Ravendas, clad in a robe as dark as an executioner's, approached the prisoner. He was an old man, his limbs thin and frail, his bony shoulders slumped, his head hanging downward in despair. She lifted his chin with a finger and found herself gazing into two empty pits of wrinkled skin where his eyes had once been.
"Greetings, dear Tembris," she said softly. Terror rippled across the old thief's face as he recognized her voice. His spidery limbs began to tremble.
She ran a finger slowly along his cheek. "Did you think that because your work for me was finished that you were no longer my servant, Tembris?" She spoke in a sicken-ingly sweet voice.
The thief shook his head in mute reply. "Once my servant, always my servant, Tembris. That is my rule. And I hate it when one of my servants betrays me." Her long crimson fingernail dug into his flesh. A bead of dark blood trickled down his cheek like a tear. "It seems I should have taken your hands as well as your eyes." The thief was shaking with fear, and Ravendas bared her teeth in satisfaction.
Ever since the insurrection had begun in the city, she had been routinely capturing members of the Purple Masks Guild and interrogating them. There were few, if any, who knew more about what occurred in a city than its thieves, and the torture sessions had proven informative, as well as entertaining. A slowly descending, razor-sharp blade had convinced one of the thieves to speak of two strangers she had taken to visit Tembris in the guildhouse of the Purple Masks. Unfortunately, the thief had died just when her story was proving interesting. That had been Ravendas's own mistake. She had been so caught up in the thief's tale that she had forgotten to pay attention to the descent of the blade.
Thus Ravendas had ordered Tembris captured. Now she would discover what she wished to know.
She gestured for the two guards to lead the old thief to a chair in an alcove. Unfortunately, she would not be able to use any of her remarkable machines. They were designed for victims whom agony could compel to speak. Yet Snake had other methods at his disposal.
The guards strapped Tembris into the chair and at a harsh glance from Ravendas retreated.
"Are you prepared, my lord steward?"
"Yes, Lord Ravendas," Snake replied in his dry voice. From his robes he drew a silver knife and a small round dish of polished green stone. He muttered a few arcane words, then with the tip of the knife pricked the third finger of Tembris's right hand. The old thief winced in pain. A thin stream of blood trickled into the stone dish.
When the small dish was full, Snake dipped a finger into the dark blood and drew an intricate rune upon the old thief's forehead. Then he held a splay-fingered hand over the dish.
"Azahk el gahzrabakl" the lord steward hissed.
With a swift motion Snake turned the dish on edge and pressed its bottom against Tembris's chest, directly over his heart. A mild look of surprise crossed Ravendas's pale face. The blood did not spill out of the dish. Instead it seemed to be frozen in place, a smooth, dark circle absorbing all light.
"Ask him your question now, my lord," Snake instructed.
"Who came to visit you in the guildhouse, Tembris?" she demanded. "And what did they want of you?"
Tembris shook his head, his expression defiant. But Snake's magic did its work. The dark circle of blood began to glow with an unearthly crimson light. An image appeared within it, a bony hand holding a lump of charcoal, scrawling something upon a piece of parchment. A word. Malebdala.
So whoever they were, they too were seeking The Book of the Shadows, Ravendas thought. Of course, they would not find it. She possessed the only copy, stolen by Tembris from the library at Elversult. No one else would learn the secrets within its pages. No one.
The image flickered and changed. Now it showed a woman with red-brown hair. Her heavy cloak had shifted just enough to reveal a silvery pin on her jacket, wrought in the shape of a crescent moon encircling a harp.
Rage flared hotly in Ravendas's cheeks. She turned her sharp gaze to Snake.
"I thought you said all the Harpers in the city had been dealt with," she snapped furiously.
No emotion registered on Snake's thin face. "Apparently this one escaped, my lord."
She clenched her fine hands into fists. "Apparently," she said acidly. She was about to say more to berate her lord steward for his failure when the image wavered and changed again. Ravendas froze. The image showed a man with dark hair, pale green eyes, and angular, wolfish features. It was a face Ravendas would never mistake. She should have known she would not be rid of that one so easily.
"My lord steward," she said, her voice calm but deadly. "Find the captain who reported to me that Caledan Caldorien had been driven from the city."
Snake nodded deferentially. "Shall I bring him to you, my lord?"
"No. Just his heart will do."
"And what of the old thief, my lord?"
Ravendas tapped her chin thoughtfully with a slender finger. "I shall think of something," she said.
A low, wordless sound of fear escaped Tembris's lips.
Dawn was still only a silvery glimmer on the horizon as Mari, Caledan, and Tyveris rode from the courtyard of the Dreaming Dragon. They kept the hoods of their traveling cloaks up, concealing their faces. Iriaebor's streets were empty at this hour, but all the same they took care not to be seen.
"You're sure you don't want me to come along?" Ferret had asked as they made their farewells at the inn.
"Thanks, Ferret, but not this trip," Caledan had replied. "We thought we'd try asking the monks to see the book first."
The thief had shrugged his thin shoulders. "Suit yourself," he'd said in a slightly wounded voice, fidgeting with a sharp-edged dagger. "It just seems like a waste of time to me, that's all. Asking is so… so indirect."
Tendrils of mist crept from the ground as they made their way down the Tor into the New City. When they rode into the wide plaza of the free market, Caledan laid a hand on Man's arm.
"Look above that archway," he whispered softly, "but don't be obvious about it."
She did as he instructed, and her breath caught in her throat. A spear had been wedged atop a stone wall bordering the plaza. Thrust upon the tip of the bloodied spear was a human head. It was a man with empty, wrinkled sockets for eyes.
Quickly Mari averted her gaze from the awful spectacle. 'Tembris," she whispered. "But why…?"
"It's a warning," Caledan growled softly. "Ravendas must know now that we're still in the city. But obviously she doesn't know where. Otherwise we'd both be up there with him."
A sick feeling settled in Mart's stomach. Serving Ravendas had first cost Tembris his eyes. In the end it had cost him his life. There was nothing to do now but ride onward.
The three companions made their way out Iriaebor's west gate, then left the main road shortly after midmorning, cutting overland to the northeast toward the distant, gray-green peaks of the Sunset Mountains. The mist had burned off the rolling plains, and the day had grown fine and warm. Mari pulled a felt-covered bundle from a saddlebag and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a very old-looking baliset. It was a beautiful instrument, built of ash inlaid with darker maple and reddish cherry. She strummed the four strings and smiled at the pure sound. The baliset's voice was as true as the day Master Andros had given it to her.
She had not played in several weeks, but her fingers plucked the strings with practiced ease, and she began a simple song. Tyveris, riding close by, smiled at the music. After a while, Mari added her rich, burnished voice to that of the instrument, singing one of the first songs Master Andros had taught her, a rollicking air about a sparrow in flight, and a man returning home to his true love.