“Tusk cats,” hissed one of the seamages.
“Hold fast, Mr. Hobbs,” said Thanavar. “And rise, Ensign Renn. Slowly and do not flinch.”
Heart in my throat, I rose to my feet as three tusk cats slunk into the courtyard. They were each nearly the size of a bear, with fangs as long as my forearm and claws like those of a great eagle. I couldn’t breathe as they padded toward us, sharks circling a foundering ship.
Next to me, Hobbs’s whimpers turned to wails.
Trust the captain, Mr. Hobbs, said Echo.
“We’re fish in a barrel, Doc,” Hobbs moaned.
“I will not warn you again, Mr. Hobbs,” growled the captain.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t—”
And he bolted.
But he didn’t. Thanavar made a fist, and the man was bound by spell. The cats moved in, heads low, mouths open, shoulders rippling like waves on a sandbar. Hobbs’s face grew redder with each heartbeat, and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.
Thanavar was killing him.
I felt Echo’s thoughts as clear as Forge, pressing me to silence without even a word.
One of the tusk cats crouched low as if to leap. Hobbs’s face was blue now, and his eyes were red from burst blood vessels. Thanavar twisted his fist, and I heard a crack. With a wave of his hand, he flung the seamage into the cats’ path.
I closed my eyes, belly lurching, as they dragged him off into the shadows.
“They are not real, but they will kill,” said Thanavar, staring straight ahead. “And yet, I am far more lethal than any illusion ever cast. Is that understood?”
Not one word. Echo patted my shoulder.
A wind picked up, causing sand to eddy and swirl across the stone. I had never seen sandshears before, but theDawn Watch’s redmage, Firmir, had talked about them once after a drunken spell. These did not dissipate like she’d recounted; rather, they split into nine, and slowly, surely, they spun toward us. Honestly, I was no braver than Hobbs, and it was all I could do to steady my heart and still my feet.
Around my legs, it swirled, and I felt a chill sweep up my spine. There were snakes crawling up my legs. Snakes and scorpions and lugworms and eels, under my clothes now and rippling their way up my thighs. How could this be illusion? I clenched my eyes tight and tried to think of pleasant things. Birds, sky, sea, whales, but they became jawfish and hurricanes and shipwrecks and sharks. Teeth tore my flesh, maggots filled my lungs, and spyders burst from my chest. Blood boiled and bone cracked, and I almost dropped to my knees with the agony of it all.
Able Seamage Fletch screamed beside me, and I didn’t know if the creatures were killing him or if it was the captain. I called on the chimeric to course through my veins, to burn the creatures away with anIgnateusspell. Pattern and rune, highlight and shadow, and suddenly, they were gone like smoke, taking my spine and leaving me lesser somehow.
I didn’t want to open my eyes. But I did.
Motion from the cloisters now, as seven figures in red robes glided toward us. Two carried torches, two carried spears, two tongs of burning iron, and one a flail. They spread out before us much like the Bilgetown Twelve, and I breathed deeply to steady my nerve.
“Gavriel Thanavar,” said the one with the flail. “Young Priestlord and Guardian of the Cloudgate. Welcome once again to the Court of Sand.”
“Not many have second audiences with the Court,” said one with a spear.
“The same can be said of a Priestlord,” said Thanavar. “And I am not so young anymore.”
“Do you know what to think, Priestlord?” asked one with a torch.
“Your illusions prey on the innocent,” he said. “And I am no innocent. Your tricks are wasted on me.”
“Step forward, then, apart from your crew.”
He did as they ordered, hands loose at his sides. I saw the crackle of rune sparking at the tips of his fingers. I felt the throbbing of chimeric at mine.
“You killed your own man,” said another, the one with the flail. She began to spin it, and it made a horrible thrumming sound. “You are a murderer.”
“I am,” he said.
