The Night Voice Page 3

  Magiere was too puzzled and wary to say anything.

  • • •

  You will stop! Ghassan ordered with every particle of will he could gather.

  He tried to seize control of his body, or at least his own mouth and tongue, and failed. The ancient specter had been distracted, focusing hard on his lies to Magiere and the others.

  Ounyal’am had related no such reports, and the specter’s blatant lies were intended to keep Magiere from relocating two orbs . . . and to keep those devices within its reach. But Khalidah had not been ready for such a sudden assault from within.

  For the first time, Ghassan had felt his captor’s hold falter amid distraction. Ghassan had seized that moment, which passed and was now gone. Pressing down wild hope and desperation, he quickly refocused.

  A second push to seize control drained him utterly without effect.

  Enough, you little gnat, Khalidah hissed within their shared thoughts.

  Ghassan flinched as everything went black, and he no longer saw through his own eyes. Raking pain like claws tore down his back in the darkness, then down his chest, and then his face, and he screamed.

  Be silent, be still . . . or you will be gone entirely.

  At those words in the darkness, a shaft of light came a stone’s throw away, as if shining down from somewhere above. In it stood a dimly lit and spindly figure in a dark robe coated in scintillating symbols, which undulated with the cloth as the figure stepped nearer. The face seemed marked and withered.

  I tolerate you only for the memories you have that are useful to me.

  And closer still, those marks on its old face of wrinkles, narrow chin, and pinched mouth were patterns and symbols inked upon pallid skin. But its large, sunken eyes—the irises—were as black as the ink . . . black as the darkness all around Ghassan.

  Annoy me again, and you will be the last of our kind, our art, as I was—am—the first!

  The light vanished. Once again, Ghassan was pressed down into the darkness.

  Lost in the dark of his own mind—his prison—for a moment he curled up and wept. But for one instant only, he had almost seized control in Khalidah’s distraction amid fear and anger.

  And then Ghassan heard another voice, as if the specter let that one in to taunt him.

  “What are you saying?” Wynn asked.

  • • •

  Leesil couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he feared what was being implied. Small bands in the desert seen only at night? Bodies eaten to the bone? Pallid corpses as if drained of blood? He stared at the domin, but Ghassan’s dark brown eyes fixed on Wynn.

  “I am saying the Ancient Enemy may be awakening,” the domin answered. “It is calling to and sending out those who still serve it.”

  Leesil went cold and then hot in a flash. Everything was almost over and done . . . They would soon be going home.

  Magiere took a quick step toward the domin.

  “That’s all you have?” she snarled at him. “All the more reason to get the orbs out of reach!”

  Chap was suddenly at Leesil’s side but raised no memory-words. Of all the times he’d blathered into Leesil’s head, this wasn’t a time to say nothing. Wynn appeared too stunned to speak as she backed up a step on Chap’s other side. Then Shade closed to the outside of Wynn, and all of them just stood there.

  “Domin . . . ,” Wynn started, using his old title. “The new emperor told you of this? Is he sending soldiers? What is he doing to help the nomads or tribes out there? Is anyone going out there to confirm this?”

  “None at present,” Ghassan answered. “The reports are too scattered, and he would not understand what they mean as we do. With the coronation pending, there are many nobles, dignitaries, and the royals of the seven nations gathering in the imperial capital. Their security takes precedence.”

  “And what exactly do you think it means?” Leesil asked, feeling his self-control slipping away.

  “I told you,” Ghassan answered calmly. “Except for the undead, what creatures drain their prey of blood or eat them while alive?”

  Leesil had never heard of any flesh-eating undead, but that was a minor thing at the moment.

  “And when have you ever heard of any traveling in packs?” Ghassan continued. “Undead are solitary creatures for a reason—to avoid exposing themselves for too many deaths at a time in a given place. And why would one or especially more be in a desolate area with so little to prey upon? They are gathering and not by their own choice. The Enemy is awakening . . . and it may have even become aware of orbs close within this land.”

  Osha, Wayfarer, and Chane had not moved, but Brot’an now crossed the room slowly.

  “If that is indeed the case,” he said, “we cannot drop the orb of Air into the sea. Nor can we hide the orb of Spirit with the Lhoin’na.”

  Magiere turned to him. “Why not?”

  “Because we may have need of them,” Brot’an answered. “We may need all five. What other weapons or method might destroy so powerful a being, finally? If not, how long before this happens yet again? I will not tolerate that for my people, let alone any other.”

  Leesil felt a knot in his stomach. What was happening here?

  “I fear Brot’an may be correct,” Ghassan added, lowering his head and meshing his fingers together.

  “No!” Magiere nearly shouted as she lunged a step toward Ghassan.

  That caught Leesil’s whole attention, for this was now getting dangerous. Before he made a grab for her, she twisted on Brot’an.

  “We don’t know anything other than secondhand rumors!” she went on. “You’re both guessing, and even if such rumors were true, it’s more reason to hide the orbs where no one finds any or all of them again.” She turned back to Ghassan. “That’s when it’s finished . . . when I’m finished!”

  Though panicked that Magiere might lose control, Leesil couldn’t help hoping she was right. But the knot grew in the pit of his stomach.

  “For safety’s sake,” Brot’an added, “we must gather all five orbs to be ready for any contingency. For anywhere that any of us have gone in hiding them means someone may have been followed . . . to a place where one or more orbs are now unguarded.”

  Leesil knew the second part of this statement wasn’t true. Two of the orbs had been hidden in a way that they would never be found, and the third was guarded by the stonewalkers.

  A low, rumbling growl built up, and Leesil glanced down at Chap, but the dog still hadn’t called up memory-words in his head. Leesil began to fear that Chap might even be considering Brot’an’s mad notion.

  A long moment passed.

  Leesil stood there, watching Ghassan in silence and waiting for Magiere, Chap, or anyone to say something.

  “Magiere?” Wynn began, and half turned to glance up at Chane, who had his hand on her shoulder. Did she expect answers from the vampire?

  Magiere shook her head. “I can’t listen to this anymore, and I can’t—” Breaking off, she strode for the door out of the sanctuary.

  Leesil followed her, as he always would.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Wynn watched Magiere and Leesil walk out.

  Then she flinched when the door slammed shut, and as the sound faded, Ghassan’s whole sanctuary fell into silence. The domin’s revelations had left her reeling. She knew things couldn’t be left like this, but no plans or decisions were possible without Magiere and Leesil—especially Magiere. She glanced down at Chap.

  “Come on,” she half whispered to him. “We’d better go after them.”

  “Not alone,” Chane rasped, stepping closer.

  Wynn struggled for the best response. Though she would welcome his company, Magiere, Leesil . . . and Chap most certainly would not.

  “No, it’s all right,” she said, and then looked down to Shade. “Sorry, but you stay t
oo.”

  Chane scowled. Shade rumbled and twitched one jowl in clear disagreement. It was hard to tell what the dog disliked more, staying behind or being forced to.

  Wynn started for the door and paused before Ghassan.

  “You handled that badly,” she said, and then turned her head toward Brot’an. “Both of you. Chap and I will go after Leesil and Magiere . . . alone! The rest of you stay here until we get this sorted out.”

  With Chap waiting at the door, she hurried onward before anyone could think to argue. Chap had been uncharacteristically silent, which worried her, but there was no way to keep him out of this.

  Once outside the sanctuary, she pulled the door closed and watched it vanish. Suddenly, she faced only a dead-end wall with an old window. The battered shutters were open over the alley below, as if the rooms she’d just left didn’t exist and the dingy passage ended at the tenement’s back wall.

  The phantasm placed upon the sanctuary by Ghassan and his eradicated sect of sorcerers had kept everyone within safely hidden. He’d given her an ensorcelled pebble that would allow her mind and senses to evade this defense. She’d rarely had to use the pebble, as someone inside could hear her knock and open the door from within. But this end wall and its window, so real to all senses, still made her shiver.

  “You lead,” she told Chap. “See if you can pick up a scent.”

  She expected him to answer into her head—to at least say something—but he didn’t.

  Instead, he turned away silently, and Wynn followed him all the way down the passage and then down the far stairs. At the bottom, he veered away from the front door and headed toward the back door that led to the rear alley. Maybe he’d smelled something to lead him that way, though Wynn couldn’t see how amid the stench of the old tenement or the decrepit district around it. Chap paused at the door, waiting until she opened it.

  Wynn peeked out both ways, and there were Magiere and Leesil just to the left. They were both crouched down, leaning back against the alley wall and talking too quietly to hear.

  Chap pushed out around Wynn’s legs, and thankfully neither Leesil nor Magiere frowned at the interruption. Leesil was closer, and he eyed the door after Wynn followed Chap, perhaps wondering whether anyone else was coming.

  “Just us,” Wynn said quickly.

  Leesil locked eyes with Chap, so the dog must have said something to him in memory-words. Even in the darkness, Wynn saw strain—pain—spread across Leesil’s face. Magiere’s expression was blank, almost cold, and she wouldn’t look at anyone.

  “We’re not going back in there,” she whispered, almost echoing Chane’s rasp.

  Chap circled around and dropped on his haunches beside Magiere. Although Chap was Leesil’s oldest friend, since before Leesil even knew he was more than a dog, lately Chap had been much in Magiere’s company—and confidence. At least since their time in the prison below the imperial palace.

  Wynn crouched beside Leesil and leaned out to keep sight of Magiere. “Staying out here won’t change anything.”

  Of course this was obvious, but she hated being the voice of reason in forcing Magiere and Leesil into something they didn’t want to do. Wynn had been stuck in this position too many times over the last few years. At the same time, she understood why they—especially Leesil—had to get away from Ghassan and Brot’an. She found some relief in that herself, but their situation was growing more awkward and tense.

  “You don’t agree with Brot’an, do you?” Magiere asked. “You don’t want to regather the orbs?”

  Wynn clenched her jaw.

  “I don’t want any of this,” she answered as calmly as she could. “But you heard Ghassan. The Forgotten War started somewhere near what is now the Suman Empire. If anything he heard is even partly true . . . I don’t think we can ignore it. Do you?”

  No one spoke.

  Leesil hadn’t said anything since Wynn stepped out into the alley, and that made her feel even worse. At times, going through him to get to Magiere was the easier way, but not this time and not when it was about this. He’d always hated what they were doing concerning the orbs, finding, attaining, and hiding them, even more so after Brot’an reappeared in their midst. This time, things would have to work the other way, with convincing Magiere first. So why wasn’t Chap doing something?

  “You think it’s that easy?” Magiere nearly hissed.

  Wynn stiffened upright at the threat in her voice, but Magiere was fixed on Chap. Wynn expected Chap to snarl or snap in response, but he didn’t. He sat, focusing on Magiere’s face until she finally dropped her head onto her pulled-up knees. Leesil didn’t move.

  At least Wynn now knew Chap was trying. When he took something seriously, everyone else had better pay attention, and hopefully Magiere would.

  “What do you think we can do about it?” Magiere whispered without lifting her head.

  Wynn now wished she were the one who could talk into Chap’s head. He looked right at her, and huffed once for “yes.” It was less than a blink before she guessed it was her turn, so she readied for an onslaught before answering.

  “We have to do as Brot’an suggested, at least as a contingency. The orbs might be the only weapons powerful enough to use against the Enemy, if it comes to that. What would become of the world—again—if that thing, whatever it is, really is awakening? If so, we don’t have anything else but the orbs.”

  “No!” Leesil shouted.

  As Leesil turned on Wynn, Magiere gripped his upper arm and jerked him back. Chap snarled, rose on all fours, and bared his teeth at Leesil. Wynn sat there on the alley floor, shaking.

  Magiere had always been the volatile one.

  Yet now it was Leesil tipping on the edge of reason, panting in anger. And Wynn couldn’t blame him, for there was a part of her beneath reason that wanted to just go away and hide where no one could find her.

  Leesil wrenched his arm out of Magiere’s grip and settled back against the alley wall.

  “Stay out of my head!” he snapped, though he didn’t look at anyone.

  He didn’t have to. Chap sighed and turned from Leesil to Magiere.

  “We gather nothing,” Magiere said, “until we know what’s happening out there . . . in the east, in the desert.”

  A voice in every language Wynn understood filled her head.

  She is right in one part. More answers are needed.

  At these words, Wynn kept quiet, fearing any hint of a silent exchange might set Leesil off again.

  But I will gather the other orbs, Chap went on, and you will go with Leesil and Magiere. As for the others . . .

  Chap’s head tilted upward, and Wynn followed his gaze up the back wall of the tenement. All she saw was a dark hint of that one disturbing window frame. He continued to speak to her, and occasionally, she couldn’t help nodding.

  • • •

  Magiere managed to remain sitting there in the alley, though inside she’d felt she might rip apart. Chap and Wynn were clearly plotting and planning, though there was little to hear other than Wynn’s occasional acknowledgments.

  Leesil ignored everyone.

  Magiere couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing him again.

  They’d been on the verge of being done and going home. How much farther could she push him before she lost him entirely? When she glanced over at him, there was Wynn still sitting beside him, but entirely fixed on Chap.

  What were those two up to?

  Leesil finally turned his head, but his eyes narrowed at Wynn.

  “Look at you,” he said. “Look at what you’ve done, though it’s bad enough with him,” and he cocked his head toward Chap. “I’m getting tired of the mistakes, blind leaps, and—”

  “You think you know everything I’ve been through?” Wynn cut in. “Just because I told you the short version?”

  “I
know you took up with that thing up there,” Leesil shot back. “Chane’s no better than whatever is out in that desert.”

  “You don’t know that either!” she countered.” I don’t make assumptions on what little you’ve told me, so don’t you ever talk to me like some—”

  “Enough, both of you,” Magiere ordered.

  Everyone fell silent again.

  Whatever cracks Magiere felt in her resolve, she saw the same widening among all of them.

  The rest . . . should be . . . said . . . to everyone.

  Magiere looked into Chap’s eyes, though in the dark she barely saw their crystalline, sky blue color.

  I do not . . . wish . . . to explain . . . more than once. Do . . . you . . . still . . . trust me . . . in this?

  And what if she said no? She didn’t know whether losing Leesil or letting the world burn in another war would be worse right now. She couldn’t make the choice herself.

  “Yes,” Magiere answered weakly.

  • • •

  Back in the sanctuary with everyone gathered, Chap braced himself as Wynn laid out the plan as he had instructed. As he expected, Leesil was the first to slip into an outrage.

  “Did messing with the orbs make you stupid?” Leesil panted, turning from Wynn to Chap. “You’re taking him”—he jutted his chin at Chane—“to get the orbs you hid up north in the wastes?”

  Chane appeared shocked as well. Magiere fixed Chap with a glare, her breath visibly quickening. Wayfarer and Osha were equally stunned, though Osha’s rapid blinks betrayed doubt that he had heard correctly. Brot’an stood by the rear window and expressed no reaction at all.

  Ghassan put one hand thoughtfully to his mouth. “Why Chane and the elder majay-hì?”

  To Wynn’s credit, in speaking for Chap, her voice barely wavered.

  “Because Chap is the one who hid the orbs of Water and Fire. He won’t divulge their location to anyone. No one can force that information from him. Chane gave the orb of Earth to the stonewalkers for safekeeping through one of their own, Ore-Locks.” She turned to Chane. “Neither Ore-Locks nor his sect will relinquish it to anyone but you . . . and maybe not even you without some convincing.”