“When the time comes, you will be summoned once more,” the Pharus told her. “When I am ready to move against those who sought my death, I would have you leading the charge.”
“My Pharus honors me,” Issa said with a bow.
The Pharus nodded and sat back in his chair. “Go, young Blade. Carry out this duty with the eternal gratitude of your Pharus.” With a wave, he dismissed her. “As a Blade I once knew used to say, ‘Strike first, strike true’.”
Issa froze halfway into her ceremonial bow. The words sent a chill down Issa’s spine. A…Blade?
She recovered quickly, turned, and marched out of the room. Yet her mind raced as she strode through the double doors. The words had been the last thing her grandfather said to her as she departed.
Suddenly, the way Saba had reacted when she told him she’d been accepted into the Blades took on a new meaning. Was my father or mother a Blade? Both of them? Her grandfather had always refused to tell her about them.
The thought set her head whirling, adding to the chaos in her mind. She’d walked into the Pharus’ Chambers expecting punishment, only to find herself drawn into something far larger than anything she’d imagined as an Earaqi girl training to fight in the Crucible. And possibly someone who knew her parents—the Pharus himself!
What the fiery hell have I gotten myself into?
The huge double doors boomed shut behind her, driving home Issa’s confusion. She stared in numb silence at the two Blades that stood waiting for her.
Lady Callista fixed her with a gaze as piercingly sharp as the Pharus’. Yet there was something strange written in her eyes. She was searching Issa’s face for…what? Issa couldn’t decipher the meaning of the tight expression on Lady Callista’s face. She could only hold her head high and try to conceal the turmoil raging within her.
“We will speak again soon, Prototopoi. Count on it.” The words, so sudden, spoken in a sharp voice, were the last thing Lady Callista said before turning on her heel and marching into the Pharus’ Chambers.
This only added to the knots forming in Issa’s stomach. The words held a depth of meaning, one Issa failed to understand. Too many things were flying at her from all sides. The revelation of the Gatherers. The Pharus’ gratitude. Her grandfather’s words from the Pharus’ lips. And now something strange from Lady Callista.
What the hell is going on?
“The Pharus honors you.” Tannard spoke in a hard voice, edged with a sneer that made the word “honor” sound like he was spitting in her face.
At least this was one thing that hadn’t changed. She knew how to face up to Tannard’s contempt.
She turned toward him, her jaw clenched. “I swore to serve him, just as you did.”
Tannard loomed over her, his face the same icy mask as always. “Do not for one second think that this new duty absolves you of your duty to the Keeper’s Blades.”
Issa’s gut clenched. “I would never—”
“You will continue your training as befits a prototopoi,” Tannard snarled. For an instant, anger cracked his expressionless façade. “I will see to it that you make time for your lessons and practice, no matter what.”
He jabbed a finger in her chest. “This reward does not give you a way to escape me. We’re not done, not by a long shot, little Earaqi.” He spat the word like a curse and lowered his voice to a growl. “We’re just getting started!”
Chapter Forty-Three
Ice slithered down Evren’s spine and he sucked in a sharp breath. Hailen!
Snarth pressed the edge of his dagger harder against the boy’s throat. “Do anything stupid and he’ll have to breathe through a hole in his neck.” His eyes darted to the twin jambiyas in Evren’s hands. “Drop those, now.”
Evren’s gaze locked with Hailen’s. He saw no fear written in Hailen’s violet eyes, only the sort of wary hesitance one experienced with a blade a heartbeat from severing their throat. Hailen’s eyes indicated his hand, his lips pressed into a resolute line.
“So be it.” Evren didn’t drop the daggers, but crouched and placed them on the floor.
“Kick them over to me,” Snarth ordered.
Evren shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Snarth’s eyes widened a fraction, and he seemed taken aback. “I’m the one holding the knife to your brother’s throat, here. You do what I tell you.”
“You are the one with the knife,” Evren said, “but think about what that means.” He gestured at their surroundings. “Right now, you’re threatening the personal servant of Lady Briana, daughter of one of the highest-ranking men in Shalandra. One word from me brings the guards running. What do you think they’ll do when they find you here?”
Snarth scowled. “It’ll be too late for your brother! He’ll be bleeding out onto the floor and beyond a physicker’s help.”
“Yes, he will.” Evren snarled, his face hardening. “But right now he’s the only thing that’s stopping me from pounding the shite out of you.” He bared his teeth in a growl. “And if you harm him, I won’t just stop at a bruised jaw. I’ll break every traitorous bone in your Keeper-damned body, then I’ll drag you through the streets to Killian’s—”
“Shut up!” Snarth growled, but a hint of desperate fear cracked his anger. “Killian can never know that you saw me meeting with the Ybrazhe. I’d rather die here than let him find out I’m working with the Syndicate.” His lip twisted into a snarl. “But, by the Keeper, I’ll be damned if I die alone!”
Evren’s gut clenched as Snarth’s dagger arm tensed. “Or,” he said before the Mumbler could drag the blade along Hailen’s throat, “you could take the third option.”
“Third option?” Snarth sneered. “What’s that?”
“You run.” Evren shrugged. “You leave Shalandra before Killian finds out you’ve betrayed him to the Syndicate.” He didn’t know who the Syndicate was, but Snarth’s fear of discovery made it clear they were at odds with Killian. “Go to Praamis, Voramis, hell, even go across the Frozen Sea. Run and never look back.”
The doubt that flickered in Snarth’s eyes brought a surge of hope to Evren’s chest.
“If you leave right now,” he pressed, “I swear on my brother’s life that I won’t say anything to Killian. You can start a new life somewhere far from here.” He dropped his voice to a low growl. “But only if you run now.”
For a moment, Snarth almost gave in. Evren could see it in his eyes; he wanted to flee, wanted to escape his life as a Shalandran street rat.
Then the moment passed and Snarth’s sneer returned. “Think you can trick me with your clever words?” He pressed the dagger harder against Hailen’s neck. “It won’t work on me!”
Evren’s eyes followed the crimson droplet that slid down Hailen’s pale skin. He’d heard the Hunter’s stories of what the boy’s blood could do—his heritage as a Melechha, descendant of the Serenii, gave him extraordinary abilities when his blood came in contact with Serenii artifacts.
But none of that mattered. He cared nothing for the blood or the power it promised. All that mattered was Hailen, the boy that had become his younger brother. Snarth was threatening Hailen’s life and Evren wouldn’t let that stand.
His eyes darted around the coat room in search of anything he could use to distract the Mumbler. Snarth had fast reflexes, but Evren was faster. He just needed to get that dagger away from Hailen’s throat!
“It’s no trick,” he told Snarth. “I’m offering you a chance to get out of here before Suroth’s guards find you. That’s a better offer than you’ll get from Killian when he finds out that you’re working for the Syndicate.”
“Which is why you’re not going to tell him!” Snarth shouted.
“Think about that for a moment.” Evren cocked an eyebrow. “Play this out. You cut Hailen’s throat, I beat you senseless then either call Suroth’s guards or haul you to Killian myself. You try to drag Hailen out of here, someone sees you and the end result is the same. Even if you somehow get out o
f the mansion the same way you came in—” Evren guessed Snarth had used the distraction of the kidnapping attempt to slip through the open back gate. “—you’re not going to get far threatening a Dhukari’s servant. One look at your headbands and the Indomitables are going to be all over you.”
Snarth’s face fell and dismay twisted his expression as he came to the same conclusion.
“The only way out of here is without bloodshed.” Evren took a step toward Snarth, then another. “Leave now and no one gets hurt.”
“Back!” Snarth shouted. “Stay back, or I’ll—”
The Mumbler made the mistake of removing the blade from Hailen’s throat and pointing it at Evren. With surprising speed, Hailen spun in Snarth’s grip, his right hand driving straight at the older boy’s torso. The dagger he’d concealed in the folds of his robe punched into Snarth’s stomach.
Snarth fell back with a cry, and Hailen leapt backward and ducked to avoid the desperate swipe of the Mumbler’s dagger. At the same moment, Evren snatched Hailen’s collar and dragged him farther backwards, well out of Snarth’s dagger range.
Snarth stumbled against a rack of coats, a hand clasped to the wound in his gut. Blood trickled down the front of his tunic and stained his trousers. Pain pinched his face and turned his skin pale. He stared wide-eyed at the crimson-stained dagger in Hailen’s hand.
“Go!” Evren shouted and thrust a finger toward the narrow door. “Get out of here, Snarth, and pray to the Long Keeper that you get to a physicker in time.”
With a half-groan, half-cry of terror, Snarth stumbled out of the little room and into the mansion’s main corridor.
Evren didn’t need to pursue—if Snarth lived long enough to get out of the mansion and to a physicker, he’d be confined to a bed for days, maybe weeks, as the torn muscles in his gut healed. By then, Killian would know of his treachery.
Instead, he turned, tore a linen dress from a metal hanger, and pressed it against Hailen’s neck.
“Evren!” Hailen tried to shove his hands away. “It’s just a scratch!”
Evren’s heart hammered in his ribs as he removed the linen and studied the wound. To his relief, it really was just a scratch.
He pulled Hailen into a tight hug. “Keeper’s teeth! You know the Hunter and Kiara would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you.”
“I’m not a child anymore,” Hailen protested and squirmed out of Evren’s embrace. “I don’t need everyone always looking out for me. I’m here to help you find the Blade of Hallar. If I wanted to be babied, I would have stayed in the House of Need in Voramis.”
Evren wanted to argue, but he couldn’t deny that Hailen had grown a lot since they first met. The naïve child he’d met on the road to Enarium had grown. As he’d proven today, he could take care of himself. He was more than just Evren’s burden—he was his brother and, like it or not, they were on this mission together.
“You’re right,” Evren said with a nod. “You’re not a child. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry. I’ve got to have your back, just like you’ve got mine. Like the Hunter and Kiara, we’ve got to watch out for each other.”
“Always.” Hailen grinned. “But don’t think for a minute that you’re getting your dagger back!” He used the bloody linen to wipe his blade clean.
“No, I think it’s better that you have it.”
Hailen’s eyes went wide. “Really? You mean it?”
Evren nodded. “You need to be able to protect yourself.”
“So I can have a sword, too?” Hailen’s violet eyes sparkled. “Like the Hunter has?”
Evren expression went flat. “Let’s just start with a dagger.” He had no intention of letting Hailen anywhere near a proper weapon if he could help it. The boy had proven far more adept at letters than swordplay.
Evren’s mind raced as he tried to figure out his next move. He hadn’t gotten anywhere near close enough to the Blade of Hallar, but over the last couple of days he’d made progress on his mission. He knew of the secret way into the Palace of Golden Eternity, the way Samall and his traitors had gotten in. By aiding in the defense of the mansion, he’d earned the Arch-Guardian’s goodwill—perhaps enough that he could use it to get inside the palace to start scoping it out for a safe route to the Vault of Ancients.
But first, he had to get to Killian with news of Snarth and the Syndicate—the Mumbler had called them the Ybrazhe, whatever that meant. That, and the information on the people that had attacked Suroth’s mansion, would more than satisfy the blacksmith that Evren was holding up his side of the bargain. And, if Evren was lucky, he might be able to talk Killian into giving him more information to aid him in his mission to get into the vault.
“Hailen, I need you to get to Lady Briana and stay as close to her as possible,” Evren said. “Right now, the mansion’s going to be on high alert, so the safest place to be is by her side.”
“What about you?” Hailen asked.
“I need to get to Killian and tell him everything.” Evren placed a hand on Hailen’s shoulder. “But I’ll be back before—”
“Wait!” Excitement sparkled in Hailen’s eyes. “Before you go, I need to show you something.”
Evren’s brow furrowed. “Can it wait?” He’d had a long couple of days and nights—he could use a few minutes of rest before the sun rose.
“No!” Hailen seized his hand and hauled on his arm. “You need to see this.”
With an internal sigh, Evren allowed the boy to drag him through the corridors.
The guards in gold breastplates fixed the two of them with a hard look, but they’d all seen Evren dragging the unconscious Samall. Right now, he guessed the guards would mostly leave him alone—at least until it came time for someone to serve Lady Briana’s breakfast. He was, after all, a servant.
Hailen led him to the door at the far end of the hall. Evren recognized it—it was the one room in the mansion that he hadn’t been permitted to clean.
“Hailen!” Evren hissed. “This is the Arch-Guardian’s private study. We’re not supposed to be here.”
“Just trust me,” Hailen whispered. “This is important.” He slid open the door and slipped inside.
Evren’s brow furrowed as he followed. What’s important?
Suroth’s office was surprisingly neat, for a Secret Keeper. Evren had expected chaos on par with the hurricane of clutter that adorned every surface in Graeme’s secret back rooms. Here, parchments lay strewn across the vast desk that occupied the center of the room, but the shelves stood empty save for a handful of strange-shaped stone ornaments. He could make out no discernible use for the objects, but his eyes flew wide as he recognized the strange Serenii symbols etched into their smooth black surfaces.
Hailen strode over to the shelf and reached for one, a long cylindrical stone roughly the width of Evren’s middle finger and half the length of his forearm.
“Remember when I told you that Father Reverentus and the Cambionari were teaching me magic words?” Hailen asked, hefting the object. “Serenii words of power?”
Evren narrowed his eyes. “Yes, but what does that—”
“Watch.”
Excitement sparkling in his eyes, Hailen touched a finger to the wound in his neck. The bleeding had slowed but crimson still glistened on his skin. He pressed his crimson-stained finger to the flat end of the cylinder.
Hailen began to chant in a strange language Evren had never heard. Though the words held no meaning to him, there was no mistaking the power they held. A shiver ran down Evren’s spine and the room seemed to fill with a subtle crackle of energy. Evren could almost feel his hairs standing on end as Hailen’s voice grew louder, the power filling the room.
His eyes flew wide as the cylindrical stone in Hailen’s hands started to glow, brighter and brighter, pushing back the gloom of Suroth’s office with an azure brilliance.
Evren stepped back as the blue glow emanating from the stone in the boy’s hand grew blinding. He shielded his eyes
, but it seemed the light passed through his palms to pierce his eyelids. The energy grew so thick Evren felt he could cut it with a knife. Something pressed on his eardrums and thrummed deep within his stomach, all the way to the core of his being.
With a loud fwash, the stone gave off one final brilliant flash of light and dimmed to a low radiance, as if the room was lit by torches and oil lamps rather than the midday sun.
Yet the light came from no lantern or torch. Instead, a soft glow emanated from the stone in Hailen’s hand, which shone with an internal light.
At that moment, the door to the adjoining room burst open.
Chapter Forty-Four
Kodyn had never felt as helpless as he did at that moment. He sat on Arch-Guardian Suroth’s bed and held Briana as she wept, but he could find no words of comfort to offer.
She wouldn’t care that her father had slain nearly a dozen of his assailants and saved the Pharus’ life. All that mattered was that her one parent, the only one she’d had since birth, had been taken in the Long Keeper’s arms. She was alone in the world now.
A twinge of guilt ran through him. If I’d delivered Suroth’s purse to the Black Widow, would it have changed anything? He still felt the smooth, round object sitting in the purse in his pocket, a burden far heavier than its true weight. The question had no answer—if he hadn’t followed the Gatherers, he wouldn’t have been back in time to help fight off the last of the assassins. The Gatherers hadn’t spoken of killing Suroth, so Kodyn had made the choice to come for Briana first.
He didn’t regret the decision, yet he couldn’t shut off the part of his mind that felt he deserved the blame. Just as he’d blamed himself when Sid got kidnapped in Praamis. He’d promised to protect them—look how that had turned out both times.
Aisha stood nearby, a solid presence that filled him with a sense of comfort. She hadn’t let Briana down. Aisha had defeated more than a dozen assassins alone. Her strength and determination throughout the entire ordeal—including whatever internal struggle she’d been fighting—humbled him.
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