First and Last Sorcerer

by Barb Hendee

  “We will try to book passage on a caravan tomorrow,” Fréthfâre said. “A new purpose for us will begin.”

  “As this one ends.”

  “Yes . . . as this one ends.”

  * * *

  Prince Ounyal’am paced his chambers and, even at the mid of night, he would not consider sleep. Exhausted, yes, but he obsessed over what Nazhif and others among his bodyguards had reported.

  All in all, events could have gone far worse.

  Fareed and Isa had relieved two other members of the private bodyguards, as was commonly done at night, and they now stood post outside the door with Nazhif. They had succeeded in their task for Ghassan’s need. It appeared they had not been seen by palace forces, or at least none that had been left alive.

  Counselor a’Yamin had discovered the escape, the unconscious Commander Har’ith, and quickly ordered a sweep of the grounds before raising a full alarm.

  Neither Nazhif nor his men had learned anything more.

  Ounyal’am hoped that the domin had somehow taken charge of the prisoners he wanted. If not, and they were recaptured, there would be questions concerning how they had escaped. There would also be answers obtained by any means necessary. Ounyal’am longed to go seek further information, but, as was his habit, he was supposed to have retired.

  Any questions in the night would only draw suspicion. A’Yamin would hear of it.

  As Ounyal’am paced back into and across his sitting room, a high-pitched shout carried in the corridor outside the main door.

  “You will stand aside!”

  No one could mistake the venom in the voice of Counselor a’Yamin.

  Ounyal’am, in his nightclothes and dressing gown, reached the door in long strides and jerked it open.

  “What is happening out here?” he demanded.

  Nazhif, as well as Fareed and Isa, stood evenly in the path of the counselor, who was backed by three imperial guards. One look at a’Yamin almost made Ounyal’am falter in relief.

  The prisoners had not been recovered.

  “The foreigners have escaped,” the counselor returned. “Commander Har’ith is injured and a member of the palace guard is dead.” As he spoke, he watched—no, studied—only the prince.

  Ounyal’am purposely widened his eyes. “An escape . . . from beneath the palace grounds? How, and who is at fault . . . among the guards?”

  The counselor hesitated, though he did not react to the implied accusation. “Whatever happened was carefully planned, as someone was lying in wait for the commander.”

  Ounyal’am magnified his tone of disbelief, becoming incredulous. “Lying in wait . . . in the open passages of the prison? How would anyone have even learned where the prisoners were secured? Who would have that information to share? Very few . . . I would hope.”

  At that, the counselor hesitated again but then quickly turned to his own accusation. “I was told that you sent the commander there.”

  “Yes, at the order of the emperor.”

  Ounyal’am had not wanted to use that tactic, for the counselor would then know for certain he had been circumvented in his seclusion of the emperor. And indeed, a’Yamin fell silent . . . and turned visibly livid.

  “My father demanded a report on the condition of the prisoners.”

  “The emperor . . . demanded?” the counselor asked softly.

  “Yes. Though I too found the request strange—rare—I passed the signed order to Commander Har’ith without question. You may consult my father in the morning, as, at his word, I have instructed his guards that he is not to be awakened tonight.”

  A’Yamin remained silent rather than challenge a prince over possible lies. This led Ounyal’am to believe that his father must still have some lucid moments—in which he might be able to make demands. If so, a’Yamin would remain in a state of doubt over the source of this current crisis.

  “I suggest you return to recovering the prisoners,” Ounyal’am said quietly, “before you speak with the emperor again.”

  His attempt at assuming control was not lost on the counselor, who grew . . . flustered.

  “And please keep me apprised,” Ounyal’am added.

  “Yes, my prince,” a’Yamin hissed as he turned away somewhat briskly for his apparent age and was followed by his trio of guards in gold sashes. Twice he glanced back, only to find the imperial prince watching from the doorway. And when he was finally gone from sight . . .

  “Sleep well, my prince.”

  Ounyal’am glanced at Nazhif, who bowed his head and, turning, faltered in his first step. Had a brief smile of pleasure barely appeared on the face of his bodyguards’ captain? No, certainly not. Ounyal’am closed the outer door of his chambers and leaned against the wall with a long exhale.

  No doubt a’Yamin wondered whether he could reach the emperor this night. All knew the imperial guards—especially those who guarded Kanal’am—were in the counselor’s favor. But if the imperial prince had given them orders concerning his father, would the counselor dare to even ask, let alone challenge, such?

  Not for this night.

  Ghassan had best make good use of what time was left, for what it had cost . . . and what it would cost as yet.

  CHAPTER NINE

  After a further trek through the city, Chap reached their final destination by following the domin—along with Leesil, Magiere, Wayfarer, and Osha. Wynn had gone off another way with Brot’an, Shade, and . . . Chane.

  Chap was too exhausted to know what to feel at having seen his estranged daughter again—and far too drained to wonder why Wynn’s old Suman mentor was not dressed in a proper sage’s robe. Perhaps this semi-numb feeling also lessened his disgust at the shabby state of the tenement, from its bleached wood to its warped door. But he could still be shocked.

  After entering the building, heading upstairs, and going to the end of a dingy passage on the top floor, Chap watched as the domin grasped something—nothing—to the left of a window looking out over a dark alley.

  The window vanished as a door appeared and its iron lever handle was gripped in the man’s hand.

  Chap instinctively rumbled and stiffened all the way to his hackles as Wayfarer sucked in and held a breath.

  “It is all right,” Osha assured in his language. “Follow the domin inside.”

  Chap growled at having no choice. As he stepped forward, Wayfarer’s small fingers clenched in his fur. They entered a cluttered but well-furnished room apparently unseen from the outside. Worse, straight ahead past a doorless opening on the right was that same window.

  He saw the same view of the building across the alley in the dark and disliked it even more than the door suddenly appearing in the passage’s end. It seemed that the tenement itself was longer when viewed from within this place.

  Scrolls and other texts filled shelves along three walls, while several cold lamps with large brass bases provided a little light from their dimly lit crystals. To the room’s left was a round table with three high-backed chairs of dark wood. Folding partitions separated another space near the doorless opening. The floor was covered in fringed carpets and various cushions.

  Chap advanced cautiously until he peered through the opening on the right and found that it was a bedchamber. A small chest sat on the floor near a bed at the room’s far end. In a few more steps, the footboard of a second, nearer bed came into his view. With a glance at Leesil, he huffed once and lifted his muzzle toward that room.

  Leesil dragged Magiere in there, and Chap followed while trying to comprehend all that had happened this night. It was difficult to accept that they were finally free while facing so many unanswered questions.

  Wayfarer hurried to his side, trying to get behind him.

  “Be assured that you are safe and will not be found here,” the domin said.

  Chap twisted around to see the man hovering in the bedroom’s open archway. The domin suddenly back-stepped, turned halfway, and looked toward the way they had all come.

  �
��Excuse me a moment,” he added and walked off.

  Chap was not letting that man out of his sight.

  He went to the opening, peeked out, and noticed that the main door looked normal from the inside. The domin grabbed its inner handle, jerked it open, and there was Wynn outside in the dingy passage.

  She started slightly with her right hand outstretched as if ready to grab the door’s outer handle, but she did not get a chance. Strange, since that handle would not be there to see or touch—unless the domin had instructed her about its secrets. Her other hand was oddly clenched in a fist.

  “Inside, quickly,” the domin urged.

  She did so while tucking her fist into her robe’s pocket. When her hand came out, her fingers were open and held nothing.

  Chap wondered what she had tucked away in that pocket, and then his daughter, Shade, entered next. He numbed all over for an instant, then saw Shade limping, and inched farther out of the bedchamber. She ignored him and padded off to the main chamber’s far front side, vanishing beyond the folding partition.

  Wynn hurried after Shade, and the undead came in next.

  At the sight of Chane, Chap could not hold in a low snarl, which dragged on as Brot’an entered last. However, Brot’an was still carrying a large familiar pack and travel chest. Leesil had dropped both near the dock on the day of their arrest.

  Brot’an must have somehow retrieved them later, after his escape.

  Chap felt no gratitude for that, though he was relieved. The chest held irreplaceable items, such as Magiere’s own thôrhk and the one for the orb of Fire. It was fortunate that Leesil had dropped his burdens that day. Chap did not want to think of the repercussions should that chest have been captured with them and searched.

  At least it was safe now.

  As Brot’an stepped farther inside, the old shadow-gripper barely glanced at Chap.

  Chap didn’t know what he disliked the most—the undead, the aging assassin, or this place.

  * * *

  Chane did not look into those crystalline sky blue eyes watching him from the bedchamber’s entrance. The majay-hì would be unable to sense him as an undead due to the “ring of nothing” he nearly always wore. The small circlet of inscribed brass on his left third finger hid everything but the physical presence of whoever wore it.

  Had Chane not been wearing it, Chap would most likely have been unable to control his savage reaction to an undead—and the same would be true of Magiere once she regained her strength.

  Chane had no intention of taking off the ring. Still, he could not help feeling uncomfortable in the situation, so he followed Wynn to the room’s other side. At least in that, Chap’s sight line was blocked by the sitting area’s partition. The tall elf called Brot’an paused to catch il’Sänke’s attention, and the two took to whispering. Chane could have heard them if he let hunger rise to heighten his hearing. Instead, he ignored them.

  He already knew who was in the bedroom . . . who Chap now guarded. What came next was also expected in part.

  As Shade settled beside the table of tall chairs, her right front foreleg gave way a little. Wynn was at the dog’s side in an instant, dropping down to feel Shade’s leg and shoulder. With one hand still on the dog, she twisted on her knees and looked up at Chane.

  “What happened?” she asked, almost accusingly. “You were supposed to stay clear of the guards once you drew them off.”

  Chane was uncertain what to say after promising her that he would not kill anyone—and after what had happened in the dead-end alley.

  Shade snarled once and clacked her teeth.

  Wynn shrank away as she jerked her hand back.

  There was no knowing what Shade had passed to Wynn in that touch—either a few words or even a memory. Wynn dropped her eyes and hung her head. Chane heard her shuddering quick breaths. Of course, she was worried at the thought of Shade being injured again.

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry, Chane,” Wynn whispered without looking up. “I didn’t mean to . . . It was just . . .”

  As she lightly touched Shade, the dog settled her large head on her forepaws with an irritable huff.

  Chane waited, for he did not believe the matter was settled.

  Wynn had once said that any one of them might be lost in seeking their goal. And yet after Shade’s last dire injury, Wynn panicked at the dog’s slightest wound. Perhaps Chane envied Shade a little in that, though he as well had reacted in kind once the threat to Shade had been eliminated in that alley.

  Strangely, Wynn said nothing more, whether or not Shade had told or showed her what had happened.

  “Enough,” il’Sänke warned, clunking down a large brass bowl upon the table. “Keep your personal issues to yourselves. We must get the others fed and tended.”

  Wynn nodded and rose, but something more puzzled Chane as he looked away from her. Osha stood off near that unnerving front door, his expression flat and his unblinking eyes fixed on the floor. Why he had not gone to see the others in the bedroom was puzzling.

  Il’Sänke slapped a pile of folded cloths into Osha’s stomach, and the elf’s eyes popped open as he grabbed the pile in reflex.

  “Make yourself useful,” the domin ordered. “Take these and go with Wynn. Wynn, you get the bowl and that water pitcher to clean any wounds. Use bed cloths for toweling as needed and report any injuries that require medicinal care.”

  With a nod, Wynn hurried for the brass bowl on the table.

  Chane peered toward the partition. He could imagine Chap standing beyond it, still on guard at the bedchamber’s entrance. When Chane turned back, Shade was watching him, but he could not read her expression, so he closed his eyes once in a brief nod to her. That was as much thanks as he could risk in the moment, and she slowly closed her eyes to rest.

  Aside from the so-called dhampir, whom he had helped rescue, he was in the company of two majay-hì, natural enemies of the undead. Even more bizarre, one wanted him dead for a final time, while the other had shielded a secret from Wynn—and done so for his sake.

  Chane’s world grew more complicated with each night because of the woman he loved.

  * * *

  Chap still stood at the bedchamber’s entrance, though from his vantage point the only one he could see was Osha. That young one’s surface thoughts were filled with something chilling: an arrow in the dark from his bow had killed one of his own.

  Chap and those with him had known since first meeting Osha that he was ill suited to the calling of an anmaglâhk. That the young one had fallen from—been forced from—his calling did not change this.

  Now Osha had killed for Wynn’s sake.

  Chap would have wished it otherwise for the once innocent young an’Cróan. All of them except for Wayfarer had committed questionable acts. The necessity of those acts would never lessen their burden.

  Wynn broke his thoughts as she came around the partition with a large brass bowl under one arm and a matching, sloshing water pitcher in the other. Before he could speak with her in the way that only they could, she pushed past him into the chamber. Osha followed her, and Chap spun around into the room.

  Leesil knelt beside the first bed, where he had laid out Magiere, and covered her with bedding. Wayfarer stood near him, watching only Magiere. When Leesil looked up at Wynn’s approach, his gaze quickly shifted past Chap and Osha to the bedchamber’s entrance. And his features twisted in a glare, as if he might rush out at someone in the outer room.

  “Don’t start,” Wynn warned. “Everything else waits until we get the four of you fed and tended. Then you need rest, not another fight . . . or argument.”

  Leesil neither answered nor looked at her again. He turned back to watching his wife, who lay on her side with her eyes almost closed.

  Chap understood Wynn, though if Magiere were well enough, the young sage might not have gotten her way so easily. Chane’s presence could not simply be ignored. As Wynn settled on the bedside, and Osha brought her the pile of folded cloths, Chap gla
nced again at Magiere but then dropped his gaze.

  He was supposed to watch over and protect all of them, including Wayfarer.

  From the instant they had stepped onto the docks of this city, he had failed. And Brot’an had vanished and remained free. Chane was not the only one who Chap wanted gone—or dead. As to secrets that might have been ripped out of Magiere in a moon’s worth of screams, he already knew one she did not have.

  Chap had insisted on hiding two orbs without Magiere or Leesil knowing where. What only he knew could never be taken from them, but this was not enough. Something had been taken from Magiere.

  When that gray-robed figure had come to the cell, the darkness within its hood had turned toward Chap. It remained fixed on him for too long, as if that one had known him long before that visit. Whatever it might have related to Leesil in that cell, Chap knew by his friend’s last question what the robed figure had come for.

  How did he do that . . . get in my head like . . . like you?

  No, not like him, but there was no doubt that Magiere had suffered worse in being subjected to sorcery. On the rushed walk from the shrine, he had seen snippets of recent memories in her half-conscious mind. He knew some of what she had endured in that cell. Somewhere in her memories was what he had done—hidden two orbs—if not how and where he had done so.

  The robed figure could not have taken such information from him. A Fay-born into the body of a Fay-descended majay-hì was not easily overcome, but . . .

  How long had it taken that robed figure to learn from Magiere that he knew the whereabouts of two orbs? How long had she been tortured simply to get at him before the torturer came to silently taunt him, face-to-face? And in an act that only Chap knew of, he had done far worse than Osha.

  The guide Leesil had hired to take Chap into the wilderness had been left a mindless husk. Without hands of his own, Chap had possessed the man’s body with his own spirit—that of a Fay—in order to handle and hide two orbs.

  And there was another orb here in this room, in a chest.

  He knew, for Wynn could not help letting that slip into her thoughts.