She was well aware that neither of them trusted Brot’an, but they’d all suffered and sacrificed too much to let themselves be caught here by any pursuit. The thought of losing another day was more than she could face. Her mission was too dire and her final destination so far away.
At present, they were off the west coast of the central continent’s Numan Lands. They would travel all the way down that continent, beyond the world’s center, to il’Dha’ab Najuum, the westernmost kingdom of the Suman Empire and the seat of its emperor. In that region a vast desert crossed the entire continent, and there Magiere hoped to seek the forgotten resting place of another ancient artifact.
There were five “anchors” or “orbs,” one for each of the five elements, created and wielded over a thousand years ago by the Ancient Enemy. Magiere and a few others believed this Enemy would return, and that even now its minions—living and undead—were on the move, searching for the orbs. She had managed to find two, and Wynn Hygeorht had found one. Water, Fire, and Earth were now hidden away, and that left only Air and Spirit.
Wynn had uncovered clues that the orb of Air might lie somewhere in or near the Suman Empire. She’d suggested that Magiere go there and contact an enigmatic domin of metaology named Ghassan il’Sänke. The troublesome little sage believed that if anyone could help locate the orb, it would be il’Sänke. Whether he would was another matter. But Wynn herself, intent on using the resources of her branch of the Guild of Sagecraft to search for more clues to the whereabouts of the final orb of Spirit, had chosen to stay behind in Calm Seatt.
Magiere and Wynn had not parted on good terms—which was Wynn’s fault—but Magiere still missed her little friend’s knowledge, and even Wynn’s inability to shut up now and then. Magiere straightened, trying to keep her anger under control, as the others eyed her in silence. So far Brot’an had been particularly quiet, and that was always unnerving.
“Leesil ...” Magiere began again. “Brot’an and I speak the language best. We can move faster on our own, without all this gear. Take Chap and Leanâlhâm, and find us a place to hide out. You can meet us later at the end of this pier, midafternoon. If we’ve found something leaving tonight, we’ll board, and if not, at least we’ll have quarters.”
Leesil’s expression remained taut.
Magiere knew he wasn’t up to being bullied. Recently both Leesil and Chap had questioned her judgment with good reason, but this time she was right.
Leesil glanced at Leanâlhâm. Shifting his pack farther onto his back, he reached for Brot’an’s. The old assassin slipped his pack off and handed it over, and then Leesil took the travel chest from Magiere and balanced it on his shoulder.
“By midday at the pier’s end,” Leesil said coldly. “No later.”
—No—I will—come—
The words rose unbidden in Magiere’s head again, and she looked down at Chap.
“Just find us an inn, while I try to find a ship.”
Neither Chap nor Leesil looked happy, but they didn’t argue further.
“Maybe it is not bad if we do not leave tonight,” Leanâlhâm said again.
When Magiere looked into the girl’s unusual eyes, Leanâlhâm appeared to realize how odd she sounded, given their situation.
“Maybe it would be good to rest one night on land,” she added hurriedly.
Still shifting and hefting too many packs, Leesil raised one white-blond eyebrow in suspicion. Brot’an actually frowned and shook his head once. Magiere fought against sighing yet again as she realized what this was really about.
Leanâlhâm still hoped Osha might catch up.
Osha was the other absent companion, though he should’ve been here, as he’d been traveling with Leanâlhâm and Brot’an. From what Magiere understood, he’d been sort of a half-trained anmaglâhk. But he, too, no longer dressed as one of the caste, and he was definitely no longer part of the Anmaglâhk. Why was another unknown, and apparently something separate from the war Brot’an had started with his caste.
More than two years ago, the leader of the Anmaglâhk—Most Aged Father—had learned of Magiere’s uncovering the first orb. He’d had his caste hunting her ever since. He wanted the orb badly enough to kill without hesitation and even to sacrifice his own underlings.
A team of anmaglâhk had followed her all the way across the world. They’d been lying in wait, watching Wynn’s guild branch, until Magiere had returned to the sage not long ago. With the aid of her companions and Wynn’s allies, Magiere had managed to slip from her pursuers’ reach back in the port city of Calm Seatt.
Most Aged Father’s followers wouldn’t give up so easily, though she still didn’t know why Most Aged Father wanted the orb so badly. How much he even knew about the device was unknown. Brot’an had also come to the Numan Lands and swore he was here to protect her from his caste. And more, for reasons unknown, he’d brought Leanâlhâm and Osha. But as Magiere, Leesil, and Chap had escaped from Calm Seatt, Osha had been instructed to meet them on their ship. He never came, and Magiere knew exactly why he’d remained behind.
They all knew Osha had stayed behind for Wynn.
Those two had a past, a personal attachment, and Osha’s failure to join them had left Leanâlhâm wounded. Now the girl seemed to harbor a secret hope that he would catch up.
Magiere didn’t know what to say. Was it better to let Leanâlhâm live with the comfort of false hope for a while or force her to face the truth?
“I’d like a good night on land, too,” Leesil said, relieving Magiere of the decision, and he turned his eyes from her to the girl. “Come on, let’s get to it.”
Leanâlhâm nodded sadly, and as Leesil headed toward the waterfront, she followed. Chap rumbled once, but Magiere waved him off.
“Go on. You know I’m right.”
Still rumbling, he, too, followed after Leesil, but Magiere watched Leanâlhâm as Leesil led the girl off by the hand.
“And get her some pants!” Magiere called after them, though no one answered. Whether they all left tonight, tomorrow, or half a moon from now, she was certain of one thing.
Osha wouldn’t be joining them.
Chapter Two
Not long after, Magiere strode beside Brot’an along the waterfront between the dock and the main city of the isle. She grew even more daunted, never expecting a place quite this big.
Warehouses and shops, most piled three stories high, were a wild mix of weathered log and lumber buildings of all makes and colors mashed together along narrow streets rising up the sharp slope above the open ocean. A forest of smoke trails curled into the sky from chimneys of clay and tile and brick. The air was tainted with tangled smells of fish and oiled wood amid the noise of people, livestock, carts, and wagons tightly milling about.
Brot’an was silent, towering over everyone. More than a few people looked up at him, and Magiere started to feel self-conscious. A young sailor came toward them while whistling a tune. On instinct Magiere held up a hand to stop him.
“Harbormaster?” she said in her broken Numanese. “Tell us where to find?”
He stumbled, and she nearly sighed again—which she’d been doing a lot today. Though her hauberk and sword might have made her intimidating, his gaze fixed on her face and hair.
She knew her appearance affected some men, both attracting and unsettling them, whether she wanted it to or not. She was tall and slender, and her long black hair with its strange bloodred tints swung across her back when she moved. Her skin was too pale and perfect, and her eyes were deep, dark brown ... when they were normal.