They all wanted me for my chimeric. I knew, deep down, that even Thanavar wanted me for that very reason, but would he turn me in to save hiskel’yion? I could understand if he did. It was a good bargain, but if this was indeed a “great game,” I didn’t think Thanavar played by anyone’s rules.
I didn’t want him to trade me, but I knew that I would go.
As I tucked the parchment back into the last page of the book, I glanced at the list of names. Those mages present on the island at the time of the crackdown, who had been slaughtered on account of our king. My heart stopped as I saw the very last name.
The very last name.
Kier Gavriel Thanavar.
They missed one.
Was this simply vengeance, or was this more? The man I drank with was deep and aching, lost yet fully alive. He wasn’t some polished spear eager for blood. He was a man of hope and iron, of plans and will. But most of all, I’d seen his heart, moored far beneath a stormy sea, inaccessible and locked away, and yet reflecting the moons and the suns and the stars. No, I was beginning to understand that, while he was desperate to save those he loved, that hidden, secret heart of his was yearning tobe found.
I wrapped my arms around my knees. Time to change the alchemy. Time to set my bones. Time to learn what it meant to serve the Ship of Spells, even if it killed me.
Because at some point, someday, something would.
Port Corvallan was the largest city I’d ever seen. Sandstone walls towered over the bay, and palms grew out of them like moss. Statues of minotaurs, homani, fauns, and harpiar lined the roads into the city, and on every lookout and at every corner, spear-carrying soldiers stood watch, reminding all that the riches of this city were well and closely guarded.
Echo and I were in the second of two jolly boats with Fahr on a litter between us, while two seamages worked the oars. The first jolly tied up, and the seamages stepped onto the dock. Next came the longboat with the captain. It was hard to think of him as just the captain. He was the last Priestlord ofLindurithain, listed in a record of the dead, if I’d had any lingering doubt. No wonder the Court of Sand had tried to recruit him. I wondered why he’d refused.
We were greeted by a huge man with a shaved head, long beard, and one eye in the center of his forehead. A cyclope.
“I am Magister Thraith Kun, Barrister of the Court of Sand,” said the man. His voice was deep and rasping, like the grinding of mountains. “You’ve brought your Letter of Marque?”
Thanavar waved his fingers, and a scroll appeared, floating between them. It unfurled without a touch, and the one-eyed mage read, nodded, and it curled back up on its own. A second wave, and it was gone.
That was serious alchemy. He made it look simple.
“And the prince?” Kun asked.
As the seamages lifted the litter onto the dock, I scanned the horizon for the sight of Navy sail. There was nothing but private ships in the bay—merchants, traders, and trollers all—noTemplemorein sight. Still, we’d made the port in two days, and I swore Thanavar had told Worley three. I couldn’t see theTouchstone, either. She was as valuable as a stolen prince or chimeric chaser, and she was veiled like the first day I hadn’t seen her, a lifetime ago.
We left the boats and followed Thraith Kun through the crowds and shanties of the pier. Soon, we reached a sandstone ramp, and I’m sure we made a somber procession as we plodded along the ramparts of the city walls. Palms cast much-needed shade, and the breeze was warm and heavy. As we went higher, the ocean spread out to the south, dotted with ships as far as I could see. Through the high gates of the city now, we wove through courtyards filled with outdoor stalls, along narrow roads with merchant shops, down alleyways that smelled of goat. Finally, he led us to a plain, flat, black-stained building in the city square. With no carvings or statues, it looked as ominous as it did out of place.
We followed him through halls of dark stone and shafts of brilliant sun. He stopped in a courtyard of salt pines and turned.
“Wait,” said Kun. “The Court will assess your application.”
“There is no application,” growled Thanavar. “The Court of Sand owes me, and I am here to collect.”
“Please,” said Echo. “We don’t have time.”
“Time is all we do have,” said Kun. He disappeared into the halls.
“Fall in,” said Thanavar, and he turned to us. “This is the Court of Sand, and these mages Iron all. They deal in power, illusion, and death. It is not only Mr. Fahr’s life in the balance but all ofyours as well. If you break rank, I will spare them the trouble and kill you myself. Is that understood?”
I glanced at the six seamages who were with us, two carrying the litter and four as escort, and we all stepped in close on the captain’s order. I couldn’t help but remember Fahr’s words the first time we sparred on deck.Ironmages can make you imagine a bridge, he had said.Even if you’re stepping off a cliff, you’ll walk without falling. You believe the runes are holding you up, and so, they do.
I couldn’t imagine that power.
I’m not sure how long we waited. The yard was hot, the air humid, but the pines were lush and sweet. I was surprised at the lack of birds, buzzers, or lizards in the grounds. The seamages laid the litter on the stone floor, and I knelt beside Fahr. His face was gray, and I reached over to test for a pulse. I glanced up at Echo when there was a growl from the arches.
“Do not move,” said Thanavar.
Two growls, and I saw a flash of gold from the shadows.
Illusion, said Echo in our heads.
