"I think we have to assume," he said without preamble, "that whoever's behind this has a much more detailed knowledge of me and my methods than we'd suspected." Even saying it aloud made him uncomfortable, and he could only hope his voice was steady. The last time someone had popped up with excess information about Corvis's past, he'd thrown the entire nation into shambles and nearly obliterated Mecepheum itself.
To say nothing of Corvis's family…
Seilloah leapt up to the tabletop, sniffed unhappily at the glittering lamp, and then nodded perfunctorily before proceeding to chew at something stuck between her claws. "Probably a safe assumption," she agreed.
Irrial, however, sounded less convinced. "Why? What about the corporal's story worries you-other than the thought that someone might be even more vile than you were?"
"It's a combination of things," Corvis said, vaguely disturbed by the cat-witch's behavior and, for the nonce, oblivious to Irrial's verbal dig. "The men who died in that house by what's been made to look like Khanda's soul-consumption, the red glow Tiviam described…" He tapped his fingers idly on the edge of the table, stopping immediately as Seilloah glared at him. "It's all the little details, and they're all right."
"What about that glow?" the baroness asked.
"Khanda. I usually wore the pendant on a chain, and it hung beneath the armor. Only someone very close when I used my magics-his magics-would have seen it. So, yeah, maybe someone who saw me fight in the past was just astoundingly observant, and remembers every detail, but I'd say the odds are pretty heavily against it. Plus, they wouldn't necessarily understand the significance of what they saw."
'But it's nice to be noticed. An artist is never appreciated in his own time, you know?'
Corvis felt his fingers curling into fists. "Would you stop?" He was never certain if he'd only thought it, or whispered aloud.
'See? That's exactly what I mean. You never appreciated me, Corvis. I bet you don't remember my birthday, either.'
He allowed his eyes to squeeze as tightly shut as his fists, hoping the others would attribute it to his exhaustion.
"No," he continued finally, "I think we'd better prepare ourselves for the notion that we're dealing with someone who knew me personally, or who's spoken in depth with someone who did."
"At least it's a short list," Seilloah remarked around a mouthful of fur. Then, "I hate to bring this up, but Jassion did go to see Tyannon…"
"No. No chance."
"Corvis-"
"No. I'm not saying it's impossible that she'd have helped him to find me, under the right circumstances, but even if she remembered details, why would she tell him? They wouldn't do him any good in hunting me down. We're looking for someone else."
Seilloah and Irrial exchanged skeptical glances, but neither pressed the issue.
"So yes," he said, "it's a small list. And the first step is to find them."
Corvis looked deeply into the lamp's burning light, focusing past his fatigue. And gods, the last few days shouldn't have been so exhausting! I should never have agreed to getting old…
"Davro first." Corvis felt the faint tug of his spell, gazed off in its direction even though there was little to see but a dull beige wall. Wading through sluggish thoughts, he translated the strength of the pull into a sense of distance, and that distance into a line on his mental map of Imphallion…
"Still in that bucolic valley of his, I think." Corvis couldn't help grinning, remembering his response upon first learning what had become of the fearsome ogre.
"I'm not sure that means anything," Seilloah warned. "He was really unhappy with you."
"True. But he also doesn't want anyone knowing where he lives. I doubt he'd risk drawing attention to himself. Still, we'll follow up if we need to."
Again he concentrated, using the flickering flame as a focus. But this time, there was…
"Nothing." He rocked back in his chair, blinking rapidly. "Losalis is gone, Seilloah."
"Are you sure? Maybe someone just broke the spell."
"Maybe." But he didn't sound at all convinced, and for long moments he refused to speak any further.
"Losalis was a good man," he said finally, answering the question embedded in their silence. "Or at least he was a loyal one. I just hope, if he is dead, that it was nothing I did that got him killed."
"Right," Irrial spat with surprising rancor. "Because that's so much worse than the thousands of good men that you killed deliberately."
"Let it go," Seilloah commanded, even as Corvis, his face growing hot, opened his mouth to retort. He glared, nodded, and turned again toward the lamp.
'What, she doesn't even get a "Shut up"? If I'd said that, I'd have gotten a "Shut up." '
"Shut up," Corvis whispered.
One last time, one more soul who had served at his side during the Serpent's War, one more to whom he'd attached his invisible tethers of magic. Again the tug, again the mental struggle to translate that amorphous sensation into real distance.
A peculiar gurgle bubbled from his throat, the result of hysterical laughter and a frustrated sob slamming into each other deep in his chest. And he wondered, even as he delivered the news, just how often he would have to retrace his own steps before this was finished.
"Emdimir?" He'd never heard Irrial's voice reach quite such a pitch as he did in that disbelieving squawk. "After all this, why would you want us to go back east?"
He shrugged. "Near as I can tell, that's where she is."
"Well…" Irrial frowned. "At least it's not all the way back to Rahariem. I'm not sure I could face… What?" she demanded at the sudden chagrin, almost schoolboy-like, on Corvis's face.
"I, uh… I wasn't sure how to tell you, or, well, even if, but…"
"Yes?" It was, perhaps, the most venomous yes Corvis had ever heard.
"Emdimir's fallen, Irrial."
Her freckles appeared rich as ink, so pale did the baroness's face become. "What?"
"A couple of weeks ago, according to the mercenary talk I overheard at the Three Sheets."
"And nobody's done anything? Still nobody's done anything?" Her voice was rising so fast, it threatened to take wing. "What's wrong with everyone? What's wrong with the damn Guilds?"
"Irrial, we should really be more qui-"
"What's wrong with me?" She reached a final, undignified screech, and then slumped in her chair, her tone following suit. "Gods, they keep coming, farther and farther, and I haven't done anything… We'll never free Rahariem now, we-"
"Irrial!" It was Seilloah, not Corvis, who barked that name-a peculiar sound indeed, coming from a feline mouth. "You are working for Rahariem. It's what you've been doing. Don't forget it."
"Right. Sure I have."
"And besides," Corvis added, "you've seen the soldiers. Some of the noble Houses are mobilizing. Yeah, I know, it's not enough, but if the others start to follow their example…"
"Horseshit. They're bloody useless, the whole lot of them are going to die, and you know it." Her hair fell around her face and hung limp for a moment, until she'd finally regained her composure. "All right," she said, looking up once more. "Emdimir, then. For, what was her name? Ellowaine?"
"Ellowaine," he confirmed.
"What," Seilloah asked slowly, "makes you think she's the one?"
Corvis smiled grimly. "Because Ellowaine's a mercenary, Seilloah. And since Emdimir's occupied just now, her being there almost certainly means she's either a prisoner, or…"
He let it dangle, and Seilloah understood.
"Or she's working for Cephira."
Chapter Fifteen
SHELTERED FROM THE WORST of last season's malice by the gentle shade of surrounding slopes, the valleys of the Cadriest Mountains had long since shed their verdant summer garb, wrapping themselves in coats of scarlet and gold for the autumn to come. The air, though still, was refreshingly cool and smelled of tomorrow's gentle fog. After the distant swamp's oppressive breath-and the strenuous journey over many a hillside trail, down forest paths, and on the King's Highway-the vales were a paradise unto themselves.