“I saw Ilvani earlier, on the wall,” he said.
“The wall?” Uwan looked surprised.
“She was talking to Neimal,” Ashok said. “I think she was out on the plain, if not in the storm, then at least on the edge of it.”
The leader wore a grim expression. “She’s been walking the tower at night. I see her sometimes, when I can’t sleep myself. She goes up and down the stairs as if she’s trying to outrun someone.” He looked at Ashok. “I thought, after all this time, she’d be getting better, but clearly, she’s still grieving her brother’s death.”
Ashok noticed that Uwan rarely said Natan’s name. Ilvani wasn’t the only one still mourning the cleric. “What if it’s something else?” he said. “She looked frightened when I saw her. Someone should talk to her, find out what’s going on.”
Uwan shook his head. “Just let her be alone for now. It took me a long time, but I’ve learned not to rush Ilvani. When she’s ready, she’ll tell us what’s troubling her.”
Ashok wasn’t so certain, but he didn’t voice his misgivings to Uwan. The leader seemed distracted, eager for them to be gone. Uwan was never so abrupt. Ashok wondered what it meant.
He left the tower with Skagi and Cree, but as soon as they were out of the training yard, Ashok turned to the brothers. “The Watching Blade has something preying on his mind,” he said.
“He was worse before you came into the room,” Skagi said, “when we told him how many warriors we’d lost.”
“Must be the caravan-old memories,” Cree said. “We haven’t lost one like this since-” He hesitated and glanced at Ashok.
“Since my enclave took Ilvani’s party,” Ashok said. “If that’s what it is, we should talk to the caravan masters as soon as possible and make our report.”
His thoughts lingered on Ilvani. She’d said, “You can’t help everyone.” Maybe that was true, but right now, the idea disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.
After Ashok and the others had gone, Uwan stood staring at the painting of Ikemmu that hung on the wall. Every time he looked at it, he marveled anew at how Ilvani saw the city. She missed nothing, no fire flaw or architectural flourish. How he wished she could interpret her own thoughts with the same clarity. If she could share her pain with someone, it would help her to heal.
The door to his inner chamber opened, and Neimal stepped through.
“I thought I instructed you to wait for me?” he said.
“Forgive me, my lord, but we must discuss a plan of action as soon as possible.” The witch came to stand beside him. Her bald head showed off a claw tattoo running up the back of her neck. “We no longer have Natan’s gift of prophecy to root out threats to the city. We’re on our own.”
“Tempus wills it so,” Uwan said. “We’ve grown to rely on Him too much. We must look to ourselves now and accept His test.”
“Did you tell Ashok about the threat?” Neimal asked.
“No,” Uwan said, “and I ask that you not tell him, either, not yet. He’s only now growing comfortable in his role as Guardian. He feels that he has a place here, and I don’t want to jeopardize that.”
“Even at the risk of his life?” Neimal said. When Uwan turned to look at her, she dropped her gaze and said, “I spoke rashly, my lord. I know you would never do anything to endanger him.”
“Or anyone else in this city,” Uwan said, “if I can prevent it. I’ve been down this road before, Neimal. Until we know the nature of the threat, I will assume nothing. For now, I want you to watch and listen, as you have been doing, to the leaders of the other religions in the city. Find out if this is all bluster or if it has teeth. Once you know for certain, I will act, I promise you.”
“As you say, my lord.” Neimal bowed and left the room by the door to the tower stairs, leaving Uwan alone with his thoughts.
Tempus watch over him, Uwan prayed silently. He needs You, whether he’ll admit it or not.
The following day, Ashok, Skagi, and Cree headed back to Makthar, the temple home, to find the caravan masters. Clerics busily tended to wounded shadar-kai newly returned from a raid on the Underdark the previous night. Ashok caught Vlahna coming down the stairs.
“If you’re looking for Tuva”-she hesitated as an angry bellow echoed from two levels above them; she pointed upward and flashed them a crooked smile-“I’m sure he’s aching to have visitors.”
“Can you take us to him?” Ashok said. “We’d like to talk to both of you.”
She led them up the spiral stair to a recovery chamber similar to the one Ashok remembered from his first day in Ikemmu. Beds filled the room, all of them empty now except for the one occupied by Tuva. The far wall displayed an illuminated carving of Tempus’s sword.
A cleric wearing the same symbol bent over Tuva’s bed-or, more accurately, Tuva had grabbed the cleric’s tabard in his fist and dragged the cleric’s face as close to his own as possible.
“How many times did I tell you I wanted the wound stitched up instead of prayer-healed?” he shouted. He pulled down his shirt to expose the smooth, unblemished flesh of his neck. “I lose consciousness for a night, and you do this! There’s not a mark here now!”
The cleric, apparently used to this abuse, let himself be manhandled but shouted in his turn, “And I told you that by the time I’d found thread and a needle big enough to get through your thick neck, you would have bled to death all over my sickroom!”
“Bah! You damned lazy clerics forget what your hands are for. Bother Tempus with prayers to fix a scratch? Gods, it’s all I can do not to rip this flesh open and-”
“Tuva,” Vlahna said, waving her arms to get the warrior’s attention. “Wait a breath before you rip anything open. These Guardians want to talk to us.”
Tuva released the cleric, who straightened his tabard and walked away stiffly. “You all fought well out on the plain,” he said. “My thanks for the aid.”
“Shame you didn’t get to keep your scar,” Cree said, grinning.
“ ‘Shame’ is truly the word.” Tuva shot another withering glance in the cleric’s direction.
“Uwan asked us to speak with you both about the caravan,” Ashok said. “He wants to know what happened out there with the shadow beasts.”
Tuva sobered, though an angry flush still stained his face. “We’ve led caravan runs on the Shadowfell for five years now, and before that I worked as a guard. In all that time, I’ve never seen anything like what happened out there today.”
“Risic was our Camborr,” Vlahna explained. “He rode alongside the wagons to keep an eye on the beasts during the journey. We were in sight of the portal when the storm came on us. Tuva gave the order to halt, and Risic covered the cages with tarps to protect the beasts.
“Everything was fine, when all of a sudden the cages rattled and the beasts hollered like I’ve never heard before. The noise was so loud, we heard it over the storm. Risic went and lifted one of the tarps, and a panther clipped him on the shoulder. The wound wasn’t bad, but the beasts were all acting crazy.”
“Bashed their brains against the bars,” Tuva said. “We found a pair of shadow hounds, male and female, dead in their cages. You can’t imagine the mess.”
“I can,” said a voice from the sickroom doorway.
Ashok turned and saw Olra, the head of the Camborrs. She and her subordinates trained and cared for the beasts the caravan crews brought back from the Shadowfell. They’d dealt with all manner of strange and deadly monsters. Camborrs served an important role preparing the beasts for sale or use in defense of Ikemmu. In addition to his duties as a Guardian, Ashok had been training with the Camborrs under Olra’s supervision.
Olra’s scarred face looked more grim than usual. She’d obviously heard what had happened. “What did Risic do when the beasts went mad?” she asked.
Vlahna answered her. “Risic thought the storm caused it-maybe the beasts were terrified at being helpless in cages. He told us to let them loose, that we’d round them up later once the storm passed. If we didn’t, he said they’d likely kill themselves, and we’d end up back from a tenday caravan run with nothing to show for it.”