Makala finished dressing then checked her hair in the mirror—not much she could do with it without taking a long, hot bath first. She noted the reflection of Jarlain sitting on the bed, giving one more bit of proof that the woman wasn’t a vampire.
Makala turned around to face Jarlain. “What now?”
“Erdis intends to give you a guided tour of our home a bit later, but he thought it might be nice if we had a chance to chat first.” She patted the bed beside her, indicating that she wanted Makala to sit.
Makala pulled the chair out from the dressing table, turned it around so it faced the bed, and sat on that instead. If Jarlain was upset by this small display of defiance, she didn’t show it.
“As you’ve no doubt ascertained by now, I am responsible for the day-to-day operation of Grimwall itself. Onkar commands the Black Fleet, and Erdis—”
“Commands both of you,” Makala said.
Jarlain smiled, but her eyes glittered like chips of ice. “Indeed. I also have the honor of serving my master in one additional capacity. You see, Onkar and his raiders sail the Principalities to procure much-needed supplies for Grimwall, and chief among those supplies are people.”
Jarlain said this so matter-of-factly that Makala felt a chill ripple down her spine. The woman might not be a vampire, but that didn’t make her any less dangerous than one.
“We need servants,” Jarlain continued, “and we also need a certain amount of nourishment for Erdis, Onkar, and the others.”
Others? What others? The only vampires Makala had seen in Grimwall thus far were Erdis Cai and Onkar, so who where these others of which Jarlain spoke?
“We also have need for… special individuals, ones who possess extremely strong spirits. It is my task to identify these people for Erdis.”
Makala wasn’t liking the sound of this. “And I’m one of these ‘special' people?”
Jarlain shrugged. “Onkar thinks you might be, and so does Erdis, but that’s for me to determine.”
“Say you find out that I am one of these people you’re looking for, one with a strong spirit, whatever that means. What then?”
Jarlain smiled. She rose from the bed and walked over to kneel next to Makala. Jarlain then reached out to take hold of her hands. “Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear.”
Jarlain’s grip tightened, and Makala tried to pull away, but she couldn’t. It was as if she were no longer in control of her own body. She felt a presence in her mind, an intruder, like a thief who had broken into a locked home and was moving stealthily at first but with increasing boldness and confidence as he began searching for something of value to take. Makala hadn’t felt anything like it since the day she had lain on the obsidian table in front of the altar of the Dark Six in the basement of Emon Gorsedd’s manor. Part of her was terrified and outraged at this loss of control, but part of her, a part which had been so lonely since the exorcism of her evil spirit, welcomed it.
Then she felt herself falling into darkness. Down, down, down…
* * *
She hid in the shadows of the alleyway between two buildings, one belonging to a bookseller, the other a mapmaker. This part of Sharn lay close to Morgrave University, and though it was late, the streets remained crowded. That came as little surprise, since the City of Towers never slept. The pedestrians were primarily students, Makala guessed, given their scholars’ robes and youthful age. They traveled in loud, laughing packs as they searched for distractions on their various quests for amusement. The noise and commotion of the students didn’t bother her, however. Quite the opposite. They would provide excellent cover while she went about her work.
The alley was cleaner than she’d expected, with just a few scattered bits of trash about—apple cores, crumpled vellum, a few chicken bones that had been picked clean by vermin—but there were no rats here now, and the ground was thankfully clean of urine and feces. This wasn’t the first time Emon had dispatched her to Sharn, but it was the first time that her assigned task had brought her to this part of the city. It was certainly a step up from the working-class section of Cliffside, where she’d worked before. Maybe if she were lucky, the next time she was sent to Sharn, she’d get the chance to work in the Skyway, where only the wealthiest citizens lived.
The mapmaker’s shop was closed, but Makala knew the man was still inside, waiting for a courier who was due to arrive sometime before midnight. Makala had no idea what the courier carried or why the mapmaker preferred to have it delivered after business hours. Her orders were simple: when the courier arrived, kill him before he entered the shop, take the leather pouch he was to deliver to the mapmaker, and bring it back to Emon, and that’s precisely what she intended to do.
She heard nothing, but she felt air move lightly across the back of her neck, and she knew she was no longer alone in the alley. Without hesitation, she drew a dagger, whirled about, and threw it at the newcomer.
The blade flew straight at the man’s heart, but he didn’t so much as flinch. His hand swept up in a blur, and there was a metallic clang as he deflected her dagger with one of his own. Makala’s blade struck the outer brick wall of the bookseller’s shop, then fell to the ground, point dented, the knife now just one more bit of detritus in the alley.
Still holding onto his dagger, the man approached her. He was dressed all in black and wore a traveler’s cloak with the hood pulled up to conceal his features. Despite the hood and the alley’s gloom, Makala knew who it was. How could she not?
“Diran!” she whispered. Even the surprise of seeing him wasn’t enough to make her break training and call out to him in a normal voice.
The man reached up with his free hand and drew back his hood. “Hello, Makala. Good to see you.”
Makala wanted to rush forward and embrace Diran, but there was something different about him. His voice, his eyes… plus he still held that dagger.
“What happened to you?” she asked. “You disappeared after being sent to kill that magewright’s daughter.”
“She was but a child, and an innocent one at that,” Diran said. “I couldn’t kill her.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d feared Diran had met with foul play, though she’d still held out hope that he would return to her alive. Now, to hear that he’d purposely abandoned his assignment…
“She was nothing more than a job, Diran. Emon accepted a contract on her, and he sent you to carry it out.”
Diran smiled sadly. “I couldn’t.”
“I could and I did. Emon sent me to finish the job.”
Her words seemed to strike Diran with the force of a physical blow. Shock and sorrow registered on his face.
“Makala… she was no more than five…”
Makala shrugged. “And now she’ll never reach six. Death comes to all of us eventually. It just came to her a little sooner.”
“Don’t quote Emon’s words to me! I know them just as well as you!” He was almost shouting now, his hand gripping the dagger so tightly his knuckles were white.
“You’ve become so emotional, Diran, I don’t…” She trailed off as she realized what had happened to him. “You no longer possess your dark spirit!”
“You mean, it no longer possesses me,” Diran corrected, “but yes, I am free of the foul thing.”
“Foul? Diran, the dark spirit is a great gift! It sharpens the mind, strengthens the will—”
“Hardens the heart,” Diran said grimly.
She nodded. “Necissarily so. Without it, we would be lost.”
“I am without it, and for the first time in a very long while, I don’t feel lost at all. I’ve… found a new purpose, Makala, a new place to study, a new teacher… I’ve come to ask you to forget the man you’ve come here to kill, to forget the Brotherhood, forget Emon, and come with me. My new teacher freed me of my dark spirit, and he can do the same for you.”
Diran sounded almost as if he were pleading now, and his display of emotional weakness disgusted her, or ra
ther, it disgusted the dark thing that dwelled within her, but as there was little difference between her spirit and its, it amounted to the same.
“Don’t be foolish, Diran. Let me finish this job, and then I’ll take you back home. Perhaps Quellin can—”
“I’ll never permit another entity to possess me,” Diran said. “I’d rather die first.”
Despite the fact that he still held the dagger, Makala moved closer and put her arms around his waist. “Diran, listen to yourself. The loss of your Other has unbalanced your mind. You’re not thinking clearly.” She gave him a quick kiss on the end of his nose before releasing his waist and stepping back. “Now just wait here and be silent. My target is due any—”
“The courier isn’t coming,” Diran interrupted. “In order to find you, I had to discover what your assignment was. I intercepted the courier before I came here and warned him off. By now he’s likely aboard an airship and making ready to depart the city.”
Cold fury surged through Makala. “I have never failed a job!”
“Until now,” Diran said.
Kill him! She heard the thought in her own voice, but she knew it belonged to the Other.
I can’t… It’s Diran. I love him!
The fury continued to build inside her, overshadowing all other feeling, all other thought. When it was done, all that remained was the desire to slay a traitor to the Brotherhood of the Blade.
She reached for her sword, but she’d only managed to pull it halfway out of the scabbard before Diran reached into his cloak, brought out a dagger, and flicked it toward her with a smooth, graceful motion.
The last thing she remembered seeing was Diran’s tear-filled eyes.
* * *
“How delightfully tragic!”
Jarlain let go of Makala’s hands. Feeling weak as a newborn infant, Makala rose from the chair, staggered over to the bed, and flopped down onto the mattress. She immediately tried to rise again, but her body was too weak and refused to obey her.
Jarlain came over and patted her on the leg. “Don’t worry. The fatigue will pass soon and you’ll be able to move again.”
Jarlain crossed to her dressing table, turned the chair back around, and sat down. She picked up a pearl-handled brush and began to run it through her long, raven-colored hair, gazing at her reflection as she stroked. The woman’s normally pale face was slightly flushed and she wore a lazy, dreamy smile. Makala thought she looked like a woman who’d just experienced a most pleasurable session of lovemaking.
“Of course, Diran threw the dagger hilt-first, and you were struck on the head and rendered unconscious. When you came to, it was well past midnight and Diran was gone.”
Makala was just barely able to make her mouth and voice work well enough to answer. “Y-yes.”
“And that’s the last you saw of him.” Jarlain paused in her brushing to glance at Makala in the mirror. “For a while, at least.”
Makala wondered just how much knowledge Jarlain had pulled from her mind. Did she know of her reunion with Diran? Port Verge? Did she know Diran had become a priest of the Silver Flame, and even now he and Ghaji might well be on their way to rescue her?
Jarlain resumed brushing her hair with long, slow strokes. “I must say, this Emon Gorsedd of yours sounds like a most intriguing character, and the way he controls his assassins by implanting an evil spirit inside them is most ingenious, but like Diran, you no longer have your ‘Other’. Unlike him, you didn’t choose to give yours up. You lost yours.”
Jarlain continued brushing in silence for several moments. Makala was beginning to regain control of her body slowly but surely, and she managed to push herself up into a sitting position by the time Jarlain put the brush down on her dressing table and turned to face her.
“Do you know why Erdis values my services? I possess the ability to reach into someone’s mind and root out her most secret fears.” She smiled. “Of course, I have other talents as well.”
Makala thought of how Jarlain had touched her in Erdis Cai’s vast trophy chamber, and how she’d felt a paralyzing, overwhelming fear.
“The little memory drama you were so kind as to share with me taught me a great deal about you, Makala. I now know what your two greatest fears are, and believe me, they’re juicy ones. Would you like to hear?”
“Can I keep you from telling me?”
Jarlain laughed with dark delight. “Not at all! There are two main themes that are embedded in that particular memory. One is that of the dark spirits. Diran found the strength to give, his up willingly. While you have been able to continue without yours, you miss its presence—the power and confidence it granted you. You fear that, like an addict who can no longer refrain from taking her favorite drug, you will one day return to Emon Gorsedd and plead to have a new spirit implanted within you.”
Makala felt as if Jarlain had punched her in the stomach, but she fought to keep from letting the woman know how much she’d gotten to her.
“You said I had two fears.”
“That’s right. Your second greatest fear is of losing Diran for good. They’re connected, you know. Your fear of losing Diran helps give you the strength to resist during those times when you feel the need for the Other. Imagine how disappointed Diran would be if you willingly returned to your previous life, but of course, one of the mean reasons you don’t want to lose Diran is you hope his love will fill the empty space in your soul left behind when the dark spirit was exorcised. What if it doesn’t? What if nothing can ever fill that space? Nothing except being joined to an Other again? It really is all too amusing!”
Jarlain laughed with almost girlish delight.
“I’m glad you find me so entertaining.” Makala managed to keep her voice calm, but inside she was a turbulent mass of emotions. Fear, shame, anger… Jarlain had violated her in a way Makala had never imagined possible. Right then, Makala vowed that she would see Jarlain dead, even at the cost of her own life.
“I find you much more than that, dear.” Jarlain’s eyes glittered in the lamplight, beautiful, cold, and hard. “I find you worthy. That’s going to come as good news to Erdis, very good news indeed.”
* * *
“Thank you for agreeing to be my guest this evening.”
Erdis Cai moved somewhat stiffly as he escorted Makala down the dimly lit corridor, and she wondered if it was because he was attempting to walk like a mortal man. If so, he’d lost the knack. He seemed more like a wooden marionette, with none of his vampiric grace.
“I wasn’t aware that I had a choice.”
The two of them were alone. Erdis Cai had come to Jarlain’s quarters to fetch her, and now they wandered through Grim-wall, seemingly without purpose or destination.
“Of course you had a choice.” Erdis Cai gave her a closed-mouth smile, as if he didn’t wish her to see his enlarged canine teeth. “But I don’t think you would’ve enjoyed the alternative to coming with me.”
“What would that have been?”
“Spending a few more hours as Jarlain’s plaything.”
Makala thought of the effortless way the woman had infiltrated her mind. “You’re right. This is better.”
Erdis Cai laughed and put an arm around her shoulders as if they were good friends. He still wore his black-metal armor, and it felt cold, hard, and heavy on her shoulders. More, it seemed to weigh on her soul, as if his touch were as much a spiritual burden as a physical one.
Makala had been trained in any number of unarmed combat moves that would allow her to render an opponent helpless, or should she wish to, kill him instantly, but she didn’t seriously contemplate attacking Erdis Cai. Not only was the man a vampire, he exuded an aura of dark menace that spoke of just how powerful a vampire he was. Attacking him barehanded would not only be foolish, it might well prove suicidal.
“Speaking of Jarlain, she said she’d found me ‘worthy’. What precisely does that mean?”
They came to a set of stairs, the first she’d seen since arriving a
t Grimwall. Erdis Cai removed his arm from her shoulders and gestured for her to precede him. The stairs led upward into darkness, but she knew that, one way or another, she would be going up them, so she chose to do so under her own power. There was no railing, so she kept her hand on the wall as she climbed. She couldn’t hear Erdis Cai following behind, which was all the more impressive—and frightening—because he was garbed in full armor. Thus, when he spoke again, the sound of his voice coming so close to Makala’s ear startled her.
“There will be plenty of time for us to talk about whether or not you’re worthy—as well as for what—but keep this in mind: Jarlain only makes recommendations. It is I who render the final judgment.”
Makala didn’t like the way he seemed to stress the word final.
They continued climbing in silence for some time after that until finally Makala saw light ahead of them, however dim. They came to an open doorway, and Makala stepped through—
—and into wonder.
As large as Erdis Cai’s trophy chamber had been, it was nothing compared to this. It was as if the entire cliff had been hollowed out inside, though how that could’ve been done without the entire place collapsing, she had no idea. There were vertical support beams visible, thick columns covered with runes engraved in a language she didn’t recognize, but there were far too few to support the entire ceiling. Magic was involved somehow, but what sort and how it was applied, she didn’t know.
Within the vast opening lay a small city with domed buildings of various sizes carved out of rock. The streets were lined with smaller columns atop which rested braziers burning with the same greenfire as had those in Erdis Cai’s trophy chamber, and just like those, these produced no smoke, and Makala suspected, no heat. The streets were filled with men and woman garbed in black and gray—some dressed as raiders, others in robes or simple tunics. All of their heads had been shaven, and they ranged in age from late teens to early fifties.
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