“No, Malik,” she said. “They deserve to know the truth.”
“They deserve to know nothing,” Malik said, starting to panic. “Least of all the truth! Are you so eager to damn us both to the Great Pit of Hells?”
Joelle gave him a patient smile. “Malik, we’re Chosen,” she said. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Not to a Chosen of Sune, perhaps,” Malik retorted quickly. “But I am a Chosen of Myrkul. How is a dead god going to protect me from the Mistress of the Night?”
Joelle’s smile grew condescending. “As long as Myrkul lives in your heart, he’s not truly dead, now is he?” She pointed at the magic pocket hidden inside Malik’s drab robe. “Show them the Eye.”
Malik recoiled as though she had struck him. “Are you mad?” he demanded. “He will see us.”
“He already knows who we are,” Joelle said. “And Kleef needs to understand that there’s a reason our paths have crossed.”
She glanced at Kleef, who was scowling at her and Malik as though he thought them both mad. Elbertina, on the other hand, was watching them with a wide-eyed expression of relief and … could it be recognition?
“Who is this he?” Kleef demanded. “And stop stalling, or I swear I’ll do as Elbertina suggests.”
His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, and blue light flared from the agate in the crossguard.
The glow prompted Joelle to grab Malik by the elbow and squeeze. “Show him,” she hissed. “Now.”
Malik sighed. “As you command,” he said. “But must we show everyone? And do it in plain sight of the Shadovar?”
Without waiting for a reply, he started to shuffle down the bridge toward the shelter afforded by the tall buildings that lined the street. The others followed, and soon he was standing in the doorway of a shuttered spice shop with Joelle, Kleef, and Elbertina.
Malik reluctantly slipped a hand inside his robe. It took a moment to find the line of rough thread that marked the mouth of the pocket-and once he had, he was so nervous he had to thrust his arm inside up to the elbow before Cyric’s magic responded to his thoughts and he felt the Eye resting in his hand. He was seized at once by a terror so cold he began to shiver, and he could not help looking back to Joelle.
“Are you certain you wish to do this?” he asked. “Once they have seen the Eye, we can never undo it.”
“You have no choice,” Kleef warned. “Show us the reason the Shadovar are chasing you, or I’ll deliver you to them myself.”
Malik had to bite his tongue to keep from answering with a threat of his own. He lifted the Eye from its hiding place, the mouth of the pocket stretching around the huge orb, until he finally had to slip his second hand beneath it and support the thing in front of his belly.
Made of milky quartz, the orb was far from perfect. It had lumps and flat spots, and crooked veins of red iron that came together in front to join a scraggy disk of false gold. In the center of the sparkling disk was a small circle of obsidian-which was rapidly expanding, as Malik could see by the raised brows and dropped jaws of the others.
The red veins began to pulse and writhe, and the stony eye spun in Malik’s hands, turning its dark gaze on Kleef and Elbertina.
The minstrel gasped and raised a hand to shield her face, but Malik could tell by the way she trembled and stumbled that she had been touched by its savage lust and dark appetites. The big topsword merely paled and clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword, but even he looked as though he were about to leave his morningfeast on the steps of the spice shop.
Malik shot a questioning look in Joelle’s direction, and she was quick to nod.
“That’s enough,” she said. “You can put it away.”
Malik slipped the Eye back into its magic pocket and began to feel a bit more steady and confident. Kleef glared at the robe into which it had disappeared for a moment, then turned to Joelle.
“What was that thing?” he demanded.
“The Eye of Gruumsh,” Joelle said. “Malik and I took it so we can save the world.” She stepped closer to Kleef, so close it was easier to describe what was not touching him than what did. “And you, my friend, are going to help us.”
CHAPTER 5
Ringfinger wharf was creaking and swaying beneath the weight of the refugees packed onto its spongy decking. Despite his height, even Kleef found it difficult to see anything beyond their heads except the masts and bulwarks of ships at berth. There were at least five large vessels moored along the pier, all three-masted caravels or barkentines with lines of passengers still ascending their gangplanks. But at the seaward end was a small gap with a pair of slender masts barely rising above the crowd, and if there was anyone boarding the unseen vessel, the mob in front of it did not appear to be growing any thinner.
Guessing that his charges had hired the small vessel that wasn’t currently taking on passengers, Kleef started toward the seaward end of the wharf. With his own watchmen on his left, and Carlton’s men-at-arms on his right, the crowd parted before him like water before a prow. It soon grew apparent that the throngs were clustered most densely around the gangplanks of the five large ships, where armed members of the ship’s crew stood guard as their officers sold berths.
As Kleef and his companions continued to push forward, an angry din began to build ahead. Soon, they reached the end of the wharf and found a mob of people standing along the edge, yelling down at an unseen vessel, simultaneously offering unthinkable bribes and threatening dire acts of piracy.
Before pushing through the crowd, Kleef paused and turned to Joelle. “Will the captain know you?”
Joelle nodded. “By sight,” she said, “as I will him. But how can you be sure this is the right ship? I haven’t even told you what it’s called.”
Kleef looked around the wharf, confirming that this was the only vessel not yet taking on passengers. “It’s the one.” He motioned Jang and Carlton forward, gesturing for them to clear the way. “We’ll need to board quickly, if we don’t want half the city coming with us.”
Jang led the way into the crowd, bellowing orders to make way for the Watch and shoving aside those who were too slow to obey. But even with more than a dozen armed men helping him, the mob seemed to sense that someone was about to board the vessel and quickly began to push back. Finally, Kleef unsheathed Watcher and brandished the blade above their heads.
“Stand aside now!”
All eyes turned toward Kleef. A hush fell over the area, but the crowd seemed more transfixed than intimidated by the sight of his drawn sword, and no one moved.
Then Elbertina stepped to his side. “I suggest you do as he commands,” she said, speaking in a soft voice. She still carried her weapons, and had slung a leather rucksack she had fetched from the grand duke’s mansion over one shoulder. “This company is on a mission for the Crown, and anyone standing in its way will pay a heavy price.”
A murmur of discontent rolled through the crowd, but it reluctantly opened a path. Kleef led the way forward and soon found himself staring down at the deck of a small ketch. The vessel was manned by only a short, dark-skinned captain with a close-cropped beard and a sharp nose.
Kleef stepped to the edge of the deck and looked down at the gnome, who was standing amidships behind a chest-height deckhouse, resting a peculiar six-armed crossbow on its roof. With six quarrels arranged in vertical firing slots, and six strings tensioned behind them, it was an odd contraption-but one that looked dangerous enough to hold an angry crowd at bay.
When the gnome saw who had stepped to the edge of the wharf, he pivoted the weapon, aiming at Kleef’s chest.
“I’ve done nothing that’s any concern of yours, Kenric,” he said. “Go and bother someone who deserves the trouble.”