals around these parts. You’d have to send to Zagoskin for a talented crew. They’ve a granite quarry that supplied our grander buildings here.”

“Zagoskin. That’s, what, a three-day journey by foot?”

“About, yes.”

“Two weeks then to get them on site. It’ll have to wait till we’ve learned more about Aleksandr’s plans.”

“About that.” Branka slowly closed the chest. “You won’t be able to rebuild without his knowing. And I don’t see his allowing you to fortify without moving to stop you. The fort’s high up in the mountains. His territory. Those masons would be easy targets for archers or worse.”

“True. Which is why we should begin negotiations with the masons now, but not send for them till we can assure their safety. Do you trust anyone in town to represent our interests in Zagoskin?”

“Yes,” said Branka. “Want me to send them out today?”

“No. I want to meet with them first. That and there’s no sense in heading out now - it’s grown late. No sense in having them camp a couple of miles outside of town.”

“Aye, agreed.” Ran a finger along the hard lines of the chest, her expression grown wistful. “You’ll be taking this with you?”

Hugh stood up. “No, leave it hidden where you had it.”

She glanced up at him sharply, expression unsure, speculative. “This a test?”

Hugh studied her, aware of how the neck of her tunic hung forward, revealing a tantalizing expanse of pale cleavage. “For some reason I’m not worried about your fleeing. I believe you genuinely care about Erro. So, no. Not a test. A gesture of trust.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “So soon? I tried to have you killed this morning.”

“And failed. And have since been given ample reason to side with me against Aleksandr and my brother.”

“Have I though? You’re still going to tell the duke about our smuggling. That’ll mean my death.”

“I’m not sure what exactly I’m going to tell my brother. I won’t outright lie. But I may decide to omit certain facts.”

“And why would you do that?” She shifted about, the neck of her tunic opening just a little further. “You looking for further persuasion?”

And just like that, atmosphere in the room shifted.

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