Gold Throne in Shadow by M.C. Planck Page B

Guild had powers that confounded common sense, or so people kept saying.
    â€œGet me Gregor,” Christopher said. “We know we can trust him. Maybe we can finally afford to hire him.”
    â€œI do not think a knight of his stature will serve for salary,” Karl said. “You may have to accept fealty from more than just your witch.”
    â€œYou are going to take her with you, I hope,” Svengusta said. “A sharp bird like that should be kept under a close hood.”
    â€œErm, no,” Christopher said. “She still has work to do here.” Also, he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out which bond was stronger: her oath to him or her loyalty to the wizards. Specifically, the wizard of Carrhill.
    Svengusta shook his head in dismay. “As if she wasn’t enough trouble before, when she was just a nose-in-the-air shopgirl. Now she is a Darkling wizard.”
    â€œPater!” objected Helga. She did not tolerate that kind of speech at her table. Also, she seemed to like the woman, which mystified Christopher completely.
    â€œShe won’t be a wizard until tomorrow,” Christopher said, as if that were any solace. “But she’s going to help me go through Flayn’s shop. Maybe he left us a surprise.”
    â€œOh, I’m sure he has,” Svengusta laughed. “Just as sure as I am that it won’t be nice.”

    Fae bowed to him with rigid formality. She had always held herself above ordinary folk, despite having been born one, and now she exuded the reek of power. Christopher was of half a mind to throw a snowball at her head. But he did not have the heart to deny her the playacting that went with her new status. He had not spent all his life in dreams of this moment. Fae was no worse than a starlet with her first international blockbuster, or even just a community theater celebrity with her first rave review.
    â€œMistress Fae,” he said, knowing the title would please her, and seeing his reward in the thin smile that threatened to become genuine, “are you prepared?”
    â€œYes, my lord,” she replied, and he supposed he would have to accept that title in return.
    â€œGood. Then tell me what we do.” He only had so much formality in him.
    â€œWe may enter the shop,” she said. “I am certain that much is safe. If your men could undo the door. . . .” They had nailed it shut with broad wooden boards and now came forward with crowbars. Once they had pried it free of obstacles, Christopher reached for the handle. Torme leaned forward and stopped him.
    â€œYou are not expendable, my lord,” he said. Before Christopher could rebuke the man for his gracelessness, Fae opened the door.
    This is what Faren had sent the man to do, but Christopher didn’t have to like it.
    He followed her inside, at a distance of ten feet, which seemed acceptable to his sentinel.
    â€œWe will require no others,” Fae announced, and Torme closed the door behind them, staying outside. At least he didn’t throw a motherly glare at Christopher.
    â€œYou have prepared your detection spells, my lord?” Fae asked.
    â€œYes, and stop calling me that.” There was no audience here.
    â€œOf course, my lord,” she agreed, ignoring him completely. “Let us examine the body first. Here in the public area of the shop there should be no dangers.”
    She coolly gazed down on the decapitated body of her former mentor and paramour. Christopher still found the scene sickeningly unreal and had to struggle not to look away. Fae chanted a brief spell, knelt to the body, and passed her hands above it in a searching manner. She tugged open garments, obviously looking for something specific, and her impassiveness was not enough to block the satisfaction when she found it. From a loose sleeve she withdrew a thin wooden wand with a sparkling red gem affixed to the end.
    â€œWhat is that?” he asked, already