Children of the Nameless by Brandon Sanderson

Author:Brandon Sanderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Davriel Cane adventure on the Plane of Innistrad.
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast
Published: 2018-12-11T16:00:00+00:00

chapter eleven

Davriel

The prioress idled by the door, poking at some of the inky letters that he’d put up on the walls outside—they had bled through the cracks around the door and into the room.

“Will these come off?” she asked.

“I really don’t know,” Davriel replied. “Hopefully nobody in your priory can read Ulgrothan. I chose the letters because they look intimidating, but really, I only learned a few phrases when I was younger—mostly as a joke. What I wrote outside is a recipe for buttered scones.”

The prioress turned toward him, folding her arms. “That’s my seat, Greystone.”

“Yes, I know,” he said, shifting and trying to lounge in the hard, uncushioned wooden chair. He finally got into a position where he could tip it back and put his feet on her desktop. “Would it kill one of you religious types to sit in a comfortable seat? Are you really that afraid of being happy?”

“My joy,” she said, settling down in a chair on the other side of the desk, “comes from other comforts.”

“Such as breaking contracts solemnly sworn?”

She eyed the door. “Don’t speak so loudly. The inquisition might have been ended, but its embers still burn. Edwin isn’t the only hothead in residence at the priory; several members of my staff would string me up if they got it into their minds I was consorting with demons, or their master.”

“That presumes I don’t string you up first.” Davriel put his feet down, then stood, looming over the desk and the woman sitting on the other side. “I will say it again. I do not take the breaking of contracts lightly.”

The prioress slipped a small cup off the desk, then raised it to her lips, taking a sip of something dark and warm. Fool woman always had refused to be properly intimidated. Honestly, it was part of why he liked her.

“Did you kill all of those hunters, then?” she asked.

Davriel sighed. “A few escaped. The old man. The squires.”

“I see.”

“I’ve been a patient man, Merlinde. I ignored the occasional hunter, and even that paladin last week . . . ‘She must not have known they were going to attack me,’ I told myself. ‘Or perhaps they didn’t stop at the priory first.’ But an entire task force of demon hunters, several with wards upon their minds? Our terms were clear. You were to dissuade such groups.”

The prioress looked down at her tea. “You expect me to honor a promise in the face of what has been happening? An entire village was murdered today.”

“Some of your priests are stupid, but you are not. You know me well enough to recognize I wasn’t involved. So why would you aid a band of assassins bent on murdering me?”

The prioress took another sip of tea.

“Is that Verlasen dustwillow?” Davriel asked, still looming over her as he stood beside the desk.

“The finest,” she said. “Nothing is better at stilling the nerves. This is, unfortunately, my last cup.”

He grunted. Figured.

“Perhaps,” she finally said, “I hoped that the hunters would awaken you, Greystone.

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