Ghassan frowned. “So soon, and closer than I expected.”
“At least we know they’re here and looking. Your prince accomplished what you asked of him.”
Yes, but it would mean little if Magiere and Chane were pulled into a fight before reaching the house. He needed Magiere to nearly reach the house before being seen and recognized as she and her companions entered.
This required stealth and timing, two attributes Ghassan was less than certain Magiere had in her. But once—if—her task was accomplished, any guards who spotted her would not act without orders. Rather, they would send someone off to report to ...
Ghassan waited for the one who would come—for the host of Khalidah.
All it would have taken was a slip from his prince to be overheard. Not just about the escapees but about a fallen domin, last of a sect of sorcerers who had escaped from the audience chamber atop the imperial palace. The old assassin and Leesil had not been wrong, though they had been presumptuous in thinking that he had not considered their notion himself.
Ghassan eyed the street both ways.
The specter would not ignore a chance at catching both of his most desired prey in one place. And wherever it found Magiere, it would expect to find the last of its previous keepers.
Whoever entered that house across the way would be Khalidah’s host.
“What now?” Wynn whispered.
“We wait.”
From above, Brot’ân’duivé spotted Chane slipping down the street with Magiere, Léshil, and Chap. Lifting his gaze, he focused across the rooftops through the darkness.
He no longer knew what to expect from Osha.
Back in Calm Seatt, he had been caught off guard when the young and most inept of anmaglâhk had failed to appear at their meeting point. And then the ship carried Brot’ân’duivé and the others southward.
Osha had chosen to remain with Wynn Hygeorht—and without a word of warning.
Until then, Brot’ân’duivé believed he could read the young man without effort. Osha had surprised him, and not many in the world were capable of this. Worse, for all of Osha’s training under the tutelage of great Sgäilsheilleache, he still exhibited a reticence to kill.
Sgäilsheilleache had killed without hesitation when necessary. He had failed in not teaching his last student to quiet his mind, still his heart, and act as required.
That need would come soon, and Brot’ân’duivé doubted Osha could fulfill it.
For a moment, he slipped into annoyance, for he could not spot Osha on the assigned rooftop ... not until the young one moved and crept to that roof’s edge over the street.
Brot’ân’duivé peered downward as the quartet below came closer, and he firmly gripped his short bow. His task—and Osha’s—would be to provide Magiere’s group cover should they be discovered too quickly before reaching Ghassan’s other hidden place.
The domin’s plan would fail otherwise.
Brot’ân’duivé shifted up to one knee, pulled the arrow enough to feel tension in the bowstring, and watched as the group below approached the house. Even with their hoods up, it was simple to differentiate between Chane and Magiere by their heights and movements. He did not spot any guards, but they had to be near if the domin’s plan was truly in motion. For an instant, Brot’ân’duivé’s gaze locked only on Léshil.
To date, he had explained both his presence and his actions as a determination to protect Magiere and keep the orbs from falling into the hands of Most Aged Father. Magiere understood his reasons and believed him—in part, it was the truth. He had other reasons he kept to himself.
First, he had to learn the power of the orbs, their purpose, and their use. It had been a rare frustration to live in the presence of the orb of Spirit and not open the chest to examine it. If he betrayed such interest, he would have given himself away prematurely.
Chap was ever suspicious and missed little.
Second, Brot’ân’duivé had to make certain at any cost that Léshil survived. The half-blood offspring of a human father and his an’Cróan mother, Cuirin’nên’a, served a purpose.
Many years past, and well before Léshil’s conception, a few among the Anmaglâhk watched with great concern as Most Aged Father’s distaste for humans became something worse. The return of the Enemy was not in doubt by those who still learned of the far past, but the patriarch set the caste to actions that could bring about dangerous repercussions.
In that forgotten age, humans had been used as tools of the Enemy.
Most Aged Father’s obsession with this became a threat to his own people. He began using the Anmaglâhk not as guardians and protectors but as weapons themselves. They were ordered to seed war among human nations, to turn such against one another, and weaken, cripple, or eliminate their potential as weapons should the Ancient Enemy return.
Some among the caste, such as Brot’ân’duivé’s one love—the maternal grandmother of Léshil—saw the danger that others did not. Cuirin’nên’a’s mother, the great Eillean, had been a founder of a hidden collection of dissidents inside the caste and later among the clans.
Yes, it was Eillean who feared that humans would learn what was being done to them, if not why. They would turn against the an’Cróan for vengeance, and a thousand years of peace, sanctuary, and safety would be lost. Brot’ân’duivé later joined the dissidents by Eillean’s consent. It had been through her that he learned of Cuirin’nên’a and, more critically, of Léshil as the dissidents’ own instrument to strike the Enemy when it came again.
Cuirin’nên’a had followed in her mother’s ways.
She sacrificed much to bring her half-blooded son into this world and train him beyond the caste’s reach. So he was born and raised in the Warlands, away from his people, with few influences outside of his mother. This was necessary for him to remain beyond the influence of any one people, culture, or faction. It would then be easier to keep him free for what would come, and to direct—control—him amid his feelings of being cast adrift in the world.
Cuirin’nên’a was to turn her own son into the weapon that their people might someday need. So it should have been—until he fled ... with a majay-hì.
Brot’ân’duivé easily reasoned this had been Chap’s doing. No one could have known then what hid within one majay-hì pup that a grandmother delivered secretly through a mother to a lonely half-blooded boy. But Chap’s act of stealing Léshil away did not change fate.
Even the long-dead ancestors recognized Léshil when he later went to them for his name-taking. Instead of leaving him to choose a name for himself, they put another name upon him linked to one among them.
Leshiârelaohk ... Leshiâra’s Champion ... the Champion of Sorrow-Tear.
Léshil’s destiny was clear, and Chap’s plans no longer mattered. The mixed-race son of Cuirin’nên’a would play a pivotal role should the worst come and the Ancient Enemy of many names return again.
Brot’ân’duivé would make certain of Léshil’s survival above all else.
He watched the half-blood and the others walk out in the open market, now still and quiet, and he knew Osha had seen them as well. Though the young one had become unpredictable, he would not hesitate to protect his human friends.
About twenty paces from the house, Léshil stopped. Chap halted beside him, and Magiere paused ahead to look back. Léshil reached up and pushed his hood back, exposing his white-blond hair, which caught the light of lanterns halfway down the block. Chap stood in plain sight, looking both ways as Magiere pushed her hood back.
Brot’ân’duivé remained poised. His gaze shifted between every dark place along the street. This was the moment in which the domin’s plan might fail.