” I suppose I should remind him of that offer,” she clucked her tongue. “Much too low, don’t you think?”
Suga said nothing, only scowled.
“I go to repair the damage Elymas has done. Your task is the bottles. Perhaps this year the blue one will be filled. Such an accomplishment would truly please the Tu’el.”
“It’s not an easy task although this year the result may be . . .” He gave a sigh as the word eluded him. “Final.” he pulled it from the air.
Rizla studied him. “What do you intend?”
Suga knew he must tell her his plans but in a calming manner. She mustn’t know that he was worried concerning it’s workability. An anxious Rizla could led to overkill and tonight she was heading into the palace.
It wasn’t a good plan, it was the only one he had.
He spread his legs and Rizla came to sit in his lap. She curled up content as a cat, waiting.
Bad news first. Always best.
“Bridon can’t be bought,” his voice was flat. She buried her face in his chest. He could feel her body trembling. He hated the Tu’el very much at that moment. “This year I will kill him. I’ve tried everything else.”
Rizla pressed herself deeper in relief. “I was hoping you’d say that. Killing always works best.”
“It’s not the method I’d prefer, especially with a Brethren, but Bridon is difficult.” Difficult didn’t begin to cover it. Bridon. other than Rizla, was the most puzzling personality Suga had ever encountered. He wouldn’t step into danger, yet he invited it. And unlike his other Brethren of the Blue Stone who lived in solitude, he stepped into the city twice a year. At spring moon and harvest, timing his visits to coincide along Open Court, Bridon came from his abode in the mountains to play rulla dice for hours on end. They’d never found his home, though Rizla’s sharpest denizens had searched for it, under threat of death. Finally, she’d stopped when she realized Elymas must have warded it, and the bodies were piling up.
When Bridon left, he left no clues. He left nothing of himself, no losses, no gains, no rancor, not even a scent. Bridon loved risk, took none himself.
They’d played at the same table in the past, they’d even played together, but this year Suga had decided to challenge Bridon. Suga himself was also good at rulla. It was one of the sports a man of his girth could indulge in. Gustie, the serving wench, had sworn to help him. If all went as planned, her debt to Suga would be cancelled. Gustie’s eyes had grown large at that, and she’d whispered secrets about other patrons in his ear. None of which had proved helpful.
But Suga had allowed it. Gustie, with her swaying hips and her flyaway hair, was diverting. He liked to fill her ears with tales as much as she liked to listen. Frankly, Suga doubted if she understood much for the girl was incredibly stupid, (she’d had to use the reaper’s tonic three times last year) but whereas she heard nothing, Rizla heard everything.
Gustie relaxed him. The night he’d laid out the plan to kill Bridon, her eyes had never left him and at the end, she’d declared him a genius. Now, repeating it to Rizla, he felt like a green lad.
Again, Suga reminded himself it was the only plan he had.