Riyria Revelations #04 - The Emerald Storm Michael J Sullivan

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Praise for Michael Sullivan's Riyria Novels

"The Crown Conspiracy is a well-written and enjoyable novel. I was invested in the characters and their travails. Royce and Hadrian's friendship was particularly fun to read

SF Site

"The Crown Conspiracy is easy reading, replete with familiar situations and comfortable. This is the sort of fantasy that I grew up with, and it was a real joy to get back to it The Crown Conspiracy

is a great read."

Fantasy Literature

"Michael J. Sullivan's Riyria Revelations is really growing on me. For someone who enjoys the complex, highly detailed fantasy of Erikson and Wurts, this is something much simpler, but equally satisfying

Nyphron Rising is a great story

a fun plot with new characters and plenty of action!

Sullivan

s writing style is easy to follow and the story is complex enough to be exciting, but not so complex that you have to keep backtracking to remember who

s who and what happened when."

Fantasy Literature

"The Riyria Revelations is a very welcome change of pace and is worth setting on your bookshelf as something to read when the heavy-hitters (e.g., Wurts, Erikson, and Martin) have left you needing a breather!"

Fantasy Literature

"Michael J. Sullivan has written a book I will read over and over again and it most definitely will always reside on my favorite

s shelf."

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This book and parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means

electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise

without

prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

A Ridan Publication

www.ridanpublishing.com

ww.michaelsullivan-author.com

ww.riyria.blogspot.com

Cover Art and Map by Michael J. Sullivan

Editing by Robin Sullivan, Paul Dunlap, David Gould, and Jericho McCune ISBN: 978-0-9825145-3-5

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES

First Printing: April 2010

Books in the Riyria

Revelations

The Crown Conspiracy

Avempartha

Nyphron Rising

The Emerald Storm

Wintertide*

Percepliquis*

*Forthcoming

To Robin, for giving me a reason to write, wondering where the gold went, making Merrick smarter, and challenging me to make a good book better.

To Peter DeBrule for trying to cheer me up in 1989 with a proposed chain story about two guys that walk into a tavern.

And to the members of the fantasy blogging community for taking a chance on a new author from a small publisher and making me feel like Sally Fields at the Academy Awards.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Assassin

Chapter 2: The Empty Castle

Chapter 3: The Courier

Chapter 4: The Race

Chapter 5: Broken Silence

Chapter 6: The Emerald Storm

Chapter 7: Rotten Eggs

Chapter 8: The Horn

Chapter 9: Ella

Chapter 10: Fallen Star

Chapter 11: The Hooded Man

Chapter 12: Sea Wolves

Chapter 13: The Witch of Melengar

Chapter 14: Calis

Chapter 15: The Search

Chapter 16: The Village

Chapter 17: The Palace of the Four Winds

Chapter 18: The Pot of Soup

Chapter 19: Galenti

Chapter 20: The Tower

Chapter 21: Drumindor

Chapter 22: Going Home

Chapter 23: The Harvest Moon

Chapter 24: The Escape

Chapter 25: Invasion

Chapter 26: Payment

Chapter 1

Assassin

Merrick Marius fitted a bolt into the small crossbow before slipping the weapon beneath the folds of his cloak. Smoke-thin clouds drifted across the sliver of moon leaving him and Central Square, shrouded in darkness. He searched the filthy streets lined with ramshackle buildings looking for movement but found none. At this hour, the city was deserted.

Ratibor may be a pit, he thought,but at least it is easy to work in.

Conditions had improved with the recent Nationalists

victory. The imperial guards were gone, and

with them went the regular patrols. The town lacked even an experienced sheriff as the new mayor refused to hire seasoned men or members of the military to administer so-called

law and order.

She

opted instead to make do with grocery clerks, shoemakers, and dairy farmers. Merrick found her actions ill-advised but expected such mistakes from an inexperienced noble. Not that he was complaining

he appreciated the help.

Despite this shortcoming, he admired Arista Essendon

s accomplishments. In Melengar, her brother,

King Alric, reigned and as an unwed princess she possessed no real power. Then she came here, masterminded a revolt, and the surviving peasants rewarded her with the keys to the city. She was a foreigner and a royal, yet they thanked her for taking rule over them.Brilliant . He could not have done better himself.

A slight smile formed at the edge of Merrick

s lips as he watched her from the street below her

window. A candle still burned on the second floor of City Hall, even at this late hour. Her figure moved hazily behind the heavy curtains as she left her desk.

It will not be long now,he thought.

Merrick shifted his grip on the weapon. Only a foot-and-a-half long, with a bow span even shorter, it delivered none of the stopping power of a traditional crossbow. Still, it would be enough. His target wore no armor, and he was not relying on the force of the bolt. Venden pox coated the serrated metal tip. A deplorable poison for assassination; it neither killed quickly nor paralyzed the victim. The concoction would certainly kill, but only after what he considered an unprofessional span of time. He had never used it before and only recently learned of its most important trait

venden pox was invulnerable to magic. Merrick had it on good authority that the most powerful spells and incantations were useless against its venom. Given his target, this would prove essential.

Another figure entered Arista

s room, and she sat abruptly. Merrick imagined she had just received some interesting news, and he was about to cross the street to listen at the window when the tavern door opened behind him. A pair of patrons exited, and by the sway of their steps and the volume of their voices they had obviously drained more than one mug that night.

Nestor, who

s that leaning against the post?

one said, pointing in Merrick

s direction. A plump man

with a strawberry nose whose shape matched its color squinted in the dim light and staggered forward.

How should I know?

said the other. The thin man

s mustache still glistened with beer foam.

What

s he doing here at this time

a night?

Again, how should I know, youwanker ?

Well, ask him.

The tall man stepped forward.

Whatcha doin

, mister? Holding up the post so the porch doesn

t fall

down?

Nestor snorted a laugh and doubled over with his hands on his knees.

Actually,

Merrick told them, his tone so serious it was almost grave,

m waiting to appoint the

position of Town Fool to the person who asks me the stupidest question. Congratulations. You win.

The thin man slapped his friend on the shoulder.

See, I

ve been telling you all night how funny I am,

and you haven

t laughed once. Now I

m getting a new job

probably pays better than yours.

Oh, yeah, you

re quite the entertainer,

his friend assured him as they staggered off into the night.

You should audition at the theater. They

re gonna be doingThe Crown Conspiracy for the mayor.

The day I see you on a stage, nowthat will be funny.

Merrick

s mood turned sour. He had seen that play several years ago, and while the two thieves depicted in it used different names he knew they portrayed the exploits of Royce Melborn and Hadrian Blackwater. Duster, as Royce was known when Merrick and him were assassins for the Diamond, used to be best friends.

Their friendship ended seventeen years ago, that warm summer night when Duster murdered Jade.

Although he was not present, Merrick had imagined the scene countless times. That was before Duster had his white dagger, back when he used a pair of curved black-handled kharolls. Merrick knew Duster

s technique well enough to picture him silently slicing through Jade with both blades at once. The blood would have run down her body, slicking her dark night-work tunic and pooling at her feet as she slowly crumpled. Merrick did not care that someone else set up Duster or that he did not know his victim

s identity when it happened. All Merrick knew was that the woman he loved was dead and his best friend had killed her.

Decades had passed, and still Jade and Duster haunted him. He could not think of one without the other and he could not bear to forget. Love and hate welded together forever, intertwined in a knot too tight to untie.

Loud noises and shouts from Arista

s room brought Merrick back to the present. He checked his weapon then crossed the street.

***

Your Highness?

the soldier asked, entering the mayoral office. Princess Arista looked up from her cluttered desk, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes wreathed in shadow. She took a moment to assess her visitor. The man in mismatched armor displayed an expression of unabated annoyance.

This is not going to go well,she thought.

You sent for me?

he asked with only partially restrained irritation.

Yes, Renquist,

she said, her mind catching up with his face. She had hardly slept in two days and had difficulty concentrating.

I asked you here to

Princess, you can

t be summoning me like this. I have an army to run and a war to win. I don

t have

time to chat.

Chat? I wouldn

t call you here if it wasn

t important.

Renquist rolled his eyes.

I need you to remove rmy from the city.

What?

It can

t be helped. Your men are causing trouble. I

m getting daily reports of soldiers bullying

merchants and destroying property. There has even been an accusation of rape. You must take your men and bivouac them outside the city, where they can be controlled.

The men only want what is rightfully theirs. They risked their lives against the Imperialists; the least this lousy city can do is feed them. Now you want me to take away their beds and the roof over their heads as well?

The merchants and farmers refuse to feed them because they can

Arista explained.

The empire

confiscated the city

s reserves when the Imperialists took control. The rains and the war destroyed most of this year

s crops. The city doesn

t have enough to feed its citizens, much less an army. Fall is here, and cold weather is on its way. These people don

t know how they will survive the winter.

They can

t take care of themselves with a thousand soldiers raiding their shops and farms. We

thankful for your contribution in taking the city, but your continued presence threatens to destroy what you risked your lives to liberate. You must leave.

If I force them back into camps with inadequate food and leaky canvas shelters, half will desert. As it is, many are talking of going home for the harvest season. I shouldn

t have to tell you that if this

army disappears, the empire will take this city back.

Arista shook her head.

When Degan Gaunt was in charge the Nationalist Army lived under similar conditions for months without it being a problem. The soldiers are becoming complacent here in Ratibor. Perhaps it is time you pressed on to Aquesta.

Renquist stiffened at the suggestion.

Gaunt

s capture makes taking Aquesta all the more difficult. I need time to gather information and I

m waiting for reinforcements and supplies from Delgos.

Attacking the capital won

t be like taking Vernes or Ratibor. Aquesta is a Warric city and the seat of the empire. The Imperialists will fight to the last man to defend their empress. No. We need to stay here until I

m fully prepared.

Wait if you must, but not here,

she replied firmly.

What if I refuse?

His eyes narrowed.

Arista put the parchments she was holding on the desk but said nothing.

My army conquered this city,

he told her pointedly.

You hold authority only becauseI allow it. I

needn

t take orders from you. You are not a princess here, and I am not your serf. My responsibility is to my men, not to this city and certainly not to you.

Arista slowly rose.

I am the mayorpro tem of this city,

she said, her voice growing in authority,

appointed by the

people. Furthermore, I am steward and acting administrator of all of Rhenydd, again by the consent of the people. You and your army are here bymy leave .

You are a princess of Melengar and a foreigner! At leastI was born in Rhenydd.

Regardless of your personal feelings toward me, you will respect the authority of this office and do as I say.

And if I don

he asked coldly.

Renquist

s reaction did not surprise Arista. He was a career soldier who served with King Urith, as well as the Imperial Army, before joining the rebel Nationalists when Kilnar fell. When Gaunt disappeared, Hadrian appointed him commander in chief, a position far higher in rank than Renquist could ever have hoped for. Renquist was finally realizing the power he possessed and starting to assert himself. She had hoped he would demonstrate the same spirit Emery had shown but Renquist was not a commoner with the heart of a nobleman. If she did not take action now, Arista would face a military overthrow.

This city just liberated itself from one tyrant, and I won

t allow it to fall under the heel of another. If

you refuse to obey me, I

ll replace you as commander.

And howo d you do that?

Arista revealed a faint smile.

Think hard

m sure you can figure it out.

Renquist continued to stare at her, then his eyes widened in realization and fear flashed across his face.

Yes,

she told him,

the rumors about me are true. Now take your army out of the city before I feel a need to prove it. You have just one day to remove them. Scouts found a suitable valley to the north.

I suggest you camp where the river crosses the road. It is far enough away to prevent further trouble. There is plenty of water, fish, and wood for fires. By heading north, your men will feel they are progressing toward the goal of Aquesta, thus helping morale.

Don

t tell me how to run my army,

he snapped, although not as loudly, nor as confidently as before.

My apologies,

she said, with a bow of her head.

It was only a suggestion. The order to leave the

city, however, is not. Good evening to you, sir.

Renquist hesitated, his breath labored, his hands balled into fists.

I said good evening, sir.

He muttered a curse and left, slamming the door behind him.

Exhausted, Arista slumped in her chair.

Why doesever ything have to be so hard?

Everyone wanted something from her now: food, shelter, assurances that everything would be all right. The citizens looked at her and saw hope, but Arista could see little herself. Plagued by endless problems and surrounded by people, she felt oddly alone.

There was not a single person in Ratibor whom she had known for longer than a month, and she longed for a familiar face. Arista missed Hilfred. After suffering burns in her service over two years ago, her once ever-present bodyguard had left without a word. She also missed her brother, Alric, and hoped he could forgive her for disobeying him. Perhaps her success in taking Ratibor would lessen his anger. Most of all, Arista missed Royce and Hadrian, a common thief and a rogue swordsman. To them, she was nothing more than a wealthy patron, but to her, they were nothing less than her closest friends.

Arista laid her head on her desk and closed her eyes.

Just a few minutes catnap,she told herself.Then I will get up and figure out how to deal with the shortage of grain and look into the reports of the mistreatment of prisoners.

Since her appointment, a hundred issues demanded her attention such as who was entitled to harvest the fields of the farmers lost in battle. With food in short supply and harsh autumn weather threatening, she needed a quick solution. At least these problems saved her from thinking about her own loss. Like everyone in town, Arista remained haunted by the Battle of Ratibor. She bore no visible injury

her pain came from a memory, a face seen at night when her heart ached as if pierced.

It would never fully heal. There would always be a wound, a deformity, a noticeable scare for the rest of her life.

When she finally fell asleep, thoughts of Emery, held at bay during her waking hours, invaded her dreams. He appeared, as always, sitting at the foot of the bed, bathed in moonlight. Her breath shortened in anticipation of the kiss as he leaned forward, a smile across his lips. Abruptly he stiffened, and a drop of blood slipped from the corner of his mouth

a crossbow bolt protruding from

his chest. She tried to cry out but could not make a sound. The dream had always been the same, but this time Emery spoke.

There

s no time left,

he told her, his face intent and urgent.

s up to you now.

She struggled to ask what he meant, when

Your Highness.

She felt a gentle hand jostle her shoulder.

Opening her eyes, Arista saw Orrin Flatly. The city scribe, who once kept track of the punishment of rebels in the Central Square, had volunteered to be her secretary. His cold efficiency had given her pause but she relented, realizing there was no crime in doing one

s job well. Her decsion proved

sound and he had turned out to be a loyal, diligent worker. Still, waking to his expressionless face disturbed her.

What is it?

she asked, wiping her eyes and feeling for tears that should have been there.

Someone is here to see you. I explained you were occupied, but he insists. He is very

Orrin shifted

uncomfortably,

hard to ignore.

Who is he?

He refused to give his name, but said you knew him, and claims his business is of utmost importance and he must speak to you immediately.

Okay.

Arista nodded drowsily.

Give me a moment and then send him in.

Orrin left, and in his absence she smoothed the wrinkles from her dress to ensure her appearance was at least marginally presentable. Having lived the life of a commoner for so long, what Arista deemed acceptable had reached an appallingly low level.

To replace her bloodstained gown she borrowed a frock from Mrs. Dunlap. Despite a seamstress

attempt to alter it, the garment remained a poor fit. Designed for an elderly matron, with a tall, stiff collar and heavy stays, the dress was not at all flattering. Checking her hair in a mirror, she wondered where the Princess of Melengar had gone and if she would ever return.

While she inspected herself the door opened.

How may I help

Esrahaddon stood in the doorway, wearing the same flowing robe whose color Arista could never determine. His arms, as always, were lost in its shimmering folds. His beard was longer and gray streaked his hair, making him appear older than she remembered. She had not seen the wizard since that morning on the bank of the Nidwalden River, when he admitted to orchestrating her father

death.

What areyou doing here?

she asked her warm tone icing over.

I am pleased to see you as well, Your Highness.

After admitting the wizard, Orrin had left the doors open. With a glance from Esrahaddon, they swung shut.

I see you

re getting along better without hands these days,

Arista said.

One adapts to one

s needs,

he replied, sitting opposite her.

I didn

t extend an invitation for you to sit.

I didn

t ask for one.

Arista

s own chair slammed into the back of her legs causing her to fall into it.

How are you doing that with no hands or sound?

she asked, disarmed by her own curiosity.

The lessons are over, or don

t you remember declaring that at our last meeting?

Arista hardened her composure once more.

I remember. I also thought I made it clear I never

wanted to see you again.

Yes, yes, that

s all well and good, but I need your help to locate the heir.

Lost him again have you?

Esrahaddon ignored her.

We can find him with the basic location spell I taught you.

m not interested in your games. I have a city to run.

We need to perform the spell immediately. We can do it right here. Right now. I have a good idea where he is, but time is short and I can

t afford to run off in the wrong direction. So, clear your desk and we can get started.

I have no intention of doing anything of the sort.

Arista, you know I can

t do this alone. I need your help.

The princess glared at him.

You should have thought of that before you arranged my father

murder. What I should do is order your execution.

You don

t understand. This is important. Thousands of lives are at stake. You can

t allow childish

notions of personal feelings to stand in the way. This is larger than your loss. It is larger than the loss of a hundred kings and a thousand fathers. Do you think I enjoyed it? Any of it? You forget

lost my life as well. I had parents of my own, friends, and

he caught himself and continued.

All of

them are gone now. Do you think I enjoyed rotting in a prison for a thousand years? Yes, I used you and your father escape. I did so out of necessity

because what I protect is more important than any

single person. It

s why I haven

t sought revenge for the destruction of the Old Empire, for the murder of my emperor, or even the loss of my hands.

Arista, as a wizard, you must understand personal vengeance and gain are barred to you. We are obligated to seek no recognition, fame, nor fortune. A wizard must work for the betterment of all

and

sacrifices are always necessary. Now stop this foolishness we are running out of time.

I am so happy not to be of service to you,

she smirked.

I can

t bring back my father, and I know I

could never kill you, nor would you allow yourself to be imprisoned again, so this is truly a gift

the

opportunity to repay you for what you took from me. Your thousand year imprisonment and the loss of your hands will be for nothing, because you made the mistake of callously arranging my father

death.

Esrahaddon sighed and shook his head.

You know the church was behind everything. They

orchestrated the events so I would escape. They needed me to lead them to the heir. They enticed you to Gutaria knowing I would use you. Even if I hadn

t taken that advantage

even if I chose to

remain locked up

your father would still be dead. Look at what happened right here in Rhenydd and in Alburn. King Urith and King Reinhold were both murdered so imperial usurpers could take their places. Your father was doomed the moment Braga married your mother

s sister.

Get out! Orrin! Guards!

The scribe struggled with the door and it opened a crack, but a slight glance from Esrahaddon slammed it shut again. Orrin beat on the wood and pulled at the latch.

Your Highness, I

ll get help.

You don

t really hate me, Arista. It

s guilt that

s eating you. It

s knowing you had as much to do with

your father

s death as Saldur, Braga, or even myself. Your father wanted to make you a prisoner of your station, but your hunger for the power of the Art drove you to me. Amrath was going to sentence you to life in a forced marriage, but instead he died and you got what you wanted.

GET OUT!

she screamed. With a wave of her hand, the office door burst open, nearly coming free from the hinges.

You need to forgive yourself, Arista,

Esrahaddon continued, even as Orrin and two armed men

entered.

You didn

t kill Amrath any more than I did. The Patriarch is responsible. He used both of us in his search for the heir.

Remove him!

Arista ordered, and the guards grabbed Esrahaddon.

You have to help me, Arista, or all is lost,

he urged as they pulled him from the room.

Arista slammed the door, and kicked it for good measure.

She wanted to scream,Itwas n

t my fault! Even though she knew that was a lie. In all the years since her father

s death, she never faced the reality. Arista blamed Braga, Saldur, and Esrahaddon, but the real pain came from realizing her own part. Too horrible to face, she hid from the truth. Her father, who returned with hairbrushes from every trip just to see the smile on his daughter

s face died,

because she wanted more.

***

Esrahaddon exited City Hall into the darkness of Ratibor

s Central Square. The clouded thin moon

left just enough light to see the outlines of buildings. He looked back and sighed. He genuinely liked Arista. He wished he could tell her everything, but the risk was too great. In her present state, she might do something foolish with that knowledge. And while he was free of Gutaria Prison, he feared the church still listened to his conversations

not every word as when he was incarcerated, but

Mawyndulë had the power to hear from vast distances and Esrahaddon could never be certain when he might use that particular skill. This forced the wizard to assume all conversations were suspect. A single slip

the casual mention of a name

and he could ruin everything.

Short on time, he had hoped she would cooperate. Now he realized she would not help unless he told her the truth

and that, he could not do. At least he could console himself with the fact he safely planted the seed and the soil appeared fertile. When they last met he had doubts, but now he was certain

Aristahad become a cenzar.

He began to suspect the morning of the Battle of Ratibor when Hadrian mentioned the rain was notsupposed to stop. He knew Arista cast the spell instrumental to the Nationalists

victory. Since

then he listened to any rumor around Ratibor concerning the new mayor possessingunnatural powers . No one dared use the termwitch orsorceress . She was so beloved that using her name in such a derogatory fashion was unthinkable. Still, he only knew for certain when she broke his locking charm with a simple wave of her hand. Arista finally understood the Art, even if she did not yet know what that meant.

He worried about the burden he placed on her. Inevitable pain, regret, and loss

a terrible road to

walk and he put her feet upon that path. Still, he could not help but feel at least a small amount of hope, and pride, in continuing the legacy of the cenzar.

Aside from Arcadius and himself no human wizards remained, and the two of them were pitiful representatives of the craft. Arcadius was nothing but an old hack, what they used to refer to as afaquin , an elven term for the most inept magical practitioner

knowledge without talent. They never

managed to transition from materials based alchemy to the kinetic true version of The Art.

Esrahaddon did not consider himself any better. Without his hands he was as much a magical cripple as a physical invalid. Now however, with Arista

s birth into the world of wizardry, mankind

once again possessed a true artist. She was still a novice, a mere infant, but given time her talent would grow. One day she would become more powerful than any king, emperor, warrior, or priest.

Knowing she could hold sway over all mankind was more than a little disturbing. During the Old Empire, safeguards existed. The Cenzar Council oversaw wielders of the Art and ensured its proper use, but that was gone now. All the other wizards

his brethren and even the lesser mages

were dead.

With him effectively castrated, the church thought they eliminated the cenzar threat from the world.

Now they were back, and he was certain no one understood the danger this simple princess posed.

He needed her and, though she did not know it yet, she needed him. He could answer the hundreds of questions she would have, and more importantly guide her steps. He could explain the Art

source and how they came to use it. Arcadius taught her that a wizard

s role was to guide humanity

to a better existence, but that was never their true purpose. They were the guardians, the preservers, and the defenders. They held the secrets that would protect mankind when theUli Vermar ended.

When he learned the truth so long ago he felt relieved it would not be his problem to face, as the day of reckoning was centuries away. How ironic that his imprisonment in the timeless vault of Gutaria extended his life to this age. What was once forever in the future was now but months away.

He allowed himself a bitter laugh, then walked to the center of the square to sit and think.

Will it work?

He was counting on so many unknowns.

Will Arista

s guilt drive her in the right direction? Will she understand in time? Will Royce and Hadrian play their parts successfully?

His plan was so tenuous, so weak, but at least all of the pieces were in their proper places. Hadrian knew he was the Guardian of the Heir, and Esrahaddon was convinced he was a worthy protector of Jerish

s legacy. Then there was the heir

an unlikely choice to be sure

but one that somehow made

perfect sense. Arista just needed o master her hatred and then she would come around.

Yes, he concluded,it will be all right.

He remembered how his master Yolric always insisted things worked out for the best in the end.

Yolric, the wisest of them all, was passionate about the world

s ability to correct itself. Esrahaddon

greatest fear when the Old Empire fell was that Yolric might side with Venlin. The fact that the emperor

s seed still lived nearly a thousand years later proved his master had not helped the Patriarch find the emperor

s son when Jerish took Nevrik into hiding. Esrahaddon allowed himself a grin. He missed old Yolric. His teacher would be dead now. He was ancient even when Esrahaddon was a boy.

Esrahaddon stretched out his legs and tried to clear his mind. He needed to rest, but rest had eluded him for centuries. Rest was only enjoyed by men of clear conscience and he had too much innocent blood on his hands. Too many people gave their lives for him to fail.

Remembering Yolric opened the door to his past, and through it, ghosts entered. Faces of people long dead, his family, his friends, and the woman he had hoped to marry. It seemed his life before the fall was merely a dream, but perhaps this was the dream

a nightmare he was trapped in. Maybe

one day he would wake and find himself back in the palace with Nevrik, Jerish, and his beloved Elinya.

Had she somehow survived the destruction of the city?

He wanted to think so, no matter how unlikely. It pleased him to believe she escaped the end but even that thought gave little comfort.

What if she believed what they said about me afterward? Did she marry someone else feeling betrayed? Did Elinya die at an old age, hating me? Orwas she killed in the civil war?

Perhaps one day, when all this was over, he would look for a descendent of hers. Maybe somewhere there was a young woman called Elinya, named after a beautiful ancestor.

He needed to stop thinking this way. What he told Arista was true. The sacrifices they made were insignificant when compared against the goal. Still, he had lied about one thing

therewas room for

vengeance.

He glanced back at City Hall and sighed once more. He would leave now and travel north alone.

Maybe she would come around with time, but he could not wait with only a few months left and so much yet to do.

With his decision made, he rose and turned toward the city

s gate. A cloud covered the moon,

snuffing out what little light it cast, and Esrahaddon felt a stabbing pain in his back. Crying out in anguish, he fell to his knees. Twisting at the waist, he felt his robe stick to his skin and a growing wetness.

m bleeding.

Venderia,

he whispered, and instantly his robe glowed. The square lit up, awash in an unearthly light. At the fringe of its radiance he caught a glimpse of a man dressed in a dark cloak. At first, he thought it might be Royce. He shared the same callous gait and posture, but this man was taller and broader.

Esrahaddon muttered a curse and four beams supporting the covered sidewalk directly over the man exploded into splinters. The heavy roof collapsed just as the man stepped out from under it.

The force of the crashing timbers merely billowed his cloak.

With sweat coating his face and a stabbing pain in his back, Esrahaddon struggled to rise to confront his attacker who continued to walk casually toward him. The wizard concentrated, then spoke again. The dirt of the square whirled into a tornado traveling directly toward his attacker. It engulfed the man who burst into flames. Esrahaddon could feel the heat of the inferno as the pillar surged, bathing the square in a yellow glow. At its center, the figure stood wreathed in blue tongues of flame but when the fire faded, the man continued forward, unharmed.

Reaching the wizard, he looked curiously at Esrahaddon

the way a child might study a strange bug

before crushing it. He said nothingse ot revealed a silver medallion that hung from a chain he wore around his neck.

Recognize this?

the man asked.

Word is, you made it. I

m afraid the heir won

t need it any longer.

Esrahaddon gasped.

If only you had hands you might rip it from my neck. Then I

d be in real trouble, wouldn

t I?

The noise of the collapse and explosions of light woke several people in nearby buildings. Candles were lit in windows and doors opened on to the square.

The Patriarch bid me to tell you, your services are no longer required.

The man in the dark cloak

smiled coldly at the wizard. Without another word, he walked away, disappearing into the maze of dark streets.

Esrahaddon was confused. The dagger or dart he felt lodged in his back did not feel fatal. He could breathe easily, so it missed his lungs and was nowhere near his heart. He was bleeding, but not profusely. The pain was bad, a deep burning, but he could still feel his legs and was certain he could walk.

Why did he leave me alive? Why would

poison!

The wizard concentrated and muttered a chant. It failed. He struggled with his handless arms to weave a stronger spell. It did not help. He could feel the poison now as it spread throughout his back. He was helpless without hands. Whoever the man in the cloak was, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Esrahaddon looked back at City Hall. He could not die

not yet.

***

The noise from the street caught her attention. Arista still sat against the office door as voices and shouts drifted from the square. What happened was unclear, but the words

s dying

brought Arista

to her feet.

She exited the front door and found a small crowd gathered on the steps. Within their center, an eerie pulsating light glowed as if a bit of the moon had landed in Central Square. Drawing closer, Arista saw the wizard. The light emitted from his robe, growing bright, then ebbing, then brightening again in pace with his slow and labored breath. The pale light revealed a pool of blood.

Lying on his back, a bolt beside him, Esrahaddon

s face was almost luminous with a ghostly pallor,

his lips a dark shade of blue. His disheveled sleeves exposed the fleshy stumps of his wrists.

What happened here?

she demanded.

We don

t know, Your Highness,

someone from the crowd replied.

s been asking to see you.

Get Doctor Gerand,

she ordered and knelt beside him, gently pulling down his sleeves.

Too late,

Esrahaddon whispered, his eyes locked intently on hers.

Can

t help me

poison

Arista

listen

there

s no time.

His words came hurriedly between struggles to take in air. On his face was a look of determination mixed with desperation, like a drowning man searching for a handhold.

Take

my burden

find

The wizard hesitated, his eyes searching the faces gathered. He motioned for her to draw near. When she placed her ear close to his mouth, he continued.

Find the heir

take the heir with

you

without the heir everything fails.

Esrahaddon coughed and fought to breathe.

Find the Horn of

Gylindora

Need the heir to find it

buried with Novron in Percepliquis

He drew in another breath.

Hurry

at Wintertide theUli Vermar ends

Another breath.

They will come

without the horn everyone

dies.

Another breath.

Only you know now

only you can save

Patriarch

is the same

The next breath

never came. The next words never uttered. The pulsating brilliance of his robe faded, leaving them all in darkness.

***

Arista watched the foul-smelling, chalk-colored smoke drift as the strand of blonde hair smoldered.

There was no breeze or draft in her office, yet the smoke traveled unerringly toward the northern wall where it disappeared against the stone and mortar.

A spell of location required burning a part of a person. Hair was the obvious choice, but fingernails or even skin would work. The day after Esrahaddon

s death, she requested delivery of any personal

belongings left behind by the missing leader of the Nationalist Army. They sent over an old pair of Degan Gaunt

s worn muddy boots, a tattered shirt, and a woolen cloak. The boots were useless, but the shirt and cloak held treasures. Scraping the surface, she found dozens of blonde hairs, and hundreds of flakes of skin, which she carefully gathered and placed in a velvet pouch. Convincing herself she merely wanted to see if it would work, she cast the spell with no intention to act on the results. Now she was unsure.

The princess opened a window, washed the runes off her desk, and sat looking out over the city. At this time of night nothing moved on the streets below. She contemplated the significance of finding the heir. Knowing he lived might have meant something to her once, but her beliefs in the teachings of the church were shattered long ago.

To Esrahaddon the heir meant everything. Since leaving Gutaria, the wizard had dedicated his life to finding the emperor

s descendent, even coercing Arista into assisting him with a spell cast in Avempartha to identify the heir and his guardian. The guardian she recognized immediately as Hadrian, however the heir she had never seen before. The blonde-haired image was just a face until after the Battle of Ratibor when she learned he was Degan Gaunt, the leader of the Nationalists.

There was no doubt the New Empire was responsible for his disappearance, and the smoke confirmed he was alive and held somewhere to the north. She stared at the wall where the smoke disappeared.

Why should I care about his obsession?

To her surprise, she felt no satisfaction from the wizard

s death. On more than one occasion, she

wished him harm but now there was only sadness, pity, and regret.

She wanted to stop thinking about what he had said, and how he had spent his last breaths delivering to her secrets he had carried for a thousand years. She felt he presented her with sparkling gems of immeasurable worth, but without his knowledge they were nothing more than dull pebbles.

They will come.

What did that mean? Whowas coming?

Without the hornever yone dies.

everyone? Who isever yone? He couldn

t meanever yone,ever yone

could he? Maybe hewas just

babbling. People do that when they are dying, don

t they?

She remembered his eyes, clear and focused, holding on like Emery.

There

s no time left. It

s up to you now.

Only you know now

only you can save

This is crazy,

she said aloud to the empty room.I can

t possibly go in search of the heir. The empire

has him and they

ll kill me on sight. Besides, I

m needed here.

Arista

s kingdom was at war against the New Imperial Empire and she was steward of Rhenydd and mayor of Ratibor. A hastily assembled committee had appointed her to what was supposed to be a temporary position. She accepted under the condition that she would resign after the immediate threat of the Imperial Army passed, and arrangements made for a proper election. Weeks went by, the imperials had retreated to protect Aquesta, yet election seemed forthcoming.

If Arista wanted, she could declare herself high queen of Rhenydd and the citizenry would cheer her. She could permanently reign over a kingdom larger than Melengar and be rich as well as beloved. Long after her death, her name would endure in stories and songs

her image immortalized

on statues and in books.

She glanced at the neatly folded robe on the corner of her desk. They had brought it to her after Esrahaddon

s burial. The sum of the wizard

s entire worldly possessions amounted to just this piece of cloth. He devoted everything to his quest and after nine hund years, he died without fulfilling his mission. Exactly what his mission was nagged at her. Loyalty to the descendent of a boy ruler from a millennium ago could not drive Esrahaddon so fanatically

she was missing something.

They will come.

The color of the smoke indicated Gaunt was not far away, likely within a few days travel. To find him, she would need to recast the spell and follow its trail.

But then what?

We are obligated to seek no recognition, fame, nor fortune.

When Esrahaddon spoke those words, she did not really listen, but now she could hear nothing else. Arista made her decision and stuffed the only possession she cared for, a pearl-handled hairbrush from Tur Del Fur, in a sack. She wrote a letter of resignation and left it on the desk.

Reaching the door, she paused and glanced back. Somehow, it seemed appropriate almost necessary.

She crossed the office and picked up the old wizard

s robe. It hung gray and dull in her hands. No

one had cleaned it, yet she found no stain of blood. Even more surprising, no hole marked the passage of the bolt. She wondered at this puzzle

even in death the man continued to be a mystery.

Slipping the robe over her dress she was amazed that if fit perfectly despite the fact that Esrahaddon had been over a foot taller than herself. Turning her back on her office, she walked out into the night.

The autumn air was cold. Arista pulled the robe tight and lifted the hood. The material was unlike anything she had felt before

light, soft, yet wonderfully warm and comforting. It smelled pleasantly of salifan.

She considered taking a horse from the stables. As mayor, no one would begrudge her a mount. But she had resigned. Wherever she was going, it could not be too far and a long walk suited her.

Esrahaddon indicated a need for haste, but it would be imprudent to rush headlong into the unknown. Walking seemed a sensible way to challenge the mysterious and unfamiliar. It would give her time to think. She guessed Esrahaddon would have chosen the same mode of travel. It just felt right.

Arista took out a water skin, the one she had used traveling with Royce and Hadrian, and filled it at the square

s well. She had plenty to eat. Farmers, who objected to providing for the soldiers, always found some food to place as a small tribute on the steps of City Hall. Most she gave to the city

poor, which only resulted in more gifts. She helped herself to a few rounds of cheese, two loaves of bread, and a number of apples, onions, and turnips. Hardly a king

s feast, but it would keep her alive.

She slipped the full water bag over her shoulder, adjusted her pack, and headed for the north gate.

She was conscious of the sound of her feet on the road and the noises of the night. How dangerous

even foolhardy

leaving Medford had been, even in the company of Royce and Hadrian.

Now, just a few weeks later, she set out into the darkness alone.

She knew her path would lead into imperial territory

the New Empire would not hide Gaunt in

Rhenydd. Traveling alone, she hoped to avoid attention. Once she knew where he was held she could send word to Hadrian and leave the rest to him. After all he was the guardian and Gaunt was his problem not hers. Confident this was the right choice, she quickened her pace through the city streets.

Your Highness,

the north gate guard exclaimed at her approach.

She smiled sweetly at the man.

Can you please open the gate?

Of course, My Lady, but why? Where are you going?

For a walk,

she replied.

The guard stared at her incredulously.

Are you certain? I mean

He looked over her shoulder.

Are

you alone?

She nodded.

The guard hesitated briefly then relented and drew back the bar. Putting his back against the giant oak doors, he slowly pushed one open.

You need to be careful, My Lady. There is a stranger about.

A stranger?

e A fellow came to the gate just a few hours after sunset wanting in

a masked man in a hood. I could

see he was up to no good so I turned him away. Likely as not, he

s out there somewhere waiting for

me to open at sunrise. Please be careful, Your Highness.

Thank you, but I

m sure I

ll be fine,

she said, while slipping past him. Once she was through, the gate closed behind her.

Arista stayed to the road, walking as quickly and quietly as she could. Now on her way, she felt exhilarated despite the dangers that lay ahead. Leaving Ratibor without farewells was for the best.

They would have insisted she appoint a successor and remain for a time to counsel whoever was selected. While she did not feel enough urgency for a horse, she felt a delay that long would be a mistake. Besides, she could not risk an imperial spy discovering her plan and placing sentries to capture her.

In at least one way she felt safer on the road than in her office

she was confident no one knew

where she was, and this anonymity was as comforting as the old wizard

s robe. Ever since

Esrahaddon

s death, she worried if she too might be a target. Esrahaddon

s assassin had escaped

capture. The only trace was an unusually small crossbow discovered in an East End Square rain barrel. She felt certain the killer was an agent of the church sent to eliminate a lingering threat. She was Esrahaddon

s apprentice, had helped defeat the church

s attempt to take Melengar, and led the

revolt in Ratibor. Surely the church wanted her dead as well.

Before long, she spotted the flicker of a light not far off the road

a simple campfire burning low.

The man turned away at the gate? Could he be the assassin?

She kept her eyes on the fire while carefully walking past. She soon cleared a hill and the light disappeared behind it. After a few hours, the excitement of the adventure waned and she found herself yawning. With several hours until dawn, she pulled a blanket from her bag and found a soft place to lay.

Is this what each night was like for Esrahaddon?

She had not slept outdoors since the trip with Royce and Hadrian. Memories surfaced of that first night she had cried herself to sleep and she wished her two escorts were with her now. She imagined Royce disappearing into the trees to search the area as he had at every camp. Even more, she wanted Hadrian there by her side. She pictured him with a lopsided grin making that awful stew of his. He could always make her feel safe. She remembered how he held her on the hill of Amberton Lee and at the armory after the Battle of Ratibor. Soaked in rain, mud, and Emery

s blood,

his arms held her up. She never felt so horrible and no one

s embrace had ever felt so good.

I wish you were here now,

she whispered.

Laying on her back she looked up at the stars. Millions spanned the sky scattered like dust over the immense heavens. Seeing them, she felt even more alone. Closing her eyes she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 2

The Empty Castle

Above Hadrian

s head, the wooden sign rocked in the morning breeze displaying a thorny branch and a faded bloom. Weathered and worn, imagination would be required to determine that the flower depicted was a rose. The tavern it announced displayed the same haphazard charm of necessity as the other buildings along Wayward Street. The crooked length of the narrow road was empty. Autumn leaves scattering in the wind and the rocking sign marked the only movement.

The lack of activity surprised Hadrian. At this time of year, Medford

s Lower Quarter usually

bustled with vendors selling apples, cider, pumpkins, and hardwood. The air should have been scented with wood smoke. Chimney sweeps should have been dancing across rooftops as children watched in awe. Instead, the doors of several stores were nailed shut

and to his dismay, even The

Rose and Thorn Tavern lay dormant.

Hadrian sighed as he tethered his horse. Skipping breakfast in exchange for an early start had left him eager for a hot meal eaten indoors. He expected the war to take its toll and for Medford to be affected, but he never expected The Rose and Thorn to

Hadrian!

He recognized the voice before he turned and saw Gwen, the lovely Calian native, looking more like an artisan

s wife than a madam in her sky-blue day dress. She swept down the steps of Medford House, one of the few businesses open. Prostitutes were always the first to arrive and the last to leave. Hadrian hugged her, lifting her small body.

We were worried about you,

she said.

What took

you so long?

What are you doing back at all?

Royce called as he stepped out on the porch. The lithe and slender thief stood barefoot, wearing only black pants and a loose unbelted tunic.

Arista sent me to make sure you made it all right and were able to convince Alric to send the army south.

Took you long enough. I

ve been back for weeks.

Hadrian shrugged.

Well, Alric

s forces laid siege to Colnora right after I arrived. It took me a while to find a way out.

So, how did

Royce, shouldn

t we let Hadrian sit and eat?

Gwen interrupted.

You haven

t had breakfast, have you?

Let me grab a shawl, and I

ll have Dixon fire the stove.

How long has the tavern been closed?

Hadrian asked, as Gwen disappeared back inside.

Royce raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

Not closed. Business has just been slow, so she opens

for the midday meal.

s like a ghost town around here.

A lot of people left, expecting an invasion,

Royce explained.

Most who stayed were called to serve

when the army moved out.

Gwen reappeared with a wrap around her shoulders and led them across the street to The Rose and Thorn. In the shadows of an alley, Hadrian spotted movement. People slept huddled amid piles of trash. Unlike Royce, who easily passed for human, these shabbily dressed creatures bore the unmistakable angled ears, prominent cheekbones, and almond eyes characteristic of elves.

The army didn

t want them,

Royce commented, seeing Hadrian

s stare.

No one wants them.

Dixon, the bartender and manager, was taking chairs off the tables when Gwen unlocked the doors.

A tall, stocky man, he had lost an arm several years ago in the Battle of Medford.

Hadrian!

he shouted in his booming voice. He stopped work to extend his good hand.

How are you,

lad? Gave

em what for in Ratibor, eh? Where you been?

I stayed to sweep up,

Hadrian replied, with a wink and a smile.

Denny in yet?

Gwen asked Dixon, stepping past him and rummaging through a drawer behind the bar.

Nope, just me. I figured, why bother? All of you want breakfast? I can manage if you like.

Yes,

Gwen told him,

and make some extra.

Dixon sighed.

You keep feeding them and they

ll just keep hanging around.

She ignored the comment.

Did Harry deliver the ale last night?

Yup.

Three barrels, right?

As Gwen talked with Dixon, Royce slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze.

The fact that he loved her was no secret, but Royce had never even held Gwen

s hand in public

before. Seeing him with her, his friend looked different. It took Hadrian a moment to realize what it was

Royce was smiling.

When Gwen followed Dixon into the pantry to discuss inventory, Royce and Hadrian resumed the task of pulling chairs off tables. Throughout the years, Hadrian had likely sat in each one and drunk from every wooden cup or pewter tankard hanging behind the bar. For more than a decade, The Rose and Thorn had been his home, and it felt odd to bejust visiting .

So, have you decided what you

ll do now?

Royce asked.

m going to find the heir.

Royce paused, hold the chair inches above the floor.

Did you hit your head during the Battle of

Ratibor? The heir is dead, remember?

Turns out he

s not. What

s more, I know who he is.

But the nice priest told us the heir was murdered by Seret Knights forty years ago,

Royce

countered.

He was.

Am I missing something?

Twins,

Hadrian told him.

One was killed, but the midwife saved the other.

So, who is this heir?

Degan Gaunt.

Royce

s eyes widened and a sardonic grin crossed his face.

The leader of the Nationalist Army, who

is bent on the New Empire

s destruction, is the imperial heir? How ironic is that, and how unfortunate for you seeing as how the Imps snatched him up.

Hadrian nodded.

Yeah, it turns out that Esrahaddon has been helping him win all those victories in Rhenydd.

Esrahaddon? How do you know that?

I found him in Gaunt

s camp. Right before the Battle of Ratibor. Looks like the old wizard was planning to put Gaunt on the throne by force.

The two finished with the chairs and took seats at a table near the windows. Outside, a lone apple seller wheeled a cart past, presumably on her way to the Gentry Quarter.

I hope you

re not taking Esrahaddon

s word about Gaunt being the heir. You can never be sure exactly what he

s up to,

said Royce.

well, yes

he confirmed the heir was alive, but I discovered his identity through Gaunt

s sister.

So, how do you plan to find Gaunt? Did either of them tell you where he is?

No. I

m pretty sure Esrahaddon knows, or at least has a good idea, but he wouldn

t tell me, and I

not seen him since the battle. He did say he would need us for a job soon. I think he

ll want help

rescuing Gaunt. He hasn

t been around here, has he?

Royce shook his head.

m happy to say I haven

t seen him. Is that why you

re in town?

Not really. I

m sure he can find me, wherever I am. After all, he found us in Colnora when he wanted us to come to Dahlgren. I

m on my way to see Myron at the abbey. If anyone knows about the history of the heir, he does. I also had to drop off a letter to Alric.

A letter?

When I was stuck in Colnora during the siege, your old friends helped get me out.

The Diamond?

Hadrian nodded.

Price arranged for me to slip away one night in exchange for delivering the letter.

He preferred risking my neck rather than one of his boys.

What did it say? Who was it from?

Hadrian shrugged.

How would I know?

You didn

t read it?

he asked incredulously.

No, it was for Alric.

Let me see it.

Can

t. I dropped it off at the castle on the way in.

Royce dropped his face into his hands.

Sometimes, I just

Royce shook his head.

Unbelievable.

What

s wrong?

Gwen asked, joining them.

Hadrian

s an idiot,

Royce replied, his voice muffled by his hands.

m sure that

s not true.

Thank you, Gwen. See, at leastshe appreciates me.

So, Hadrian, tell me about Ratibor. Royce told me about the rebellion. How did it go?

Gwen asked

with an excited smile.

Emery was killed. Do you know who he was?

Gwen nodded.

So were a lot of others, but we took the city.

And Arista?

She survived the fight, but took the aftermath hard. She

s become something of a heroine there.

They put her in charge of the whole kingdom.

She

s a remarkable woman,

Gwen said.

Don

t you think so, Hadrian?

Before he could answer, a loud

crash from the kitchen made her sigh.

Excuse me while I help Dixon.

She started to stand but Royce reached his feet first and motioned her to stay.

Sit,

he said, kissing

the crown of her head.

ll help him. You two get caught up.

Gwen looked surprised but simply said,

Thank you.

Royce hurried off, shouting in an unusually good-natured tone,

Dixon! What

s taking you so long?

You

ve still got one hand, haven

t you?

Gwen and Hadrian both laughed, mirroring surprised expressions.

So, what

s new around here?

Hadrian asked.

Not a whole lot. Albert came by last week with a job from a nobleman to place the earrings of a married woman in the bedchambers of a priest, but Royce declined it.

Really? He loves plant jobs. And a noble? That

s just easy money.

She shrugged.

I think with you retired, he

Outside, an approaching clatter of hooves halted abruptly. A moment later a man with a distinct limp, dressed as a royal courier, entered the tavern. He paused at the doorway, looking puzzled.

Can I help you?

Gwen asked, as she stood.

I have a message from His Majesty for the Royal Protectors. I was told they were here.

ll take that,

Gwen said, stepping forward.

The courier stiffened and shook his head.

It is for the Royal Protectors only.

Gwen halted and Hadrian noticed her annoyed expression.

You must be new,

Hadrian addressed the courier, rising to his feet.

m Hadrian Blackwater.

The courier nodded smartly and pulled a waxed scroll from his satchel. He handed over the dispatch and departed. Hadrian sat back down and broke the falcon seal.

s a job, isn

t it?

Gwen

s expression darkened and she stared at the floor.

s nothing. Alric just wants to see us,

Hadrian said. She looked up, her eyes revealing a troubled mix of emotions Hadrian could not decipher.

Gwen, what

s wrong?

he pressed, his voice softening.

At length she replied, almost in a whisper,

Royce asked me to marry him.

Hadrian sat back in his chair.

Seriously?

She nodded and added hastily,

I guess he thought that since you retired from Riyria, he would, too.

That

why, that

s wonderful!

Hadrian burst out as he leaped to his feet and hugged her.

Congratulations! He didn

t even say anything. We

ll be like family! It

s about time he got around to

this. I would have asked for your hand myself years ago, except I knew if I did I

d wake up dead the

next morning.

When he asked me it was as if

well, as if a wish I never dared ask had come true. So many problems solved, so much pain eased. Honestly, I didn

t think he ever would.

Hadrian nodded.

That

s only because he

s not only an idiot, he

s blind as well.

No. I mean, well

s Royce.

Isn

t that what I just said? But I know what you

re saying. He

s really not the marrying type, is he?

Clearly, you

ve had tremendous influence on him.

You have, too,

she said, reaching out and taking hold of his hand.

There are times I hear him say

things I know come from you. Things likeresponsibility andregret , words that were never part of his vocabulary before. I wonder if he even knows where he found them. When I first met you two he was so withdrawn, so guarded.

Hadrian nodded.

He has trust issues.

But he

s learning. His life has been so hard. I know it has. Abandoned and betrayed by those who should have loved him. He doesn

t talk about it, at least not to me. But I know.

Hadrian shook his head.

Me either. Occasionally something might come up, but he usually avoids mentioning anything about his past. I think he

s trying to forget.

s built so many defenses, but every year it

s as if another wall has fallen. He even summoned the

courage to tell me he

s part elven. His fortress is dissolving, and I can see him peering out of it at me. He wants to be free. This is the next step

and I am so proud of him.

When will the wedding be?

We were thinking in a couple of weeks at the monastery, so Myron can preside. But we

ll have to

postpone, won

t we?

Why do you say that? Alric just wants to see us, it doesn

t mean

He needs the two of you for a job,

Gwen interrupted.

No. He mightwant us , but we

re retired. I have other things to do and Royce

well, Royce needs to

start a new life

with you.

You

ll take it, and you must take Royce with you,

her voice was filled with sadness and a sense of

regret, emotions so unlike her.

Hadrian smiled.

Listen, I can

t think of anything Alric could say that would get me to go, but if he does, I

ll do the job on my own

as a wedding present. We don

t even have to tell Royce the courier

was here.

No!

she burst out.

Hehas to go. If he doesn

t, you

ll die.

Hadrian

s first impulse was to laugh, but that thought evaporated when he saw her face.

Nevertheless, he tried to lighten the strain he found there.

m not as easy to kill as all that, you

know?

He winked at her.

m from Calis, Hadrian, and I know what I

m talking about.

Her gaze drifted off toward the

windows, but her eyes were unfocused, as if seeing another place.

I can

t be the one responsible for

your death. The life we would have after

She shook her head.

No, hemust go with you,

she repeated

firmly.

Hadrian was not convinced but knew there was no reason to argue further. Gwen was not the type for debate. Most women he knew invited discussion and even enjoyed arguments, but not Gwen.

There was clarity to her thinking that let you know she had already made her own journey to the inevitable conclusion and was just politely waiting there for you to join her. In her own way, she was much like Royce

except for thepolite waiting .

With you two gone, I

ll have time to organize a first-rate wedding,

she said, her voice strained and

she blinked frequently.

It will take that long just to decide what color dress a former prostitute should wear.

You know something, Gwen,

Hadrian began, as he reached out and took her hand.

ve known a lot

of women, but I

ve met only two I admire. Royce is a very lucky man.

Royce is a man on the edge,

she replied thoughtfully.

s seen too much cruelty and betrayal. He

never known mercy.

She gave his hand a squeeze.

Youhave to do this, Hadrian. You have to be the

one to show him mercy. If you can do that, I know it will save him.

***

Royce and Hadrian entered Essendon Castle

s courtyard, once the site of Princess Arista

s witch

trial. Nothing remained of that unfortunate day except a slightly raised patch of ground where the stake and woodpile had stood. It had been just three years ago, and the weather had been turning cold then too. It was a different time. Amrath Essendon was king, and the New Empire was little more than a dream of the Imperialists.

The guards at the gate nodded and smiled at them.

I hate that,

Royce muttered as they passed.

What?

They didn

t even think to stop us, and they actually smiled. They know us by sight now

by sight.

Alric used to have the decency to send word discreetly and receive us unannounced. Now, uniformed soldiers knock on the door in daylight waving and saying,

Hello, we have a job for you.

He didn

t wave.

Give it time, he will be

waving and grinning. One day Jeremy will be buying drinks for his soldier buddies at The Rose and Thorn. They

ll all be there, the entire sentry squad, laughing, smiling, throwing their arms over our shoulders and asking us to singCalide Portmore with them

once more

with gusto!

And at some point one particularly sweaty ox will give me a hug and say howhonored he is to be in our company.

Jeremy?

What? That

s his name.

You know the name of the soldier at the gate?

Royce scowled.

You see my point? Yes, I know his name and they know ours. We might as well wear uniforms and move into Arista

s old room.

They climbed the stone steps to the main entrance, where a soldier quickly opened a door for them and gave a slight bow.

Master Melborn, Master Blackwater.

Hey, Digby.

Hadrian waved as he passed and caught Royce scowling.

Sorry.

s a good thing we

re both retired. You know, there

s a reason there are no famousliving thieves.

Hadrian

s heels echoed on the polished floor of the corridor as they walked. Royce

s footsteps made

no sound at all. They crossed the west gallery past the suits of armor and the ballroom. The castle appeared as empty as the rest of the city. As they approached the reception hall, Hadrian spotted Mauvin Pickering heading their way. The young noble looked thinner than Hadrian remembered.

There was a hollow cast to his cheeks, a shadow beneath his eyes, but his hair was the same wild mess.

About time,

Mauvin greeted them.

Alric just sent me to look for you.

Two years had passed since his brother Fanen

s death, and Mauvin still wore black. The haunted

look in his eyes would be unnoticeable to most. Only those who had known him before the contest in Dahlgren would see the difference. That was where Sentinel Luis Guy had attacked Hadrian with a force of Seret Knights, and Mauvin and Fanen took up arms with him. The brothers had fought masterfully, as was the nature of Pickerings. Yet Mauvin had been unable to save his brother from the killing stroke. Before that day, Mauvin Pickering had been bright, loud, and joyful with a permanent smile and a wink that challenged the world. Now, he stood with his shoulders slumped and his chin dipped.

You

re wearing it again?

Hadrian gestured toward Mauvin

s sword.

They insisted.

Have you drawn it?

Mauvin looked at his feet.

Dad says it doesn

t matter. If the need arises, he

s certain I won

t hesitate.

And what do you think?

Mostly I try not to.

Mauvin opened the doors to the hall and let them swing wide. He led them past the clerk and the door guards into the reception hall. Tall windows let in the late morning light, casting bright spears on the parquet floor. The great tapestries still laid rolled in bundles against the wall, stacked in hope of a better day. In their places, maps with red lines covered by blue arrows pointing south, plastered the walls.

Alone, Alric paced near the windows, his crowned head bowed and his mantle trailing behind him like

like a king, Hadrian thought. Alric looked up as they entered and pushed the rim of the royal diadem back with his thumb.

What took you so long?

We ate breakfast, Your Majesty,

Royce replied.

You ate break

never mind.

The king held out a rolled parchment.

m told you delivered this dispatch

to the castle this morning?

Not me,

Royce said. Unrolling it, he found two parchments and began reading.

I did,

Hadrian admitted.

I just arrived from Ratibor. Your sister has matters well in hand, Your Majesty.

Alric scowled.

Who sent this?

m not sure,

Hadrian replied.

I got it from a man named Price in Colnora.

Royce finished reading and looked up.

I think you

re about to lose this war,

he said, without

bothering to add the expectedYour Majesty .

Don

t be absurd. This is likely a hoax. Ecton is probably behind it. He enjoys seeing me make a fool of myself. Even if it is authentic, it

s simply someone making wild claims to extort a bit of gold from the New Empire.

I don

t think so.

Royce handed the letter to Hadrian.

King Alric,

Found this on a courier traveling from Calis to Aquesta. Sweepers bumped him in Alburn but he was more than he seemed. Three Diamonds dead. Bucketmen caught him and found this letter addressed to the Regents. The Jewel thought you

d like to know.

Esteemed Regents,

The fall of Ratibor was unexpected and unfortunate, but as you know, not fatal. Thus far, I have delivered Degan Gaunt and eliminated the wizard Esrahaddon. This completes two-thirds of our contract, but the best is yet to come.

The Emerald Storm rests anchored in Aquesta Harbor, ready to sail. When you receive this message, place the payment on board along with the sealed orders I left. Once loaded, the ship will depart, the fortunes of war will shift, and your victory will be assured. With the Nationalists eliminated, Melengar is yours for the taking.

While I have all the time in the world, you, on the other hand, might wish to make haste, lest the flame you call the New Empire be snuffed out.

Merrick Marius

Merrick?

Hadrian muttered and looked at Royce.

Is this

Royce nodded.

You know this Marius?

Alric asked.

Again, Royce nodded.

Which is why I know you

re in trouble.

And do you know who sent this?

Cosmos DeLur.

Isn

t Cosmos a wealthy merchant in Colnora?

s also the leader of the thieves

guild known as the Black Diamond.

Alric paused to consider this, taking the opportunity to pace once more.

Why would he send this to

me?

The Diamond wants the Imps out of Colnora. I guess with Gaunt gone, Cosmos thought you could make the best use of this information.

Alric stroked his beard thoughtfully.

So, who is this Merrick fellow? How do you know him?

We were friends when I was a member of the Diamond.

Excellent. Find him and ask what this is all about.

Royce shook his head.

I have no idea where Merrick is, and we

re not on good terms anymore. He

won

t tell me anything.

Alric sighed.

I don

t care what kind of terms you

re on. Find him, resolve your differences, and get

me the information I need.

I killed the woman he loved, and he arranged for me to be sent to Manzant. So I don

t think that will

happen.

Alric stopped pacing and stared.

Manzant Prison? But no one ever leaves Manzant.

That was the plan. I was happy to disappoint him. Nowadays, we have an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other

s way.

I don

t like this

Melengar is yours for the taking

business. I

m sure it

s just a boast, but what do you

think he means by that?

Merrick does not boast. If he says he can turn the war in the empire

s favor, he can. I suggest you

take this seriously.

Royce thought a moment.

If I were you, I

d send someone to deliver this message

and then stow away on this ship and see where it leads.

Fine. Do that, and let me know what you find out.

Your Majesty, we

re retired. Only a week ago I came here and explained how

Don

t be ridiculous! You said to take his threat seriously, which is why I need my best

and that

means you.

Pick someone else,

Royce said firmly.

All right, how much do you want? It

s land this time, right? Fine. As it happens, the Baron Milborough of Three Fords was killed in battle a few weeks ago. He doesn

t have any sons, so I

grant you his estate if you succeed. Land, title

all of it.

I don

t want land. I don

t want anything.I

m retired.

By Mar, man!

Alric exclaimed.

The future of the kingdom may depend on this! I

m the king and

Hadrian interrupted.

ll do it.

What?

Alric and Royce asked together.

I said, I

ll go.

***

him. No

You can

t take this job,

Royce told him, as they walked back to The Rose and Thorn.

I have to. If Esrahaddon is dead, Merrick is my only chance to find Gaunt. Do you think he really could have done it?

Merrick wouldn

t lie to a client about a job.

But Esrahaddon was a wizard. He

s survived a thousand years

I can

t imagine he could be murdered

by a common killer.

I just said it was Merrick. He

s not common.

As the two walked through an empty Gentry Square, even the bells of Mares Cathedral were silent.

Hadrian sighed.

Then I

m on my own in finding the heir now. If I follow the payment to Merrick, I

be halfway to finding Gaunt.

Hadrian.

Royce placed a hand on his friend

s arm, stopping them mid-step.

You

re not up to this.

You don

t know Merrick. Think a minute. If he can kill a wizard, one who could create pillars of fire even without hands, what do you think your chances are? You

re a good

no, you

re a great fighter

the

best I

ve ever seen, but Merrick is a genius and he

s ruthless. You go after him, he

ll know, and he

kill you.

They were across from Lester Furl

s old haberdashery in Artisan

s Row, the shop that the monk

Myron once worked in. The sign of the cavalier hat still hung out front, but the place was empty.

Listen, I

m not asking you to come. I know you

re marrying Gwen. Congratulations on that, by the

way. And it

s about time, I might add. This isn

t your problem. It

s mine. It

s what I was born to do.

What my father trained me for. Finding Gaunt and protecting him

finding a way to put him back on

the imperial throne

that

s my destiny.

Royce rolled his eyes.

I know you don

t believe that, but I do.

Gaunt could be dead already, you know? If Merrick killed Esrahaddon, he might have slit Gaunt

throat, too.

I still have to go. By now, even you must see that.

***

When they reached The Rose and Thorn, Gwen was waiting with anxious eyes. She stood in the threshold, her arms crossed, clutching her shawl. The autumn wind brushed her skirt and hair.

Within the darkened interior behind her, patrons talked loudly around the bar.

s okay,

Hadrian reassured her as they approached.

m taking the job, but Royce is staying. With

luck I

ll be back for

Go with him,

Gwen told Royce firmly.

really, Gwen,

Hadrian said,

s nothing

You have to go with him.

What

s wrong?

Royce asked.

I thought we were getting married. Don

t you want to?

Gwen closed her eyes, shaken. Then her hands clenched into fists and she straightened.

Youmust

go. Hadrian will be killed if you don

and then you

you

Royce took her in his arms on the steps of the tavern and held her as she began to cry.

You have to go,

Gwen

s voice muffled by Royce

s shoulder.

Nothing will be right if you don

t. I can

marry you

I won

tmarry you if you don

t. Tell me you

ll go, please, Royce, please

Royce gave Hadrian a puzzled glance and whispered,

Okay.

***

Here, I made this for you,

Gwen said to Royce, holding out a folded bit of knitted cloth. They were in Gwen

s room at the top of the stairs of Medford House, and he had just finished packing.

He held it up.

A scarf?

Gwen smiled.

Since I

m going to be married, I thought I should take up knitting. I hear that

s what

proper wives do for their husbands.

Royce started to laugh but stopped when he saw her expression.

This is important to you, isn

t it?

You realize you

ve always been better than all those ladies in the Merchant Quarter. Having a husband doesn

t make them special.

s not that. It

s just

I know you had a less-than-perfect childhood, and so did I. I want somethingbetter for our children. I want their lives

our home

to be perfect, or at least as much as

possible for a pair such as us.

I don

t know, I

ve met dozens of aristocrats who had ideal childhoods and they turned out to behorrors . You, on the other hand, are the best person I

ve ever met.

She smiled at him.

That

s nice, but I highly doubt you would approve of our daughter working here.

And would you really want our son living the way you did as a boy? We can raise them right. Just because they grow up in aproper home doesn

t mean they will turn out to be horrors. You

ll be firm,

and I

ll be loving. You

ll spank little Elias when he acts disrespectfully, and I

ll kiss his tears and give

him cookies.

Elias? You

ve named our son already?

Would you prefer Sterling? I can

t decide between the two. But the girl

s name is not negotiable

Mercedes. I

ve always loved that name.

ll sell this house and my other holdings. Combined with the money I banked for you, we

ll never

want for anything. We can live peaceful, happy, simple lives

I mean, if you want to live like that, do

you?

He looked into her eyes.

Gwen, if it means being with you, I don

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