“Construction is progressing according to Ivar’s plans,” Willem said. “It’s amazing, really, Master Rymiit.”
“What’s amazing?” the wizard asked, lifting one eyebrow in a look at once bored and quizzical.
“The whole thing,” Willem breathed, certain that answer would never satisfy the Thayan, but it was all Willem could think to say.
Marek chuckled, sat back in his chair, and stared up at the ceiling as though trying to frame his thoughts so that he could express himself in terms simple enough that even a dolt like Willem might understand him.
“Why did you ask me to come here?” Willem said. His voice barely squeaked out of him. His throat had become reluctant to speak, his mind afraid of the words, but his heart longing to know.
“You’re still a sitting member of the Senate of Innarlith,” Marek said. “You have responsibilities. This is beneath you, really, this digging aroundrooting in the dirt out there with the snakes and the nagas.”
“I’ve never been” Willem started to say, but stopped himself. He didn’t want to tell Marek Rymiit that he’d never been happier.
But the Thayan knew what he was going to say and his smile was even more mocking that usual.
“I understand,” said the wizard. “Really, I do.”
Willem’s teeth hurt and he rubbed his bottom lip as he said, “Do you need something from me?”
“Tell me about this man Devorast,” Marek said. “Have you brought anything of yourself to this canal? Or do you simply follow the instructions of your former countryman?”
Willem shook his head and said, “We all follow his instructions. To the letter.”
Marek shruggedhe’d heard exactly what he’d expected to hearand he asked, “Is it true what I’ve heard about Devorast and the ransar?”
“The ransar?”
“Pristoleph has gone off on one of those excursions of his,” the wizard explained, “and this time he’s brought Ivar Devorast with him.”
“And?”
Willem couldn’t help but shrink at the look his one-word question elicited from the Thayan. Willem cleared his throat and looked away.
“Is it true?” asked the wizard.
Willem nodded then made himself shrug.
“Then surely he’s left you in charge,” Marek said.
Willem thought about that for a moment then shook his head. He thought he saw Marek’s lips move, and he did something with his hands as though reaching for something in front of him that wasn’t there. Willem blinked sweat from his eyes and his face tingled. He shuddered through a sudden chill and wrapped his hands around his arms.
“Are you all right, Willem?” the Thayan asked, and his voice sounded strangedifferent somehow.
Willem nodded, even though he didn’t feel well at all.
“Kurtsson?” Marek called over his shoulder. “Aikiko?”
Willem licked his lips and wondered why his teeth didn’t hurt anymore. He puzzled over that so long he didn’t notice that two people entered the room and sat together on a small sofa between he and Marek.
“You’ve been left alone up there,” Marek said. “You need help, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Willem answered without thinkingwithout being able to think.
“You know Kurtsson.”
Willem felt himself nodding and he looked up at Kurtsson. The Vaasan’s blue eyes were cold, his smile condescending.
“And this is Aikiko. Have you met Aikiko?”
Willem’s head got stuck between a nod and a shake. He didn’t remember the woman, but for a moment he was distracted by the look of her thin, perpetually squinting eyes and the exotic cast to her skin. Her waist-length hair was as black as a drow’s flesh, and her smile was as condescending as the Vaasan’s.
“The two of them are going to go back with you,” Marek said with a grin.
“We’re to help you,” Kurtsson said.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” said Aikiko.
Willem shook his head, though the movement hurt his neck.
“Surely,” Marek said, his voice taking on a coldness that made Willem’s skin crawl, “you can use the helpwith Devorast gone.”
“He-” Willem started.
“He may never come back,” Marek said and Willem couldn’t resist looking the Thayan in the eyes.
“But Ivar…” Willem started again. “Ivar will…”
“We’ll help you,” said the strange-looking woman who might have been a half-elf. “We’re only trying to help.”
“Agree to the arrangement, Willem,” Marek said.
Willem started to nod and tried to stop himself. He caught a glimpse of a self-satisfied grin from Kurtsson that made him say, “I don’t think I can…”
But by the time he got that far he was nodding.
“You’ll let us help you?” Aikiko said.
And Willem nodded.
“Help me,” he whispered.
49
14 Tarsakh, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR) The Canal Site
fristoleph looked at Devorast then at thewhatever it wasthen back to Devorast. He didn’t know which sight he found more unsettling.
“What is it?” Devorast said.
Pristoleph had never heard that quality in his voice beforeeven more clipped, even colder. He looked down at the muddy ground. Bubbles sizzled and popped around the edges of his boots and little tendrils of steam rose into the warm air. The ransar flexed his right hand into a fist and covered it with his left. If he’d touched anyone at that moment the heat from his palm would have raised a blister.
“Answer him,” Pristoleph commanded no one in particular. “Someone speak.”
“Her name is Senator Aikiko,” the alchemist Surero answered. “But it was the Vaasan that’s been overseeing itevery part of it.”
Pristoleph didn’t look at the alchemist but at Devorast.
“Take it down,” Devorast said.
All eyes turned to the stone archway. It rose over the canal trench, which ended only a few yards beyond it.
“Take it down,” Devorast repeated, and the workers that had gathered to see his reaction to the arch began to break up and go on about the business of carrying out Devorast’s orders.
The alchemist and the dwarf glanced at each other, but otherwise didn’t move.
“Senator Aikiko?” Pristoleph asked the both of them. “She has no authority here.”
Surero and Hrothgar stared at him as though he were lying, but the fire in his eyes made them quickly look away.
“She’s a senator,” the alchemist said, addressing Devorast.
“What of it?” Pristoleph demanded.
He stepped forward, advancing on the alchemist, who took one step backward away from him and looked at Devorast to help him. Pristoleph grabbed Surero by the throat and felt the man’s skin crisp under his grip. The dwarf stepped back and squared his shoulders with defiance at the same time.
“What,” Pristoleph sneered into the terrified alchemist’s face, “of it?”
“Pristoleph,” Devorast said. He put a hand on his shoulder, but pulled it away quickly when the genasi’s heat burned him. “Let him go.”
“You heard ‘im,” Hrothgar said. “You let the man go. Ransar or no… you bloody well let ‘im go.”
Pristoleph heard the black firedrakes step up behind him when the dwarf moved closer. The alchemist gasped and Pristoleph released him. Surero fell to the ground in a heap, gingerly touching at the fiery red burn on his neck. The smell of it spiked the air around them.
“Speak,” the ransar ordered. “Speak, the both of you, or I’ll burn you where you stand.”
“It’s a portal,” Surero said, then he stopped to cough and wince in pain.
Pristoleph laughed even though he wasn’t the slightest bit amused. He turned back to the arch and looked up at it. Though it was impressive for its sheer size, there was something about it that felt alien, wrong. Runes had been chiseled into the stones and inlaid with precious metals. Rising above the simple elegance of the straight-cut canal walls it appeared garish.
“You were gone,” the dwarf said.
Pristoleph turned and the dwarf held his gaze, as stern and intractable as the stone he cut.