“Thank you, old friend,” Thorfyll said.

  Rellen was surprised to hear a Delver say something like that, even to a Kapren.

  “Come on, lad,” Thorfyll said, turning. “There’s juice and pastries out there, and the sunshine is glorious.” Without another word, Thorfyll turned and walked out the door he’d entered through.

  Rellen followed onto a wide balcony overlooking the city square. The fountain splashed a short distance away, birds sang somewhere along the rooftops above, and the sunshine, was, in fact glorious, casting the entire balcony in bright, warm, sunlight. Several chairs sat around a table where it looked as if Thorfyll—and perhaps Jassym—had been having a light meal before Rellen interrupted them. There were two decanters of fruit juice, one full and one empty, as well as a platter of pastries and a large tray of meats and cheeses.

  Thorfyll motioned for Rellen to take a seat and then poured each of them a glass of the amber fruit juice. Thorfyll took a sip of the juice, eying Rellen carefully. “What brought you to the academy?”

  “I needed answers, and this was the only place between Sylverwynd and Yaylo where I might get them. Even coming here was a long shot.” Rellen wondered how much he could or even should tell the Delver.

  “And the man you travel with?” Thorfyll asked, raising an eyebrow. “The pale, thin one in black. How did you come to be in his company?”

  Rellen bit his lips. Should he tell the Delver everything? “I’ll answer that question, but first I need to know something.”

  “Ask.”

  “Do you know who—I mean what I am?”

  Thorfyll looked at him, as if he were a scholar gazing upon a portrait he’d studied his entire life. “You are Rellen of Corsia. Born Rellen Falcoria, the eldest son of King Saren II and his first and only wife Lewellyn, may she rest in peace. You abdicated the role of king six years ago—having never placed the crown upon your head—and became a Guardian shortly thereafter at the behest of King Saren III. You are now the ninth of thirteen Guardians, at last count. You are both a warrior and symkurios of respectable ability.” Thorfyll leaned back, a thoughtful expression upon his face. “And had I known you were involved before our attack on that wretch Javyk, I would have elicited your help beforehand.”

  “Help with what?”

  “Solving a mystery,” Thorfyll said, “a very old one.”

  “The duke of Svennival was just murdered,” Rellen said.

  “Not that mystery. While lamentable—Belvenim was a good man—his demise is of no import to us. Dukes come and go.”

  “Us, who is us?” Rellen felt like the conversation was unraveling. The bloody Delver was only making things worse—stacking mystery on top of mystery.

  “The Klymrukaar, of course,” Thorfyll said, as if Rellen were a confused child. “I wish there was more I could tell you, but for now, I will tell you what little I can. It will be much more than I should. You see, I believe your presence is fortuitous… perhaps even more than that.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as if he were contemplating how far to test a boundary. “There are those,” he started slowly, “who would rather all of this get quickly and quietly buried… forgotten in the dust of time, just as we thought it had once been in the dust of Vladysh Belvenim’s study.”

  “The—what did the chancellor call it—the plunnokum?” Rellen asked. “That’s what you’re after, isn’t it?”

  “That and the sword, although, for very different reasons.” Thorfyll sat forward. “We recovered the sword, and it will soon make its way into the hands of its rightful heir. I and my associates came to Jabono via a dewkalve transport to make another attempt at killing Javyk and taking back the plunnokum. This time, with greater numbers.”

  “You say that as if you’ve changed your mind,” Rellen said.

  “I’m debating that very thing, and to do so would be to disobey an edict set down a thousand years ago.” Thorfyll stared deep into Rellen’s eyes. “Tell me, what are your intentions? Why is it that a Guardian of Pelinon travels with, nay, protects a villain such as Javyk Sukari?”

  “Because, before I execute him for the murder of Duke Belvenim, I need to know why he did it. And everything revolves around that damn artifact. He’s using a young man from Svennival to deliver it to someone in the south. Above all, I need to know not only who that is, but why they want it.”

  “Why is that answer so important to you?” Thorfyll asked.

  “I believe it has to do with the Nissrans, and it would appear their influence is growing. I’ll stop them, even destroy them if I can, and the best place to start is as high up in their ranks as I can reach. Whomever Javyk serves is likely to be high up, indeed.”

  “Your reasoning is sound,” Thorfyll said, “and I’m inclined to let you try, despite the greater risks.”

  “Risks, what risks?”

  “If we—now you—fail to stop Javyk and his master…” Thorfyll let out a long, calculating breath. “Well, let’s just say the resulting devastation to Pelinon and her allies could be beyond anyone’s comprehension.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rellen said, getting more frustrated with every word the Delver uttered. “Why does my involvement change anything?”

  “Because it serves the purposes of the Klymrukaar, and none of us can do what I believe needs doing. Humans breed much faster than Delvers, and we—well, I—believe, despite our best efforts, that a war is coming.”

  “War?” Rellen asked, a pang of worry coursing through him. “What war? Damn it, what are you talking about?”

  Thorfyll shook his head sadly, his face full of regret. “I’m sorry. It is not something I can speak of. At least, not yet. I know this must be maddening, but I’m constrained by an oath that goes back over a millennium. I’ve already said more than I should, but you must understand, everything I’ve said is for your benefit and with the best of intentions for all of us. More than anything, I want to at least point you in the right direction. You may be able to expose truths where I would be obligated to bury them.”

  “You speak in riddles,” Rellen blurted. “Can’t you just give me one straight answer?”

  Thorfyll was thoughtful for a moment and then he slowly nodded his head. “Yes, I believe I can.”

  “Thank the gods.”

  “As I said, we traveled by dewkalve to beat Javyk to Jabono and take back the plunnokum. I’ve concluded that doing so would be more harmful. Your presence opens a number of possibilities, and I believe those possibilities must be permitted to unfold.”

  “You’re doing it again,” Rellen warned.

  “I haven’t finished,” Thorfyll said, holding up a hand. “I believe it is now your duty, perhaps your destiny, to unravel the mystery behind the plunnokum. It’s a key, a very powerful one.”

  “A key to what?”

  “A door within a nuraghi.”

  “The chancellor already told me these plunnokoi are keys for locks in a nuraghi,” Rellen said. “What—”

  “Before you ask,” Thorfyll interrupted, holding up a hand, “we do not know which door or what lies behind it. We don’t even know where the nuraghi is. However, we are certain Javyk’s employer does. They seek what lies beyond, and we believe all their thought is focused upon opening it. Our initial intention was to simply take the key and lock it away in a place no one would ever find. However, I believe your presence has changed all that. With you involved—rather than the Klymrukaar—the truth may, finally, be known to all. I am inclined to trust to your abilities.”

  “If this is so important to the Klymrukaar, why trust me?”

  “Because, Rellen of Corsia, you have your father’s eyes. When I first learned you turned away from the throne and permitted your brother to take your place, I was more than impressed.”

  “Impressed? Why?”

  Thorfyll gave him a thoughtful look. “I’ve never known a human to turn aside power when it was within such easy reach. You may be just what I’ve been looking for, and for a very long time.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to explain that either.”

  Rellen gritted his teeth. He’d had just about enough of the obtuse, little Delver.

  “Suffice it to say,” Thorfyll continued, “as a Guardian of Pelinon, your duty coincides with our… or rather my designs. This has not happened since the war with the Kapren, but I am inclined to trust the portents.”

  “So, what happens next?” Rellen asked, exasperation filling his voice.

  “Continue on your way. Stay with these Nissrans. Follow them to whatever it is they seek. But—and I cannot emphasize this enough—once they use that key, stop them at all costs from going any further. You cannot permit them to reach whatever lies beyond. Stop them. Kill them. At that point, find us, and we will see what we will see.”

  “How will I know how to reach you?”

  “Send word to Jassym. She knows how to reach me.”

  Rellen let out a long, frustrated breath. “You know, I think this may have been the most exasperating conversation I’ve ever had… and I’m certain I’m not much better off than when we started.”

  Thorfyll smiled. “Trust me, you are, you just don’t know it yet.” He rose to his feet. “I’m afraid I have to get going. This change in plans requires me to attend to a few things before they go into motion. I will, however, leave you with one warning.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Whatever you do, do not touch that key directly, and keep any exposure to a minimum. The satchel they procured in Sylverwynd will protect you, but without it, you can expect injury, pain, and a slow death.”

  “So it is Mavric iron?”

  “In part… and much more.” Thorfyll stared at Rellen for several moments. “Farewell, Rellen. Your journey is certain to be perilous. For the sake of us all, we must hope you are up to the task.” The Delver turned and strode out through a different door. When it closed, Rellen just sat there, shaking his head.

  “Bloody Delvers,” he muttered. He looked at Xilly. Remind me to never trust a Delver to make things better, would you?

  I promise, she said.

  * * *

  Rellen sat astride Shaddeth with Xilly perched upon his shoulder. He was lost in thought as he waited for his companions just outside the southern gate of Jabono. He’d gone over the conversation again and again, looking for some clue, some bit of information that might just make sense of it all. He wondered how the others would take to the idea of entering a nuraghi.

  “What’s wrong?” Miranda asked as she, Mygal, and Tavyn rode up.

  “Hmmm? What?” He said, turning his gaze to her.

  “From the looks of it, you didn’t get the answer you wanted.”

  “Oh, I got answers, alright,” Rellen snapped.

  Several heartbeats ticked by as Rellen continued to fume.

  “Well?” Miranda asked, an expectant look on her face.

  “That thing Dancer has been carrying? I know what to call it now. It’s a plunnokum.” He was starting to take a perverse delight in leading her on, the way that damn Delver had led him on.

  “A plunnokum.” Miranda’s expression was blank. She blinked her eyes several times, waiting for him to elaborate. Obviously, she was better at this game than he was.

  “It’s a key. And it opens a door…” He blew out an angry breath.

  “That’s it?” Miranda asked, cocking her head to the side. “It’s a key and it opens a door?”

  “That’s right,” Rellen growled. “I have no idea where the bloody door is, let alone what’s on the other side.” He slapped his thigh. “Oh! I do know it’s in a nuraghi. And we have to go in.”

  Everyone’s eyes went wide, and the driver of a wagon passing by gave Rellen a shocked look before quickly turning away. Nuraghi were things decent people didn’t talk about.

  “Wait a minute,” Mygal said, holding up a finger. “I thought you said going into a nuraghi was bad.”

  “It is, but it looks like that’s where we’re headed. To open a door. With a key.”

  “How’d you learn all this?” Miranda asked.

  For a moment, Rellen considered telling them everything, but his good sense got the better of him. Not even Mygal was in a position to be aware of the Klymrukaar. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to know… only the king. Then there was the matter of Miranda and, especially, Tavyn. They certainly couldn’t know about the Delver organization. If he told them one of the Delvers he’d fought in Sylverwynd was his source, he’d have to go bounding down that Vuoda hole, and he wasn’t prepared to do that.

  “I learned it in the magic academy,” he finally replied, and let out another frustrated breath. He didn’t like keeping them in the dark, but he had no choice. “We were right about one thing. It’s made of or at least has Mavric iron in it. Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”

  “Well, that’s something, at least,” Miranda said, giving him a patient smile.

  “I suppose,” Rellen said grumpily. “I swear, I’ve never had questions stack up like this. It’s maddening.”

  “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

  He rolled his eyes and stared off toward the south. Whatever Javyk’s employer wanted, it was down there—somewhere.

  “Rellen,” Miranda said, “there’s something you should know.” The way she said it made the hairs on Rellen’s neck rise.

  “What’s that?”

  “My friend, the constable, told me that three people have gone missing in the past week—people of means, not dregs—and one of them turned up this morning… butchered.” She leaned over and handed him a piece of vellum. “The man had this carved into his forehead.”

  Rellen took the vellum, and when he opened it, his blood went cold. He lifted harrowed eyes and peered through the city gates into the bustling city of Jabono.

  “Curse them,” he growled. “Curse all Nissran swine.” He crumpled up the vellum with a creak of straining leather as his gloved hand tightened into a fist. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

  Miranda nodded slowly.

  “What’s going on, Rellen?” Mygal asked. “How many cities does that make?”

  “They’ve turned up in at least three that I know of, and I doubt that’s all of them at this point.”

  “So, what do we do now?” Tavyn asked. “Same plan?”

  “It has to be.” He turned to Miranda. “Did you get everything arranged with the constable?”

  She nodded. “He’ll make the announcement and post bounties for two escaped prisoners. There will even be sketches of two different people. That should keep any bounty hunters from spotting us in the unlikely event they track us to the caravan. I’m not too worried about it.”

  “Good.” Rellen said. He turned to Tavyn. “Miranda and I will go join Javyk and play dumb. You two stay in the city for two nights and then join the caravan as fast as you can.”

  “It shouldn’t be a problem,” Tavyn said. “And I’ll take the opportunity to collect on what you owe me.” He patted the tattoo on his arm beneath his tunic sleeve.

  “You do that, just be careful. Use one of the collector’s offices on the other side of the city from where you met the constable.”

  “Good idea,” Tavyn said. “We’ll find an inn near there as well.”

  “One other thing,” Rellen added, “if you don’t have glowstones, get one or two. If we’re headed into a nuraghi, then the odds are it’ll be dark. The ruins I’ve been in were generally built deep into the earth, with most of the structure underground. And get extra food.”

  Mygal said, “I did have one question.”

  “What?”

  “What if those Delvers show up again? You’ll be outnumbered pretty badly, even if there’s only six of them like last time. They might even come at you with reinforcements.”

  “We’ll have to risk it,” Rellen said. “But I’m not too worried. I doubt they’ll come this far south to get us. Delvers rarely get too far from the mountains or their duchy.” The good news was, that lie was mostly true. “Be on the lookout for them, though.”

  “I will,” Mygal said.

  “And from here on out, I want everyone on guard. This thing keeps getting bigger and bigger, and I have no idea where it’s going to lead us. Understood?”

  They all nodded.

  “Then let’s get going,” he said, looking at Miranda. “I don’t want to raise Javyk’s suspicions. We’ve come too far to make a stupid mistake now.”

  He shook Shaddeth’s reins and edged him up to a trot. Miranda fell in beside him, and they left the city gates of Jabono behind. The enclave was about a half mile away, down a long hill, and set along the bank of the river. It was virtually identical to the one in Sylverwynd, and it looked as if seven large caravans were camped there.

  Rellen and Miranda entered the enclave and located Javyk’s carriage in short order, again set slightly apart from the others. They rode up to find Mr. Bawth getting a fire started. Javyk seemed to be inspecting Dancer’s back again, but he quickly lowered the young man’s tunic as Rellen and Miranda drew near. He stepped away from Dancer and waved, giving them an almost friendly smile as they rode up.

  “I take it things went well?” Javyk asked.

  “They did. We got our bounty—” Rellen patted a saddlebag for emphasis “—and everything is set for tonight. If you hear us getting up in the middle of the night, don’t worry. We’ll attend to our business and be back in a couple of hours. Nothing is going to happen to you this close to Jabono with all these King’s Teamsters around.”

  “Very good. What happens after your excursion tonight?”

  “Our friends will stay here in Jabono an extra day or two in a room under my name. No one will see them enter or leave, and they’ll head out the following day. At that point, they’re just two travelers hurrying to catch up with a caravan. I still need to arrange for them to join—under different names of course, but that won’t be a problem.”

  “I must say, you are very efficient,” Javyk said.

  “I’m… we’re—” he corrected, glancing at Miranda who glared at him with her hands on her hips, “—good at what we do.”