Shastar watched as the magicker walked around the hall, staring down at the bodies. He saw him reach the east gallery stairs. Aric moved across to the body of Duke Elphons, dragging it from the ornate high-backed chair. The lord of House Kilraith then tore the cape from the duke’s shoulders and wiped blood from the chair before sitting down and surveying the hall.
Eldicar Manushan joined him. “There is no sign of the Gray Man,” he said. “What? He must be here.”
At that moment a shadow fell across Shastar. He looked up to see the black-garbed warrior who had killed the duke looming over him. The man’s features were Chiatze, though his eyes were golden. He leaned in close. Shastar saw that his pupils were elongated like those of a cat.
“This one lives,” said the warrior. Reaching down, he grabbed Shastar by the arm and hauled him to his feet. The strength in the man’s grip surprised Shastar. The warrior was slim and not tall, yet the heavyset lord of House Bakard was dragged upright in an instant.
“Well, well,” said Eldicar Manushan, striding forward, “I never cease to be surprised by the vagaries of war.” He looked into Shastar’s face. “Have you any idea of the odds against surviving an attack by so many Kraloth? Millions to one.” Stepping in close, he looked at the wounds on Shastar’s back. “Hardly a scratch, though the wounds will still be fatal if left untreated.”
“Why have you done this?” asked Shastar.
“I can assure you it wasn’t for pleasure,” said Eldicar Manushan. “I take no joy in such enterprises. But you see, there are only two ways to deal with potential enemies: make them allies or kill them. I just did not have the time to make so many alliances. However, since you have so luckily escaped death, I feel obliged to give you the opportunity to serve my cause. I can heal your wounds, give you back your youth, and promise you centuries of life.”
“We don’t need him!” shouted Aric.
“I say who we need, mortal,” hissed Eldicar Manushan. “What say you, Lord Shastar?”
Shastar stood silently for a moment. “If an alliance with you means joining forces with a worm like Aric, I’ll have to decline.”
“You really should reconsider,” Eldicar said gently. “Death is terribly final.”
Shastar smiled, then lunged at the magicker. His right hand curled around Eldicar Manushan’s dagger, dragging it from its sheath and ramming the blade into the magicker’s chest. Eldicar Manushan staggered back and then righted himself. Taking hold of the hilt, he slowly pulled the weapon clear. Blood dripped from the blade. Eldicar Manushan held the dagger out before him and released it. Instead of falling to the floor, it hovered in the air. “That really hurt,” he said, aggrieved. “But I understand your anger. Rest in peace.”
The blade spun and swept into Shastar’s chest, slipping between the ribs and plunging into his heart.
Shastar grunted and then fell to his knees. He, too, tried to pull the dagger clear, but then pitched facefirst to the floor.
“Such a shame,” said the magicker. “I liked the man. He had honor and courage. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, the Gray Man.” He glanced up at the east gallery. “Your men are taking rather a long time to complete a simple task, Aric.”
Lord Aric rose from the duke’s chair and ordered two of the guards to fetch Gaspir. Moments later one of the men called out from the gallery: “My lord, Gaspir and Valik are dead. There is no sign of the boy. They must have escaped to the gardens and the beach.”
“Find them!” roared Aric.
“Good advice,” muttered Eldicar Manushan. “It would be greatly advisable to find him before he finds you.”
Eldicar Manushan crouched down by the body of the dead Shastar and pulled his dagger clear, wiping the blade on the dead man’s leggings. Sheathing the dagger, he noted that the hem of his shimmering robe was stained with blood. With a sigh he picked his way through the corpse-strewn hall and opened the stair door. Climbing to the gallery, he found Beric still sitting on the bench. Taking the boy’s hand, he led him back through to their suite of rooms.
“It is time for the communion,” said Beric.
“I know.”
Eldicar sat down on a wide couch, the boy beside him. The magicker, still holding onto the boy’s hand, closed his eyes and tried to relax. Communion did not come easily, for first he had to mask his feelings. He had not wanted this massacre, believing it to be unnecessary. Most of the people present would not have been a threat to the plans of Kuan Hador. He could have engineered it so that only the duke and his closest allies were killed. He did not want such thoughts in his mind once communion was established. Deresh Karany did not tolerate criticism.
Eldicar concentrated on thoughts of his childhood and the small sailboat his father had built for him on the lake. Good days, when the talent was imprecise and unskilled and he had dreamed of becoming a healer.
He felt the first sharp tug in his mind. It was most painful, as if the flesh of his brain were being teased by a talon.
“Not a great success, Eldicar Manushan,” came the voice of Deresh Karany.
“Nor yet a failure, lord. The duke and his allies are dead.”
“The Gray Man lives, as do the two sword bearers.”
“I have sent eight Kriaz-nor to intercept the sword bearers. Two squads, one led by Three-swords and the other by Striped-claw.”
“Commune with both squads. Tell them they have three days.”
“Yes, lord.”
“And what of the traitor Ustarte?”
“I believe her to be alive and hidden in the palace of the Gray Man. A troop of Lord Aric’s soldiers are already on their way.”
“I would appreciate her being taken alive.”
“That is the instruction they have. I would be happier if more Kriaz-nor could be sent.”
“More will come when the gateway finally collapses. Until then you must use Anharat’s creatures. Tell me, why did you offer the man Shastar his life?”
“He had courage.”
“He was a potential enemy. You have a soft heart, Eldicar. Do not allow it to interfere with the orders you have been given. We are great because we obey. We do not question.”
“I understand, lord.”
“I hope that you do. I risked my reputation to speak up for you after the debacle at Parsha-noor. It would hurt me if you proved unworthy of my trust. When you have found the priestess, commune again.”
“Yes, lord.”
Eldicar groaned as the link was severed.
“Your nose is bleeding,” said Beric. Eldicar pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his robe and dabbed at the blood. His head was pounding.
“You should lie down,” said Beric.
“I shall,” said Eldicar, pushing himself to his feet and walking through to his bedroom.
Lying back on the satin coverlet of his bed, his head on the soft pillow, he thought of the debacle at Parsha-noor.
Eldicar had given the enemy an extra day to consider surrender. An extra day!
They had refused, and Deresh Karany had arrived at the battlefield. He had sent a first rank demon to rip out the heart of the enemy king and a host of Kraloth to terrorize the city dwellers. Oh, they had surrendered fast enough then, Eldicar recalled. When they finally had opened the gates to their conquerors, Deresh Karany had ordered twenty-six thousand of the citizens—one in three of the city dwellers—to be put to death. Another ten thousand had been shipped back to Kuan Hador to be joined.
The extra day had seen Eldicar censured before the Seven. Only the mitigating plea from Deresh Karany had saved him from impalement.
The bleeding stopped.
Eldicar closed his eyes and dreamed of sailboats.
“All in all a fine night’s work,” said Lord Panagyn, peeling away the silver eye patch and staring around the blood-drenched hall. “Ruall, Shastar, and Elphons are dead with most of their captains and supporters.” He stared at the dead Aldania. “Shame about the woman. I always admired her.”
Aric s
ummoned two of his guards and ordered them to gather work parties to clear the dead. He was not a happy man. Panagyn clapped him on the shoulder. “Why so glum, Cousin? So the boy got away. He won’t get far.”
“It is not the boy who concerns me,” said Aric. “It is the Gray Man.”
“I’ve heard of him. A rich merchant and your largest creditor.” Panagyn chuckled. “You always did love to live above your means, Cousin.”
“He is a deadly man. He killed Vanis. Came into his house while it was surrounded by guards and cut his throat.”
“I heard it was suicide.”
“You heard wrong.”
“Well, you have fifty men scouring the town for him. So relax. Enjoy the victory.”
Aric stalked across the hall, past the silent black-garbed warrior who had killed the duke. The man was sitting quietly by the stairs, arms folded, eyes closed. He did not look up as Aric passed. Climbing the stairs, Aric moved to Niallad’s room. Panagyn came in behind him. Aric knelt by the body of Gaspir.
“Stabbed through the eye, then had his throat cut,” said Panagyn.
Aric could not have cared less. He walked through to the balcony. He gazed out over the moonlit garden toward the wrought-iron gate leading to the private beach. From there he could see the blazing torches and lanterns of the searchers. There had been no boats on the beach, which meant that the fugitives would have to swim the bay. There was no other escape route. The front of the palace had been swarming with guards.
The Gray Man had not been seen there.
“Take a look at this,” said Panagyn. Aric turned to see the lord of House Rishell kneeling by the second body. He pointed at the knife jutting from the man’s neck. It had an ornate handle of carved ivory. “Wasn’t this Gaspir’s knife?”
“Aye,” said Aric, puzzled.
Panagyn was silent for a moment. He glanced back at the other body. “So the Gray Man killed Gaspir, took away his knife, and stabbed my nephew through the neck before he could kill the boy. No, that would have taken too long. He took the knife and threw it.” Panagyn smiled. “I see what you mean by deadly. Have to admire skill like that, though.”
“You are taking the death of your relative very well,” snapped Aric. “I commend the manner in which you are hiding your grief.”
Panagyn chuckled, then ruffled the dead man’s hair. “He was a good lad. Not very bright, though.” Rising, he moved to a nearby table and poured a goblet of wine. “And it is hard to be sad on a night when almost all of one’s enemies have been killed.”
“Well, all of mine are not yet dead,” said Aric.
“All of them never will be, Cousin. That is the penalty for being a ruler.” Panagyn drained the wine. “I think I shall take to my bed. It has been a long and rewarding night. You should get some rest. There is much to do tomorrow.”
“I will rest when they have found the Gray Man,” said Aric.
Back in the hall the bodies were being cleared away. Aric descended the stairs and walked out into the night. A line of men bearing torches was climbing up from the beach. Aric waited. His captain, a thin hatchet-faced man named Shad, approached. He gave a brief bow.
“No sign of them on the beach, lord. I have sent out boats to search the water and riders to scour the opposite shoreline. We are also organizing a house-to-house search through the town.”
“They could not have made it to the White Palace in this time,” said Aric. “Are you certain no unauthorized guest left the hall?”
“There was one, lord. The priest Chardyn. The guards assumed his name had been mistakenly omitted from the list.”
“I don’t care about the priest.”
“There was no one else, lord. The second squad reported that there was another man with the priest when they closed the western doors. From the description it was the Gray Man. He must have walked around to the rear of the palace and scaled the wall to the boy’s room.”
“That much we already know,” said Aric. “What happened then is what we must find out.”
“They must have gone to the beach, lord. The tide was in, so they could not have skirted the cliffs. We will find them. It will be light soon. If they are swimming in the bay, the boatmen will catch them. Do you wish for them to be taken alive?”
“No, just kill them. But bring me the heads.”
“Yes, lord.”
Aric strode back into the palace. There was a growing stench in the hall, but it faded as he climbed the stairs. Pausing at the top, he looked down, remembering the screams and cries of the dying. The pleasure he had experienced had surprised him. Thinking back now, he found his previous joy disconcerting. He had never seen himself as a cruel man. As a child he had even hated hunting. It was most puzzling.
Panagyn had mentioned the death of Aldania. Aric paused. He had always liked the duke’s wife. She had been most kind to him. Why, then, did he feel nothing at her passing? Not the tiniest touch of guilt or regret. You are just tired, he told himself. There is nothing wrong with you.
Aric opened the door to his apartments. It was dark inside. The servants had not lit his lanterns. He was momentarily irritated until he recalled that the servants had been ordered to leave the hall for Eldicar’s performance. After that, in the chaos that had followed the slaughter, it was not surprising that they had forgotten their duties.
Moving through the main room, he walked to the balcony and stared out once more over the gardens and the distant beach. There were many boats drawn up on the sand, and he could see the commandeered fishing boats heading back toward their moorings. Obviously, the Gray Man and the boy had not chosen to swim the bay. Where, then, were they?
In that moment he heard a whisper of sound from behind. As he turned, he saw a dark figure loom out of the shadows. Something glittering and bright flashed for his face. Aric hurled himself backward. His legs thudded against the balcony balustrade, and he toppled over it, striking his head on a jutting stone.
Darkness swamped him.
Aric became aware of the taste of blood in his mouth. He tried to move, but something was pulling at his arm. He opened his eyes. His face was resting against bare earth, his left arm wedged into the branches of a flowering bush. He dragged it clear and groaned as pain shot through his side. Lying still for a moment, he gathered his thoughts.
Someone had been in his room. He had been attacked and had fallen twenty feet from the balcony. The bush had broken his fall, but it felt as if he had snapped a rib. Pushing himself to his knees, he saw that blood had stained the earth beneath him. Panicked now, Aric searched for signs of a wound. A drop of blood dripped to his hand. It was coming from his face. Gingerly he lifted his fingers to his jaw. It was wet and sore. He remembered the flashing blade. It had cut him along the jawline from just below the ear all the way to the chin.
With a grunt of pain Aric levered himself to his feet and staggered along the path, emerging at the front of the palace. Two guards were standing nearby. Seeing him, they ran forward and helped him back into the palace.
Within minutes he was in his rooms once more. Eldicar Manushan came to him there and examined his wounds.
“You have two cracked ribs, and your left wrist is sprained,” he said.
“What about my face? Will it be badly scarred?”
“I shall deal with that presently. What happened?”
“I was attacked. Here, in this very room.”
Eldicar moved out onto the balcony, then returned. “There is a narrow ledge from your balcony to that of the duke’s son,” he said. “The Gray Man did not flee the palace. He merely climbed along to your apartments and waited for the hunt to die down.”
“He could have killed me,” whispered Aric.
“He almost did. Had that cut been a hair’s breadth lower, it would have opened your jugular. A formidable opponent. He hides where no one would think of looking, in the very heart of his enemy’s fortress.” Eldicar sighed. “Such a shame he would not join us.”
Aric lay quie
tly on the bed, feeling nauseous. Eldicar spoke again. “You were very lucky, Aric. The enhancements to your body enabled you to react with far greater speed than the average human. That allowed you to—just—avoid having your throat cut. It also helped your body absorb the impact of the fall.”
“What else do these … enhancements do, Eldicar?”
“What do you mean?”
“I seem to have … changed in other ways. To have lost … something.”
“You have lost nothing you will need as a servant of Kuan Hador. Now let me seal that cut.”
Keeva’s tension grew as the ride progressed. From the start she had realized that this was not going to be an easy task. Most of the horses shied away from Ustarte, nostrils flaring, ears flat against their skulls. There was something about her scent that frightened them. Finally Emrin had brought out an old swaybacked mare. She was almost blind and allowed Ustarte to approach. Emrin lifted a saddle from a nearby rail.
“I cannot ride in the usual fashion,” said Ustarte. Emrin stood still, confused. “My legs are … deformed,” she told him.
His expression changed to one of embarrassment. “Perhaps a shabraque would be more suitable,” he said. “We have several, though they are not comfortable for a long ride. But you will be able to sit sideways on old Grimtail. Will that suit, lady?”
“You are very kind. I am sorry to put you to this trouble.”
“No trouble, I assure you.” Emrin moved to the back of the stable and returned with a leopardskin shabraque, which he fastened around the pony’s neck and belly. He swung to Keeva, who was already sitting on a tall chestnut gelding. “I have packed supplies for around three days, and two sacks of grain for the mounts.”
“We must be swift,” Ustarte said suddenly. “There are riders heading up from the town.”