“No!” he said hastily, for the benefit of any spying listeners. “Of course not. In fact, there is evidence that they were taken by Zengati slavers. The odd thing is, the rest of the Aurënfaie escort and the Skalans were killed and left, Captain Traneus among them.”
Klia pushed her hair back over one shoulder and gave him a wry look. “Can’t say that I’ll shed any tears for that man. What does Korathan say to all this?”
“He’s tasked me with the search.”
“Good. I’ll set out for Rhíminee as soon as I can.”
Thero hoped his disappointment wasn’t too clear on his face. “I will contact you again as soon as I’ve figured out what to do.”
An awkward moment passed as she waited for him to disappear and he couldn’t help hesitating just a moment longer. “Stay well, Highness.” With that, he broke the spell and passed a hand across his forehead. He was sweating, and not because of the magic.
Thero’s page, Wethis, met Prince Korathan as he was leaving his chambers to join his sister for breakfast.
“Your Highness, Lord Vicegerent,” the young man said, bowing politely and holding out a folded parchment sealed with Thero’s mark. “Lord Thero sends a message.”
Korathan dismissed the page and read the letter as he continued on down the long corridor between his rooms and his sister’s. Phoria had finished with her breakfast and gone out to the gardens outside her salon. He found her there, walking slowly along the eastern path, admiring the last of the autumn flowers. She was dressed for court; her hair was twisted into looping braids behind her head, and her blue velvet gown and cape were stiff with gold embroidery.
She waved him over and linked arms with him. “Walk with me, Kor.”
He covered her hand with his own and fell into step beside her. “I’ve had word from Thero.”
“What did your wizard have to say? Can he help?”
“Yes, but not in the way I’d hoped. He feels it would be best if he went to Aurënen to view the site of the massacre. He means to take Sir Micum Cavish of Watermead with him.”
“Another Watcher, I believe?” She plucked a yellow aster and twirled it absently between her fingers.
“Perhaps, but he’s a fine tracker, and he knows Seregil’s ways. If they managed to leave any kind of sign, Micum is the one to find it. Let Thero and Cavish attend to this for you.”
“Very well,” she replied, frowning.
Korathan was used to these sudden changes and took no offense. “They are the best suited to the task.”
“I trust your judgment, Brother. And if Klia sails into Rhíminee Harbor at the head of an Aurënfaie fleet?”
“If she did, Phoria, it would be to support you.”
“So you say.” Her frown deepened as she crushed the blossom. “You always take her side.”
He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Only when you are unfairly suspicious of her.”
“She was always Mother’s favorite.”
“And yet you are the queen. She was the youngest, that’s all. Mother always cared for you.”
Phoria tossed the ruined flower away. “Be that as it may, my patience is nearing its end. And, Kor?”
“Yes?”
Her hard gaze softened to concern. “You won’t let your heart blind you, will you?”
“About Klia?”
“No…him.”
“That was a long time ago, Phoria. You know where my loyalty lies. And my heart.”
She kissed his cheek. “My good brother. You know you’re the only one I can trust completely.”
Korathan gave her an awkward, one-armed hug. “Always, dear sister. Always.”
Taking his leave, he called for his horse and rode to the Orëska House. He’d been here so often lately that no one stood on ceremony anymore. One of the house stewards escorted him directly upstairs.
The sunny workroom was deserted. The steward pulled out a chair for him, then went to a side door and knocked softly.
Thero emerged, dressed in a stained robe and apron. He was flushed, and there was ash dusting his hair and shoulders and chalk dust on his knees.
“I’ve interrupted you.”
“Not at all, Highness.” Thero rubbed at a small burn on his cheek but only managed to smear more soot there. “I attempted a few other searching spells, but they were no help.”
“Phoria is getting impatient but has agreed to let you and Micum go south.”
“Ah.” Thero walked over to the table and poured them each a cup of tea. Handing Korathan his, he sat down beside him. “Then perhaps you will not be angry with me for the steps I’ve taken. I’ve exhausted all methods. I’ve cast dozens of wizards’ eyes. I can find no sign of them between Bôkthersa and Gedre, but I may have missed them. It’s a very large area. But I can tell you now with certainty that Klia has had no word from them, either.”
“You’ve spoken with her?”
“Well, yes, actually.” Thero looked a bit embarrassed at the admission, then explained the spell he’d employed. “I apprised her of the situation. She assured me that she remains completely loyal to the queen and plans to return at once. I wanted to speak with you before I passed the information on to her Majesty.”
“Bilairy’s Balls, man, if you could do that, why did Phoria have to go to all the trouble of sending Seregil?”
“You’d have to ask her that. I did offer, the day I came back.”
“I see.” Korathan pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the start of a headache behind his eyes. “Tell me what Klia said and I’ll couch it properly for Phoria’s ears. In the meantime, I want you to go there at once. You can do it quickly, can’t you, with one of those sort of traveling spells?”
“A translocation? I’ve never managed it, but Magyana can cast them. I’ll speak with her, and we’ll go as soon as Micum arrives. But you do understand that even if we learn what direction they were taken, it’s no guarantee that we can track them?”
“Do what you can and report to me directly.”
Thero smiled and bowed. “Of course, Highness. But you’re not suggesting I reinstitute the Watchers against the queen’s express order?”
“Certainly not. But as Vicegerent, I’m entitled-no, obligated-to protect the Throne in any manner I can, and I’d not be the first to have spies of my own. Anything you might need, I will provide.”
“Thank you, Highness.” He paused a moment, then added, “I don’t believe Seregil would do anything to provoke trouble between Phoria and Klia, regardless of his feelings toward either one. It had to be an ambush.”
“I believe that, too, Thero, but this business of them being the only ones not killed worries me. If it really was slavers, why not take them all? Are you prepared to deal with them if they actually have deserted?”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Thero assured him, keeping to himself that his solution would be to tell them to keep on running. “Trust in them as you would me, Korathan. They would not betray your trust of their own volition. Something’s gone very wrong. If they’re anywhere to be found, Micum and I will find them.”
The prince clasped hands with him. “Go, then, with my blessing and the queen’s.”
CHAPTER 30 Watcher Business
MICUM WAVED OFF the Orëska doorkeeper who mistook him for a stranger. It had been a while, he supposed.
He took the stairs slowly, hampered by his bad leg and stick. As soon as he reached Thero’s landing, however, he straightened and concentrated on striding normally. The thick scar on the back of his thigh always stiffened during a long ride, but once he got moving he could get around well enough, so long as he didn’t have to sprint.
Thero answered his knock, already dressed for travel. The young wizard’s time in Aurënen had changed him, and for the better. The sallow complexion and thin-lipped, brittle demeanor were gone; Thero was sun-browned and looked fitter than he had in Nysander’s time. Seregil had always maintained that Thero needed to spend more time outside the Orë
ska House, and it appeared he’d been right.
“Magyana’s on her way,” Thero told him, hustling him to the workroom, where a small pack and several bags sat ready on a bench. “Have you eaten? I’m sure the khirnari will feed us when we arrive. He’s expecting us soon and I-”
Micum laughed. “It’s all right, Thero. I’m ready when you are, and just as anxious to be off.”
Thero paused and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I haven’t been able to think about anything but leaving. Thank you for getting here so quickly.”
“Well, you did interrupt a good breakfast yesterday with that message light of yours,” Micum reminded him.
Thero looked blank for a moment. “Oh! I disturbed your lady.”
“In more ways than one.”
“She’s not happy to see you back to Watcher business, is she?”
“No.” And if it had been for anyone but Alec and Seregil, she would have thrown more things at him than she had, and sharper ones, too. Being the cause of her tears, and Illia’s, had hurt far worse, though.
Magyana came in without knocking. “Here I am. Shall we begin?”
“Are you certain you can send two of us at once?” asked Micum. Magyana had aged terribly since her old friend’s death. She looked frail as a dry twig today.
Magyana chuckled. “It has been a while since I’ve done it, but I’m sure I haven’t forgotten how. Go on, hang on to your baggage there and be ready to step lively. I can only hold the portal open a few moments.”
Thero shouldered his pack and made to slip a hand under Micum’s arm. The older man raised a bushy red eyebrow at him with an unmistakable frown and Thero hastily stepped back.
“I’m not a complete cripple either, you know,” Micum grumbled, tucking his walking stick under one arm. “I’m fairly certain I can walk a few feet without falling on my ass.”
“Sorry.” Thero was smirking, the bastard!
“If you’re quite done?” Magyana interjected.
Micum nodded. “We are, Mistress. Whenever you’re ready.”
Magyana pressed her fingertips together in front of her face and began the muttered incantation. A spark of darkness coalesced in the cage of her fingers, and she spread her hands, stretching the darkness into a shining, spinning mirror of blackness large enough for the two men to step through.
Micum caught himself holding his breath, as if he were about to jump into deep water. He’d only done this a few times and didn’t care much for the feeling. Steeling himself, he grabbed Thero by the elbow and together they stepped into the spinning darkness and disappeared.
Magyana let the portal collapse, then dusted her hands and sniffed loudly. “‘Are you certain you can send two of us at once?’ What cheek!”
Magyana knew Gedre well, and her aim was true. Micum and Thero stumbled out in the middle of the sunlit courtyard at Riagil í Molan’s clan house. The whitewashed buildings were long and low, with round white domes here and there and brilliant flowering vines still in bloom.
A loud whistle came from somewhere overhead and Micum looked up to find a young girl about Illia’s age sitting in the branches of the huge tree that dominated the courtyard. She was dressed in a long tunic and trousers, and her bare feet were dirty. At her signal a number of people emerged from the house, led by a distinguished old man with a pretty young woman on his arm.
They came to Thero and kissed him on both cheeks. “Welcome back, Thero í Procepios. And welcome to you, Micum of Cavish. You are the friend of Gedre’s friends and welcome in our house.”
“Khirnari, and lady, I am honored to be here, even under such sad circumstances. I grieve for those whom you have lost.”
Lady Yhali bowed to him. “And we grieve for the fate of Seregil and young Alec. I know they are close to your heart. Come. Refresh yourself and eat at our table.”
Micum glanced up at the sun, gauging how much daylight was left.
“You’re anxious to be off,” Riagil noted with an understanding smile. “The place of the ambush is a day and a half’s ride from here. I’ll send for your escort at once, if you would prefer.”
“If you would not think us rude, Khirnari?” Thero replied.
“Of course not,” Yhali said, patting his arm. “Come and have some tea while your escort assembles.”
They sat at one of the tables under the tree and servants brought them cold tea flavored with crushed mint and borage leaves, and plates of soft little cakes filled with nuts and honey.
“I’ve called for forty riders to go with you, and all of them skilled at arms,” Riagil said as he rejoined them. “I only wish I’d had such foresight with the others. It is a heavy shame to bear, for guests to come to such a pass.”
“How could you have foreseen a slaver raid, this far east?” Thero replied kindly. “Seregil and Alec will hold no grudge against your house, rest assured.”
“I understand a few things were recovered from the site of the attack?” Micum asked.
Riagil motioned to a man standing nearby, who went to fetch a large wooden tray. On it were half a dozen Zengati arrow points, a broken silver neck chain, several scarves bearing Zengati clan designs, and a bone button.
“That’s all?” Thero asked, disappointed.
“There were more arrows, but they were all the same.”
“And the bodies?”
“Buried, of course. They’d already begun to bloat when we found them.”
“Of course,” Micum murmured, examining each item closely. Seregil was the best of them at reading a corpse. Thank the Flame his or Alec’s hadn’t been among the dead.
Distracted by such thoughts, he very nearly missed a detail. He picked up the button again and looked more closely at it. “This isn’t Zengati work. See how it’s drilled with four holes rather than two, and the way the edges are rubbed smooth? It’s from Plenimar, or Skala.”
“Any Zengati could have eastern clothing, either from trade or slave taking,” Thero pointed out.
“Perhaps, but it’s too soon to rule out anyone yet,” Micum replied. “If the Zengat could make such a raid, anyone could have been with them.”
Yhali gave him a perplexed look. “Why would a Skalan mean them any harm?”
Micum exchanged a quick glance with Thero. It wouldn’t be politic to admit that the person they most suspected was the Skalan queen.
CHAPTER 31 A Change in the Wind
SOMETHING WAS WRONG.
Yhakobin was as polite as always when Alec came upstairs each day, as long as Alec was docile and cooperative, but there was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before. He had no doubt it had something to do with the new rhekaro and the cries that still occasionally came down from the workshop.
Yet unpleasant as the circumstances now were, Alec was glad to get upstairs for any time at all, if only to break up the boredom of the day. It was good to see if the sun was shining or the rain was falling, good to smell the wintry breeze through an open window and hear the sounds of Yhakobin’s children playing outside in the gardens.
Over a week had passed since the making of the new rhekaro. Each day Alec was brought up to feed it, and each day he was sent back to his little cell immediately afterward, with nothing but new books to amuse himself. Yhakobin had little time for him anymore, which in itself seemed a blessing. The smaller furnaces around the room were cold now. Only the athanor was stoked and it burned continuously, heating some greenish-brown mess in the large retort atop it.
While the rhekaro fed each day, Alec looked it over carefully, hoping the alchemist would not notice. At first there were only the bodkin pricks on its pale fingertips, but as the days went by, bandages slowly appeared on both its arms and legs. The memory of the bucket by the door, with that bit of hair hanging out, made his heart race and his guts roil.
Whatever this creature was, Alec could not deny the fact that he was connected to it by blood. Even if it was a monster, no creature deserved to be cut up alive, as the first one had bee
n.
Or deserved to be kept naked in an iron cage, either. It reminded him too much of that nightmarish journey his first time in Plenimar, creaking along in that filthy bear cage.
There was no waste bucket in there, or any water. Did it need such things, he wondered? With its strange eyes and skin, and stranger blood, it simply wasn’t a real child. Except for the way it looks at me. Those silvery eyes locked on his face each day as it sucked hard at his fingertip, and he was almost certain now that he saw some sign of intelligence there. And though it was hard to tell with it huddled over all the time, he thought it looked larger than it had at first, too. Could it be growing, on nothing more than a few drops of blood a day? Its hair was certainly longer. The long, silvery tresses pooled about it like a shimmering cloak.
It’s not a child! he reminded himself time and again, but each day he wondered more and more what it really was.
Alec hadn’t seen Khenir in all that time, but one afternoon as he sat reading on his bed, the door opened and there he was. Alec regarded him with a new coldness, convinced that he’d taken the horn picks. But his heart ached a little, too, torn between conviction and regret.
Khenir noticed the change in his demeanor at once, of course. With a sigh, he sat down on the bed beside him. “You’re angry with me?”
“I think you know why.”
Khenir nodded slowly. “That day I saw that the spoon was missing and realized my mistake in leaving it behind. If Ilban had found out?” He shuddered. “You put us both at a terrible risk with such a foolish act. If you got away because of my carelessness, it would have been my life in payment.”
“I was planning to take you with me,” Alec told him.
Khenir stared at him in disbelief. “You’d really do that?”
“Of course!”
“That was very good of you. I never guessed-But you don’t think those splinters could really have worked in the lock, do you?”
Alec kept to himself the fact that they’d worked perfectly well. “Why are you here?”
“I’ve been worried about you! I was afraid Ilban was taking his anger out on you, as he has on me more frequently.” He lifted the hem of his robe and showed Alec a few red stripes across the backs of his calves.
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