“You say Lady Porhilde told you to come here? Why? And why ask after Gazija as well? Did you have anything to do with his death?” the fat sorcerer was saying.
“Enough, Mazoet,” Quiss said wearily. “Of course they didn’t. I was there, remember?” His shoulders slumped, as if he was exhausted. “Felice, Caldan, I want you to meet some . . . friends of ours. Lady Caitlyn, Aidan, Anshul, and Vasile.” Quiss indicated each in turn. “They joined our cause soon after Anasoma fell to the Indryallans. And it seems they’ve met up with their long-lost leader.”
Felice inclined her head, but their focus was on Caldan, which didn’t surprise or worry her. Let them think she wasn’t a threat. She had to admit that the imposing form of Caldan, with his set jaw and wild eyes, made a good distraction. As did the sword still clutched in his grip.
She had her goal—to force the different organizations to work together to defeat Kelhak—but it would be akin to herding cats. Situations like this, the chance meeting with these people, she rarely entered with a definite plan. Usually, she examined people, asked a few questions, determined what their aims were and how she could push them in the direction she wanted.
She stepped forward and offered her hand to Caitlyn. “A pleasure,” Felice said with just a hint of warmth.
The woman ignored her gesture. “Lady Porhilde requested we seek you out,” she said. “You must have information we could use.”
“Porhilde?” Felice said. “Ah, yes.” The old manipulator must have found out where Felice was and deduced why. Nothing got past the wily fox.
Vasile, the man with knowing eyes, was the first to move. He lightly took her hand and held it for a moment before bowing his head.
“My lady,” he said curtly. He stepped back, touching his other arm, as if it were injured, but she could see no sign of damage.
But what was odd was the position of Aidan’s feet, his torso, shoulder turned, as if he were guarding Vasile. This man has his loyalty, and not one bought with gold or power. An allegiance that goes far deeper than that.
“I’m Vasile Lauris. In Anasoma I was—”
“A magistrate,” finished Felice, as memories surfaced. If she recalled correctly, he was uncannily gifted at telling truth from falsehoods. He’d gathered quite a reputation, and not all of it good. “I have heard of you. Before that you were head investigator for the Chancellor’s Guard, and his advisor. A man of prodigious talents.” Izak would find this Vasile useful in a gambling den. Felice laughed to herself. She hoped Izak took her advice and kept his head down until this was all over. She’d buy him a drink, if she made it out alive.
She held her hand out to his companion. “I am Lady Felicienne Shyrise, Third Adjudicator to the emperor.”
“We’re all that’s left of a special group commissioned by the emperor,” Aidan said. “We hunt down and exterminate evildoers.”
“Another important job” was all she said. Could they be used? Perhaps. Vasile was an interesting addition to the game. “I’ve seen you before, a long time ago.” Felice met Anshul cel Rau’s gaze and had to stop herself from flinching. There was violence and death promised in his eyes.
“Yes,” Caitlyn said, annoyed, as if she felt left out. “Anshul is a peerless swordsman and staunch opponent of evil.”
Felice risked a quick glance at Caldan, who stood removed, a few strides away. He was still obviously distraught and hurting from his experience at the warlocks’ hands. This was no place for him.
When she looked back, Vasile had caught Caldan’s eye and was nodding in recognition. The young man returned the gesture, barely.
Felice made her way to Caldan and clasped both his arms, forcing him to look at her. He trembled under her touch.
“Go below,” Felice said. “You need rest.”
“It’s too late for that,” Caldan said matter-of-factly, pointedly raising his eyes to stare over her shoulder.
She followed his gaze. A number of people approached in the distance. Two groups. One from Riversedge and another from the direction of the warlocks’ encampment. Both groups were dressed in black.
“They all have wells,” Caldan said. “The warlocks know I’m here. They’ve come for me.”
His words were almost melancholic, as if he’d known this moment was coming but hadn’t expected it so soon.
“Go!” she said. “Hide yourself below. I’ll deal with them.”
“No.” Caldan’s reply was quick, and firm. “I’m not running anymore.”
“Caldan,” Miranda said. “She makes sense.”
Quiss frowned, taking a step closer to her. “We’ll help see them off, Caldan. We can’t let them take you. We need to speak again about your constructs. Until we know all you do, you’re valuable to us.”
“Very well,” Caldan said, startling Felice with his control. “I owe you, Quiss. But once you have all I know, we’re done. Am I clear?”
Quiss nodded, while behind him Mazoet looked upset.
The distant formations of somberly clad sorcerers approached faster than Felice would have liked. Caitlyn and her men moved away from them to the opposite gunwale, as if they had no stake in this encounter. But Felice knew almost everyone had something to gain or lose from this, even if they weren’t aware of it. On encounters such as this hinged the fate of the empire.
She breathed deeply, trying to maintain her outward calm, while inside she seethed with conflicting emotions: anger at what the warlocks had subjected Caldan to, sympathy for him, but also irritation that he’d killed Devenish. They’d need every sorcerer they could lay their hands on in the coming times, and he’d brought the warlocks’ focus on himself when it should be on the Indryallans. Quiss was also playing a game she hadn’t had time to unravel yet; and Vasile and his companions . . . Were they working toward a goal, or merely being dragged along by circumstance?
The warlocks were nearly upon them. They came closer, heads rising and falling along with the land, bobbing up and down as they staggered over rough patches with unsure footing. Behind them came others, armored men and women. Protectors, most likely.
Quiss and Mazoet moved to where the gangplank met their ship, one on either side of the opening, but positioned ten paces back. Felice followed them. She trusted Quiss’s and Mazoet’s sorcery to be a match for the warlocks’, if what she’d seen from Rebecci was anything to go by.
So she walked over and stopped in between the sorcerers, a pace in front of them. Ignoring their inquiring glances, she drew herself up and affected an irritated expression. Whoever represented the warlocks, probably Thenna, would see Felice first. And Felice would speak first, flanked by sorcerers more powerful than any of the warlocks were.
And they’d assume she was in charge.
The closer the warlocks came, the louder their passage. Night sounds were drowned out by their noise. Sorcerous globes lit their steps, so many it seemed they brought daylight with them. But a mob was just a mob, and that’s what this was. A stupid distraction that never would have happened had Devenish still been in charge.
It seemed a few of the warlocks knew what Caldan looked like, for when they came close to the ship, some pointed at him, voices raised in anger. A palpable emotional wave passed through their ranks, one Felice understood. They’d had friends die by Caldan’s sorcery. Probably all Thenna had told them. That she’d imprisoned Caldan and tortured him might not be known.
Felice shook her head. Thenna wasn’t fit to lead the warlocks.
Thenna stamped up the gangplank, timbers quivering under her angry strides. Her skirt and shirt were ostentatiously embroidered with silver and gold threads, and her silver flower buttons each had a gemstone in the center. Whatever drove her, whatever tasks the warlocks had been set, she’d taken the time to commission new clothes—ones that marked her as separate from the other warlocks. Above them.
And that said as much about her character as anything else.
Thenna raked her searing gaze across Felice and Quiss and Mazoet befo
re turning it to Caldan. She took half a step forward.
“Stop,” Felice said calmly.
And to her surprise, Thenna did, then turned to confront her.
“I’m not going to be ordered around by you!” spat Thenna.
But despite her outrage, Felice saw her eyes flick to Quiss and Mazoet. A tiny lick of her lips. Thenna was unsure of herself, and hoping bluff and bluster would see her through. The warlock knew these people had more powerful sorcery, and she would likely back away from a fight.
Good. It was time she was put in her place. Distractions like this would do them no good. In the end, they all had to work together against Kelhak.
“I am Third Adjudicator to the emperor.”
Thenna’s lips tightened into a bitter line. “Stand aside, then. You have no authority over me.”
Felice shook her head slowly, as a mother would at a wayward child. The other warlocks would see and take note. “I know why you’re here, Thenna. You overreach yourself. This man, Caldan, is under my protection, and the protection of these two sorcerers as well. Do you dare risk the emperor’s displeasure?”
“I’m on warlock business. Stand aside, or suffer our wrath.”
“I will not,” Felice said firmly, moving a pace closer to Thenna.
She was taking a risk, but she did have both Quiss and Mazoet at her back. Caldan wouldn’t go quietly, and after what she’d seen of what remained of the building they’d imprisoned him in, she hoped Thenna didn’t spark a fight. “What do you want, Thenna?” Make her say it.
Thenna pointed a trembling finger at Caldan. “Him. He murdered Devenish. He will be made to pay.”
Caitlyn turned hard eyes on Caldan, and Anshul’s hands dropped to his swords. Felice decided she’d best act quickly to forestall any violence from them.
“It seems to me,” Felice said, “that he’s already paid a heavy price. And one far more painful than mere death would bring.”
“He has to suffer.”
“He’s suffered enough!” Miranda said. “Look at what you’ve done to Caldan. You tortured and almost killed him!”
“I agree,” Felice said. “You did this to him out of anger, Thenna. It was not fitting behavior for a warlock.”
“I’m the new leader of the warlocks. I’ll decide what’s fitting.”
“That’s for the emperor to determine.”
“He’ll appoint me.”
“Will he? Not if I tell him not to.”
“You’re only a Third Adjudicator—”
“And as such I can bring any information or concern directly to the emperor that I see fit. Anything. You need to be anointed, and you’re in a precarious position. Best you recognize it, warlock.”
“What are you waiting for?” a warlock on the wharves shouted, and an angry muttering arose.
Thenna sneered at Felice. “They all know the truth. He’ll be judged and executed.” Unconsciously, her hands moved to touch a ring on her finger, then to an amulet at her throat. Craftings or trinkets. Either way, her movements betrayed her uncertainty.
Of course. Felice’s path was clear now. “No, you’re not taking Caldan. You’ve overstepped the mark. Your kidnap and torture of a suspect is criminal, and you’re going to stand trial for it.”
As for Caldan . . . he might be key to taking down Kelhak. The emperor needed to know of what had transpired, and perhaps pardon Caldan. At least until this was over.
“I saw him.” Thenna shot a glare of pure hatred in Caldan’s direction. “Devenish was helpless. Caldan cut him down without mercy, like he was an animal.”
The troubling thing was, Thenna was right. Out of the corner of her eye, Felice caught a glimpse of Vasile nodding to Aidan.
Anshul glanced at Caitlyn, who nodded. The swordsman took a step forward.
“He was little more than that,” Caldan said from right behind Felice, startling her. She’d missed his approach.
Thenna hissed between clenched teeth, lips peeled back. “You’re dead. If I have to—”
“Enough, Thenna!” Felice said. If she didn’t stop this, then Caitlyn and her killers might do something rash.
Thenna scoffed loudly. “This is a farce. Stand aside, or risk the wrath of the warlocks. I’ll burn you all to cinders and take Caldan. You won’t be able to stop me.”
“She’s opened her well,” Quiss said. “But she’s no danger.”
Miranda sidled around and positioned herself behind Quiss.
“I’ll see you all burn,” hissed Thenna.
“Now, now,” Felice said. Boots thudded on the deck as Caldan strode past Felice and stopped in front of Thenna. He stood straight, with his broad shoulders pulled back. The trinket sword dangled from his right hand, and Thenna’s eyes kept darting toward it.
She fears the sword.
“Caldan,” Felice said firmly. “Stay out of this.”
“I will not,” Caldan growled.
Bloody ancestors. “You are all witnesses,” she said loudly for everyone to hear. “As Third Adjudicator, I order you, Thenna, to stand down. Your desire for revenge has left you without reason.”
“You have no authority over me!” screamed Thenna.
Felice inclined her head. “That’s true,” she said calmly. “But I do have the authority to settle disputes, as long as it’s done according to the law, and to bring urgent matters directly before the emperor. And I’m invoking my right to do both. After this, Thenna, we’ll have an audience with the emperor. And I’ll see to it he appoints someone more suited to leading the warlocks.”
Grumbles from the other warlocks arose at Felice’s pronouncement. Thenna looked about her anxiously before smoothing her face into an expression of contempt. Before she could respond, the grumbles faded to silence. They were waiting to hear what Thenna had to say. Anshul hadn’t moved, though his hands remained on his sword hilts.
“We’re taking Caldan now,” Thenna said. “We’ll leave with him, and there will be no more trouble.”
Felice shook her head. “No, you won’t. These are dangerous times, Thenna. The empire is in peril from the Indryallans and the sorcery they bring.” There were mutterings of agreement from the warlocks behind Thenna. “Your focus on this one man has clouded your judgment. I don’t excuse what he’s done, or what you claim he’s done. But you have gone too far. Leave here, and we’ll settle this later.”
Thenna licked her lips again, eyes darting.
Felice knew Thenna had no options—she wasn’t going to start a sorcerous fight she knew she couldn’t win, so she had to back down.
Instead, the warlock pointed an accusing finger at Caldan. “You murdered Devenish!”
Deny, thought Felice. I need time. She turned a pleading look on Caldan, hoping he saw.
“And I’d do it again,” Caldan said, voice pitched low.
Felice closed her eyes for an instant. Pignuts.
Thenna shrieked in anger. The air around Felice seemed to solidify and bear down on her. There was an indrawn hiss of breath from Quiss. A vibration rattled her bones. Thenna and Caldan became surrounded by shimmering multicolored shields. Sunlight flashed from Thenna, striking Caldan. Motes sparkled across his shield.
Caldan chortled. The laugh of a man with nothing to lose, tinged with madness.
It was all Felice could do to turn and throw herself to the deck.
Heat splashed across her back. The air cracked.
She pressed herself into the deck, arms covering her head, and waited for the backlash of sorcery. There were two wooden thumps. Miranda uttered a wordless cry.
When nothing else happened, she raised her head and turned.
Both Caldan and Thenna lay slumped lifeless on the deck. Quiss and Mazoet stood over them. Shielded warlocks backed away fearfully, hands raised in a gesture of submission. They exchanged wide-eyed, frantic looks from sweat-sheened faces and muttered nervously.
The warlocks were terrified of Quiss and Mazoet.
But the two sorcerers were
not looking at the warlocks, as if they didn’t care what they did. They both looked down at Caldan, faces twisted in a mixture of grief and disgust. Miranda pushed between them and sank to her knees beside Caldan.
Felice scrambled to her feet, brushing dust from her clothes as she carefully approached Quiss and Mazoet.
“What is it?” she asked Quiss.
He turned a sorrowful face toward her. He blinked, mouth drooping in sadness, then turned back to regard Caldan. “Not here,” he said, voice cracking with pain.
Felice clutched her trembling hands together in an attempt to appear calm. Inside, she was anything but. Her guts quivered and roiled. She’d been certain she would die because she’d miscalculated. She bit down on a relieved laugh that bubbled from her chest.
“Are they . . . ?” Felice trailed off.
“No,” Quiss said. “They’re alive. We just had to . . . disable them. They were about to let loose with destructive sorcery, and I couldn’t let that happen. As much as it pains me to say it, we need the warlocks. And now I think we need Caldan even more. This feud between him and Thenna has to be stopped.”
Felice nodded agreement, edging closer. She bent over and rifled through Thenna’s clothes, trying not to look at Miranda’s tear-streaked face.
Ah.
In a belt pouch were two bone rings. Felice slipped them into her pocket. She noticed one warlock hadn’t backed away like the others. A middle-aged man with a short, sandy beard speckled with gray. He was off to the side, but he’d held his ground.
“You,” Felice said. “Thenna is fine. Organize to have her carried away and taken care of.”
The warlock regarded her steadily, and she could almost hear his thoughts turning. Eventually, he nodded. “All right,” he said. “But Devenish’s death—”
“Is my issue to resolve,” Felice said. “In my authority as Third Adjudicator, I’m taking the decision of redress on myself.” Delay. If she was right about what was coming, no decision might have to be made. They might all be dead. Everyone was needed, even Thenna. “Your name?” she asked the bearded warlock.
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