Brot’ân’duivé had been stealing their lives, one by one, ever since.
Out of eleven, four remained, yet they could not stop or turn back. Dänvârfij could not fail Most Aged Father, and in the last port, called Soráno, she had devised a new plan.
She had killed two of the Lhoin’na guardians called the Shé’ith and took their swords and emblems for Rhysís and her to assume their identities. Racing against time, they had beaten Magiere to the Suman capital and used their false authority to have her and the others arrested for murdering the crew of a Sumanese ship.
Dänvârfij had been certain her quarry would be locked away in some constabulary. In such an easily infiltrated location, they could be taken unarmed. Everything had gone terribly wrong.
Magiere and Léshil, along with the majay-hì and the mixed-blood girl, had been taken directly to the imperial castle. At the sight of Magiere, the reaction of the imperial prince, the leaders of the Suman sages, and the imperial counselor had been immediate. All of the prisoners were dragged off and locked away somewhere in the immense imperial grounds.
Dänvârfij had been denied access to or knowledge of their whereabouts.
She had gone back several times with various reasons for speaking to them, only to be denied. Worse, the traitor had escaped being arrested. Nothing had gone as planned, and Brot’ân’duivé now moved freely somewhere in this city.
“Do you think our quarry still lives?”
Dänvârfij regained awareness at Én’nish’s question. Not long in the past, the young one had questioned her every decision. Én’nish had become hesitant and too easily stalled by uncertainty.
“I do not know,” she answered flatly.
“That is the first thing we must learn,” Rhysís countered.
“How?” Fréthfâre asked.
He shook his head, almost impatiently. “If the Suman government will not assist us, and we are certain that path is barred, then we return to proven methods. Capture and extract information from someone who does know.”
Dänvârfij grew wary. “None of the local guards will possess such information.”
“The imperial guards took our quarry away,” he countered.
Dänvârfij stepped toward him. “That is a reckless tactic. Any of them missing will be noticed.”
“One of them may know,” he countered again, “or know who among their own has such knowledge. Recklessness is all we have left, and this will not be a one-step process.”
Dänvârfij fell silent rather than argue further.
With every death and failure among them, her authority had been strained or diminished. To take action against the imperial guards could endanger their own secrecy. If they failed, or succeeded but were uncovered, their current lack of options would not be the worst of their obstacles.
Dänvârfij could not think of anything better and looked to Fréthfâre, futile as that was.
Fréthfâre nodded as well. “As you are no longer welcome inside, stalk the patrols on the outside for a straggler to capture.”
Dänvârfij inhaled and exhaled slowly.
Standing in the cutway, Wynn watched Chane facing down Ghassan il’Sänke and decided to take matters into her own hands.
“Chane ... Ghassan is right. We need to get off the streets first.” When Chane’s brow furrowed, she turned to the domin. “Where will you take us? Some room at an inn?”
The domin hesitated long enough to set her on edge.
“I have a ... private residence which is little known,” he replied.
“So you are hiding,” Chane interrupted. “Why?”
“Chane!” Wynn said in exasperation. She looked back in time to see Osha step in and fix on the domin with an expression nearly as suspicious as Chane’s.
She didn’t trust the domin completely either, and with some embarrassment she remembered that only a few moments before, in her panic, she had blurted out that she’d not only found another orb, she’d brought it here.
If Chane had not interrupted her, she might have spilled out one more piece of information that she wasn’t yet ready to share with Ghassan.
In addition to the orb of Spirit, she’d also brought a small, strange device she had acquired that could be used to track an orb. The problem was that this device was currently dormant, she didn’t know how to reactivate it, and at some point she was going to need Ghassan’s help to make it work. How soon she decided to tell him of this object remained to be seen.
But he’d protected her more than once and made her sun-crystal staff. If he had a safe place, then that was good enough for now.
Without waiting for more arguments, she shifted the pack on her back, hefted her staff, and turned toward the cutway’s mouth with one glance at the domin.
“Lead on.”
Ghassan turned without a word and stepped ahead of her, looking both ways along the street.
Wynn followed, and at least this time Shade wasn’t arguing, but she heard nothing from behind for a moment. Then came Chane’s hissing exhale and two sets of soft footsteps. There had been no doubt. Neither Chane nor Osha would let her simply walk away with the domin, whether Shade was with her or not.
Occasionally, their overprotectiveness was useful.
Il’Sänke made his way inland, eventually turning southward, and along the way he stopped often, though he didn’t look about.
Wynn wondered whether he was listening, but she heard nothing herself. After a while, the walk began to feel quite long. The domin appeared to be taking them all the way across the city—or at least that was how it felt when they entered an area with more people out at night.
Fine shops and eateries of tan stone lined streets with plentiful lamps and colorfully dressed women scented with jasmine. After another long stretch, all of this gave way to smaller dwellings in disrepair and people in the streets dressed in rags and too often bare feet. They passed one building with shuttered windows. A few staggered out its broad front door, which was guarded by two slovenly but armed men, and they shuffled away in a daze.
Wynn passed close to one of the patrons and saw his eyes staring blankly ahead without looking at anything. He stank of sweet-smelling smoke strong enough to cut through the smells of the city.
“I do not like this,” Chane whispered from behind her. “This place is not fit for you.”
The domin didn’t look back, but Wynn did. “Snobbery won’t hide us any better. If the guild branch here is anything like my own, those guards notified the local constabularies about us.”
In spite of her bravado, the glassy-eyed people unnerved her. She’d read about places where something called hashish was smoked. What were they called, something that meant “dream haven” or the like? Had she just walked past one?
The domin turned down a darkened side street without a single lamp along the way. They continued past three shabby buildings and stopped in front of the fourth one. Its front door was crooked in its frame and covered in turquoise paint so peeled and full of cracks that Wynn could see the spidering lines in the dark. Broken tiles lay out front that might have fallen off the roof.
“This ... safe place?” Osha asked.
Shade started rumbling at the door of peeling, cracked paint.
Wynn couldn’t bring herself to shush them, for she grew reluctant as well.
Ghassan il’Sänke stepped forward and pulled the crooked front door open.
Wynn started after him, but Shade slipped in front of her. The dog planted herself with a growl and wouldn’t move. In frustration, Wynn nudged Shade’s rump with a knee—and again—until they both followed the domin inside.
It was so dark in the narrow hallway that Wynn pulled a cold-lamp crystal from her short-robe’s pocket and stroked it sharply across the fabric. When it glowed with light, she instantly wished she hadn’t bothered, and Chane and Osha came in behind her.