“My eyes,” he said, “my ears and heart and lungs. Fly for me now, this night. Spread your wings across this land, from mountain to sea, city to desert. Search to the ends of the lands. Find her.”
The largest crow, the size of a dog, opened its beak and cawed, a raw, brutal sound like the screech of stones on metal. The others took up the call, and the stones echoed back their cries in a thunderous cacophony that seemed to shake the stone floor. The Dark One dropped his arms, and the birds took flight, swooping once through the chamber before slipping through the window cracks and out, into the night.
He stepped to the window and watched them go, spreading out in all directions. Soon they were invisible against the dark sky. The Dark One imagined them as an extension of him, and he watched through their eyes as the ground wheeled by far below, felt with their minds as they studied the alien landscape and the things that moved upon it, searching for their target.
She could not hide from this, not for much longer, whatever spell might surround her. He would bring her here by the first day of Ratham, one way or another. His destiny foretold it.
Sanctuary would fall, and he would rule the new world, reborn in the shape it should have always been. There would be hell to pay for anyone who stood in his way.
6
The Bookseller’s Tale
The next day Cain awoke to the smell of freshly cooking bacon. His stomach rumbled loudly as bright sunlight filtered through arrows of dust. The end of stale bread the night before had been the last meal he had eaten in some time, and he was starving.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up. Gillian was busying herself in the tiny kitchen, humming tunelessly as the meat sizzled on a flat iron that lay across the fire.
“You’re awake,” she said when she spotted him. “It’s about time. You slept like the dead. I sent Leah earlier to fetch us something good to eat. We don’t have bacon and eggs often, but this is a special occasion. We don’t get a visit from Uncle Deckard every day.”
“You didn’t have to go to the trouble,” Cain said, getting to his feet and stretching until his back cracked. He was too old for this sleeping on the floor business. “Let me offer you something for it—”
“Nonsense.” Gillian waved her hand at him. “I’m not about to be thrown out on the street, you know. I have gahah tea.”
Cain nodded his thanks, and sat at the table while she brought him a steaming mug. He sipped the hot liquid slowly, embracing the warmth that spread through his limbs. Gillian’s mood was so different from when he had arrived, she appeared to be a completely new person, and he wondered if she even remembered her sleepwalking incident from the night before.
“Where’s the girl?”
“Oh, she likes to wander. She’ll appear when the food’s ready, I’m sure.” Gillian set a plate full of eggs and bacon before him, and he began to eat, the hot food making him smile with pleasure in spite of the vestiges of the dream that still clung to him like spider webs.
Leah did not appear, however, and after he had eaten his fill, Cain said good-bye to Gillian and set off to find the bookseller Kulloom. She had given him directions to the man’s shop, which wasn’t far, but Cain’s feet ached from his long walk through the sands of the Borderlands, so he stopped to wrap his blisters in gauze that he bought from a woman selling cloth on a street corner. The woman was old, with a back twisted and hunched from disease, and she would not look at him, as if frightened of his presence. He was a stranger in town and dressed differently, although with a city as large as this, that should have been a common occurrence. Odd. Others seemed to act the same way as he passed, avoiding his gaze, all of them walking quickly, heads down and purposeful.
The city was going through its paces, but there was no happiness here. Although the sun was shining brightly, there was a cloud over Caldeum.
Cain reached the bookseller’s shop, but the thick wooden door was locked, and the shades were drawn. As he knocked, receiving no answer, a man sweeping the front steps of the grocery next door took notice. “Looking for Kulloom, are you?” The man squinted at him and hooked a callused finger over his shoulder. “Not much business for him these days. I’d wager you’ll find him drowning his sorrows at the Searing Sands Inn. Probably boasting of his supposed adventures, the sot.” The man cocked his head, looking Cain up and down. “You might think twice about visiting there, with that look of yours. They don’t take much to your kind.”
Cain thanked him for his advice, and set off in the direction the man had given him, wondering what he had meant by your kind. A few blocks down he found the inn, a shabby, dark place with camels and mules out front and the sound of music coming from within. When he entered, the smell of stale ale and hot food washed over him. He was surprised to find the tavern was nearly full, even at this hour. In contrast to the streets outside, there was life here. But the energy was nearly frantic, almost as if the people here had been told they were to be executed tomorrow, and they were determined to make their last day count for something.
As the people began to notice his presence, the organ music faltered, then stopped. All eyes turned to him, except for one fat man sitting near the bar, who continued to gesture wildly and speak loudly to a group of others. Eventually, even he realized the place had gone mostly silent, and he looked at Cain with indignation.
Cain set his staff on the sticky floor and stepped forward. “I’m looking for a man called Kulloom,” he said, to nobody in particular.
“Well, you’ve found him,” the man commanding an audience said, his face flushed red. “What’s the meaning of this? I have important things to relate to these fine people.”
“Gillian told me to seek you out. I have business to discuss.”
The man’s face grew guarded, and a few other patrons muttered something to one another. “He’s no priest,” the man said, his eyes sweeping over the room. “Look at the state of his tunic. Just a wanderer.” He looked back at Cain, and gestured to an open table near the back. “Come on, then. Have a seat, and we’ll talk.”
Cain nodded, and made his way behind Kulloom through the dim tavern to the table, watching the man’s considerable bulk waddle side to side. “Never mind them,” Kulloom said, when they had sat down and the conversation around them began to come to life again. “You look a bit like Zakarum to the uneducated masses; that’s the trouble.” He shook his head. “No-good snakes in the grass, those priests, and the nobles from Kurast along with them.” He studied Cain’s face with slightly bleary eyes, and his voice was slurred by drink. “But you’re not a member of the order. I’ve been to many a place in my time, and I recognize a necromancer when I see one. Am I right?”
“I’m afraid not. Just a wanderer, as you said a moment ago.”
“Well.” Kulloom waved his chubby hand, as if it was no longer important. “And when you mention that woman’s name, it’s all the worse for you. People here think she’s lost her mind, raving on about the end of the world. The owners don’t want her waiting on the customers anymore. And that girl . . .” He shook his head. “She’s bad luck. Do you know that after she came in here once, the bar nearly caught on fire? Gillian had her in the back, and a stove flared up. It took some quick thinking by yours truly to put it out.”
“They are in your debt, then.”