Bogdan was not an Affinite.
Yet something was happening to Bogdan. The bar of gold had begun to spin in the air. The glowing fissures that had spread on his skin were growing more rapidly, spreading to his entire body.
Kerlan took a step back in alarm. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What’s happening?”
Scholar Ardonn examined Bogdan’s wrist, leaning as close as possible without risk of being hit by the bar of gold. “The siphon seems faulty. It’s fracturing.”
“Please,” Bogdan whimpered. The bar of gold was spinning faster and faster, starting to veer out of control. “Please, Master—”
Kerlan ignored him. “We’ll need the other one in the Blue Fort, after all,” he snarled at the scholar. “Is the problem with the siphon, or is it with the bearer?”
“Likely both, though I’ve advised that giving a siphon that has collected multiple mageks to a nonmagen could break the test subject.” Scholar Ardonn began to back away, but he shot Kerlan a pointed look. “The siphon you gave him had gold magek, herb magek, and salt magek. He must be overwhelmed.”
Indeed, Bogdan was now trembling violently. The threads across his body lit up like currents of lightning, splintering his face as though his skin were peeling from his bones. “Please, get it out of me, please—” His voice rose, cresting into a scream.
“Take cover!” Nita shouted, hauling Alaric Kerlan out of the way.
The searock-like band around his wrist exploded in a burst of light.
The force blew Ramson backward. He grunted as the sharp edge of a crate smashed into his ribs. Pain coursed through his body.
From belowdecks, there was the sound of a sword being drawn, of metal meeting flesh, and then silence. Footsteps.
He’d just pushed himself to his hands and knees when the shout came. “Intruder!” A blow struck his face, sending him reeling.
He heard Kerlan’s reply, slightly out of breath. “Tie him up. And someone clean up this gods-damned mess.”
Dimly, Ramson sensed cuffs being clipped over his hands and feet. A piece of cloth went over his mouth; he groaned as it tightened. He was lifted by his armpits and dragged through the hatch, then shoved onto the deck.
Throughout the silence came a distinct noise: a rhythmicclick-click-clickof heels striking wood. Something about the noise awoke a primal fear in Ramson; echoes of screams, memories of searing heat and black water.
Two spots of yellow appeared in his vision, flashing. They grew brighter and more solid until they merged into a pair of gold-heeled shoes. They stopped right before Ramson.
“Well, well,” came a voice. “Look what the tide washed in. Stand him up.”
The world shifted as he was hauled to his feet. A face swam into view.
“Hello again, Ramson,” said Alaric Kerlan. “I certainly didn’t think I would be running into you here, old friend.”
Behind him, figures were emerging on the deck, more than he’d counted, dressed in Cyrilian furs and attire. The worst thing, Ramson realized, was that he recognized some of them. He’d seen their faces back at the Order of the Lily; he’d even worked with some of them in passing.
Olyusha had been right. Kerlan had brought what was left of his Order to Bregon.
Nita nudged Ramson with a boot. “What shall we do withhim?”
“I’m quite enjoying the look of horror on your face, my son.” Kerlan bent and cupped a hand under Ramson’s chin. His nails dug into Ramson’s cheek. “I must say, though, I thought I’d left you for dead the last time we met.” His grip tightened. “I won’t make the same mistake this time.”
The gold buttons of his sleeve brushed against Ramson as he stood and gestured at one of his men. “Bind weights to him.”
It dawned, with a slow horror, that Kerlan meant to drown him tonight.
Ramson tensed against his manacles, his fingers feeling along the chains for any weaknesses.
As a crony began to strap weights to him with a second set of chains, Ramson realized, for the first time, that he had no way out. He’d been stripped of pins and blades and any sharp objects that he could use to pick a lock, and his hands and feet were shackled so tightly that he could feel his circulation cutting off.
With a grunt, he kicked his legs up and slammed the man in the chest. He fell back with a snarl, and Ramson managed to sit upright—
And then, in a flash, the strength left his body.
