Raomar woke to find himself looking into a pair of wide, cat-like eyes. With a startled gasp, he shifted sideways, rolling to his feet and reaching for weapons he no longer had. It took him a moment to realize that the god-link wasn’t the only thing the duke had confiscated.

  “It’s a pity none of those were being worn by one of the guards,” he muttered, searching for the owner of the eyes.

  When he saw her, he frowned. “And who are you?”

  Dart intervened. “She’s one of yours, Rau.”

  Raomar shook his head. “I don’t recall her.”

  The child continued to stare at him, but she pressed her lips together and her eyes took on a worried hue. Finally, she stepped forward.

  “You took me in when Ben Jayman passed,” she said, and her voice was seasons older than her face.

  “I offered a place to all Ben Jayman’s people,” Raomar agreed, puzzlement in his expression, “but I hadn’t been told any had taken up the offer.”

  “A few of us did,” the child assured him. “We spoke with Master Agar, Guildmaster. He took me on as a runner and a guide. Most of us, in fact. We had talents enough to pay our way.”

  That last was said with a touch of defiance.

  Raomar’s eyes widened at her tone, and a smile tugged at his lips. He resisted it, trying to remain stern.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, ignoring Dart’s half-smothered groan of disapproval.

  “I don’t know what name I had,” the girl admitted after a moment’s quiet, “but Master Agar calls me Ghost.”

  She brightened.

  “It’s a good name,” she told him, “and I like it.”

  “It suits her,” Dart put in. “She’s as silent as a ghost.”

  She scowled examining the girl’s face. “And as pale as one,” she added in disapproval.

  “And how did you end up with Ben?” Raomar asked.

  Ghost shrugged, her eyes sparkling with sudden, unshed tears. Raomar ignored Dart’s glare and the flare of anger that crossed Alessia’s face.

  “My parents hid me with Ben,” she told him, “and I never saw them, again.”

  She gulped, blinking rapidly as she turned to Alessia.

  “Mistress Mistlewood, what should I do, now?”

  “Agar did not say,” Alessia told the child, then motioned toward Raomar. “It is a matter for the guildmaster to decide.”

  “Guildmaster?” the child asked, looking up at Raomar.

  “Stay with me,” he ordered gently. “I will train you.”

  The child’s eyes widened, and Alessia raised her eyebrows. She opened her mouth as if to say that hadn’t been what she meant, but Raomar signaled for her to remain silent.

  Frowning, Alessia chose a different subject instead. “Who is the Tillerman?”

  “Another guildmaster, like myself,” Raomar answered. “Why?”

  “What’s he doing here?” she pressed. “The city is yours. Anyone knows that.”

  “Apparently, he does not,” Raomar told her. “He has taken the docks…and will challenge me for territory and control of the city.”

  “Didn’t you know he was here?”

  Raomar shook his head. “I was careless,” he admitted. “Why do you ask?”

  “I… It just seems unusual for you….”

  “No,” Raomar interrupted gently, “I meant why do you ask about the Tillerman.”

  Alessia blushed.

  “He was here earlier, wanting to commission me,” Alessia began. “Grunwol had just arrived with news of your capture, and Dart knew who’d taken you.”

  Raomar glanced across to where Dart was sitting on her sleeping roll. The copper-haired woman dipped her chin in acknowledgement, her eyes not leaving the child.

  “You’ve a good apprentice there,” she noted. “If she hadn’t approached Agar, I’d have taken her in.”

  From the look on Ghost’s face, that was news, but she gave Raomar a quick glance as if looking for reassurance. It was a glance he acknowledged with a sidelong look, before turning back to Dart.

  “You knew her?” he asked.

  “I knew of her,” Dart corrected, “but I respected her parents’ wishes.”

  “My parents?” the child asked, then clapped her hands over her mouth as though she’d spoken out of turn.

  Dart shot the child a swift look.

  “That’s a tale for another time,” she said, “and when that time comes, I will tell it. For, now, your master needs your attention, and Mistress Mistlewood has a tale of her own.”

  Ghost’s face closed, but she settled to her knees beside Raomar, close but not close enough to touch. After another quick glance at Raomar, she turned her attention to the wizardess.

  Raomar followed her gaze.

  “You have a tale to tell?” he asked.

  Alessia’s face became even more somber.

  “The Tillerman asked me to retrieve some papers from Duke Joseph Hartender’s office,” she began, then indicated Grunwol, Brianda, Aral and Mika. “I sent for assistance, and Agar sent these. We completed the commission late last night.”

  Raomar remembered Brianda being brought to the cell, at around that time, and some of the puzzles behind the night’s events began falling into place.

  “Do you know what the papers were?” he probed.

  “From what I could see of it, it’s a letter from the Duke of Criochole offering succor to agents from the old king, if they pass through his lands. Proof he was a traitor, if Joseph wanted to use it as such.”

  “He wanted Criochole,” Raomar explained. “The letter would have made it his. Now, all he has is the youngest son…and the boy has no idea of the games his father played.”

  “Broderick?” Dart interrupted. “What is he still doing here?”

  Raomar turned to the shadow thief in surprise. “You know him?”

  “I know him. It was important he left before falling into the king’s hands.” Her face took on a bleak look. “And now he will. What was he doing here?”

  “He said he had to look after Kel,” Raomar told her, and she gave a disbelieving snort.

  “That young lady doesn’t need looking after,” Dart replied. “She looks after everyone else. I’m surprised Broderick doesn’t already realize that.”

  Raomar didn’t know what to say to that, but something Dart had said, caught his attention.

  “You asked what Broderick was still doing here,” he noted. “How did you know he’d been meant to leave?”

  Dart raised an eyebrow.

  “I find things, Rau. It’s my trade…as you very well know…so, if someone wants to leave the city…by ocean…and by night, I’m the one who knows where to find a captain who’s willing to take on passengers with the same destination as his cargo…and who can keep his mouth shut about them.”

  “I see,” Raomar observed, but Dart wasn’t finished.

  “And I’m also the one who knows who controls the docks and organizes safe passage.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “You don’t go to me?” Raomar asked.

  “Not when you don’t have the services I require,” Dart answered.

  “I could have acquired them,” the guildmaster informed her darkly.

  Dart rolled her eyes. “The client didn’t have time to wait for you win a long and bloody turf war,” she retorted. “You wouldn’t have secured either the Docklands or the beggars in time. The king’s men were too close.”

  “But why?” Raomar asked. “What would the king want with Criochole?”

  Dart shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. No-one’s paid me to find out.”

  “And you haven’t thought the information might have value?” he asked, incredulous.

  Dart gave him a sour look. “I haven’t had the time to complete the file,” she told him shortly. “Your information was coming.”

  Her affront made Raomar smile. “I know it was, Lady Dart. I was teasing you.”

  Again, something the shadow lady had said drew his attention.

  “What did you mean ‘long and bloody’?” he asked. “Surely the Tillerman doesn’t have the manpower for that?”

  Dart indicated where Grunwol lay sleeping.

  “Ask your Northman,” she told him. “If I tell you anymore, you’ll have to pay me.”

  Raomar looked at the sleeping Northman, and frowned, but Dart interrupted him once again.

  “Don’t wake him. His report can wait.” Her eyes shifted back to Alessia. “The wizardess’s report, however…”

  Raomar looked back at the wizardess. “What is it?”

  She frowned, then asked, “Do you know whom the king worships?”

  “Uh…Toronar?” Raomar asked.

  “That’s what I thought, too…or perhaps, Miralei, but…no…” Alessia shook her head. “He does not.”

  Her eyes darkened with worry, and when next she spoke, her voice was soft with memory.

  “Do you remember when…we first met?” she asked, and Raomar stilled.

  “The temple?”

  Alessia nodded. “You were… Your people…”

  Raomar nodded. “I remember, but what has that got to do with the king?”

  “One of my apprentices scried him…p…practicing a lesson for me.” She shook her head. “I never intended for him to scry the king.”

  Raomar chuckled. “Apprentices,” he noted, “some need much more supervision than others.”

  Alessia gave a wry smile. “Yes.”

  “So,” Raomar prodded. “What did he see?”

  “The king in a temple,” the wizardess revealed, “but it did not belong to either Miralei or Toronar. It had black pillars lining its walls, and an…an altar…”

  She gulped, swallowing convulsively.

  “Black pillars and an altar,” Raomar tried for lightness, despite his concern, “like the temple you found me in?”

  “No…not that…” Alessia gave a violent shake of her head. “That temple was full of darkness, yes, but not… It didn’t feel unclean, or perverted…and your people did not murder men and drink their blood…or have undead serving at the altar.”

  Raomar gave up trying for lightness.

  “Tell me what else you were able to see.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Alessia told him, her voice rising in distress. “It was Varan. I told him to practice a scrying spell and he decided to scry the king.”

  Raomar frowned. “That’s very audacious,” he told her. “What made him think he could see the king?”

  “He remembered the king’s armor. You know the armor he wears when there’s a parade.”

  “I do,” Raomar confirmed, “but…even with the image to follow, how did he manage it? The palace is well-warded.”

  “Now, there’s an understatement,” Dart muttered, and Raomar resisted the urge to ask her how she knew.

  Of course, she knew; she was that kind of woman, and that kind of magic was her business.

  Alessia’s voice dragged his attention back to the matter at hand.

  “And Varan has never been to the palace,” she added, “although I doubt that’s where the temple is located.”

  “So, how did he…”

  “He just pictured the king in his armor, with the visor down. It was the way he’d seen him in the last parade.”

  Raomar stared at her.

  “And…it worked?” he asked, because he was pretty sure that wasn’t how it was supposed to work.

  “Yes,” Alessia confirmed. “It worked. It worked very well.”

  “But, how? I mean, why would the king even be wearing his armor? It’s not like he was having a parade, and the audience hall isn’t that dangerous.”

  Dart snorted. “It’s dangerous enough.”

  “But…”

  “It worked because the king wears his ceremonial armor when he worships his god,” Alessia explained, “his very dark god.”

  “And?”

  “The boy watched as they killed a man, then drained and drank his blood…although he says he dropped the scry before he saw the chalice touch anyone’s lips.”

  “Then how does he know?” Raomar asked.

  “He said the chalice was being lifted ‘like it was going to be drunk,’” Alessia told him, obviously paraphrasing the boy’s words.

  Raomar felt a touch of foreboding, and leaned forward.

  “What sort of chalice?” he asked.

  “The usual one,” Alessia said. “You know silver, gold, a ‘large goblet,’ if you will.”

  “Is there anything else you can remember?”

  “I had him do it again, today,” she told him.

  “And?” he asked.

  Alessia’s face paled and she swallowed hard against the memory. Her voice was solemn when she continued, “I’ll tell you what I saw.”

  Raomar forced himself to keep quiet, watching as her face grew vacant with memory.

  “I took the boy to the pool in the back garden. He’s mastered the lesson far faster than I thought possible—and with a greater degree of mastery, than I expected. He created the spell to perfection and as soon as the fish and the pond had faded to darkness, I saw the temple.”

  She paused, but, when no one interrupted, she went on.

  “Tall black columns framed a red-drenched altar. Chains bedecked each column, and a narrow footing skirted the base, holding shackles. Grooves marked the pillar’s sides, leading to a deep, narrow gutter around the foot.”

  She gulped, swallowed convulsively, and went on.

  “F…Four sets of shackles,” she reiterated, “their chains embedded in the stone at the base, with more chains at waist height, and more chains and shackles further up…where a man’s hands would be if they were raised above his head.”

  She shivered, twisting her hands together in her lap. Raomar waited, watching her draw several shaky breaths before she continued.

  “The pillars were empty…” Alessia drew another shaky breath. “But the altar…it…it held a man. I had Varan take the scry focus closer to…to see who it was. I…he looked familiar…”

  “And did you recognize him?” Raomar prodded gently, trying to channel comfort through his tones into Alessia’s shivering form.

  She nodded.

  “Kalain,” she whispered. “They’d taken Kalain. We should have known something terrible had happened when he didn’t make the council meeting, but…but we didn’t check.”

  A sob shook her shoulders, momentarily robbing her of words.

  “He’d been so excited to be needed by the king. We didn’t think any harm…”

  Another sob interrupted her.

  “Oh, gods! Why didn’t we ch…check?” she asked, and burst into tears.

  Raomar moved to go to her, but Dart laid a hand on her shoulder and shook her head. As he subsided back to his mat, she looked at the wizardess.

  “Tell him the rest, Alessia,” she ordered. “Tell him about the king.”

  “The king,” Alessia repeated dully.

  Her voice faded to silence and she grew still, staring at the wall beyond the guildmaster’s head.

  “Was he there?” Raomar pressed gently. “The king?”

  Alessia gave a tiny shudder and swiped at her face with her hands.

  “He was there,” she replied, her voice dull with horror, “wearing his ceremonial armor. The horned helmet sh…shone. It shone in the torchlight. His shadow reminded me of a demon dancing on the walls.”

  Again, she paused.

  “Go on,” Raomar prodded, and she took a shaky breath.

  “Kalain was alive,” she told him. “I could see the rise and fall of his chest.”

  Her voice rose in horror and distress.

  “But he just lay there! He didn’t even fight the chains, not until… until the king called on a god. He said its name, offering it Kalain’s fear and outrage, his sadness, his pain and his regrets…and that was when Kalain screamed.”

  Her eyes grew round. Her face paled.

  “He screamed as though a hundred years of terror fell on him all at once and the king… The king, he laughed, raising his hands like he was offering that scream and all the emotion inside it to some other being, and that was when I saw how the shadows grew darker all around the temple walls.”

  “Did the king see them?” Raomar asked, and Alessia nodded. “And how did he react?”

  “He…He laughed!” she cried. “He laughed and then he took a dagger from his belt and ca…carved Kalain open…and he took his entrails…and…”

  Alessia drew a sharp breath, pressing her lips together as more tears spilled down her face.

  “What was in the shadows, Less?” Raomar asked.

  “Creatures,” she answered, her voice growing strangely calm. “There were creatures in the shadows. The king fed them Kalain’s innards while he screamed. All the while, the king praised his god. Kalain was still alive when the king opened his throat and caught his blood in the chalice.”

  She pressed her lips together, her eyes shimmering as she fought back her tears.

  “He…He could see the king as he drank. He was still alive when the king let his creatures approach the altar and tear him apart. I…”

  She caught her breath, and looked at Raomar, her eyes pleading for him to understand.

  “I couldn’t save him. All I could do was watch as they took the pieces away.”

  She might have given way to her tears, then, but Raomar had one more question for her.

  “Where did they take them?” he asked. “Did you see if they left the temple?”

  In truth, he was less concerned with the pieces and more interested in seeing if there was another way into the temple, a connection to the palace, or some other entrance entirely.

  He was out of luck.

  Alessia shook her head.

  “They couldn’t leave the temple,” she told him, her voice returning to its strange calm. “The iron doors were closed and they returned to the shadows where they blended in so well I couldn’t see them.”

  She shuddered.

  “I could still hear them…feeding…and then the king called a blood screen to shield the temple from being scried.”

  Raomar’s eyes widened in alarm and she gave him a soft, sad smile.

  “I ended the spell before the ward could reach the focus point.” She frowned. “The king doesn’t worship Toronar. He worships someone…something…else. I won’t speak the name, but I will write it down. If you can find out who, or what, it is, you will know why the king needs wizards to sacrifice to it.”

  She took a piece of parchment from her desk, and a quill, and wrote down a single name.

  Walshira, Raomar read when she handed it to him.

  He frowned, not recognizing the name. It was something he’d have to raise with Enshul. The goddess would know…or she’d know where to look. Somehow, he had the feeling she’d want to know…and her sister should be made aware.

  He shrugged the thought away. That was a matter between the sisters. All he could do was pass the name along and leave Enshul’s business in Enshul’s hands. Alessia continued on, oblivious.

  “You’ll also need to find out what kinds of creatures feed on flesh, both living and dead. These looked like zombies, but…they weren’t, not all of them. I keep wondering if they need mage flesh in order to survive, or if the king had another purpose in feeding them that.”

  She shrugged. “The undead are not my forte. I will need to seek specialist advice.”

  “They may have been ghouls,” Raomar told her, “But I don’t know of any ghoul that seeks mage flesh alone. Most will eat whatever sentient they can lay their teeth on.”

  He shrugged.

  “It’s an old magic…and one with which I’m not familiar. Ghouls are the most common flesh-eating undead I know of…and created by ancient spells. Could the king have found one of the old powers to serve?”

  Alessia stared at him.

  “If I knew I would tell you,” she said, “but…”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Dart said. “Kalain was a friend, and while I can’t undo what was done to him, I can try to prevent it from happening to others…”

  She rose to her feet.

  “I’ll see they are warned, and do what I can to protect them.”

  She didn’t mention that Alessia was one of those she was concerned about, but her face said it all.

  Alessia gestured toward the door.

  “You know how to leave here unseen, Lady Dart,” she told the woman. “I will not detain you.”

  The door closing softly was all the answer she received, and she turned to Raomar.

  “I won’t be able to scry the temple until the blood screen is gone,” she told him, “and I do not have the strength to do that alone.”

  “I understand,” Raomar told her. “I know of someone who might be able to break through.”

  He sighed.

  “I can only pray she’ll deign to answer.”