“I have an ... acquaintance in the guild’s Suman branch, a domin of metaology named Ghassan il’Sänke. He helped in deciphering earlier parts of the scroll ... and in combating the undead.”
The last part gained Magiere’s full attention, and Wynn gestured to her staff leaning in the corner.
“He created that for me,” she said. “The crystal emits light akin to the sun. We know what that can do to Noble Dead, vampires, and others.”
Leesil stared at the staff, both of his white-blond eyebrows arched. “Truly, it can— Wait. What others?”
Wynn didn’t want to get sidetracked into explaining about Sau’ilahk, the wraith.
“I’ve seen other kinds of Noble Dead,” she answered. “We’ll deal with that later. Domin il’Sanke also believes the Ancient Enemy, so-called, may ... will return. Premin Hawes believes that if anyone can decipher more of the cryptic clues we’ve extracted concerning the orb of Air, it might be him.”
Wynn briefly explained about the limited details hidden in the poem versus all the centuries that had passed since it had been written. It was daunting that time itself may have rendered useless what little geographic hints were hidden in the scroll.
“So what’s the risk?” Leesil asked. “It’s not hard to see you’re less than thrilled with bringing this Suman in on what we’re after. Why? Whose side is he on?”
Wynn took a slow breath. How could she explain about il’Sänke?
“From what I’ve seen—learned—he’s as determined as my guild branch’s Premin Council to keep any portents secret from the masses. The difference is that he’s not in denial, at least to me. He knows as much as I do, though perhaps about different details.”
“So your Premin Hawes thinks this il’Sänke may know more?” Magiere asked. “Maybe something specific about where to look for another orb?”
“She does ... and neither of us has a better idea. But we share with him only the clues related to the orb of Air ... and nothing more.”
“Then we go south,” Magiere said. “But what about the last orb, the one of Spirit?”
Wynn looked at Magiere and then Leesil, feeling bleak. Leesil had fallen silent, and stared down at the map. She felt Chap watching her, but beyond his previous brief comment, he had said nothing at all. Wynn had to wonder about the changes in all three of them.
Magiere had always been the one who wanted to be done with all this and just go home. Yet now she was the only one openly pushing forward, while the other two remained silent.
“We’ve learned nothing yet of the last orb, which means ...” Wynn faltered, her voice quavering as she continued. “We’re going to have to separate into two groups.”
She had no idea how they’d take this, and braced for the outrage.
Leesil’s amber eyes only flickered, and he sat up, leaning toward her.
“We already knew that,” he said quietly, “and planned for it. Two groups will be necessary for at least one to escape this city without the Anmaglâhk being able to follow quickly enough.”
Both his manner and close proximity brought Wynn some relief.
“There are loose ends,” Magiere grumbled, and she looked to Chap.
Chap sat rigid beside Magiere. Again Wynn didn’t hear one word from him in her head. She wanted to know what he thought about all this, that he still believed they shared the same goals. Chap liked to be in control, and events were pressing forward right over the top of him.
“There are still preparations to make,” Leesil said. “We’ll need help with some of it, since we don’t know anyone here besides you.”
Confused, Wynn answered, “Yes, of course. But I need to speak with Chap ... alone.”
Leesil scowled in suspicion, but Wynn cut him off before he could speak.
“Talk with Ore-Locks about what you need,” she said, and then got up. “If he can’t come up with something, we’ll figure it out.”
“Wynn ...” Magiere began. “What is this about?”
Wynn headed for the door, for there was one thing she’d learned that no one else should know just yet—no one except Chap. For it to be made clear, she would need to force Shade to face her father.
“Shade, come on,” she called. “And Chap?”
Magiere visibly calmed, looking at Chap and then Shade, as if she’d suddenly understood something. Leesil sighed, rolling his eyes.
“Get going,” he told Chap, “and get this settled before we have to set things in motion.”
Wynn said nothing to correct Leesil and Magiere’s misguided assumptions. She let them believe what they wanted to. What she needed in privacy with Chap had nothing to do with healing the rift between a father and a daughter.
Chap rose and headed toward Wynn, but as he passed too close, Shade sidled away from him. Wynn couldn’t tell if Chap reacted or not; he simply stalked out the door to wait on the landing. Still, Shade wouldn’t budge.
“Now!” Wynn commanded.
Shade rumbled and finally headed out.
Wynn could feel Osha watching her, but she didn’t dare look back at him. She was about to follow Shade and Chap when she heard the first part of a conversation in the room behind her.
“What do you need?” Ore-Locks asked.
“Well, to begin,” Leesil replied, “two wagons, some good-sized trunks, as we’ve a lot to haul with us that will have to be loaded early. And especially a ship to take our cargo and three passengers ... departing at night.”
After a long pause, Ore-Locks answered, “It is possible ... what more?”
Wynn left them to their plans and closed the door, wishing Brot’an had said something—just so she’d know he was occupied. She found Chap waiting at her feet with his head down, and Shade sat two steps down the stairs with her back turned.
She cared for them both so much, but there was no time to deal with issues between them. What she wanted Chap to know she couldn’t risk saying aloud, and that was why she needed Shade.
“Shade, show him,” Wynn whispered. “Everything that happened ... everything that was said with Premin Hawes.”
Chap looked up at her. What is this about?
Wynn put a finger over her lips, for she wouldn’t speak any of it out loud. Only Chap could know what she’d learned. Most especially, it had to be kept from Brot’an, but also from Osha and Leanâlhâm, who were too much under the greimasg’äh’s influence.
“Shade,” Wynn whispered.
Shade swiveled only her head and eyed Wynn, long and hard.
“Please,” Wynn added.
Shade finally turned about, eyeing her father much like she would’ve an enemy or threat. She put her forepaws up one step and stretched her head out.
When Chap looked up at Wynn in uncertainty, she waved him toward Shade. He hesitantly slipped his head against his daughter’s. Wynn wished that touch, the sharing in memory-speak, could’ve been just for them. They needed that, no matter how much Shade resisted, but that wasn’t the reason.
The secret was still only a guess, but even that could be dangerous for what it might mean. Wynn knew the instant Chap learned it from Shade.
He lurched back, spinning on the landing, and his head nearly hit Wynn’s leg. All Wynn did when he looked up was slowly nod. Even before she glanced toward the door and those muted voices beyond it, Chap did so, and his hackles rose.
She wanted more time to talk with him, but that couldn’t be here and now. Even trying to use memory-speak with Shade and have her pass it along to Chap would take too long. The others were waiting, and the longer she remained outside, the less likely they would believe this private moment was about Chap and Shade.
The secret was not about the five orbs, but of five parts to one weapon, or so it had been guessed. The last who should ever know of this, even for all he had done for those Wynn cared about, was the master assassin.