“Don’t say anything yet,” Rellen said softly. Then he asked, Xilly, are you near?

  Look up. There was a faint scratching sound on the roof above, and Rellen spotted her small, black head peak over the edge two stories up.

  Follow them and tell me if they go any place other than the ship. Stay out of sight though.

  I will. What happens if you get on that ship? I can’t fly that far over the ocean without eating and sleeping.

  The ship leaves around the time it gets dark. I’ll open a porthole and you’ll stay in my cabin during the journey.

  Excellent, she replied, and her thought faded.

  He pulled a large patch of cotton from a pouch at his belt. Focusing his majea, he whispered an incantation as he twisted it out into a long strand, coiled it around his finger several times, and then drew a series of small symbols with that finger on the tablecloth. The cotton flared faintly with pale white light and dimmed. Placing the loop of cotton in the middle of the table, he let out a long, relieved breath. “Now the staff can’t hear us, but don’t raise your voices. First of all, Xilly is going to see where they go.”

  “So, what was that all about?” Mygal blurted. “I thought they were going to let us go, and he seemed particularly interested in you, Rellen.”

  “Caught that, did you?” Rellen said.

  “He wants you,” Miranda said, “and I mean you specifically.”

  “It was like he couldn’t take his eyes off you,” Tavyn added.

  “Were you able to sense anything?” Rellen asked, turning his eyes to Mygal.

  “I didn’t push hard. The lightest of touches, just to get a sense of his emotions as we spoke.” He shook his head. “It was… strange.”

  “Strange how?”

  “It’s hard to put into words…” Mygal’s brow furrowed as he considered what to say. “Normally, I get fluctuating emotions from people from one moment to the next. Normal stuff as our emotions drive—or are driven by—our thoughts. Javyk is like that, in fact. But Toreth… I didn’t really get anything but determination from him. Singular. No sense of whether he was telling the truth or lying. No love, like, or hate. Even when he said he enjoyed his meal, there was nothing except that sense of determination. It was as if he was capable of nothing else.”

  “Maybe he had some sort of counter-spell up,” Rellen offered.

  “I suppose,” Mygal said. “I have one of my own, although it takes real concentration to maintain it.”

  “Remember that feeling. It may be a way for us to detect those who have been possessed by Nissra.”

  “You think he’s possessed?” Tavyn asked.

  “I don’t know.” Rellen replied. “If he is, then it means the game has changed somewhat and this Vuoda hole just became a trap. But even if we know who’s going to spring it, we don’t know when, where, or how. It’s vital I see this through to wherever that plunnokum leads. Mygal and I have to go. It’s our duty.” He looked at Miranda and Tavyn. “The two of you don’t. I won’t lie. Toreth is a Nissran, high up in their ranks, if I’m not mistaken, and if he gains the upper hand…” Rellen shivered. He didn’t fear death, but the thought of being butchered alive by a Nissran pleasing his god scared the life out of him. “I’ve seen what they do, and I can’t imagine a worse way to die.”

  The table went silent for a moment. Miranda met Rellen’s eyes, and he knew in an instant what her answer would be. She’d said she was there for the money, but he knew she was there for him—just as he would be if their roles were reversed. He gave her the briefest of nods, an unspoken thank you that could never possibly be put into words. As he did, a wash of dread filled him at the thought of Miranda falling into the hands of the Nissrans. He cast Mygal a sidelong glance and realized he felt something similar for the young Guardian. Mygal was only at the beginning of his journey as a Guardian, and somehow, the young man had gotten past Rellen’s defenses. Unlike his old comrade Voren, Rellen feared for Mygal’s safety. Maybe it was because he was Mygal’s mentor. Maybe it was the conversation he’d had with his brother. A dark, creeping worry seeped into his bones.

  “What about you, Tavyn?” he asked. He fully expected Tavyn to flat out refuse. He could see the struggle in Tavyn’s face as he mulled over the idea for several heartbeats.

  “Alright,” he finally said, “I’m in too.”

  Rellen controlled his surprise. Tavyn’s willingness seemed out of place for a coin-driven informant out of Svennival. There was no reason what-so-ever for him to risk so much for so little reward.

  “Are you sure?” Rellen asked. “We may all end up screaming on a slab of granite, gutted under a Nissran blade.”

  “I’ve come this far,” Tavyn replied, giving Rellen a weak, resigned smile, and then he gave Mygal a strange nod.

  It was an almost flippant response—too flippant for Rellen’s comfort. The money Rellen and Toreth were paying him didn’t even come close to justifying the risk.

  This Vuoda hole had more twists than a female Kapren’s horn.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The Taste of Sacrifice

  Toreth strode up the long, heavy gangplank of the Kaichakahn transport and nodded to two guards in the king’s livery who stood watch at the top. They bowed their heads respectfully and placed their hands over their hearts as he passed by. There were a half dozen more soldiers in the king’s livery on watch around the railing of the vessel, as well as several more gathered at the stern, on the quarterdeck.

  “Now that we’re alone,” Toreth said, glancing at Javyk, “I want to thank you, once again, for all you have done.” The smile on his face was sublime as they walked across the deck to the bow of the ship. “You continue to surpass every expectation.”

  “It has always been my greatest desire to serve you, Master,” Javyk said. “But these past two months have been a simple matter. Once I knew where the plunnokum was, murdering the duke and returning here was little more than a long carriage ride. I must admit, the trouble in Sylverwynd was disconcerting but not unexpected, thanks to your warning. I was surprised that it was Delvers who chose to involve themselves in your affairs. I’d expected the king’s troops—even Corsairs—if anyone. Do you know who they were?”

  Toreth let out a long, slow breath. “An ancient enemy, but they are of little concern at this point. Merely an obstacle we shall have to deal with once the door is opened and my position and power is more solidified. What matters is that the Delvers failed and you succeeded.” Toreth eyed Javyk appreciatively. “And in no small part because of your choice in protector.”

  “That too, was an easy choice,” Javyk replied, “barely more than an accident that I can’t take credit for.” He looked a bit embarrassed. “Those bounty hunters joined the caravan, so it was mere happenstance. I saw an opportunity and took it. The other two bounty hunters I hired in Sylverwynd were slain, but that fellow Rellen seems quite capable.” Javyk hesitated for a moment, as if he were uncertain of something. “I certainly didn’t expect you to offer them employment.”

  Toreth got a pleased look on his face. “Like you, I saw an opportunity and took it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There’s no reason you should. Do you remember me telling you of the failure in Calamath some months ago?”

  “I do. The ceremony was interrupted and the host body slain.”

  Toreth stiffened. His smile faded. “Indeed.” There was a trace of simmering anger in his voice. “Rellen was responsible, and Calamath was lost completely to us once the King’s Corsairs occupied the city.”

  Javyk’s eyes went wide with surprise. “Rellen?”

  “Rellen.” Toreth let out a patient, almost relieved breath, gaining control over his frustration and anger. “What’s more, he’s one of the King’s Guardians.”

  Javyk gasped and dropped to a knee, bowing his head. “Master, I had no idea!” His voice was near panic. “I’ve brought a Guardian into your midst. I’ve failed you! I beg forgiveness. I’ll accept any punishment.”

  “Rise, Javyk,” Toreth soothed. “Under normal circumstances, I might kill you outright for such a failure, but I told you, I’m grateful. Rellen, it seems, is particularly adept at infiltration and meddling in my affairs.” Toreth lifted his eyes and stared out at the Star of the Seven Sisters. “Had I not recognized him from Calamath, even I would have likely accepted him at face value.” He turned his gaze to the city and beyond. “Thus far, this contest has been played on his turf. When this ship docks again, he will find himself on mine, and he’ll have no idea what he’s walking into.”

  “So, everything has gone well while I’ve been away?” Javyk asked tentatively as he rose to his feet.

  “Better than I could have hoped,” Toreth replied with a grim smile. “And thanks to you, we will be returning home with more than just the plunnokum… much more.”

  “Do you intend to kill him or convert him?” Javyk asked.

  “I haven’t decided yet. It would seem I now have a choice, where before, I did not.”

  “I don’t understand,” Javyk said.

  “Again, there’s no reason you should.” Toreth turned away from the railing. “Come, let us repair to my cabin where we can give young Ulient his final reward.”

  “Of course, Master,” Javyk said, falling in step behind Toreth. “It’s been some time since I’ve tasted sacrifice… and his will be freely given.”

  “That is always the sweetest,” Toreth replied, licking his lips. “And it’s been days.”

  “My last was the Duke of Svennival and his wife,” Javyk lamented. “There simply wasn’t any way to indulge without risking complications.”

  “You must be hungry indeed.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Then you shall have the first taste.”

  “You are truly magnanimous, but I couldn’t presume.”

  “Consider it my gift to you for bringing Rellen to me.”

  “As you wish.”

  They crossed the deck, passed through a door set into the front of the quarterdeck, and entered what had once been the captain’s cabin before Toreth claimed it as his own. A large, wooden table filled the center of a nicely appointed cabin with a bed, desk, armoire, and several sitting chairs scattered about the room. Upon the table, Dancer lay, asleep and breathing shallowly. He’d been stripped down to his trousers, and his frail-looking, almost skeletal body was surrounded with rolls of cotton sheets that made the table look almost like a shallow bowl.

  Javyk closed the cabin door behind them, and they quickly removed their tunics and boots, leaving only their trousers. Bare-chested, they stepped up on either side of the table.

  Dancer opened his eyes slowly. He stared up at Toreth. A strange smile filled his face. It was adoration, nothing less—blind and unflinching.

  “Are you ready for your reward?” Toreth asked gently.

  “I am, my Master,” Dancer said.

  “Then let us begin,” Toreth’s eyes began to glow with a strange, green light, as if flames flickered deep within them. He uttered a word in a low, ancient, guttural tongue and placed his hand upon Dancer’s forehead. He then carefully drew the tip of his finger down the center of Dancer’s chest. A crimson point of light glowed where it touched Dancer’s skin, leaving a shallow gash in the flesh. Thin rivulets of blood spread out across pale skin. Dancer tensed but held himself still. He appeared to scream out in something between ecstasy and agony, but no sound came forth.

  Toreth nodded to Javyk, who leaned over and ran his tongue over the blood spreading out across Dancer’s chest. The sacrifice would occupy the entire journey to Kaichakahn, and they would savor every moment.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Yl Jabbathene

  Rellen set his empty wine glass on the table beside his empty plate. He had to admit, the fish, whatever it had been, was exceptional. He wondered how much of that had to do with two weeks eating trail rations and teamster prepared meals. He let out a long, weary breath and looked at his comrades. It was time to dive back down the Vuoda hole, and he honestly didn’t know if any of them would be coming back out again.

  “Let’s get moving,” he finally said. “That ship is waiting.”

  They all rose from their seats, and Rellen glanced at Tavyn. The man’s willingness to join them still bothered him. “You’re sure you want to come along?”

  “When I said before that it was for the money, that was only part of it.” He looked to Mygal. “He’s told me what they did to Belvenim and his family in pretty gruesome detail.” He shrugged. “I can’t get those images out of my head, and I figure if I can help you somehow put an end to it… the better off we’ll all be.”

  Rellen nodded, and his suspicions eased, at least a little. It was an answer he could live with.

  They shuffled off, perhaps a little slower than they’d walked in, but it had been a good meal with excellent drink. They crossed through the interior of the tavern and out onto the front steps where the four attendants still stood holding the reins of the horses. They looked bored but apparently hadn’t moved.

  Rellen lifted his eyes to the sky.

  Xilly, where are you?

  On the roof, she replied.

  Did they go anywhere else?

  No. They went straight to the ship, had a conversation at the front of it for a while, and then disappeared inside.

  Good, then—

  But there’s something else, she said, cutting him off. Someone has been watching the horses. He’s in the alley to your right, hidden in the shadows. He’s been there since shortly after you started lunch.

  What’s he look like?

  Large. Local clothing mostly in red and yellow. He has a big scimitar across his back.

  “Damn it,” Rellen whispered.

  “What is it?” Miranda said, turning back as Mygal and Tavyn moved down toward their mounts.

  “Oh, I just left something inside.” Using the military sign language, he said, Being watched. Don’t react. To your right. “Go on and head for the ship. I’ll catch up.”

  “You got it.” Miranda replied. Understood. Be careful.

  Rellen gave her an imperceptible nod, turned, and walked back into the Star of the Seven Sisters. He quickly moved out onto the patio, where one of the waiters who was clearing their plates gave him a curious look.

  Rellen put his finger to his lips and pressed a dakkari into the waiter’s hand. The waiter’s eyes went wide with happy surprise as Rellen stepped past him, hopped over the railing of the patio, and dropped down to the alley behind the establishment.

  Pulling two different spell components from pouches on his belt, he cast his magic shield and then the spell that would create a silencing bubble around him. The sounds of the world around him dimmed, but he could still hear. Pulling the long knife from the back of his belt, he hurried down the alley, pausing at the corner of the building. He peered around the corner just enough to see a figure behind some crates at the far corner of the building. The man was just as Xilly had described, and there was no doubt he was doing his best to watch the others without being seen himself.

  Rellen drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He turned the corner and moved quickly up, relying upon his spell to suppress the sound of his approach. When he was within five feet, he paused and prepared himself. He leapt, grabbed the man’s shoulder tightly, and set the point of his dagger in the small of the man’s back.

  “Don’t make a sound, or I’ll kill you right here.”

  The man stiffened, raised his hands, and slowly looked over his shoulder. His skin was ebony, and when he saw Rellen, there was a moment of recognition.

  “Aegon sul vas narivum,” the man said in a deep voice.

  “Jaquinn?” Rellen said, stunned. “What in blazes are you doing here?”

  The Second Guardian turned part way around. “Waiting for you.” His eyes flicked toward the knife at his back. “Do you mind?”

  “Oh!” Rellen said. He slid the knife into its sheath and stepped back a pace while keeping Jaquinn inside the silencing bubble.

  Rellen’s old mentor lowered his hands and turned fully around. “How did you know I was here?”

  “The dragonette,” Rellen replied. He glanced up and saw her peeking over the edge of the roof, looking down on them.

  Jaquinn lifted his eyes and spotted her. A slow and exceedingly rare smile crossed his lips. “That must give you a nice edge.”

  “She does,” Rellen replied. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

  “I didn’t expect to still be here. When I discovered two days ago that Duke kyp’Tukeem’s grand vizier was here, I decided to stay and watch him.”

  “That sounds very interesting, but that doesn’t explain why you were waiting for me here in this alley.”

  Jaquinn’s eyes narrowed slightly. He cocked his head to the side and got a concerned look on his face. “Because you met with Toreth sun’Harrai, the grand vizier for the Duchy of Nikostohr, and he bought you and your companions lunch before getting aboard the Yl Jabbathene.”

  Rellen’s jaw dropped.

  “What are you into, Rellen?” Jaquinn asked.

  “There’s a lot I could explain, but I have to get aboard that ship. The short answer is that Toreth’s… aide? … Lackey?… Javyk Sukari—do you know him?”

  “Of him, but he’s not been seen in Kaichakahn in months.”

  “Well, Toreth sent Javyk to Svennival. He’s the one who murdered the duke, and all to acquire some ancient key.”

  “A key?” Jaquinn asked. “A key to what?”

  “All I know is that it opens a door in a nuraghi somewhere, probably near Kaichakahn.”

  “Stukelladios?” Jaquinn asked.

  “What?” Rellen had never heard the word before.

  “Nuraghi Stukelladios,” Jaquinn said. “It’s a legend really, one not many people know about. My father told me stories when I was a boy. He said that there was supposed to be a hidden nuraghi in the jungles near Kaichakahn somewhere.”

  “I’m betting that’s it.” Rellen thought furiously. “Why were you following the vizier?”