The man closed the door behind her. “How long has it been since the Gray Fox has eaten?” he asked. His endowed hearing had apparently not missed the rumbling of her gut. She began to relax a little.
“I’ve been three days without hot food,” she answered.
The man turned to look at his wife. “Evelyn, please fix a plate,” he said. “We have important company.” Evelyn smiled back.
The man beckoned Satine to a table. She removed her cloak and sat down. She welcomed the warmth that had begun to seep into her bones. The man poured out two glasses of wine.
“What is your name?” Satine asked.
“I am Shamus,” he answered. He smiled. “And I am well aware that there is no point in asking yours.”
Satine took a sip of wine. “You don’t look like a consul,” she said.
Smirking, Shamus took the pipe from his mouth and he placed it in a bowl.
“Really?” he asked. “Tell me, lass. Just what is one of us supposed to look like?” He gave her a wink. “Don’t make the mistake of painting us all with the same brush.”
He was right. Her only association with consuls had been with the menacing Bratach and his greasy underling Ivan. This calm, married man in his neat little country cottage seemed worlds away from their kind. But if he was a consul, married or not, he was powerful.
Evelyn appeared with a plate of food. It looked like stew—mutton with rosemary, Satine’s nose told her—and boiled red potatoes. A big hunk of aged cheese sat on one side of the plate.
Satine began to shovel the food in hungrily. Shamus remained silent for a time as he watched her eat. When she was done, Satine wiped her mouth and sat back in her chair. Shamus poured her another glass of wine.
“Thank you,” she said. “Now then, what is the message you have for me?”
Shamus’ face darkened a bit. “Let’s the three of us go and sit by the fire,” he answered.
Satine nodded, picked up her wine glass and followed the consul and his wife to the fireplace. The three overstuffed chairs looked very comfortable. Satine sat and crossed one of her long legs over the other.
Shamus noticed that his pipe had gone out. He took a wax taper from the mantle and set it alight in the fire. Soon the pipe was smoking again. Waving out the taper, he looked at Satine.
“Forgive me,” he said. “Would you like a pipe?” Satine shook her head.
Shamus sat down across from his wife, who took up her knitting as she settled into her chair.
Seeing that the fire was low, Shamus called the craft. A dry hickory log from the pile next to the hearth lifted into the air to gently land atop the ones already burning. Its smoky fragrance gradually filled the room. Apparently satisfied, Shamus turned his attention to Satine.
“Bratach and Ivan are dead,” he said.
Satine took a quick breath. Leaning forward, she scowled.
“How?” she asked.
“Faegan,” he answered. “It had to be. Bratach was found in the tunnel, hanging in a web of the craft. He had bled out. He could have been killed by the wizard, or it might have been suicide. There is no way to know.”
“Why would he commit suicide?” she asked.
“He would have gladly taken his own life, rather than be forced to reveal information to the wizards of the Redoubt,” Shamus answered.
“We all would.”
“And Ivan?”
“His body—or should I say, what was left of it—was found upstairs. It seems he was blown apart by a bolt of the craft. In any event, you will be receiving no more help from them. I strongly suggest that you never visit that archery shop again.”
Satine sat back in her chair. She had never liked Bratach or Ivan, but she had come to rely upon the information they provided her. This would make her sanctions more difficult.
“How will you proceed?” Shamus asked her.
The Gray Fox thought for a moment. “I will keep going,” she answered. “There are four more people on my list. I’m following two of them now. To the best of my knowledge, the other two remain in Tammerland. If I can dispatch the ones I’m following, then I can deal with the others at my leisure. But without benefit of Bratach and Ivan’s information, things will be more difficult. When did they die?”
“One of our agents visited the shop three days ago,” Shamus answered. “The killings had apparently just occurred. Consul riders from our network were immediately sent out with word to all of the other sanctuaries. The one who informed us arrived here yesterday. He stayed the night and then rode back.”
Satine decided to take a chance. “What of the orb?” she asked. “On my way here I passed by a great canyon that had been gouged into the earth. I have never seen anything like it. The orb did that, didn’t it?”
Shamus nodded. “The Orb of the Vigors is bleeding. These are wonderful times for us, my dear. But of course you must already know this; it is the reason you were hired. It is said that only Tristan or Shailiha can heal the orb. If you can kill them both, victory will be within our grasp.”
“How did you and Evelyn come to live here in Morningshire?” Satine asked.
“I knew Wigg and the other wizards of the Directorate well,” Shamus answered. “Later, I was also one of those who helped build the Gates of Dawn. Nicholas—Tristan’s son—altered the nature of our blood signatures, bringing us out of the darkness and into the light. I was proud to serve him. Before that, Evelyn and I lived in Tammerland for many years. When the Gates of Dawn fell, the surviving consular network sent us here. It certainly isn’t Tammerland, but I have come to like it. Each of us in the brotherhood must do his part, whatever and wherever that might be.”
“Forgive me, but how do you make ends meet?” Satine asked. “It is my understanding that the Directorate never allowed the consuls to learn how to conjure kisa.”
Shamus smiled. “The story about the calmatrass berries is true,” he said. “I have a small patch out back that I harvest and sell. Evelyn cans the rest for sale in the winter, and she also sells her knitting. With a little help from the craft to make our work go faster, we get by.”
Evelyn looked up from her knitting. “Tell me, father,” she asked, “does she remind you of anyone?”
“Of course, mother,” he answered. “I saw it the moment she walked in.”
“What are you talking about?” Satine asked.
“You remind us of our granddaughter,” Shamus said.
“Where is she now?” Satine asked.
Shamus’ face grew hard again. “Clarissa is dead,” he answered softly.
“During the ill-conceived return of the Coven, she was raped and butchered by the very same winged ones the prince now commands. Her parents were also killed. Clarissa was a schoolteacher in Tammerland, and she was about your age. She knew nothing of the craft, or of my part in it all. Many of us have paid dearly to see the defeat of the prince and his wizards.”
Silence reigned for a time, the only sound the occasional crackling of the fire.
Sensing that it was time for her to go, Satine stood. “I must leave,” she said. “I want to thank you both for everything that you have done for me.”
“Please stay the night, child,” Evelyn said. “There’s no reason for you to sleep out in the cold.”
Satine shook her head. “I cannot afford to miss seeing the Minions when they take flight. That is how I have been following the prince and his group.”
Shamus rose. “Suppose I arranged to have you wake two hours before dawn?” he suggested. “Would that give you enough time?”
Satine carefully considered their offer. The prospect of a warm bed was very tempting, and the odds of a roving Minion patrol discovering her campsite were next to nil.
“Very well,” she said. “I accept. And thank you.”
“It is we who thank you,” Evelyn said. “It
is good to have a young woman in the house again.”
“I have a small barn round back,” Shamus said. “I’ll go and bed down your horse.”
The elderly consul went to the door. Taking his overcoat from a peg on the wall, he walked outside.
Satine sat back down in the chair by the fire. Evelyn came to pour her another glass of the calmatrass berry wine.
The three of them talked for hours as the logs burned low in the hearth.
SATINE AWOKE WITH A START. AT FIRST SHE DIDN’T RECOGNIZE her surroundings and immediately lunged for the dagger beneath her pillow. Then she remembered that she had stayed the night with Shamus and Evelyn and she calmed down. She got out of the warm bed and dressed quickly.
The sleeping spell with which Shamus had gifted her had worked perfectly. She felt wonderfully rested and refreshed. Looking out the window of her room, she saw that it was still dark outside. She quietly opened the bedroom door and walked into the front room.
The fire had gone out, and a package lay on the table next to her cloak. A parchment note pinned to the package read: “For the journey.” She opened it to see a wedge of cheese, a generous amount of jerky, and a small package of purple calmatrass berries.
She tiptoed to the other bedroom door and opened it a crack. Beneath a great, patterned quilt, Evelyn and Shamus lay asleep in each other’s arms. A tear formed in Satine’s eyes and she quickly brushed it away.
She walked back into the front room, put on her cloak, picked up the package, and headed for the door. She was just about to leave when she had a thought. She walked back over to the table and put the package down.
She looked around for something to write with, but she couldn’t find anything. Instead, she took a piece of warm charcoal from the hearth. She removed five gold coins worth twenty kisa each from her cloak and put them on the table. Using the charcoal, she wrote, “For your kindnesses” on the tablecloth. She took up the package again and left.
FOUR HOURS LATER THE GRAY FOX FOUND HERSELF AT A FORK IN the narrow country road. She was in disguise again, and she held the reins of her packhorse firmly in one hand. The Minions had dwindled to specks in the sky as they traveled west, following the branch of road that bore away to her left. The road to the right led east, toward the coast. The way behind her would take her back to Shamus and Evelyn’s comfortable cottage, where she knew she would be welcome to stay for as long as she liked. She found it an oddly attractive prospect. Even though she had collected only half of her fee, she was already one of the wealthiest women in Eutracia. But Wulfgar’s reach was long, and if she quit now, she knew that the specter of his wrath would haunt her forever.
Thinking to herself, she reached down into her boot and withdrew the precious piece of parchment. From here on, her sanctions would prove to be even more dangerous. If she were killed, she wanted no harm to come to Shamus and Evelyn as a result of her failures. Their names and address were at the bottom of the list.
Ripping their information from the page, she tore the small section into pieces then cast them to the wind.
Eager for his mistress to choose her path, the gelding danced beneath her. She looked at first one branch of the road, and then the other. She thought for a moment about Aeolus and Shamus. They were so alike, she realized. And yet also so different.
Finally she made up her mind. Her jaw set, the Gray Fox turned her horse and spurred him into a trot down the road leading west.
CHAPTER LXXI
_____
FROM WHERE HE STOOD IN THE BOW OF HIS BLACK SHIP, Wulfgar looked out over the moonlit sea. His fleet was making good time. The six other Black Ships traveled abreast in a broad line. The ebony vessels and their cargo of Earthshakers and demonslavers flew quickly and silently above the waves.
Miraculous, Wulfgar thought. They had traveled from the Citadel to the coast of Eutracia in only five days. The wizards of the Redoubt would rue the day that they created these mighty ships—he would make sure of that.
Suddenly Wulfgar stiffened. For the briefest moment he thought he sensed something, but then it was gone. Relaxing again, he returned to his previous thoughts. Suddenly the feeling returned. This time the sensation was unmistakable.
“What is it, my lord?” Captain Merriwhether asked. His eerie green eyes glowed brightly from within his dark skull. “Is something amiss?”
Wulfgar quickly raised his good hand, demanding silence.
“There is endowed blood out there,” Wulfgar said after a time. “It lies to the west, not far off the coast. You will probably not be able to sense it, but I can. It is blood of a very high order. Its quality is slightly higher than my own, but not altogether perfect. That leads me to only one conclusion. It must belong to the Jin’Saiou. But the Jin’Sai is not traveling with her.
“I find that curious,” he added with a smile. “After our first encounter, I would have thought him eager to meet me again. And someone is cloaking Shailiha’s blood—either Wigg or Faegan, no doubt. They think that they can hide it from me, but they can’t. The enemy fleet must be out there. They’re coming fast.”
He turned to look at Merriwhether. “Signal the other Black Ships,” he ordered, “and alert them to the situation. For now, I want them to maintain this formation. Unless I miss my guess, the enemy will try to surround us. When I give the order, I want the other Black Ships to follow our actions to the letter. It is not my intent to crush the enemy fleet. Our primary goal remains to break through their lines and reach the coast intact. But if we can send a few of them to the bottom, so be it.”
“Yes, my lord,” Merriwhether answered. “But there is something that I don’t understand. If you were unable to detect Shailiha’s blood at the Citadel, how is it that you can sense it now—especially if it is cloaked as it was before?”
Wulfgar smiled. “Because I also sense lesser endowed blood out there,” he answered. “The wizards are trying to cloak all of it at the same time, and it is taxing their meager gifts. That means that there are also Acolytes of the Redoubt aboard at least some of the enemy vessels. There are, without question, hosts of Minion warriors with them as well. I expected as much. They are throwing everything at us that they dare, while also keeping a suitable force in reserve at the palace. Even so, that will not be enough.”
Wulfgar gave Merriwhether a hard glare. “Now stop questioning me and go and carry out your orders.”
With a slight bow, the captain hurried away.
Wulfgar turned back to look westward. He would land his troops and Earthshakers on Eutracian soil this night, no matter the cost. And then he could begin the all-important journey to the Tolenkas, just as the Heretics had ordered him to do.
AS THE NORTHERN HALF OF HER FLEET SAILED UP THE COAST, Tyranny searched the sea with her spyglass. She could see nothing but empty ocean.
She stood in the stern, next to the ship’s wheel. Scars manned the wheel and Shailiha stood by his side. Duvessa had gone off to assemble her female warriors, and Tyranny had ordered Adrian into the crow’s nest to use her heightened senses to search for the Enseterat’s fleet. The assembled Minion warriors aboard the Reprise were spoiling for a fight. K’jarr stood before them, ready to follow Tyranny’s orders at a moment’s notice.
Collapsing her spyglass, the privateer took a deep breath. The thirty-one vessels to her south were long gone by now, and they would soon be altering course to help intercept Wulfgar’s Black Ships. At this point, she could only hope that she had done the right thing in dividing her fleet.
She was about to speak to the princess when another peal came from the warning bell in the crow’s nest.
“I see them!” Adrian called down.
“Where away?” Tyranny shouted back.
Adrian pointed an arm out over the waves. “North by northeast and closing fast!” she answered. “Less than half a league away!”
Tyranny turned and raised h
er glass. At first she saw nothing. She twisted the cylinders to bring the image into better focus. Suddenly, there they were.
Seven huge moonlit forms flew eerily just above sea, closing in on her position with a speed that she couldn’t match. Even at this distance their size was spectacular. She was glad to see that they were sailing in an arrowhead formation. They would be easier to surround, she thought. Perhaps her plan to stop Wulfgar here and now might work after all.
“Steer north by northeast!” she ordered Scars. As the giant spun the wheel, Tyranny called for K’jarr. He was by her side in a flash.
“Send thirty of your fastest messengers to each of our other vessels,” she ordered him. “When they see Reprise turn due east, they are to do the same. Once our line has formed east to west we will turn due south, to trap the Black Ships against the other half of our fleet. Then the circle will close.”
Worry crowded her face. “Go now. We have no time to lose!”
As K’jarr ran off to follow his orders, Tyranny stabbed another cigarillo between her lips and lit it. She raised the spyglass to her eye once more. This time the Black Ships seemed much larger, and she could almost make out their skeletal captains in their bows. Their course remained unchanged.
“Yes, that’s right,” she whispered, as she looked though the glass. “Keep on coming, you dark bastards. Soon you’ll all know the sharp, unmistakable kiss of Minion dreggans.”
UNLIKE TYRANNY, THE ENSETERAT HAD NO NEED OF A SPYGLASSENSETERAT. Enhancing his vision with the craft, he could easily see both the northern and southern lines of the enemy fleet as they advanced on his position. Soon they would close their circle and be upon him. Perfect, he thought.
“Your orders, my lord?” Merriwhether asked.
Smiling, Wulfgar shook his head. “The other captains of the Black Ships have been commanded to do exactly as we do, isn’t that right?” he asked.
Merriwhether nodded.
“Then I have no additional orders,” Wulfgar said softly. “Watch and learn.”
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