Venators: Promises Forged. Devri Walls
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the size of us.”
Having been reminded of his obvious faux pas, Bob clamped his hand over his mouth in horror. “Venators!” he yelled, waving frantically. “Venators! Hello!”
Rune giggled.
“Seriously? This isn’t funny.” Grey turned sharply to head back.
“We have things to do,” Tate said. “Leave it.”
“I’m not going to leave them thinking that we’re going to eat them if they forget to say hello.”
Stan and Bob were now both frantically waving.
“Look at them!” Grey said. “This is not OK.”
“You can’t fix everything,” Tate said. “You’re going to have to come to terms with this.”
“Rune?” Grey asked, looking for backup.
Stuck between Grey’s and Tate’s scowling faces, she shrugged weakly. “It’s not like we’re actually going to do it.”
The look of disgust that crossed Grey’s face made Rune question her own moral code. Guilt raked over her.
“Unbelievable,” Grey said. “Both of you. I’ll be right back.”
Tate crossed his arms, resigned to wait but not making the slightest effort to hide his annoyance.
Seeing Grey’s approach, Stan squeaked. He gathered himself as tightly as he could against the door and swung one arm, slugging Bob. “What did you do!”
“Nothing! I only said hello.” Bob whimpered and rubbed his arm. “Just hello!”
Rune was genuinely perplexed. “How in the world do those two keep anyone out of the castle?”
“Very effectively.” To her questioning look, Tate added, “You’d have to see it to believe it.”
“I think I’d like to.”
“No, you wouldn’t. At least not from this proximity.”
Rune was now more curious than ever. She watched the giants cowering in front of Grey and couldn’t fathom a single scenario in which they were threatening.
“Why would Verida tell them . . .” Rune trailed off. “Wait, where is Verida? I haven’t seen her since yesterday.”
“Dimitri wasn’t stupid enough to believe you two were able to sneak past Verida undetected. He was furious.” Tate still watched Grey with mild annoyance. “Verida’s punishment was set. I haven’t seen her since.”
Rune swallowed. “Did he hurt her?”
“Certainly.” He glanced over at Rune. “How much or in what way, I don’t know.”
“Can’t we help her? It’s our fault that—”
“Verida knew exactly what she was doing and what the consequences would be. There will be much for you to feel guilty about before your life is over. Don’t add to it unnecessarily.” He paused. “Trust me, the weight will drown you.”
At the gate, Grey was motioning to himself and then to Rune, talking the whole while. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Stan and Bob exchanged a wary look. It wasn’t until Grey walked away that the giants finally unfolded themselves from the wall.
Grey kicked a rock. It skittered across the rough gravel. “They’re terrified of us!”
“Don’t waste your time.” Tate led them around the corner of the castle and headed for the stables. “Giants aren’t very bright.”
Grey’s blood boiled, and his ears rang. People picking on people, using people, torturing others for no other reason than that they could . . . “I don’t care how bright they are!”
Tate gave him a hard, sideways glance. Grey took a deep breath, trying to separate past pain from present events. “I can’t believe Verida did that. Why torture them?”
“Don’t be too angry with her. Verida has a good heart,” Tate said. “Just no patience for giants.”
“It doesn’t mean she has to torment them,” he muttered. But if Tate or Rune heard him, neither acknowledged it.
Two nights ago, they’d escaped the castle unseen by passing through a maze of tunnels used by servants, exiting near a pen of double-bearded goats. The grounds had appeared large even then, but coming at the stables from this direction, Grey could see how expansive they really were.
The first building they passed was painted yellow with red doors that hung open. The stable was impressively deep, holding not only horses and tack but a host of carriages large and small. Inside, a servant was making repairs to the heavily damaged carriage they’d used to get to the council house that first night.
They passed a few more outbuildings filled with horses, cows, goats, sheep, and supplies for tending them before coming to an open expanse. A long table had been set up, spread with both weaponry and food. On the opposite side of the table, target stands of varying heights had been arranged.
“Hallelujah!” Rune jogged to the buffet and snatched a pastry that was stuffed with jam and rolled into the shape of a horn. She took a bite. “Oh my . . .” Crumbs puffed out from between her lips. “Grey, you’ve got to try this.”
Rune picked up another horn and tossed it. Grey caught it and bit into it in one fluid motion. A perfect blend of delicate pastry and jam flooded Grey’s senses. He was either hungrier than he’d thought, or this was the best thing that had ever entered his mouth.
“Today we’re going to practice using new weapons and throwing with distractions.” Tate grabbed a knife, tested its weight in one hand, and threw it at the center target. It thwacked—the blade buried halfway to the hilt. He waved a hand over the table. “Choose.”
Rune sighed, brushing the crumbs off her shirt. “I assume this means I don’t get to finish eating.”
“I said training with distractions, didn’t I? Eat while you throw. Enemies can come at any time—even breakfast.”
Rune shot him a dirty look.
“Hard to believe, I know.” Tate motioned again. “Choose.”
Grey perused the options and landed on a flat throwing knife. Bright-blue cord was wrapped between the blade and handle, and it looked like it would be worn at the hip or in a boot. He slid the blade into one of the hard panel pockets sewn into his pants. It fit perfectly.
Rune snatched another pastry, eating as she scanned the table. “What are those?” She pointed to a selection of metal and wooden instruments that fell somewhere between darts and six-inch-long nails. They were slender and rounded on the shaft, like a nail, but had flat, pointed tips. Next to them was a leather carrying case and sets of both arm and leg bands covered with small black loops that looked to be the right size to hold the weapons.
“I was hoping you’d be drawn to those,” Tate said. “Those are adilats. They’re versatile and can be used as a close-quarters distraction or in a long-distance attack. They can be used on their own, or you can add poison to the tip. Many write them off as trick weaponry, but I’ve seen them wielded by experts. They’re deadly. And not widely used. Thus, unexpected by your enemies.”
Rune picked up a silver one and held it high, looking at it from one side and then the other. “I like it. I don’t know why, but I do.”
“Watch carefully.” Tate grabbed a wooden adilat and placed it in his slightly cupped hand so that the shaft lay across his palm and the tip extended just above the top of his pointer finger. He turned and, with a refined and subtle flick of the wrist, sent the weapon speeding toward the target. It sunk three inches deep with a thunk.