“Hmph!” she added.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go pick up some more supplies for tonight’s excitement.” He looked at Miranda. “My wife will be happy to stay here, won’t you, my love?” She glared at him, but she got off her horse and started leading it toward the river. “If you set up the fire,” he called out, “I’ll be happy to light it when I get back.”

  She flashed him a very unladylike gesture over her shoulder and kept going.

  Rellen looked at Javyk and rolled his eyes. “Isn’t love just grand?”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Yaylo and Milord

  The journey to Yaylo was blessedly uneventful.

  When Tavyn and Mygal joined the caravan, they wore a fresh set of clothing and even a few pieces of light armor. Tavyn had reverted to a combination deep blue and indigo garments with a black cloak. Mygal wore green and gray leathers under a hardened, black leather cuirass.

  There had been little conversation along the way, as Rellen wanted to make a point that Tavyn and Mygal were working with them but there were still some hard feelings. Xilly kept pace through the forest during the day, and each night, Rellen prepared a new spell or potion, digging deep into his repertoire so he could be as ready as possible.

  Each day, Dancer grew weaker and weaker, to the point where Javyk had to help him into and out of the carriage, a thing Rellen was actually surprised to see. It was as if Javyk actually cared for Dancer and his plight. It didn’t match up with his notion of a man capable of slaughtering the duke and his family.

  Rellen had never seen severe Mavric sickness before, but there was no doubt the plunnokum was slowly killing Dancer. As much as he hated when death took a life, he could find no pity or compassion in his heart for Dancer.

  Rolling hills gave way to flat country after the third day and thick forests turned to farmland on the morning of the sixth. The air now smelled of the sea. Gulls danced amidst a spotty, low ceiling of puffy clouds, and there was no sign of rain. Rellen had never been to Yaylo, or even this far south before, so he took in the new sights and sounds with at least a little wonder. He’d grown up in Corsia and spent most of his military career in the Demonspine Mountains or the central valley of Pelinon proper.

  In the distance, the high, white walls of Yaylo gleamed in the sun. It, like the king’s palace, was nearly a thousand years old, and its architecture was even more markedly different than Jabono’s had been. Every tower along the walls and within the city was topped by, what Rellen could only describe as, an inverted turnip, round on the sides and coming to a sharp point at the top. Those along the walls and topping the main fortress within were all a brilliant green, but those around the city had been painted an entire rainbow of hues. Rellen knew little of Yaylo’s history, other than that King Jakore IV had conquered the city and created the Duchy of Dharfaal almost three hundred years earlier in a particularly bloody war.

  A vast port stretched out to the left and right of the city, with the towering masts of sea-going ships poking up like the spines of some bizarre reptile. Rellen had to admit, Yaylo truly was a beautiful city by the sea, at least at this distance, and he found himself thinking its beauty even rivaled the grandeur of his own home city of Corsia.

  A quarter mile from the city, the caravan turned off the King’s Highway, headed for an enclave as usual. Javyk’s carriage, however, continued on, straight through the main gate, passing beneath the largest iron portcullis Rellen had ever seen.

  The city streets were even more busy than Jabono’s had been, and the clothing here had a distinct style to it, with splashes of bright color, accentuated by sashes and turbans of metallic silk. Yaylo was a city of wealth, and it showed clearly in the garments and jewelry of the people going about their business.

  The carriage had gone several blocks when a small, gray bird fluttered out of the sky and landed on the windowsill of the carriage. Javyk’s hands appeared, grasping the bird, and then disappeared from view.

  A messenger, Rellen thought. Some zokurios were able to utilize birds and other creatures to deliver messages. Usually, the distances involved were not great, and both the zokurios and the animal had to have encountered either the destination or the person intended. It was one of the skills he wished Miranda possessed. Although she was able to hurt or heal any living thing, such complex manipulation and control of wildlife was beyond her.

  Several minutes later, the bird appeared on the windowsill and fluttered out of sight, headed toward the ocean. Javyk leaned out the door and slapped the side of the carriage.

  “Mr. Bawth, take us to the Star of the Seven Sisters.”

  “Yes, milord,” the old driver called back. “Straightaway.”

  Javyk then turned and motioned for Rellen to come closer.

  Rellen gave Shaddeth a squeeze and caught up with the carriage. He took a quick glance at Dancer and fought to keep the shock off his face. Only partially hidden by his hood, Dancer was ghostly white and gaunt. Dark circles ringed his sunken eyes, and he seemed to have lost a frightening amount of weight, with his cheekbones and jaw pronounced to the point that Rellen could almost make out the shape of his skull.

  The most disturbing part of it was, Dancer had willingly—even enthusiastically endured it. He seemed grateful for the privilege of carrying that damn plunnokum. Rellen had seen the fervor—the adoration of Nissrans in Calamath. But this? This was something else altogether, and it sent a shiver down his spine. If all Nissrans were equally willing to endure such torture, then Pelinon was in terrible danger.

  He tore his eyes away without giving any reaction and fixed his gaze upon Javyk. He didn’t want to ask the obvious question. If Javyk didn’t offer, Rellen wouldn’t pry.

  “I’ve just received word from my employer.”

  “I hope this is about our coin.”

  “Indeed it is. We’re headed there now. You will be introduced to my employer—briefly, so he may offer his thanks, pay you in full, and dismiss you. From there, you can go about your business, but I would like to have a means of contacting you in the future. I’ve been very pleased with your performance.”

  “We’ll be in Yaylo for a while, at least,” Rellen replied, keeping the disappointment off his face. “I’ve never been here before, and one city is as good as the last in my line of work. You should be able to contact us through the local Hunter’s Guild, if nothing else.” He glanced up to see Xilly circling overhead. If they were dismissed, he’d need her help to follow Javyk and this mysterious employer to wherever it was they were going. It would be harder, riskier, but he’d have no choice. “It’ll be some time before we’re willing to go back through Jabono, and the only other way north are the long roads east or west along the mountains… either that or a ship around the coast.”

  “Excellent,” Javyk said, and then he disappeared back into the carriage.

  For the next thirty minutes, they made their way through the heart of Yaylo, a magnificent, bustling city. The amount of goods being moved around made Corsia look like a village. It wasn’t surprising, though. Yaylo was the biggest seaport on the southern half of Pelinon.

  The smell of the sea grew even stronger as the carriage rolled. Soon the scents of grain, lumber, and fish most of all, joined it.

  They entered a more residential part of the city. Foot traffic turned to carriages. Cotton garments turned to silk. Shops and warehouses were replaced by large two and three-story manor houses along the cobblestone streets. Most of those had wide gardens, with fountains or statues out front and elaborate carriage houses in the back. These were the homes of the wealthy and influential.

  The sound of the ocean and cries of sea birds rose upon the air. They made a last turn toward the water and entered a very different sort of business district. One and two-story shops, clothiers, and eateries lined the streets. In the main part of Yaylo, goods had been moved about on carts and wagons, mixed in with the populace, but not here. There was not a single crate, wagon, or cart along the main street. Whatever goods came in, they came in through the back door, along with the servants, or were stored in the alleys between the buildings.

  They were only two blocks from the sea, where a set of long piers stretched away, lined mostly with a variety of smaller sea vessels. These were not the massive cargo ships whose masts Rellen had seen lining the port when they first approached Yaylo. They were the vessels of nobles, with intricate woodwork, colorful sails, and deckhands standing along the docks in bright livery, awaiting their master’s beck and call.

  At the far end of the pier was a larger passenger transport of some kind, one of fine quality that shouted wealth. Atop its tallest mast was the silver, yellow, and purple pennon of the Duchy of Kaichakahn.

  Mr. Bawth drove the carriage down the center of the cobblestone street, drawing the attention of people walking in and out of the shops. Rellen realized it wasn’t the carriage they were staring at; it was him and his companions. He straightened his back and put a haughty smile on his face, making a point to nod at the dark-skinned lords and ladies who stared at him with open disdain.

  They reached the end of the street, and the carriage pulled up in front of a two-story, white structure that was obviously an inn and tavern for the nobility. The sign hanging over the fine, wooden double doors read, “The Star of the Seven Sisters.”

  A stiff-looking man in crimson livery stood just outside the doors, and he quickly stepped down and opened the carriage door.

  Javyk stepped out, paying the attendant no attention at all, and looked up to the driver. “Take Dancer to the last ship on the right, Mr. Bawth,” he said, tossing up a sack of coins, which the old man caught deftly. “The deck hands will see to his needs from there. After that, you are released from my service and free to return to Svennival. I thank you for your diligence.”

  “Yes, milord,” Bawth replied with a curt nod. “And thank you.”

  Javyk turned to Rellen. “Leave your horses here. We won’t be long, and I assure you, no one will meddle with them.” He glanced at the attendant. “Will they?”

  “No, milord,” the attendant said crisply. He glanced at Rellen and the others with just the barest hint of an upturned nose, then barked, “Boys!” At that, four lads, no more than twelve years old, in the same red livery, came dashing out of the inn and stopped in front of the attendant. “Mind these steeds.”

  The boys nodded crisply and slowly approached the horses, careful not to spook them.

  “Please join me inside,” Javyk said. “Someone will guide you to us.” He then strode up the steps and disappeared through the doors, with the attendant following closely.

  As Mr. Bawth guided the carriage away, Rellen and the others dismounted, handing the reins over to the boys.

  “Let me do the talking,” Rellen said to his comrades. He then stepped up close to Mygal and whispered, “Try and get a read on Javyk’s employer, but be careful. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

  Mygal nodded and then closed his eyes. He seemed to mutter something under his breath, and Rellen realized the young Guardians was casting a spell of some sort.

  Mygal opened his eyes. “There,” he said in a hushed tone, “that should make anything I do relatively undetectable.”

  Satisfied, Rellen led the four of them up the steps where another lad in the same red livery stood waiting for them. “If you will follow me, please,” he said with a bow.

  “Lead the way,” Rellen replied.

  The interior was open, with wide tables throughout and curtained booths along one wall. The tables, covered with white tablecloths, were already set with cloth napkins and silver finery. Everything was done in dark wood and silver.

  The attendant led them back and to the right, where another set of doors opened up onto a wide patio full of tables. It looked out onto the docks, and fresh sea air blew through. The patio was empty except for a single table off to the left where Javyk leaned over a slim gentleman in fine clothing, whispering in his ear. A leather sack lay in the middle of the table, and there was a decanter off to the side, half full of wine, and a slim glass of the same in front of the gentleman. An empty plate with traces of a meal sat off to the side.

  The man stood up straight as Rellen and the others entered the patio. He was obviously of the nobility, with a black goatee and brown, intelligent eyes. He had the darker skin of the southern peoples and wore crisp, silken robes of deep indigo with bright yellow trim and embroidery. He had a thick, gold ring on each pinky, hoop earrings of gold. He also wore a thin, crimson turban held in place at the front with a large ruby surrounded by diamonds in a silver setting.

  The nobleman smiled in a friendly way, motioning for Rellen and the others to join him. His eyes met Rellen’s, and a bizarre flash of recognition flared in Rellen’s mind. He knew he’d never seen this man before, but there was a strange familiarity about what lay behind those eyes, and it sent a chill up Rellen’s spine. In that moment, Rellen knew he’d met the real enemy, but he had no idea why or what this man was really after.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you… Rellen, isn’t it?” the nobleman said.

  “It is,” Rellen replied smoothly.

  “This must be your lovely wife, Miranda, followed by Tygeth and Maybor, yes?”

  They nodded in reply.

  “I am Toreth sun’Harrai, and I’ve heard good things about you from Javyk.” He motioned toward the four empty chairs. Please, sit down.” Toreth’s eyes flicked to Mygal and back to Rellen without any change in his expression. They all took their seats, and as they settled in, Toreth whispered something in Javyk’s ear. Javyk nodded.

  “Right away, milord,” Javyk said and then strode off into the building.

  “I was originally going to simply pay you and send you on your way.” Toreth pushed the leather sack across the table. “There is what you are owed for your services. I’m a man of my word. However, now that I’ve laid eyes on you, I’d like to encourage you to stay.”

  “What is it you require?” Rellen asked, suddenly worried that Javyk might be going to come back with a pack of Nissrans.

  Toreth’s lips turned up into a slim smile. “Why, you, of course.”

  Rellen’s eyebrow went up. There was something about the way Toreth said it that made his skin crawl.

  “I need capable men,” he glanced at Miranda, “and women who can help ensure my goals are achieved.”

  “That’s a bit vague,” Rellen said, and he was certain Toreth had meant him in particular. What is it about him?

  “It’s as precise as I’m willing to be for the time being,” Toreth replied smoothly. “Suffice it to say that I was given the impression all four of you—a most capable group, I might add—were more interested in coin than in the nature of the work, so long as it wasn’t an affront to, what I would describe as, your relatively low—but not criminal—ethical standard.”

  “I’ve never heard it said better.”

  “Well, I can assure you that I’ll never ask you to do anything you would be unwilling to undertake.”

  All Rellen could think of was how Dancer was literally giving his life to Toreth’s goals and what the chancellor in Jabono had said about the second degree of Nissran possession. He knew Toreth was inviting him into his lair. He didn’t know when it would come, or from who, but at some point, Toreth was going to try and possess all four of them.

  He stared into the jaws of a dragon and didn’t flinch.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” he replied evenly. With that one sentence, the Vuoda hole got that much deeper. As they stared at one another, he thought he saw the corner of Toreth’s mouth turn up just a fraction of an inch. “I’d like to talk it over with my associates before we give you our answer, but I’d say the odds are good.”

  “I would pay you the same as you’ve earned protecting my people,” Toreth assured him. “I have taken care of them, and I would take care of you.” He pointed out toward the ocean. “Do you see that ship out there? The big one.”

  Everyone turned. It was the large transport flying the bright pennon.

  “Yes,” Rellen said, turning back.

  “It sets sail in four hours, bound for its home port of Kaichakahn. Javyk and I will be on it.”

  A slight commotion rose at the entrance to the patio, drawing everyone’s attention. Javyk appeared with a host of waiters in tow.

  “Ahh… excellent,” Toreth said, sounding quite pleased. “Your timing is perfect, Javyk, as usual. My friends, I have arranged for you to enjoy a meal, with my compliments, as you mull over your decision.” He fixed his gaze upon Rellen. “I’m sure you have much to discuss. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering today’s special, a delightfully delicate fish of some kind, although I never caught the name. I’m certain you will enjoy it as much as I did.”

  With that, Toreth rose from his seat and gave them all a low, almost dramatic bow. “Eat and drink to your heart’s content. Consider it a bonus for services rendered. Should any of you decide to join me, then you need only board that ship. Passage will be arranged, comfortable cabins set aside, and your mounts can be stowed below decks along with the other steeds.” He stepped around the table, giving Rellen a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I sincerely hope you give my offer very serious consideration.”

  “Don’t worry, we will,” Rellen replied, trying not to shy away from Toreth’s hand.

  “Come, Javyk, let us see to the arrangements,” Toreth said, striding away as the waiters started sliding plates in front of everyone.

  “Yes, milord,” Javyk replied. He stepped in behind Toreth, and they were gone.

  “What was that—?” Mygal started.

  Rellen locked eyes with him and held up a single finger, cutting Mygal off. Rellen glanced at the waiters and stared at Mygal, who got the message. The waiters served each of them a pleasant-smelling dish and set two more carafes of wine on the table, two pitchers of ale, and all the silverware, glasses, and napkins they would need. Finally, a large basket of fresh bread was set in the center of the table, and the waiters left.