Барб Хенди - First and Last Sorcerer

“Stop the door!” Osha ordered.

It was already swinging shut on the force of its springs.

Wynn stopped it with one hand and almost jumped through rather than be caught halfway in. And then she stepped back right into Osha, who was carrying all her purchases. Whatever half-spoken exclamation he started was cut off, for Ghassan stood off to the left near the table and high-backed chairs.

Wynn was caught between hoping the domin had learned something and worrying about being caught outside the hideaway. But he didn’t even turn to look at her.

Ghassan stared down at the floor with his hands folded together behind his back, and his expression was both angry and troubled.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, forgetting everything else. “Has something happened? Did you find no help for Magiere and the others?”

His left eyelid fluttered. “Not now, Wynn,” he half whispered.

He blinked several times as if then realizing he’d spoken to someone. Raising his head, he looked over, and his half scowl vanished in a flattening of his expression.

“Pardon me ... No, I have not failed, only been postponed,” he went on. “I must go out again at dusk, but I will gain assistance to rescue Magiere.” Then he looked past her at Shade and Osha as she heard the door finally close.

“What have you been doing?” Ghassan demanded. “I told you to remain hidden unless it was necessary to flee.”

“We needed food,” Wynn answered. “And I couldn’t find anything in here.”

Wynn wondered what he had been eating. She was under the impression he’d been staying here for some time. And then she spotted a bag not unlike her own behind him on the table.

“I brought some things as well,” he said, looking past her again, likely at the bag Osha was holding. “Bread, goat’s cheese, figs, and some olives.”

Without a word, Osha went to the table and began unpacking their own food. But now Wynn couldn’t stop thinking about Magiere, Leesil, and Chap, and Leanâlhâm.

“You’ll find help tonight?” she pressed. “Some way to get them out of that prison?”

“I begin to see why your own high premin loses patience with you,” he chided. “Still always thinking you know what is most important when you are out of your elements.”

At that, he glanced sidelong at Osha and down to the food Wynn had acquired. Shade came up beside Wynn with a slowly growing rumble. As Wynn settled her hand on Shade’s back, Ghassan took a deep breath and let it out.

“But yes,” he said more evenly. “I will find a way to free your friends.”

At dusk that evening, Dänvârfij crouched with Rhysís on a rooftop in sight of the main gates to the imperial grounds. They had been there since dawn.

“I do not believe any guards will leave the palace after dark,” Rhysís whispered.

Dänvârfij did not answer. They had held their vigil together rather than in shifts and rarely moved about alone, for Brot’ân’duivé was in the capital somewhere. Only she and Rhysís together stood a chance against a greimasg’äh who had eliminated more than half of their team across half a world. And their task for today—tonight—had been to capture an imperial guard for interrogation.

Should one such emerge alone, Dänvârfij thought it best to have two to track and silently steal away their target. But not a single guard wearing a gold sash had gone farther than the main gates all day. She now second-guessed her strategy, wondering whether she had ever seen a member of the imperial forces alone outside the palace grounds.

Of course they would accompany the emperor or the prince should either have reason to leave, but how often did that happen? Not once since she had arrived in this stinking human city. The emperor was bedridden, and the prince was reputed to love his garden and books and seldom ventured out. What had seemed a plan with some potential had become an exercise in futile waiting ... like so many other plans of late.

Far too many days and nights had passed since she arranged for the “arrest” of Magiere and Léshil by Most Aged Father’s instructions. As of yet, she had not found a way to learn even where her quarry was being held. Failure after failure began to take its toll.

Looking at her hands, Dänvârfij found both unconsciously clenched into fists.

“Remaining after dark will not profit us,” Rhysís pressed. “There was little food or water in our room when we left. We need to purchase provisions before the last of the shops close.”

Dänvârfij shifted only her eyes toward him. He still watched the gate, his expression flat and emotionless with his uncombed white-blond hair hanging loose around his face. Loyal, composed, and highly skilled, his less than subtle challenge was another sign of failing discipline.

They had been away from home and Most Aged Father’s guidance for too long.

Anmaglâhk thought nothing of going without food or water for days. Their task, their mission, their given purpose was all that mattered. Rhysís now suggested leaving their chosen watch because one day had passed without success.

He thought of Én’nish.

Not of Fréthfâre, the spiteful and crippled ex-consul to Most Aged Father, waiting to hear of at least one task fulfilled. No, Rhysís thought only of Én’nish, the still wounded member of their team. His growing need to care for her had become a problem, which had started even before she had been so badly wounded.

Dänvârfij’s lips parted as anger sparked. She stopped before uttering a word.

Of what remained of her team, Rhysís was the last able member besides herself. She needed him. Half a world away from home, the four of them had no one but one another. Perhaps he understood that better than she did.

“Do you have coin?” she asked him.

He nodded once, though he still watched the gate and walls. He had been resupplying their money by robbing people in alleys and leaving no witnesses.

Dänvârfij looked to the gate and wondered whether Rhysís was correct. There seemed little chance any imperial guards, let alone one, would emerge after dark. Yet simply leaving felt like another defeat after so many others.

“As you say,” she whispered. “We will purchase supplies before the shops close. Once we see to the needs of Én’nish and Fréthfâre, we return to our purpose here.”

Dänvârfij did not need to look at him again. She heard the soft shift of his cloak’s hood from one nod. In this way, she consented to his indirect request without abandoning their task completely. Taking the lead, she slipped off the roof’s edge and dropped soundlessly to the back alley’s floor.

Brot’ân’duivé lay flat atop a roof three structures behind his quarry. He watched as Dänvârfij and Rhysís dropped into an alley below. He did not move at losing sight of them.

They would not try to gain entrance to the imperial grounds, so they would have only one other destination in abandoning their chosen post. But other details remained a mystery.

Dänvârfij had changed tactics.

She had spent the entire day on a rooftop with Rhysís. Both had watched the main gates, waiting for something. For what, and why? And was she no longer allowed inside?

Brot’ân’duivé hated being in ignorance of even whether or not Léshil and Magiere still lived. He had sacrificed too much to fail and would accept no outcome other than their eventual rescue.

He froze in stillness, clearing his mind ... until it was as still and quiet as a shadow.

The last year had taken something from him. Before, he would not have allowed himself to be “rattled,” as humans would say. In slow, deep breaths, he shifted across the roof toward the street below, recounting the few facts available to him.