First and Last Sorcerer Page 18
Again she looked down to find Chap’s eyes on her, and when she looked up again . . .
“Wynn, think,” Chane rasped, eyeing the back of Ghassan’s neck. “All of those years, he and his sect kept this spirit trapped—but how? They would have had to study it, what it could do, and how it could push into another’s mind. And he claims he can protect us . . . so how?”
Chane glanced back when she didn’t answer immediately. Even worse, Wynn simultaneously heard Chap’s voice in her head echo Chane’s words in her ears.
“Through sorcery!”
And still Wynn couldn’t speak.
Leesil, and Magiere, and even Chap had each suffered a horrifying encounter with an undead sorcerer called Vordana. A long while back in Magiere’s homeland, that undead had trapped each of them in their own phantasm, where they’d lived out their worst fears. Now both Chap and Chane, regardless of hate for each other, had reached the same conclusion about Ghassan il’Sänke.
Before Wynn could think what to say . . .
“What is . . . sorcery?” Osha asked somewhere behind her.
Brot’an likely knew a correct translation in their language, but she wasn’t giving him a chance to complicate matters or take control. She knew only one similar word in their tongue.
“Tôlealhân.”
It meant will-craft.
Wynn heard Osha shift suddenly—along with the slide of something on cloth or leather. She didn’t dare take her eyes off anyone in front of her, and Shade, who hadn’t moved or said anything, still stood in front of her facing away.
Someone grabbed the back of her robe and jerked on it.
Wynn stumbled in retreat as Osha jerked on her again. Before she righted herself, he drew an arrow, fit it to the bowstring, and aimed it at Ghassan, though most of the domin was still blocked by Chane. That arrow had a white metal tip.
“Osha,” Chane rasped, “if he gets away from me—”
“He dead!” Osha answered.
Any uncertainty or shame Wynn had seen in Osha’s face was gone, and again he acted to defend her, along with Chane, with deadly intent. Even if she could stop one of them, she would never stop the other. And after all of this, Brot’an just stood there watching, which worried her more than anything else.
“Enough!” Ghassan shouted, still pinned to the shelves. “If I wished to act against you, then why endanger myself and others who helped free three hunters of the undead? And why again if I could get to the dhampir on my own . . . without any of you?”
Wynn shook her head in confusion. “You broke them out to help you hunt this specter?”
“Magiere isn’t hunting anything!” Leesil cut in.
“And why did you come here?” Ghassan snapped back. “Think of the order of events. Wynn told me that Magiere came seeking the orb of Air, and yet your spouse and you were imprisoned. She faced someone with the skill to extract her secrets. One with such power would not need a host of any great importance to infiltrate the imperial grounds. But if need be, he will take such a host. And then do you think any of you will be free to seek another orb?”
Once again the room fell silent, and Wynn began to piece things together.
Whoever had helped Ghassan from inside the imperial grounds would have access to or control over prisoners. It might even be the one who had sentenced them, and yet the crime they were accused of should have led to execution in this land.
Just how high did the fallen domin’s connections reach within the imperial grounds?
And should the specter seize someone with that much authority . . .
Wynn tried quickly to absorb all of this. She had been a naive fool again in not seeing the worst possibilities. Still, if what Chane claimed about the domin was even half true, Ghassan was as dangerous as Vordana or worse.
She believed he’d helped her friends because of their own friendship, yet he had gotten in her way more than once in their days at her guild branch. He had made the sun-crystal staff that had saved her several times since then, but he had also followed her in secret into a lost dwarven stronghold. He tried to beat her to the orb now hidden in the dwarven underworld. And he had provided this sanctuary that no one else could find.
Wynn’s skin began to crawl as she looked about this place that was hidden to all senses. No, not hidden, but rather it somehow got into the minds of those who came near it and blocked itself from their awareness, even by touch.
“Don’t listen to him,” Leesil whispered.
That frightened her as well. It was bad enough that Chane and Chap of all people were in agreement here. Then there was Osha, who could take deadly action by merely relaxing his fingers on his bowstring.
“Nothing can be done tonight.”
Brot’an’s sudden words almost doubled Wynn’s fright.
“Regardless of what action we follow next,” he stated flatly, staring at Ghassan, “it must wait until Magiere is well. Discussion must be paused, and he is not to be left alone. Two at least must watch him at all times.”
She looked away in time to see all the pale color drain from Chane’s irises. She had to do something fast.
Wynn slammed her shoulder into Osha’s side. As his bow veered and his big amber eyes widened in shock, she grabbed his drawn arrow with both hands and pulled it down with her weight.
“Chane, step away—now!” she ordered.
“Léshil? What is hap—?” And a gasp followed this, pulling Wynn’s attention.
Wayfarer stood peeking around the partition’s edge at everyone.
Even for her weakened state, the girl paled all the more at what she saw. The noise must have awakened her, as it likely had Leesil, and Wynn thought of Magiere also resting in that other room.
“Oh, damnation!” Wynn whispered, and then, “Leesil, get her back in the other room.” When he turned on her, she cut him off. “Do it— Chap, you too. Neither of you understand all that’s at stake. I’ll explain soon. Now . . . just go!”
Leesil still hesitated. He looked so worn and pale, even for his tanned complexion, that only anger and fear probably kept him on his feet. He finally turned away and shooed Wayfarer off around the partition. When Wynn turned back, she was caught by Chap’s glare.
I will be waiting.
Wynn cringed but nodded, and as Chap went off around the partition, she looked to Chane, who still held Ghassan at sword point.
“Back away,” she said.
He was a minor conjurer, self-taught in his living days, as well as anything else. Perhaps something in that had clued him in more quickly than anyone else. She should have listened to him sooner, but it didn’t matter now.
“Chane, please,” she added.
His jaw muscle clenched, but he stepped back. The tip of his sword was the last thing to withdraw out of the domin’s reach.
Ghassan turned slowly around, poised and composed, as if nothing had happened.
“I suggest you all get some rest,” he said.
With the rise of one dark eyebrow and a slight tilt of his head, he nodded once to her. Even that was not going to settle the worst of this as exhaustion took Wynn, but he was not wrong about most of them needing rest.
Eventually, and hopefully soon, Magiere would recover.
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning, Leesil opened his eyes to dim light. Lifting his head from where he lay on a bed beside Magiere, he looked out toward the main room and saw muted sunlight spilling across floor cushions outside the bedchamber’s entrance. After a moon in that black cell with only a candle, even that much light hurt his eyes. Squinting, he rolled his head to the side and faced a mass of black hair.
Magiere still slept with her back pressed against his chest beneath the light blanket over both of them. She was so quiet, like the long silences between screams when he hadn’t known where she was.
He almost pressed his face into the back of her neck to be certain she was really there. And then everything from the previous night came back.
&nb
sp; Leesil remembered being roused by loud voices in the outer room. He’d wanted to go and quiet everyone before they woke Magiere or Wayfarer. As he’d rolled carefully out of bed, one oddity caught his eye.
Chap was gone from Wayfarer’s bed.
He’d rushed out to find everyone else arguing, and not long after that, everything had come apart. Later, once he’d put Wayfarer back in bed, Chap had sat on the floor between both beds and stared at the doorless entrance until Wynn finally came.
At least she’d been smart enough to come alone, though upon entering she’d flinched again when she looked at Chap. Whatever he’d said in her head must not have been kind or even grateful. Yes, Wynn and hers had gotten her friends out of prison, but what had she dragged all of them into?
Leesil had heard too much in that outer room amid the squabble and near bloodshed, and Osha had sided with that undead. By the time Wynn finished explaining all that had happened since her arrival in the city, Leesil had been even wearier than when he’d dragged Magiere into this place.
And now he didn’t want to think about any of it anymore.
Peeling the blanket aside, he forced himself up again, but then he sat on the bedside and hung his head, uncertain what to do.
“Are we still here and . . . not there?”
Those weak words in the room’s half-light wiped away all recollection as Leesil raised his head. Wayfarer and Chap were still sound asleep in the other bed, and he quickly turned the other way.
There was Magiere with her head upon the pillow. She’d rolled partway to look up at him through half-opened eyes. By her expression, she didn’t know how he could be there at all. Part of him felt that same doubt, and he pressed his lips to her forehead. When he sat back up, her pale face was still confused.
“Yes, we’re here . . . not in the prison,” he assured quietly.
He was still weak, and more so with relief, at the sight of her beside him, of being able to hold her, touch her, protect her. Until she regained her strength, that was all that mattered.
“Rest,” he told her. “I’ll see what’s around for you to eat when you wake up again.”
Magiere latched a hand on his forearm so tightly that it hurt. He didn’t pull free of the pain. It was a relief she had even that much strength.
“I’ll be quick,” he whispered, “and Chap and Wayfarer are right over there.”
When he cocked his head toward the room’s far side, she rolled hers and saw the girl and the dog asleep on the other bed. Her grip slackened, but he still had to peel off her fingers and gently tuck her arm under the blanket.
“Go back to sleep,” he urged.
He waited until Magiere closed her eyes before he got up. As soon as he stepped out, he saw several changes.
On the sitting area’s nearside, someone was sleeping atop arranged floor cushions and stirred beneath a blanket. It was the one Wynn called “Ghassan,” the one everyone had turned on the night before. The partition was gone, folded up and leaning against the wall near the window. That gave him a clear line of sight to the entire room, though more likely it allowed the others to keep an eye on the domin.
Leesil headed around the sitting area, and there was Osha standing with his back to the front door.
Osha had his bow gripped in one hand even with his arms folded. His horselike face twitched around those big amber eyes of his. He bowed his head once, and Leesil nodded back.
Likely, Osha felt guilty over having left Wayfarer for Wynn. Good, he should, and Leesil wasn’t certain the girl should forgive him. When he turned toward the table, he paused.
In the far corner along the front wall sat Brot’an on the floor with his long legs folded and hands cupped together in his lap. Though his eyes were closed, his head was upright, as if anyone could sleep that way. And there was Wynn, sitting in the table’s far chair as she stared at a small smoked-glass cup encircled in her hands. The chair’s tall back made her look that much shorter.
The one person Leesil didn’t spot was Chane. He didn’t have time to really look, for Wynn raised her tired eyes, looking almost as worn as he felt.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
He went over and dropped in the chair opposite her. “Some . . . so now what?”
Wynn took a long, slow breath. “Magiere needs better food than what we have here, perhaps some warm broth or stew—you all do.”
So that was how it was? They’d just pretend last night never happened? But he agreed and was eager to do something—anything—after being so useless and helpless over the last moon. He knew no one should leave this strange hidden sanctuary unless necessary, but finding proper food for Magiere certainly qualified for that.
“I’ll put on a cloak and find a market,” he said.
“You will not.”
Brot’an’s voice didn’t startle Leesil at all, and he countered, “Don’t fake concern about us after what you—”
“The imperial guards are searching for you,” the aging assassin cut in, and his eyes opened slowly, one always caged in those four scars. “If you are recaptured, you place all of us at risk.”
Leesil leaned forward in his chair, about to get up.
“He’s right,” Wynn agreed. “Even cloaked, you could be spotted, arrested, and worse. I’m the smallest, and I’ve already been to the market without mishap. I’m less noticeable than you, and the imperial guards don’t know I exist.”
Leesil bit down a retort.
“Very well,” someone else said. “But be quick, keep your hood forward, and look at no one.”
Leesil half turned in his chair as Ghassan il’Sänke ambled toward the table. The domin showed no sign that he felt watched, though Osha had unfolded his arms, his bow held at the ready. And as Leesil turned back around . . .
“Yes,” Wynn answered shortly without looking at the domin.
Leesil felt pushed aside and didn’t like it. “Take Shade,” he instructed.
Wynn glanced aside and down.
He then realized that he also hadn’t seen Shade. Likely Chap’s daughter was below the table at Wynn’s feet.
Wynn looked up and shook her head at him. “No, a black wolf would draw attention, and we even used that once as a distraction.”
He’d known Wynn for years, and though she might be right, he could tell when she was lying. Well, at least in part. So what other reason did she have for leaving Shade behind?
—Chane—
At those memory-words in Leesil’s head, Chap appeared beside his chair. Then Leesil remembered the way Shade had acted the night before concerning Chane. Wynn worried for that monster’s safety, and this left a bitter taste in Leesil’s mouth.
“Oh, seven hells,” he said. “Take Shade, and no one will touch Chane . . . unless he asks for it.”
Wynn winced at his tone. Once, that might have been all, but she fixed him with a sharp glance. He didn’t care.
“She is correct,” Brot’an put in. “A black wolf will call attention . . . and I assume by Shade’s condition upon returning last night that this may already be the case.”
“I won’t be long,” Wynn said. “I know the way.”
She dropped to one knee and whispered something below the table, likely to Shade. With a guttural whine, the black majay-hì rose into sight and padded off toward the back corner on the opposite side of the sitting area and bedchamber’s entrance.
Wynn looked to Osha. “You’ll . . . help her?”
Osha nodded once as Wynn donned her cloak and went to leave, and Leesil’s eyes followed her to the door. He then turned to where Shade had gone. A long bulk under a blanket lay in the back corner of the main room, and Leesil knew what it was.
Chane—completely covered and dormant.
He heard the front door shut, rose up out of the chair, and turned, but Wynn was gone. He didn’t even wonder how she was going to find the door again from the outside to get back into this place. He just studied Osha . . . who had promised to help Shade.
The world had gone mad.
* * *
Osha watched Wynn leave. When his head turned back, the disgust on Léshil’s face made him look away again. In principle, he agreed with Léshil. But here and now, Wynn and Shade were correct.
They needed Chane—needed everyone—for what would come. The unwanted vampire had more than proven that the night before.
Osha breathed deeply to gain some calm, but silent tension choked the room more than the stale air or the stench of this human city. Without Wynn present, no one had anything to say to anyone.
Léshil began pushing things around on a shelf behind the table, and the domin went to assist him. With a small water bottle in hand, Léshil grabbed Wynn’s cup off the table, downed what was in it, and headed for the bedchamber. The domin frowned as he watched Léshil, but Osha lost his focus in attempting to watch as well.
Leanâlhâm—Wayfarer had not spoken to him since the night before. Thankfully, she was likely still asleep. He deserved whatever anger and blame she might throw at him, but he was not certain he could bear it right now. With no desire to share company with Brot’ân’duivé, but needing to keep an eye on the domin, Osha slipped around the table and headed for the dim back corner.
Shade lay on the floor facing toward the table. Behind her, and covered completely with a blanket, Chane lay as still as a draped corpse.
Osha had seen this many times but had never grown accustomed to the sight. Shade lifted her head and whined, and he looked down. She must feel the tension as well, as she rarely paid him much attention.
The dog hated being separated from Wynn, even for a short time, but more recently had often assisted Chane. And, strangely, she ignored her father.
Osha had wondered about this but had not asked. He was uncertain whom to ask. Soft footsteps behind him made him turn.
Leanâlhâm—Wayfarer stood watching him from near the bedchamber’s entrance.
Osha swallowed hard.
Her brown hair, so odd for an’Cróan, hung in a tangled mess. In daylight, at the sight of her starved appearance, his guilt welled and he could not speak. When she took a few steps between the remaining floor cushions in the sitting area, she stopped as her gaze lowered and she looked beyond him toward the back corner.