She returned to her bedchamber, locking Issa in the hall outside her door as usual, knowing full well that the lock, or the door for that matter, was meaningless to the wraithkin.
She put her forehead against the closed door and took several deep breaths to steady herself, then went to her bed and sat down, still shaking from the ordeal with Azugorath.
Slow, creeping despair started building in the back of her mind. When she thought of Wren … of killing Wren … she felt a kind of wild panic screaming from a place so deep inside her that she knew her spirit would break, knew her soul would be scarred beyond forgiveness. Others might try to forgive her, but she knew she would never, ever forgive herself.
That self-loathing would be all the Wraith Queen needed to use her at will.
Phane would win.
In that moment, everything came into clear focus-all of the soldiers fighting battles all across the Seven Isles, all of her friends and loved ones in harm’s way, the future hanging in the balance.
She’d lost perspective.
She’d come here for more than one reason. Killing Phane was why she’d wanted to come here, but that was really nothing more than a way of finding the good in a bad situation. She’d really come here because she was dangerous to those she loved, more so now than ever.
Wren had to leave.
Isabel had obligations, duties she’d taken upon herself willingly and even joyously, despite the burden they’d been. There were many threats arrayed against the Old Law, but only a few were within her power to fight. Lacy Fellenden carried a keystone that could never be allowed to fall into Phane’s hands. Isabel could do something about that.
Lacy had to leave, too, and that box with her.
Isabel sat down at her desk, summoning Slyder with a thought. She felt a pang of guilt as she wrapped the note around her hawk’s leg. Sending him off with an affectionate scratch under the chin, she returned to her room and stood before her dressing mirror.
She’d been working on the shapeshift spell every available moment since she’d arrived in the fortress city. Her last attempt had nearly succeeded. Today, it actually mattered. Rather than use anger, she opted to use love as her distraction emotion, more to see how it would affect Azugorath’s interference with her link to the light than for any other reason.
It took a long time to get into the right emotional state of mind, violent thoughts bubbled up to distract her, but she finally reached the right degree of emotional intensity needed to attempt the spell. However, once she’d fully visualized the desired effect, she’d lost her emotion.
It took an hour before she finally succeeded, transforming her appearance into that of Dierdra, her maidservant. She inspected the face staring back from the mirror and smiled; it was a perfect likeness. After several minutes, the spell broke and Isabel reverted back to her own appearance.
She opened her door a few inches. “Send for Dierdra. I need help drawing a bath.”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Issa said.
Isabel just glared at him and closed the door. Dierdra arrived a few minutes later. Isabel followed her into the bathing chamber, quietly stepping up behind her, slipping her arm around Dierdra’s neck, under her chin, locking it in place with the other arm, then drawing her backwards to the ground and choking her until she fell unconscious.
She worked quickly, tying Dierdra’s hands and locking her in the bathing room before casting her shapeshift spell again. This time it worked much faster and the results were just as accurate. She checked her appearance in the mirror, smiling to herself.
“She says she doesn’t want a bath now, she’s going to take a nap,” Isabel said to Issa on her way out of the room.
He shrugged indifferently.
She made it out of her estate house and into a nearby alley before the spell ran its course and her appearance reverted to normal. Taking a moment to get her bearings, she set out toward the barracks buildings where Wren had stashed their gear. Isabel drew a few looks from soldiers and tradesmen while walking through the streets, but she ignored them, and they seemed entirely unwilling to confront her, which suited her just fine.
It wasn’t long before she found the empty basement and the stash of equipment, just where Wren said it would be. Isabel took a lantern and left everything else where she’d found it before going to the trapdoor in the corner.
The stench emanating from the sewer was foul. She steadied herself, letting a wave of nausea wash over her before testing the rungs and descending into the dark. At the base of the ladder, she held up her lantern, assessing her surroundings, then drew a careful map of the area in a little notepad she’d taken from her desk. Once satisfied that she’d sketched every important feature nearby, she picked a direction and set out until she’d traveled far enough to warrant adding to her map.
She followed the flow of sewage, knowing that it would have to go somewhere, hopefully outside the walls. The canal ran straight and just off level. Other narrower canals intersected it at even intervals from both sides, all angled to feed into the large canal, and each bridged by a span of stone as wide as the ledge. Only the occasional rat running from her lantern light interrupted the eerie solitude. Eventually, the canal came to an intersecting corridor and a grate covering a ten-foot-wide drain tube running off at a slightly steeper angle into the dark, sewage flowing through the lower half.
The grate was stout and sturdy, two-inch bars welded into a grid with less than a foot of space between each. As with the canal she’d been following, a ledge ran along the drain passage. Isabel picked a bar and burned through it with a light-lance spell, then another and another until she’d opened a hole large enough to crawl through. She marked it on her map, then filled in the corridor running perpendicular to the canal she’d been following, the right passage crossing the canal over a stout bridge attached to the grate. She went left.
It wasn’t long before she found another similar grate leading to a similar drain tube, being fed by a similar canal running parallel to the one she’d initially traveled along. Looking at her map, she discerned a pattern-long canals running the length of the city with side passages between them to balance the flow, water coming in one end of the fortress city and sewage going out the other, two sets of grates. She burned a hole in the grate, marked it on her map, and made her way down the corridor toward the next.
A noise ahead made her freeze in place. She dimmed her lantern, listening for a second occurrence, straining to sense anything out of the ordinary. After a moment of hyperawareness, she relaxed and continued down the corridor running along the down-water boundary of the fortress city. At the next grate she found a ladder. She linked with Slyder and scouted the buildings above.
More barracks. Dangerous territory.
She marked it on her map and continued, slowing when she heard another noise in the darkness. She shuttered her lantern, moving slowly, using the wall as her guide, straining to hear between each cautious footstep.
“They took my sisters,” a raspy voice said.
Isabel froze, schooling her breathing, listening with complete attention.
“We’ll take everything from them for what they did to us.”
She knew where the witch was-in a small room just this side of the next grate.
The witch chuckled, her menacing laugh transforming into a fit of wheezing that culminated in several barking coughs before she finally cleared her throat and fell silent.
Isabel knew who she was … Druja, a Sin’Rath witch, one of three remaining. If Isabel caught her by surprise, hit her hard, then hit her again … and again, she might kill her … but it could very easily go the other way.
“All of them. Every single one of them,” Druja said, clearing her throat for several protracted seconds.
Isabel held perfectly still, calming her breathing and listening.
“Peti’s plan is a good one. By the time they see what we’ve done, it’ll be too late.” She cackled madly, her shrill laught
er echoing down the sewer passages.
Isabel wrestled with the thought of attack, surprising Druja and killing her … but Druja was powerful, more than a match for Isabel. Even with surprise, Isabel was doubtful about the outcome.
“Once we have an army,” Druja said, wheezing a few times, “we can take everything a piece at a time.”
Isabel took a step back.
“The Reishi Coven made a mistake coming here. We were content with our island, but now we’ll take it all.”
Another step.
“Where is Enu?!” Druja howled, followed by a fit of coughing.
Isabel hurried away, as quietly as she could, retracing her steps, not daring to risk more than a sliver of light from her lantern until she was a grate away. Then she opened the shutter wide and ran to the next grate.
Druja had control of Enu.
Isabel turned up the main canal she’d come down, running toward the ladder leading up and out.
She had to warn Lacy … and Wren.
Once she was safely back in the barracks basement, she summoned Slyder and went to work on a note and a map showing the way out and where Druja was hiding. She put the map and the lantern into the cabinet and replaced the note on Slyder’s leg with the new one, sending him into the sky.
She didn’t make it far on the street before a guard spotted her and blew his horn. More than a dozen soldiers converged on her very quickly, respectfully but insistently escorting her back to her house.
Chapter 20
Phane was waiting for her in her dining room when she arrived.
“Oh, Isabel, you stink,” he said, covering his nose with a napkin. “Go get cleaned up. We have a lot to discuss and dinner will be served shortly, so be quick about it.”
She didn’t answer except by obedience, more because the idea of a bath and clean clothes was appealing than for any other reason. Feeling much better after changing, she went to face Phane, wondering what he wanted this time.
He seemed to be in a good mood, but Isabel had come to understand just how quickly and how violently that could change. She was on guard. A few moments after she sat down, dinner was served … roasted game birds with potatoes and some type of green vegetable cooked into mush.
“So, where to begin,” Phane said. “Let’s start with how you managed to elude Issa. He tells me he found your maidservant tied up in the water closet.”
“That’s where I left her,” Isabel said with a shrug.
Phane chuckled, shaking his head.
“Issa also swears to me that he saw your maidservant leave the room-even claims she spoke to him.”
Isabel smiled slightly but remained silent. She didn’t want to reveal her new spell, but Phane was like a dog with a bone-he wasn’t going to let go until he was satisfied.
“Have you taught yourself another spell? A shapeshift spell?”
“I starting working on it before I arrived,” Isabel said.
“I see, you’re capable of teaching yourself a new, and quite complicated spell, without tutelage, and yet you’re unable to learn the most basic magical principles from Wizard Enu.”
“He’s not a very good teacher.”
“Don’t try my patience, Isabel.”
She stared at him silently.
“Well, no matter. Enu tells me he’s made a breakthrough. He said he spoke with Azugorath through you after casting a new spell he’s devised. Not exactly the complete success I’m looking for, but it’s a significant step forward.
“Speaking of which, where is your little friend?”
“I sent her out on some errands.”
“Good. Then I suspect she’ll be back just in time. Enu will come by after dinner to cast his spell.” Phane stabbed a piece of meat with his fork and smiled suggestively at Isabel before eating it. He took his time chewing, watching her intently like a cat watches a mouse, then washed his food down with a long pull from his wine flagon and sat back with satisfaction.
“Wren will die tonight.”
Isabel closed her eyes, pretending to shut out Phane and his assertion, but really linking her mind with Slyder and directing him to Lacy’s balcony. Relief washed over her when she saw both Wren and Lacy sitting on the bed talking softly. After Wren saw Slyder and retrieved the message, Isabel broke the link and returned.
“… no choice in the matter,” Phane was saying.
“There’s always a choice,” Isabel said.
“Not for you,” he said. “Enu assures me that his spell will allow Azugorath to gain control, even if only for a few moments.”
Isabel just glared at him.
“We’ll revisit that topic after Enu and Wren arrive. There are other matters I wish to discuss. My expedition to retrieve the Goiri bones has failed.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“I don’t imagine that you are, especially since I suspect you and your beloved had something to do with the ambush that killed my people.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Phane.”
He stared at her for several moments. She glared right back.
“Fortunately, the expedition was not a total loss. Those few who survived captured part of the ambush party. Most were Karth family soldiers, but one man in particular stood out. I believe you know him … he said his name is Hector Lal.”
Isabel closed her eyes, sighing heavily. Hector had already been through so much, lost so much. She had no idea what Phane might do to him.
“Good … you do know him. I thought we might have a chat, just the three of us,” Phane said, snapping his fingers.
Both doors swung open, revealing Hector, beaten up and broken-spirited, flanked by two soldiers.
“Come in, sit down, have something to eat,” Phane said jovially.
Hector moved woodenly, as if he was just going through the motions. He sat and ate without looking up.
“Tell me, Hector, was it you who sent that stalker demon after me?” Phane asked, leaning in with interest. “It caused quite a bit of excitement, killed almost a hundred of my soldiers.”
Hector looked up, his eyes sunken, heavy dark bags underneath them.
“Honestly, sending that demon to kill you was an afterthought,” Hector mumbled. “It wasn’t really about you at all.”
Phane’s eyes flashed with anger, he started to raise his hand toward Hector, but then reined in his ire, taking a deep breath before speaking again.
“If killing me wasn’t your purpose, then what exactly did you hope to accomplish?”
“I wanted to kill Hazel the same way she killed my brother,” Hector said.
Phane sat back, smiling boyishly. “Ah … vengeance. Now we’re getting somewhere. I understand vengeance.” He looked at Isabel meaningfully. She ignored him.
“So you sacrificed the witch and commanded the demon to kill me just as she had sacrificed your brother to kill whom, exactly?”
“One of the Sin’Rath,” Hector said. “I don’t know which one.”
“And all of this took place in Siavrax Karth’s ancient fortress at the center of the swamp, yes?”
Hector nodded.
“Where you assisted Lady Reishi in retrieving a bone from the long-dead Goiri.”
“Don’t tell him any more,” Isabel said.
“Don’t be foolish, Isabel. Can’t you see, he’s a broken man. He knows what will happen if he resists.”
“Don’t listen to him, Hector.”
“I’ve already lost everything, Phane. Why don’t you just kill me and have done with it?” Hector said, his voice a monotone, devoid of emotion.
“You see there, Isabel? Broken,” Phane said, holding out his hand toward Hector as if he were introducing him for a speech.
“What if I could help you get back some of what you’ve lost?” Phane asked, leaning forward with genuine excitement.
“You can’t,” Hector mumbled.
“Oh, but you’re wrong, Hector. I’m an arch mage. I can do many things.”
Hector loo
ked up, frowning, a spark of hope and interest in his eye for the first time since he’d arrived.
“Don’t listen to him, Hector,” Isabel said, leaning forward and putting her hand on his forearm. “He’s a liar. No good will come from bargaining with him.”
Hector’s brow fell and he looked down at the table again.
“That’s quite enough from you, Isabel. I’d like you to sit there quietly now. Can you do that for me?”
“What do you think?”
Phane smiled insincerely, raising his hand toward her, pressing her into her chair with his magic and binding her wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the chair. She tried to protest but found that she couldn’t speak-she could try, but no noise came out.
“Now, isn’t that better?”
She struggled in vain for several moments, finally stopping because Phane was enjoying it too much.
“Now, where were we? Oh yes, I can help you, Hector. If you help me.”
“Horace is dead,” Hector said with a shrug.
“I just so happen to know a thing or two about death,” Phane said. “For example, most people believe that death is final … and yet, it isn’t. For the right price, anything is possible, even bringing back the dead.”
Isabel wanted to scream, to shout, to shake Hector, but she couldn’t move or speak … she could only watch, horrified by what was taking place right before her.
“You could bring my brother back?” Hector asked, a spark of hope now fully ablaze in his eyes.
“Yes,” Phane said.
“How? How is that even possible?”
“As with anything involving magic, it’s possible because we will it to be possible and reality bends to our will. The real question is, do you have the will to bring your brother back from the dead?”
Isabel felt sick as Hector leaned forward, all vestige of his malaise replaced with blind and reckless hope burning in his eyes.
“I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Phane smiled like the sunrise.
“Good, let’s start with a conversation. Tell me about your experiences in the swamp and the fortress. Take your time; don’t leave anything out.”
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