“Enlightenment?” said Vares.

  Anders bobbed his head manically as he tugged at his own beard. “Indeed. You see, I’ve had the good fortune of falling in with some powerful individuals early on. Ones who are, shall we say, well-positioned to see and rule the world of tomorrow.”

  “Soverni?”

  At that, the glowing eyes narrowed again with amusement. “In a way yes, in a way no. Suffice to say, I’ve been leading this little operation for them for quite some time now.”

  “And why would these well-positioned men of tomorrow be interested in a man such as myself? I doubt they’re sailors.”

  “I suppose they’re not aware of you—not yet. But I’m not too concerned with what they want, Vares Reed.”

  He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “No?”

  Anders rolled his shoulders, adjusting the little green jacket as he circled the gloom of the room, his finger scooping up dust from surfaces in passing. “Not at all. Long ago, I may have dreamed of rising high among them. I once believed in becoming a ‘man of station,’ as my old folks would call it. I dreamed of owning a vast of state, of my name holding such glory that it would ring out for generations after my passing.”

  “And now?”

  “Now? Now I’ve been enlightened. The things I’ve seen in these last few years…” Anders became introspective and fell inward, as if he were truly seeing what he spoke of. “The worlds I’ve been to… Wonders without number…”

  In any other context the speech might’ve had a different effect on Vares. Maybe he would’ve let him tug him along in the current, pulling him towards some spiritual fancy, feeding his imagination with the type of notions that imaginative believers so loved to dream up and vividly bring to life in word and paint.

  But what Vares realized now that he was listening to a man who had not only gone off the deep end, but fallen from it down into a bottomless abyss. These were the sorts of ravings one would hear often enough—from vagrants who had long since lost their minds.

  The only question was, leaving aside the madness, what exactly any of this had to do with the Soverni. That part did intrigue Vares. For one, because they’d destroyed his ship and killed his crew, bringing his life’s work—or at least that of the last few years—to a sudden end. But more importantly, because curiosity demanded that he know how exactly some trading empire was connected to whatever went on in Windust.

  There was no way he’d let them get away with taking his ship and crew, no matter who they were. And I might as well start with this wannabe prophet.

  Vares forced an animal grin of his own. “I’m interested.”

  Snapping out of his spiritual reverie, Anders nodded, a surprisingly gentle smile curling his lips. “What do you think rezzam is, Captain?”

  “If how it’s made is how you’re asking me, I wouldn’t know. I only take the stuff. But I have heard that it’s made up of some strange plants from the bottom of the sea. Or from the dried guts of some werewolves.”

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  Vares paused theatrically for a moment and added with smirk, “I’ve even heard the gods make it and sprinkle it down.”

  Anders leapt over and whispered hotly, “I know what it is, Vares Reed. My visions have given me the key to unlocking all of its secrets.”

  It sounded insane. For all the time he’d traveled, Vares had never come across anyone who truly knew where rezzam came from. Everyone had a guess. Those who searched for the source, tracking it down from one man to another, always ended up disappearing.

  Could a madman in Windust truly hold the answers to an age-old secret?

  Two daring, throaty words left his lips: “Prove it.”

  Anders clicked his tongue with satisfaction and turned, pleased that he’d reeled him in. “Now, now, don’t be hasty.”

  “Hasty? You just said you have an unlimited supply.”

  It was the perfect comeback. Either Anders would reveal that he did not have an unlimited supply, in which case one could conclude that he was either lying altogether, or that the stuff was made from reagents that were difficult to acquire, making any knowledge of how it was made essentially useless.

  Crazy as he was, Anders’ instincts were cutingly sharp. Sensing a trap, he ignored the comment and stretched, yawning like a cat, then leaned against the wall as if he were about to pass out into a nap right then and there. His thumb went down and hooked the belt of his pants. “I need you to do something for me, Vares Reed.”

  “If it’s sucking you off, I’ve gotta warn you, I’m not very good.”

  A predatory grin spread across Anders’ features. “You see? Had any other man said that to me, I’d peel the skin from his face with my own hands. But when you say it… it’s funny.”

  Vares could sense no amusement, and was pleased to know he could get under his skin. “And what do you want?”

  “There’s a woman out there.” Anders pointed carelessly to the world behind him, beyond the confines of the tavern.

  “You want me to kill her?”

  A chuckle escaped Anders. “No, no, no, no… I need you to get her for me—unharmed.”

  Vares watched him expectantly. “And in return?”

  Anders reached inside the right side pocket of his pants. He plucked out a small ivory box and tossed it.

  Even while it flew in midair, a surge of energy passed through Vares. He’d been trying to keep his need for the blasted rezzam under control, but now that it was so close, the intense hunger crashed against him like a wave.

  Shuddering, he grabbed the box, then opened it with trembling fingers.

  Inside, there was enough red dust to last him a week at least. Enough to escape this filthy place and go off on his own anywhere he pleased.

  Vares dipped his finger in, the grains clinging to his skin like fire.

  For a moment, he stared at it, almost mesmerized.

  Then he licked it off.

  The effect was immediate—lightning through his veins, a thunderous roar in his ears.

  Power returned to his body as his enormous heart pumped blood through every engorged vein.

  His body felt weightless. His limbs hummd with vitality. The world sharpened once again, no longer flat, colors blooming in shades too beatiful to put into words.

  The sounds of the tavern flooded him. A whore getting pounded in the room next to him, crying for mercy. In another, further, a man getting getting choked and about to pass out. Somewhere in his own room, Vares could hear the gentlest, tiniest taps and clicks as a spider wove its web.

  Rather than form a cacophony that deafened him, the sounds blended into a thrilling song that rallied his lifeforce and callen upon him to act.

  Only one word could describe the totality of it all: sublime.

  Anders watched him, clearly pleased by his sudden transformation. “The girl. She’s a Soverni. And somewhere here. Get your hands on her. When you do… I’ll find you,” he said cryptically.

  As he made his way towards the doorway, Vares said, “The girl. Anything else for me to go on?”

  “No…” Anders frowned thoughtfully. “I haven’t seen her. But she appeared in my cards. She is either here, or will be here soon. All you need to know is, I want her.”

  Vares waited to get another one of his creepy laughs, to hear it was a joke. Cards? This bastard was sending him out to search for a girl whose presence he’d read cards? “That’s not much for me to go on…”

  Anders smiled and shook his head. “Nonsense, I trust you. Bring me the girl. Once that’s done… we’ll dream together.”