Барб Хенди - First and Last Sorcerer

The discussion shifted in another direction as Wynn began telling Magiere some of how the orb of Spirit had been acquired on a scholarly investigation to a dark keep on the sea cliffs of Witeny, of how the wraith Sau’ilahk used the orb to transmogrify a young duke’s body to take for his own. Afterward, Sau’ilahk had fled with the orb—as the duke and Wynn’s group chased after him.

“Chane had to kill him, though I don’t know how,” she finished. “We were separated by too many opponents. Sau’ilahk nearly killed Shade, and Chane had no choice.”

The wraith, like Khalidah, had been a high servant in its real life to the Ancient Enemy. In hearing how Chane had dealt with Sau’ilahk, anger inside Magiere turned to envy that ate at her.

“So you found your orb,” Magiere whispered. “Mine isn’t even close.”

“Find it? No—I practically fell over it. If it hadn’t been for Shade and Osha and ... and Chane, I wouldn’t have it at all.”

Chane’s involvement made Magiere’s jaw clench. Much as it seemed he’d been useful, the thought sickened her. Perhaps he’d be useful in putting the specter within her reach, but after that, after Khalidah died in her hands ...

Wynn was still naive in believing Chane fed only on animals. Magiere knew his nature: a killer, a predator, and a monster.

But was she much different now?

Yes, because she wanted the dead to stay dead.

“You hinted there was more going on when you found the orb.”

Wynn’s expression became thoughtful. “That’s more difficult to explain. It’s so ... tangled in how the orb ended up in that old keep, someone else hunting it besides us, and ... the method she used.”

“What about it?”

Before Wynn could answer, something moved in the shadows of the room’s back corner, where a cold-lamp crystal’s dim light didn’t reach.

Dusk had fallen, and Chane stepped out past the table and chairs into the light. After waking, he usually left on some excuse. Magiere suspected he simply couldn’t stand the company—and the feeling was mutual.

As he stepped into sight, his gaze fell on Wynn sitting shoulder to shoulder with Magiere, both of them covered by the same blanket. His eyes shifted to Magiere, and all color vanished from his irises. One of his hands dropped reflexively to his hip but didn’t grasp the hilt of his longsword. Hate was so intense in his crystalline irises that Magiere’s entire body responded without effort.

The room grew searingly bright in her sight, and she knew her own irises were flooding black. If she let go of herself, a fierce hunger would wash through her. Her eyeteeth would elongate and strength would flow to her limbs. With a single glance, she gauged the distance to her falchion, which was leaning in the room’s front corner.

A flash of surprise crossed Chane’s features, and he took a step closer, studying her.

Barely a blink had passed, and Wynn just then noticed him, but she must not have paid attention to his eyes. “Oh, Chane, are you going out? Do you want company? Should Shade and I come with you?”

The offer grated on Magiere, but a much more important realization swept through her, and Chane had seen it too.

If she’d wanted to, she could have grabbed for her falchion and attacked him. Her body had responded, and her strength was there .

“Magiere?” Ghassan asked.

When she looked his way, where he sat at the table, he was watching her. Always watching, he couldn’t have missed that tense, silent exchange. And he didn’t have to ask.

Magiere nodded to him. “It’s time.”

Near the mid of that same night, Wynn followed Ghassan through the dark streets and farther into the capital’s south side. Chane followed behind her, all three of them heavily cloaked, and Shade walked at her side. The dog’s black fur made her difficult to spot at night.

Wynn still felt this was all starting too soon.

Magiere needed more time to recover, but she had insisted otherwise, and of course Ghassan was eager to begin. At least for tonight nothing critical or dangerous would happen. Ghassan wished to put only a few pieces into place, and tomorrow he would contact the prince. It would then be too late to turn back.

“How much farther is this other hideaway?” Chane asked.

“Not far,” Ghassan answered. “Remember what I said and note the route.”

The area around them appeared to be a semiwealthy residential area, though nothing like what Wynn knew in even the most affluent merchant districts of Calm Seatt. The homes here were sandstone mansions with elaborate terraces and balconies. Some were merely large, but others could be described only as ... huge.

Wynn grew hesitant. The poor, run-down district they had come from seemed a much better place to hide. But they had seen few guards on the move along the way, and none up close—fewer still as they neared this district. Who would think to look for fugitives in a neighborhood like this?

Most of the manors were dark, but street lanterns were more regularly placed here than elsewhere. In going slow, they managed to stay out of direct light as they skirted close to the dwellings or along boundary walls.

Finally they emerged into a large, open area filled with a collection of market stalls more finely draped than the small market Wynn had visited. All awnings and tent flaps had been tied down for the night.

Ghassan slipped behind one wooden stall, and all of them dropped low as he did. Shade pressed up against Wynn’s shoulder, and Wynn buried her fingers in Shade’s neck fur.

She knew better than to expect Shade to catch and pass memories from the domin. That didn’t work on him any more than Brot’an.

“Why pause here?” Chane whispered.

Ghassan pointed through the market to the next street of homes. Most were constructed of tan clay bricks. Near the end of the nearest block stood a slightly smaller and older-looking domicile. It was kept up well enough to fit in with the others. Ghassan stretched out his hand toward that place and turned to Chane.

“Down the front hallway of the main floor, you will find a door on your left and a stairwell leading up on your right. Straight ahead, you will see a back door out of the house, but hopefully you will never need that.” He paused. “Take the door to the left, which opens onto a stairwell leading down to a lower passage. Ignore all doors along the way and go to the end wall ... which will appear as nothing more than a wall.”

He pulled his other closed hand out from beneath his cloak and opened it. “Use this pebble to locate and open another hidden door in that end wall, with a cellar sanctuary beyond it.”

“How many of these places do you have?” Chane asked.

“Enough,” Ghassan answered. “Or so I thought before I returned here. I chose this location because of the cellar. As I explained, we will trap the host down there before dawn, and with the absence of natural light, Khalidah will not realize the time until too late.”

Wynn peered at the house. “So the back room in the cellar is ... hidden by ...”

She didn’t even want to say that word—s orcery —though she did wonder and worry again how much skill and power the domin’s sect had wielded in secret.

Ghassan ignored her and remained focused on Chane. “Do not forget a single turn or shadow on the way here. You must get the others to this place as quickly as possible.”

Chane nodded. “It would have been better if they had seen it for themselves.”

“I cannot risk them being spotted in the open until necessary,” Ghassan returned. “And they will follow you as agreed.”

That didn’t reassure Wynn. Having Chane guide Leesil, Magiere, and Chap was almost the most dangerous—no, insane—part of this plan. It brought other concerns to mind as she eyed Ghassan.