by Cindy Dees
Although she supposed she should hold no grudges given how her life had worked out. Her indenture contract had been purchased by a minor noble so she could be a companion to his daughter. Saving him and his daughter from a bandit attack had earned her freedom and enough recognition to be appointed steward to a young ogre chieftain. She’d helped him ascend his nation’s throne and ultimately earned her noble title. And here she was, on her way to monitor a Coil scion. Odd how her life had come round full circle. She half-suspected that someone or some group had pulled strings to get her sent here.
For whom she was supposed to observe she knew not. Her guess was the Council of Wind, a secret avarian group. Regardless of who’d maneuvered her over here, undoubtedly her purpose was supposed to be to observe Anton Constantine. Despite being effectively banished to Haelos far away from court, he was nonetheless a powerful player in Kothite politics—and not just for his Coil ties. His wealth was rumored to be immense, as were the untapped resources of this young colony on a giant, largely unexplored continent.
The efficiency with which the ship’s crew cast off and got under way impressed her. They did not hoist sails, as close to the mountains as they were; the winds swirled far too unpredictably in this valley for safe sailing. Rather, they relied on water elementals to propel the ship forward for now. She expected that, if the wind didn’t do the job once they reached the open sea, air elementals would be called to fill the sails and propel the Black Ship across the mighty Abyssmal Sea with all due haste. The Merr who controlled the undersea realms had never submitted to Koth and were rumored to have chased the Empire out of their watery domain in no uncertain terms. It was not wise to tarry overlong upon Merr waters.
Talissar had mentioned that the journey to Haelos should take three months, plus or minus, depending on the weather and winds. She hoped to spend that time learning more about the Black Ships and their awesome capabilities. She knew they contained the finest technology the Empire had acquired, but from whence it came was a closely guarded secret she secretly hoped to unravel.
The Courageous’s captain, Lord Captain Kodo, had invited the ship’s guests to a welcoming dinner that evening. Perhaps he would tell her more of his vessel then. In the meantime, she had brought a book with her to pass the time. A history of Dupree. Or at least as much of a history as the Emperor wished for his subjects to know of it. Such was the power of the Kothite Empire. Nothing had preceded it, and nothing would ever follow it. The Kothites were truly eternal.
Sometimes she wondered idly what life might have been like if there was a “before Koth.” Would there have been freedom of thought? Independence? Choice? Or would those concepts have been as foreign then as they were now?
Mayhap recently colonized Dupree would shed some light on the mystery. Haelos had only been discovered and brought under the Emperor’s fist less than two centuries ago. With a natural-born historian’s eagerness, she turned her gaze to the north.
* * *
A powerful hand slapped over Will’s mouth, stifling his yelp of startlement, yanking him back against a tall, lean body that felt made of living iron. “I told you to stay put.”
Panicked, Will took a deep breath to slam the cloaked man with all the magic he had.
“Power down, boy,” the stranger bit out. “You will draw attention we can ill afford. Have patience. We are nearly to safety. But first we must pass these slavers.”
The very lack of concern in the man’s voice was all that kept Will from blasting him. What did this man know about magic that Will didn’t? Obviously, he had some defense against it that made him oblivious to it.
Will’s terror surged again, however, at the man’s next words. “Hold out your wrists so I can put these manacles on you.”
“No!”
“Keep your voice down!” the stranger snapped.
“I will not let you handcuff me and lead me to the Slaver’s Guild like a witless sheep!”
“I’m taking you to the Heart, which is in the next square over, and past those guards is the quickest route to get there. The manacles are a ruse to get past them.” He added dryly, “Somehow, I think I’ll pass better for a slaver and you a potential slave rather than the other way round.”
Will stared into the black void of the hood doubtfully. He didn’t trust this assassin for a second.
Apparently, Will’s reservations must have shown in his eyes, for the stranger murmured, “If I meant to kill you, I would not be so unsubtle as to leap upon you here and now and slit your throat.”
“Unsubtle?”
The tall man didn’t answer, but a distinct aura of exasperation rolled off his silhouetted form. And for some reason, Will took comfort from it. It wasn’t the emotion of a murderer or an avaricious slaver. He threw caution to the winds and asked, “How would you kill me if you were being subtle?”
“A bold question, boy.”
In for a copper, in for a gold. “Too bold for you to answer honestly?”
The stranger made a sound almost like choked laughter, but his answer, when it came, was delivered in a silky tone a man might use to seduce a beautiful woman. “If I wished to kill you subtly, I would appear to help you. Gain your trust. Turn you over to other apparently trustworthy people, who might or might not realize they were doing my work. I would maneuver them wittingly or unwittingly into leading you into a trap. The sort of trap that, when it killed you, all who heard of it would know it to be an unfortunate accident. No questions, no suspicions, no associations or trail of blame that could possibly lead back to me.”
The assassin spoke of murder as reverently as if it were the highest of art forms, and he a master practitioner. His words and demeanor sent chills down Will’s spine.
The stranger said lightly, “The city is crawling with soldiers this night. If I were to kill you now, your body would be discovered quickly and a hunt for your killer initiated. It would make for an … inconvenient … getaway. If, indeed, I had decided to kill you, your death would be inevitable. I would have no need to be in a hurry about it.”
Will believed without question that this man could do as he said. Something the assassin had said did pique Will’s curiosity, however. Why would a manhunt be initiated for anyone who killed him? He was a no-account youth from the hinterlands. To the authorities, his life was less than meaningless. Certainly not cause for a manhunt. Unless something had happened regarding him and his news of the Boki attack that he was not aware of—
“Is there news this evening?” Will asked cautiously.
His companion went stock-still. “What do you mean?”
“I was merely curious,” he replied hastily. “A great many soldiers seem to be out and about.”
The cloak lifted slightly as if the stranger shrugged. “All the more reason to get you off the street.” He held out the manacles once more. “I swear upon my word of honor, I will not lock these. Look.” The stranger attached the metal bracelet around his own black-gloved wrist and seemed to snap it shut. “Twist your wrist, so, and it pops open.”
Clever. “Are those trick manacles?” Will asked.
“No, they’re real. It’s all in half-latching them. If someone ever cuffs you, turn your wrist sideways as the bracelet is locked, and the latch may only partially catch. Hold out just one wrist. I’ll show you.”
Will became so absorbed in learning the twist and flex trick that he momentarily forgot where they were and the stakes at risk.
“Got the hang of it?” the stranger murmured.
“Aye. Let’s do it,” Will replied jauntily.
“Not so brave, lad. This night calls for caution.” He added wryly, “Subtlety.” He glanced out into the square and then back at Will. “Remember this. Bravery is not always the best course of action. Patience, prudence, and cunning are also virtues.”
Will nodded, perplexed at the teacher-like tone the man had taken with him. “Right then. On with the manacles.”
Will fancied he caught a flash of white inside the
hood as if the stranger smiled. But then the cold metal bracelets clasped around Will’s wrists and the moment was at hand to stroll forth among all those soldiers. Slave-like. Act slave-like. As the stranger attached a short rope to the manacles by which to lead him, Will couldn’t suppress a shudder.
They stepped out of the alley.
Immediately the nearest set of guards came to attention and one of them stepped into their path. “Who goes there?”
“An Imperial Slaver on official business!” Will’s companion snarled. “Who dares stand in my way?” The cloaked stranger straightened to his full height, seeming to gain several inches in height and breadth all of a sudden. He cut an imposing, if not downright intimidating, figure towering over the tallest soldier by a good hand span.
The soldier backed away hastily. Will’s companion gave a sharp yank at the rope. Will stumbled forward and went down to his knees.
“Get up, you lazy cur!” his captor snapped.
The soldiers laughed as Will climbed to his feet awkwardly without the use of his hands. He’d torn one knee of his pants, and cold mud slid down his shin as the rope yanked once more. This time he was ready for it, though, and managed to keep his feet. The stranger’s long strides carried him past the Slaver’s Guild so quickly Will had to jog every few steps to keep up.
A voice called from behind them, “Oi there! I thought you said you was on Slaver’s Guild business.”
The stranger stopped so fast Will ran into him from behind. It earned him a sharp elbow to the ribs and another snapped admonition, this time to watch where he went. Will doubled over in pain. Carrying the act a little far, wasn’t the guy?
The stranger turned deliberately. Stared down the soldiers before enunciating clearly, “This slave is sick. I’m taking him to the Heart to get him cured so I can sell him. Have you got a problem with that?”
On cue, since he was already bent over, Will made a heaving sound. It was not entirely an act. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the soldiers leap back.
“Uhh, right. We’ll be letting you get on with it, then. Don’ wan’ no contagion spreading through the city.”
Without deigning to reply, Will’s companion whirled and strode onward, dragging Will along behind him like a lamb on a leash. They passed down several side streets and emerged into another square, this one dominated by the giant, whitewashed Heart building with its jaunty red and yellow trim. A red heart was painted dead center on the front door, five straight red points and five curved yellow sun rays arrayed around it.
The cloaked man took off his glove to pound on the door, and Will stared in disbelief at the coal black skin of his temporary captor. Was he a nulvari? One of the fabled dark elves of Under Urth? The glove slipped back on, and the black-on-black flesh disappeared.
A healer opened the portal, peering out into the night. “We are not dispensing potions to purify blood from the effects of liquor tonight owing to excessive demand. Come back on the morrow if you’ve a severe headache and we’ll give you a powder to ease the ache in your skull.” The door started to close.
“Hold,” the cloaked man said with unmistakable authority. “I come on other business. Tell the High Matriarch a friend calls.”
“How did you know she is here? She has only arrived within the hour!”
“Just give her my message!” the nulvari snapped.
“And what is that friend’s name?”
“Give her this.” The stranger held out his fist and Will glimpsed a brief, metallic flash but did not see what object was contained within the grip. A ring mayhap? Or a token of some kind?
It was no more than a minute until the healer was back at the door. “One moment, please. I must drop the shield.”
“Be quick about it. This is no night to have your wizard’s lockdown,” the stranger admonished.
“Enter,” the healer directed from out of sight.
Will followed the stranger inside the Heart chapter house. It looked much like the Castlegate Falls Heart common room at a glance, albeit less threadbare. A common room dominated the ground floor, and several people wearing the Heart’s white tabards ranged around it tending to people in various stages of injury and healing.
These sorts of magics were foreign to Will, and he watched in fascination as a mage worked, a glow trickling from both his hands where they lay on a man’s clearly broken forearm. The patient moaned and writhed a bit but didn’t seem to be in unbearable pain as the bones were being knit back together
The cloaked stranger murmured, “You may release the manacles.”
Will did so with alacrity. He was roundly sick of being hauled around like a piece of meat. That was enough of slavery for him, thanks be.
Another flash of white indicated the stranger had smiled deep within his cloak. “Disliked shackles, did you? Never forget what they feel like.”
“Yes, Master,” Will said with a bite of sarcasm.
His companion’s head whipped in Will’s direction. What? What had he said to merit such a reaction? After all, the fellow was preaching at him like a schoolmaster.
The healer who’d let them in returned. “Follow me. High Matriarch Lenora is waiting for you.”
Stars! Who was this cloaked man he’d taken up with to merit an instant audience with the highest-ranking healer in the entire colony, and late at night at that? Not to mention the nulvari had faced down the soldiers in Slaver’s Square as if he were the governor himself.
Will followed the men upstairs, a few guttering candles in sconces lighting their way. Their Heart guide knocked on an age-blackened door.
“Enter!” The female voice was warm. Pleasant. But strong. And it turned out to belong to a human woman with blue, twinkling eyes and dark hair mussed as if she tugged at it often.
Will’s companion stepped forward, his black cloak billowing like the wings of night itself. He pushed his hood back to reveal a shock of brilliant red hair in stark contrast to his midnight black complexion. Nulvari. Will stared at the elf. His kind were exceedingly rare in these parts. At least aboveground.
The High Matriarch cried out in obvious pleasure, “Selea. Welcome! And who have we here?” She had spotted Will.
For his part, Will gaped in shock. Selea? Could it be? Was this the man his father had named as one of his companions on his quest to find the Sleeping King? An assassin? What in stars’ name had his father been doing keeping company with one such as this? Not to mention this cold stranger hardly struck Will as the type to go haring off across hill and dale in search of some mythic sleeping king. The more he learned of his father, the more questions piled up about him.
If only Ty were alive to explain all of this. To tell Will everything. He missed his parents almost more than he could bear at times. He would even be glad for his father’s stern visage and frequent criticisms if Ty were but alive to deliver them.
Selea spoke, interrupting Will’s despondent thoughts. “I bring you a lad in need of healing and a safe place to spend the night.”
He really wished they’d all quit referring to him as a lad, or boy, or youngling.
“Is he in trouble with the law?” Lenora asked shrewdly.
“Not that I know of.” The elf fixed his sinister gaze on Will. “Are the authorities looking for you?”
“Nobody even knows my name,” Will answered carefully. He wasn’t exactly sure where a lynch mob featuring the Celestial Order of the Dragon and the Mage’s Guildmaster ranked on the scale of official or unofficial, but he didn’t particularly feel like asking.
The matriarch shot him a penetrating look. “I hear evasion in your voice. But given the company you arrived in, I will take your word at face value for now.” Her voice and expression abruptly waxed serious. “Know, however, that I will not allow you to abuse the sanctity of this house and its special status within the Empire. We do not harbor criminals.”
Will frowned. He knew little of the Heart. “What special status?”
The healer smiled warmly once
more. “That question requires a very long answer. Suffice it to say that the House of the Healing Heart enjoys a certain … standing … in the Empire.”
“How did that come to be?” Will asked, ever curious.
“An equally long answer. Another time perhaps.” She turned back to the dark elf. “What danger follows this young man that you bring him to me?”
Selea shrugged. “I cannot say for certain. An old acquaintance asked me to look after him.”
Who in Dupree knew of him to ask this strange man to take care of him? Aurelius? But he and his knight had tried to kill Will—
Of a sudden Selea’s comments about how to kill him subtly took on new and alarming significance. The elf had already gained his trust and brought him to trustworthy people!
“Why you? And why this boy?” Lenora demanded bluntly.
“Rumors and portents,” the nulvari answered vaguely.
“What’s this?” the matriarch blurted, startled. “What portents?”
“Mostly mumbo jumbo. But so many seers are reporting similar visions and prophecies that there may be some small value in listening to them.”
The matriarch’s blue eyes twinkled. “Yon boy looks like a simple street urchin to me. A sick, hungry, tired, and filthy one. Hardly the stuff of portents and prophecies, old man.”
Old man? Will glanced sidelong at the nulvari. He certainly didn’t move like an aged person.
“Who gives these prophecies of yours?”
Selea shrugged. “I am not at liberty to say.”
Lenora looked over at Will with renewed interest. “Well then. I guess you’re spending the night here, young man.”
“Thank you.” He gave the pair the short, formal bow that his mother had taught him.
The nulvari startled Will by returning the bow courteously, as elven etiquette dictated.
Lenora waved off the formality. “So tell me. Who is out to harm you?”
Perhaps it was the exchange of bows that put him in mind of it, but an evasive response born of inspiration that was purely his mother’s smooth social skills struck Will. He answered lightly, “My mother, I should think. When she realizes I have not returned home this night, she’ll grab up the nearest frying pan and come looking for me with murder on her mind.”