Atanna caught his gaze once more. She smiled and blushed, completely ignorant of the darkening thoughts behind the captain's own smile. No, no matter what happened, Gregus Mazi could not be allowed ever again to touch her… not even if it cost Kentril Dumon his own life in the process.
TWELVE
Zayl met him some hours after the dinner, the necromancer's expression giving no sense of success or failure as he slipped into the captain's chambers. Only when Zayl had held up his ivory dagger and turned one complete circle did the pale figure finally announce the results of his search.
"An easier task than I had anticipated. Clearly marked and filed in the library among other papers. In his own abode, our host apparently did not think he had to be cautious about such information."
"No," responded Kentril somewhat bitterly. "He probably believes that he can trust everyone."
Zayl presented to him a tracing of the chart someone had made showing how to reach the caverns beneath and what routes the system of tunnels took. "You can see that it is good we have this. The system is complex, almost mazelike. One could get lost down there and never find the way back."
"Where do you think Mazi might be?"
"That is something I shall try to divine just before we depart, captain. I did not leave the sorcerer's former sanctum empty—handed. I have a few more samples of his hair. I will try to use them to find his location. It may not be exact, but should be enough for me to hazard an expert guess."
Kentril tried not to think of the two of them wandering through the caverns seeking the insidious spellcaster. "Will he be able to detect what you're doing?"
"There is always the chance of that, but I have takenthe utmost precaution each time and will do so again. The methods of my kind are much more subtle than those likely learned by such as Mazi or Tsin. That has been in great part for the sake of simple survival, for we know how most others view us. We have even learned by necessity how to move among other practitioners of the magic arts without them ever knowing we were present. You may rest assured, Gregus Mazi will not notice."
The ability to fool Tsin did not impress Kentril as much as Zayl perhaps thought it did, but the time to turn back had long passed. "How long do we have?"
"Such a spell as the Vizjerei must cast will require many hours, even a day, but we must start out as soon as they begin preparations." The necromancer glanced again at the tracing. "Which makes it all the better that we have this. Do not lose it, captain." Zayl stepped back as if preparing to leave, then suddenly asked, "How went the dinner?"
"Well." Now did not seem the time to tell the necromancer all that had happened.
Zayl waited for him to elaborate, but when Kentril remained quiet, the cloaked figure finally departed.
Kentril fell back onto his bed. He had nearly managed to fall asleep when a single tap on the door made him sit up straight, one hand already on the dagger habit caused him to keep at his side. A moment later, Gorst and Albord stepped in, both looking perturbed.
"What is it, Gorst?" Kentril asked, hand relaxing only slightly.
"Albord's got something to say."
The younger mercenary clearly felt ill at ease. "Captain, there's something I don't like."
"What's that?"
"No one's still seen hide nor hair of Brek, and now besides him there's two more missing."
Not what Kentril wanted to hear at any time, but even more so with the coming events. "Who?"
"Simon. Mordecai. I asked the others, and no one knows when they were last seen."
"Everyone else accounted for?"
Gorst nodded. "Kept em in. They 're a little cranky about it, but it ain't too bad bein' stuck in here, eh, Kentril?"
The captain was certain that his face flushed, but he could hardly worry about that now. Counting Albord, that made only seven men left besides Kentril and Gorst. "Three missing now. I don't like that. Someone resents our being here." Inwardly, he wondered if the disappearances had anything to do with Gregus Mazi. Did the sorcerer work to eliminate his former master's new allies?
"What do we do?" asked Albord.
"We keep this to ourselves. No one leaves the palace until I say so. There's not enough of us to go hunting the others. We'll have to consider the worst, I'm afraid." Kentril rubbed his chin in thought. "Albord, you've got charge of them. I've something in mind I need Gorst for. Can you handle it?"
The younger mercenary snapped to attention. "I'll see it done, captain!"
"Good lad. And if any of the three do return, question them carefully as to their whereabouts. We need to find out all we can."
Not once did he mention saying anything to Lord Khan, and not once did Albord or Gorst suggest it. Whatever choice their captain made they would accept.
Kentril dismissed Albord, but had his second stay. "Gorst, there's something I need you to help with, but since there's a strong element of risk, I'll only accept you as a volunteer. If you don't want to go, I'll understand."
The familiar grin faded. "What is it, Kentril?"
Captain Dumon told him, starting with Zayl's astonishing revelation and what the necromancer and he had decided to do. Gorst listened quietly through it all, the dark, round eyes of the giant never once leaving his commander.
"I'll come," he responded as soon as Kentril had finished.
"Gorst, this could be more dangerous than any battlefield."
The giant smiled. "So?"
Despite some guilt at having included his friend in this possibly suicidal quest, Kentril also felt much relieved. Having Gorst at his back made coming events seem a little more reasonable, a little more normal. This would just be another battle situation, a special mission behind enemy lines. True, the foe wielded sorcery, but they had the talents of Zayl for that. If the necromancer could keep Gregus Mazi at bay, the two fighters would move in to strike the mortal blow. A three—pronged assault on a single enemy, a nearly perfect battle plan.
Kentril snorted at his own naive notion. It all sounded so simple when thought of in such terms, but he doubted that would turn out to be the case once reality hit. One thing he had learned early on in his career, when the battle began in earnest, all the magnificent plans for victory went up in smoke.
Waiting for the moment itself proved to be the worst of ordeals. To the captain, each minute felt like an hour, and each hour a day. If not for those interludes when Atanna could break away from the preparations Tsin required, Kentril suspected that he would have gone mad.
Lord Khan's daughter and he spoke little when they were together, and what talk did take place concerned more hints of the future. Half—veiled promises filled the captain's head as the enchantress herself filled his arms.
"Not long now," Atanna whispered more than once, "but so much longer than I want to wait…"
Fueled by such honeyed words, Kentril silently swore that when the time came, he would take Gregus Mazi's head himself and present it to Atanna and her father as proof of his worthiness. Surely then Lord Khan would see him as a respected suitor.
And then at long last came the time. A different Atanna met Captain Dumon as he pretended to be cleaning his gear. She wore a chaste white robe much akin to that of Juris Khan, and her luxurious hair had been tied tightly back in a tail. The solemn expression alone informed Kentril of why she had come dressed so.
"It's to begin?" he asked, his question having double meaning to him.
"Master Tsin says that the forces are in correct alignment and the patterns matched to their purposes. It will still take us hours, but I must be there for all of it. I came to ask for your confidence, your belief in our success."