Барб Хенди - First and Last Sorcerer

Wynn couldn’t imagine what that had taken—and taken from Magiere.

As she approached the tenement, she slipped into a cutway between a few dwellings nearby and turned down the alley for the back door. When she reached it, she shifted her burdens to free up one hand and tried grasping for the door latch. As she did so, something seemed to wink into her awareness on the left.

Wynn’s breath caught in her chest at the sight of Ghassan.

He stepped in on her before she could retreat, and everything around her but him appeared to waver and warp. When she blinked in reflex, everything was as before, as if it hadn’t happened.

“What are you doing out here?” she demanded. “How did you get past the others?”

“I have not left the chamber. I am not really here.”

“What?”

“This was necessary,” Ghassan said, and it sounded like his real voice. “We need to speak alone, and I made you see me so it would be less ... disconcerting.”

Wynn looked all around. If what he said was true, how was he doing this? By what Chane had said and done last night, the domin needed a line of sight to use sorcery.

“You already made your agenda quite clear,” she said.

His expression tightened. “Obviously I did not.”

She inched back a step, and he huffed in disgust. Then she remembered the pebble.

That was the only answer. It did more than just allow her to find the sanctuary’s door. It marked the location of whoever held it—it had to.

“Get out of my head!”

She dropped the clothing, bobbled the urn, wrapped her other arm around it, and rammed her free hand into her pocket. Then she dug for the pebble to throw it away.

“Stop acting like a child!” he admonished. “If I wished to control you, I would not have let you dig for the pebble, would I? And pay attention ... I cannot grab that urn if you drop it!”

Wynn froze with her hand in her pocket, now wrapped around the pebble.

“You are not even speaking with me,” he added, rolling his eyes. “You only think so because I put all this in your head. And yes, it is because of the pebble. Do you think I would give anyone such an item without always knowing where to retrieve it?”

He had once used the staff he had made for her to track her into that lost dwarven city. Yes, Ghassan thought ahead, and she had better start doing so as well.

She looked up at his narrow features and prominent nose, at the white flecks in his dark hair. She should probably never trust him again, but they had been through a good deal together. He’d once stood by her, believed in her, when no one else in her guild branch would lift a finger to help her.

“What do you want?” she asked, still uncertain. “Is that why you let me go to the market? So you could catch me alone out here?”

“Yes, in part,” he admitted. “Your companions must accept hunting the specter before continuing in their search for the last orb. I need you to accomplish that.”

Wynn’s suspicions sharpened again. Though the filled urn was getting heavier in one arm, she wasn’t about to let go of the pebble.

“You think I can talk them into doing something they don’t want to do?”

“I think you can be sensible,” he answered, and if possible, his expression tightened further. “I know Magiere wishes to find the orb of Air. At least the half-blood and gray majay-hì will follow her, however unwillingly. That is not possible or safe while the specter remains ... especially if it has access to the palace.”

That was only a guess, but before she said so ...

“Think!” Ghassan commanded. “Khalidah clearly inhabited whoever interrogated Magiere. I do not know who that was—is—but with his power, he could have addled the minds of anyone nearby. No one will know the host he inhabits, for he would not be foolish enough to endanger a useful body until finished with it. And if he takes someone of great authority, what would he do with that much more earthly power?”

Wynn didn’t like that he was making more sense by the moment.

“As of now,” he continued, “there are some on the imperial grounds who can limit or interfere with the search for escaped prisoners. That will not last if Khalidah takes a more influential host. Your friends will never escape this city until he is eliminated, and if they are recaptured ...”

He never finished, and he didn’t have to.

Wynn saw that conditions would worsen the longer that Magiere and Chane were in close proximity. There seemed no way to avoid that if she was to help Magiere through helping Ghassan.

“You have no idea who is the host?” she asked. “Not even a guess?”

He slowly shook his head. “All of my own died in that thing’s escape, but not all of his hosts may have died or even remembered his presence. That is why I needed your friend ... and the second majay-hì as well.”

“What of your prince? It wasn’t hard to guess that he was the one who helped you. He’s the one who sentenced Magiere and all with her, supposedly to forestall their execution. What if he is now the specter?”

“He is not.”

“How would you know?”

“I know,” he answered too firmly. “Regardless, Khalidah will not rest until Magiere and those close to her have been recaptured. I do not exaggerate about the influence he could have. All city exits are likely guarded by now, and the search for your friends will grow. How quickly and by how much depends on actions taken. Only when Khalidah is removed can I hope to prove so to those who risked much to help me ... and thereby free your friends to leave on their search.”

Wynn knew Ghassan was exploiting everything to use Magiere and Leesil and Chap and Shade, and maybe even Chane. She also couldn’t fault his arguments given how little she knew of how he’d arranged the escape.

She again pondered the secret that she had so far held back from him: the device she’d gained in her search for the orb of Spirit. Once the device—fashioned from a piece of a key used to open an orb—was activated, its wielder could track another orb.

She’d failed in trying to do so on her own with words from a dead language she didn’t understand. It was a language from this region in ancient times, and Ghassan was the only one she thought might help with that. It might take more than just a scholar of dead tongues. Soon enough, if she were to assist Magiere, she would require the domin’s help.

“You see the truth the others would reject,” Ghassan added calmly. “Will you convince them?”

Wynn hated being placed in this position, but she nodded.

“Good,” he said.

In another waver of everything, Ghassan vanished before Wynn’s eyes ... or it appeared so. She still looked all around, just to be certain.

Upstairs and inside the sanctuary, Ghassan slowly opened his eyes as if merely resting in one of the tall-backed chairs. He waited quietly until Wynn arrived, entering by using the ensorcelled pebble as instructed. She eyed him once but then turned her attention to tending the others, starting by settling the half-blood and the strangely dark-haired elven girl at the table. The gray majay-hì sat on the floor next to the girl.

Wynn dished up and passed out bowls of stew.

“Eat slowly,” she advised, “and stop if your stomach cramps.” At the rattle of a bowl on the floor, she turned to the enormous majay-hì. “I mean it, Chap—small bites only!” An instant later, she made an indignant face. “I am not a pest, now ... Oh ... just do as I say!”

Ghassan frowned. He wished he knew a bit more about how she communicated with these unusual creatures. It appeared to be slightly different between the black and the gray. The black one was still off in the room’s dim corner near the blanket over the undead. Ghassan was poised to launch into a more pointed discussion, as it might be best to push things along before the “dhampir” was well enough to be part of any plan.