“It’s from Master Dantane,” the cook said, a little uneasily. “He again requests an audience. He wants to know when Lord Morel will be deciding whether he is to stay or go from the house.” The woman’s tone left little doubt of her feelings on the matter. If the rest of Amn was in the dark about Dantane’s profession, it was certainly no secret to the house. “He’d like to speak with Lord Morel as soon as possible.”
I’m sure he would, Cesira said. Please tell him Lord Morel will speak to him just as soon as he returns.
The woman curtseyed again and hurried away. Cesira’s gaze strayed across the hall, in the direction of the other tower. The spire had formerly housed Morel’s private offices. At some point it became the wizard’s living quarters.
Must they all flock to towers and high places, Cesira wondered. She didn’t see the appeal. Then again, she knew nothing of Syrek Dantane or his tastes. That worried her, more than she liked to admit.
Chapter Fifteen
Aazen approached the Contrail Estate from the rear, nodding to Isslun as she strode forward to bar his path. “I need to see him.”
“He’s waiting for you. We’ve already heard from the buyer”—she cast a quick glance around the deserted patio—“and the Cowl. We were set up.”
“I was set up,” Aazen corrected her sharply. “And two Gem Guards are dead for it.”
Isslun shrugged, unconcerned. “If they cannot identify us, what’s the worry?”
“I see your sister took the lion’s share of the wits between you,” Aazen sneered. “We’re starting to attract attention. If this incident draws concern anywhere near the Council’s hearing, how long do you believe the Shadow Thieves will continue to support this operation?”
The Council of Six, Amn’s anonymous body of rulers, saw to the needs of the land primarily by keeping business running as smoothly as possible between the merchant families—business which would not include an influx of black market magical items, not with two Gem Guards dead in the Harbor Moon Ward.
Isslun comprehended none of that. She pouted, catching her lower lip between her teeth. “If you place so high a value on my sister’s wits, perhaps she will welcome you to her bed when you grow cold tonight.”
“She already has,” Aazen said, closing the door on the twin’s shocked face.
His father waited in the library. The few books remaining in the tall, narrow room had gathered a thick blanket of dust. For as long as they’d dwelled here, his father had shown no interest in them.
“Are you all right?” Balram asked as Aazen closed the library door.
Aazen felt the abrasions at his wrists where one of the guards had briefly put him in manacles. “Minor wounds. We have a problem.”
“I’m aware,” Balram said grimly. “A watch commander, Aazen?”
“It was the only way I could see to escape. I took him as hostage. His own men fired the bolts.”
Balram nodded, letting it pass. “Jubair was here before you. It seems a member of the Chadossa family approached a contact within the Cowled Wizards concerning a rumor he’d heard about black market magic.”
“A rumor including the location of the exchanges and the contents of the latest shipment?” Aazen asked.
His father nodded. “So it was Chadossa.”
“No doubt the family is having second thoughts about dealing with the Shadow Thieves,” Aazen guessed.
“But their son is not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Chadossa broke off all contact with us just before their betrayal, all except the boy, the youngest son,” said Balram. “He’s still buying. There’s an exchange tonight. I’ve left the location up to you. I trust you will be discreet.”
Aazen shrugged. “Perhaps he was not privy to his family’s intentions. Or they were not aware he was also our client and so failed to warn him. What do you propose to do?”
“I intend to send a message. Chadossa’s son will bear it for me, and his sire will learn the price of betrayal.”
“You risk the wrath of a powerful family,” Aazen warned, but he already knew what his father would say.
“My own family’s resources far outstrip any the Chadossas could gather,” Balram said confidently.
“And will your family support such a bold action?” Aazen dared to ask.
Uncharacteristically, his father waved it off with a chuckle. “Even Daen could not argue with the profit already amassed in this venture. And if Chadossa acts anything like I expect him to, the authorities will never trace the message back to us.” His father’s expression changed as he looked on his son. “You’ll have to deliver the item to him, Aazen.” Aazen kept his face neutral.
“Is there no one else?”
“None of the others will touch the broken items,” Balram said. “They’re afraid.”
So was his father, though the man would never admit it. He should be afraid, Aazen thought. Any rational person would be.
“I’ll take care of it, Father,” he said. “There is another issue.”
“What is it?”
“When we retrieved the items, we encountered a woman in the Delve—a Harper.”
Balram’s lip curled. “They turn up in the most inconvenient places. Did you deal with her?”
“I left her to bleed out, but perhaps I shouldn’t have. She knew the wizard. She may have been his apprentice. If so, we could have used her.”
Balram shook his head. “Too risky. Secrecy is our best advantage in this, and it’s possible she knows another way out. Your only mistake was in not making sure she was dead. We’ll take care of that tomorrow.”
Aazen nodded. If he had had his way, they would never have returned to the Delve at all. The memories it held for him were not pleasant ones. He still felt it—the distant menace, the sensation of being trapped—whenever he went down there. “What if more apprentices unexpectedly turn up?” he asked.
“As with the woman, they’ll find the Delve a place much changed from what it was before,” Balram said.
Chapter Sixteen
Meisha opened her eyes to a blurry world of smoke and stink—the full, cloying smell of sweat and unwashed bodies, broken only by the pungent odor of some kind of herb.
She was still underground, lying on a pallet of blankets. She could make out the uneven rock ceiling by the light of a torch suspended on the wall above her head. Smoke from the brand drifted languidly in the air until it reached the ceiling, then it was swept away like river water to a darkened corner of the room. If Varan’s magics still functioned, he must be nearby, Meisha thought.
She tried to sit up and felt pain lance through her lower back. The stab wound was still fresh. She should be dead. Someone must have found her and treated the wound—Varan?
Meisha felt a stiff bandage encasing her abdomen, which seemed to be the source of the herb scent. But she could tell at least some of the bones in her wrist had reknit while she slept. Whoever had treated her had done so with some magical aid, but not much.
She examined her surroundings. The chamber around her was wide, with a low ceiling that dipped almost to the ground in some corners and fluted upward sharply in others. This place Meisha recognized. She’d made her pact to become Varan’s apprentice here, over a pit of flames.