Барб Хенди - A Wind in the Night

Ghassan’s tension grew. The answer was why he would not speak—because not all of his brethren might be dead. Of the bodies he had found and left in their hidden sanctuary, upon returning from tracking Wynn Hygeorht into a lost dwarven seatt ...

One was missing.

“I am waiting for your answer, Domin,” the prince added sharply.

As of yet, Counselor a’Yamin had not spoken, but he listened attentively to every word.

Ghassan tried to calculate a reply to the prince ... even as he called up symbols, signs, and sigils in his mind’s eye and surrounded them with glowing geometric shapes.

The great doors behind him slammed open.

Before he dared to look back, still holding the patterns shaped in his thoughts, he saw the prince’s eyes widen under a brow creasing in annoyance. It was impudent for anyone to interrupt a specially convened audience of judgment.

When Ghassan dared to look, he was at loss for what he saw.

A contingent of city guards flanked by imperial ones marched through the wide main doors flung open. The lead pair, with swords drawn, dragged in two manacled and gagged prisoners, a man and woman. Of the two, it was the woman who had her arms spread wide and chained to a steel bar spreading out from below her shoulders. A steel cage followed, rolled in after them, and contained a snarling silver-gray wolf too large for its kind. And lastly came a young girl with wide, frightened eyes, and, though she was gagged, her hands were tied in front. She was nearly lifted off her feet as the guards holding her upper arms propelled her in.

But the caged animal caught Ghassan’s attention most of all.

Along with its open growls and stiffened hackles, it glowered at everyone in the chamber. What fixated Ghassan most of all were its narrowed eyes. Above its wrinkled jowls and exposed teeth, those eyes sparked like gems ... like pale sapphires.

“What is the meaning of this?” Domin Aweli-Jama demanded. “The imperial prince is in private counsel with the guild!”

The contingent never slowed. From among them, one broad-shouldered man wearing the gold sash of the imperial guard quickly bowed once and hurried up to kneel before the dais. The prince stepped forward, though he barely lowered his head as he listened.

Ghassan was close enough to hear pieces of the guard’s rapid whispers.

“Marauders ... murdered ... one Captain Samara ... his crew of the Bashair .”

Imperial Prince Ounyal’am sighed once through his nose, as if he had been interrupted by something he could not ignore. Giving Ghassan no notice for the moment, he straightened in studying the prisoners, and Ghassan carefully turned his head enough to follow the prince’s gaze.

In addition to the city and imperial guards, there were two Lhoin’na—a man and woman—standing back near the open doors. He had rarely seen any with such bright blond hair. Their attire was unremarkable, but both carried swords that he recognized by their hilts.

They were Shé’ith, guardians of the Lhoin’na’s territory, but they were not at all dressed like such. This pair looked more like wanderers, and their clothing did not appear cut properly for them.

A disgusting man with a protruding belly and greasy hair pushed between them into sight.

Still on one knee, the guard before the prince spun around. “My imperial highness, these two of the Shé’ith have been tracking the offenders since they left Drist, and this captain”—he gestured to the foul-looking man—“assisted them in arranging capture.” The guard spun back, bowing his head. “Forgive the intrusion, I beg you, but since this involved official guardians of another nation, I felt obligated to bring this to your attention.”

The prince said nothing and only lowered his eyes slightly, perhaps in looking at the man and woman tossed to the floor in their bondage.

Ghassan thought he saw the prince’s eyes widen slightly, but before he could turn and follow that gaze ...

“Lock them away,” said Counselor a’Yamin quietly, “and turn them over to my jurisdiction.” His voice was as clear as his eyes.

“The counselor is correct. Lock them away, Imperial One!” Aweli-Jama begged. “They may be more dangerous than mere murderers and marauders. Please.... Lock them away!”

Ghassan disliked his high premin, but he had never seen Aweli-Jama turn so quickly emotional and with such urgency. Did he know something more about these prisoners ... or did he simply wish to turn attention upon a guild branch tainted with conspiracy somewhere else?

“Forgive me, my sovereign.”

At the corpulent captain’s interruption, Ghassan glanced back.

“For the risk and cost, but not for doing my duty,” the captain went on, “would there be some ... reward?”

Ghassan’s mouth soured at such greed. The prince could be far more generous with the people than his father had been, but he did not like impudent attempts at obligation. Then Ghassan noticed Aweli-Jama still stared at the prisoners in almost open fear, and Ghassan finally gave his full attention to those prisoners.

One was male, obviously Lhoin’na, though the structure of his face—his ears—was not quite right. Half-breeds were nearly unheard of, and this one was darker skinned than most of his kind, as were the two Shé’ith, now that Ghassan considered on this.

He looked to the woman bound with the steel bar.

She was beautiful in a barbarous way, though clearly in need of a bath, as was her companion. She was as pale as he was darkly tanned—perhaps too pale—and her black hair glimmered with strands of dark red under the light of the glass dome.

There was something familiar about her, though Ghassan was certain he had never seen her before. And when he looked again to the wolf in the cage and met its crystal-blue glare, something sparked in his thoughts.

No, he had never seen this group, but he had read of them.

Ghassan had done his best to memorize every critical passage from Wynn Hygeorht’s journals, which he had been able to gain access to during his stay at the Numan branch. In particular he had focused most on anything concerning her travels on the eastern continent. The recognition of these three brought him no peace or comfort as his gaze returned to the pale, black-haired woman.

There were other unwritten things he knew.

There were words written only in thoughts, recorded in ensorcelled memories among his sect, to keep them from prying eyes.

And yet the pawn in the war to come had been moved into the open too soon ... and captured.

A dhampir crouched in bondage before the imperial prince.

Ghassan barely suppressed panic as he looked to Prince Ounyal’am. The prince only stared at the woman whom Ghassan recognized from Wynn’s journals as the one named Magiere. He quickly finished the last of his spell.

Have you snuck into my thoughts yet again ... Domin? Do you see what has happened?

And now that he had, Ghassan lowered his gaze before his focus might be noticed by others.

Yes, my prince.

True to Ghassan’s mentoring, the prince never revealed anything in his expression.

Then flee now ... before I am forced to take your life.

Domin Ghassan il’Sänke did not reply in word or thought. The next forms and signs and sigils filled his sight as he looked down upon the mosaic floor and thrust against it with his whole will. He shot upward, quickly covering his head.

The impact shattered the glass dome amid shouts and screams from the imperial court.

Ghassan’s wits dulled as the bright blue heavens grew suddenly dim before his eyes.