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TableofContentsBooksbyT.C.SimpsonWelcomeCopyrightMapTheBladeandthe

TemptressMenareMonstersIntotheSmearWhatCannotBeSeen

AnUnexpectedSaviorANewSourcetoBleedBaitandCyclesACountandhisSonPowerinBloodInvitationtoHuntTheHeadsofThree

SnakesSecretsofaDerinHunterandHuntedPriceofPower

TheEbonBladeAMessageinShadowJustLifeandDeathAGirlandaSwordPriestsandPlotsAnAssignmentShatteredDreamsStrangerinBlueToHelptheEnemyGiftforaSon

ADayinTrainingAChildandaPromiseCaressofaMaidenMeetingsinaShrineASpecialContainerTheUndertowRekindledTrustDeliveringaTributeAnAuctionofPowerFriendorFoe

TheBellsTollAKillingGroundSacrificeofaFatherToMeetOnceMoreFlightALeapofFaithAmongFamilyRevelationsPowerinChainsReturnofaBlade

MusingsonSoul

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PrologueTheBladeandthe

Temptress

A gold bit in hand,Tharkensenconsideredwhatitwould be like to kill a legend.Challenging for sure. And oh,so satisfying. He inhaleddeeply, savoring the thought.

The feat meant as much tohim as a drink did to a mandyingfromthirst.Thepaywassimplyabonus.

Tharkensen rolled thecoin across the top of hiscalloused hand from hispointertolittlefingerandbackagain. Sunlight played off thecount’sfaceimprinteduponitssurface. Whether as a singlegilded coin or broken downinto ten silver monarchs or a

thousand silver bits, it was asmall fortune. He had killedforless.Muchless.

“Do you accept thecontract?” The man in thechair opposite Thar licked hislips, hands fidgeting on thetabletop. He wore homespunlinen,amoth-eatenmantle, itscollar pulled high to hide hisneck, and he slouched downunder the brim of his grease-stained hat. One could easily

mistakehimforastepaboveacommoner.

ButnotThar.Not a speck of dirt

showedunder theman’snails.Andnonewhoclaimedtobeablacksmith ever had hands sosmooth. Then there was hisscent: as clean as a babesoaped and washed fresh byhis mother. Besides, Tharneverforgotaface.

“Yes,” Thar answered, “I

accept.”What business was itofhisifKingJemarechosetosend one of his servants tobrokerakill?

“Good.” The servantproducedapieceofpaperandslid itacrossthetable.“Ishalltake my leave now. May theDominion shine on you.” Hestood, bowed, and hurriedaway.

Witha shakeofhishead,Thar watched him leave,

waiting for the click of thedoor lockbeforehebeganhismeal. When he heard thefootsteps retreating down theinn’s stairs, he picked up hisspoon, scooped up a helpingof pickled eggs, and stopped,his attention drifting to thepaperonthetabletop.

Itwasanartist’srenderingof the raven-haired woman,her angular jaw a tad short ofmasculine. Beyond eyes like

amber gemstones, Elysse theTemptress didn’t look likemuch.Thardroppedhisspoononto his plate, the food’smouthwatering scents nolongersoappealing.

He still found it hard tofathom that this woman hadkilled King Jemare’s son,Joaquin, the heir to theKasinian throne. Even if theboy thought more with hisprick than with his head.

Someone must have helpedherslayJoaquin’sguards.Howelse to explain their defeatdespite the training I gavethem? And yet, if she’daccomplished the featalone ...Taking a deep breath, hestopped himself frombecomingecstatic.

Through a slit in thetavern’s window, he gazeddown onto Kasandar’s mainthoroughfare where it passed

by the Smear. The sun’s firstlances reflected like goldenjewels from the huddledmassof signs and windowpanes.Merchants who rose with thedawn hurried along, theirguards’ hands on sword hilts,wary gazes locked on theSmear’s narrow alleys wherefingers of daylight fought alosing battle. The marchingboots of the nightwatch’s lastpatrol drifted nearby in odd

counterpoint to the wagonwheelsmourningoncobbles.

He wondered if it wasworth it to take on thisadversaryor ifhewouldagainbewastinghis time.Thecoin,which was ten times what henormally charged, gave him ameasure of hope. In smallbursts, likeminiature lightningbolts,tingleseaseduphisarmsandface.Perhapsthingswouldbedifferent this time.Perhaps

hemightactuallyberiskinghislife.Perhapshewouldfindoneworthy of their name. Hecouldhope,couldn’the?Afterall, what was life without achallenge?

The thoughts sobered hisenthusiasm. They didn’t callhim the Lightning Blade fornothing. Only the most lethalof his number ever earnedtheirtruename.Asgoodashistargetwassupposedtobe,she

would never see him coming.The certainty in his own skill,and the ensuing result,saddenedhim.

Mouth downturned, heconsidered his last fewcontracts. More often thannot, the people he introducedto his sword possessed areputation theydidn’tdeserve.One man, Omar theStoneform, was said to haveskin so hard he couldn’t be

sliced.Toprovethestorytrue,Tharhadgreetedhimwiththepoint of his blade. Over andover again. The whimpers,wheezes, and leaking red thatfollowed had beendisappointing. Why can’t Ifindonepersonasgoodorasstrong as my employersclaim?Might aswell changemy name to theMyth Killer.Hesighed.

Overcome by past

disappointments, hunger asdeadasthebacononhisplate,cold coffee like mud, Tharpushed away from the table,thechair scraping thewoodenfloor. There was no use inbrooding. His job was death.And he’d been employed andpaid. The time had come tobeginhisservice.

Firstonhislist:atripintotheSmear.Stillrollingthecoinabsently,herummagedintohis

cloak’s folds with his otherhand, drew out a few copperbits,anddroppedthemonthetabletopwithaclink.Afteronelast look at the woman’spicture, he picked it up andslippeditintothepouchathiswaist. He turned to leave andfroze.

She was lounging on achair no less than ten feetfrom him. A smile graced aface that would make any

person catch their breath. Aface from recent memory. Introusersandashirtbefittingaman, leather boots well-polished, she met his gaze.Those bejeweled eyes anddefinedjawwereunmistakable.

Keepinghisfaceplacidtoveilhis surpriseatnothearingthe door lock click or even achangeintheroom’sair,Tharcasually rested his hand at hisside. He even remembered to

closehismouthandfakeas ifhechewedalastbitoffood.

“Thar … the LightningBlade.” The words rolled offhertongue,slow,smooth,andas conversational as if she’dtold him it was sunny outsideor someone would die in theSmear.

“Elysse the Temptress.”For the first time in years,Thar felt another tingle, inways similar to his earlier

anticipation, but this onewasn’texcitement.Instead,hispulse quickened; his mouthdried. He furrowed his browsat the unfamiliar sensation offear.WhyinallthehellsamIafraid?Ofawoman,no less,regardless of her reputation.A snarl almost left his lips attheweakness.

She dipped her head.“Your latest employer hasgiven you a rather daunting

task.”“For a lesser man,

possibly.Notforme.”“Oh?”Adaggerappeared

in her hand. She turned itseveral times, inspecting theblade. “Dracodarian forgedsteel. An extraordinary find.Almost as rare as the racethemselves.”

Thar resisted the urge toreachfortheweapon’stwininoneofthematchingscabbards

hidden under his cloak. Themissingweightspokeforitself.Frowningagain,herealizedhehadn’tseenhermove.

“YouBladesnever fail tobaffle me.” Effortlessly, shebalanced the hilt on onefingertip. “You more so thanmost, Thar. From babes, theking’s best train you to dowhatitisyoudo:huntandkillthosewhomightchallengehisrule, those with a fighting

prowess comparable to yourown. From babes, loyalty andundying devotion to thecrown,toKasinia, is ingrainedinto you. Or should I saybeaten?” She paused, headtilted in contemplation, whichmade her jawline even moreacute. “Why were orphans,abandonedbabies, taken inbythecourt?Babiesnotofnoblebirth? What made youdifferent? What of your

parents?Whydidtheygiveyouup?”

“Kasinia is the only—”Thar stopped himself fromsaying the words, fromrepeating the mantra thatKasinia was the only fatherandmotherheknew, theonlyoneheneeded,thesolereasonto live. In his teen years, heonce wondered about hisparents when he stood guardatabirthdayballforoneofthe

many counts’ sons. For thebriefest instant, he’d dreamedof what it would have beenlike to be showered with thattype of love from anotherhuman, rather than histrainers’ canes and harshvoices.

Elysse watched him, lipscurved up as if knowing histhoughts. She gave an almostimperceptible flick of herhand.Thedaggerdisappeared.

Its familiarweight returned tohisscabbard.

Eyes widening, Tharsucked in a breath. Hisquickened pulse became athump that threatened to leapfromhischest.Seatedwithinitwasthelightningchargeagain.Elysse the Temptress wasliving up to her status as alegend.

Forcinghisbodytorelax,hecrackedasmile.“Istherea

pointtoall this?”Hegesturedwith one hand, not trustinghimself to leave it close tohisdaggers.“Don’tdisappointmeby begging for your life. I’veseen enough people piss theirpants.”

“My point is this,Tharkensen. There’s a reasonthe King’s Blades all possessthe skill they do. There’s areason you’re given certaincontracts.There’sareasonthe

kingallowsyouyourlittlesidebusiness.”

“We train harder thananyoneelse.”Tharhelduphishand, fingersopen, andbeganto count off his points.“Becauseofthat,wecantouchpartsofourmindsandbodiesa normal person couldn’t.We’reamongthemostloyaltothecrown.Andlastly,thekingis simply keeping his rulesecure.”

“If only it were thatsimple.”

“Regardless, I work forthe throne.”Rememberinghisgoldbit,herolledthecoinandthen stopped it at his middlefinger.“EvenifIonlyhadthisone contract, and not theking’sorder also, I’d stillhuntyou down.” Thar picked outthedistortionintheairaroundher.He almost grinned. “Youseem to be one who might

finally offer me a challenge.Now,canwegetonwithit?”

Elysse beamed. “Onethingbeforewefight…”

“Yes?”“When I win, you’ll take

measyourwife.”Thar started. Such a

request had been the farthestthing from his mind. “Lady,are you mad? Why would Iagreetowhatyouask?”

“First off, I’m no lady.

Secondly,Iwasn’tasking.Andlast, it’s the only way I spareyourlife.”

Tharcackled.Hecouldn’thelphimself.Bytheabyss,thewoman had to be bloodycrazy.However, she eyedhimwithaboutasmuchexpressionas a stone. In fact, those eyeswereabittoopredatory,likeahawkanalyzing a tastymorsel.He let hismirthdissipate intoa chuckle. “If you know so

much about us Blades, thenyourealizehowpointlesssucha threat is. The penalty for afailedcommissionisdeath.”

“Ingrained into you fromyoung.” She smirked. “YouBladesaren’tmuchdifferenttostraydogs.Takethemin,feedthem,showthemlove,providethemwithaformofeducation,whip them as needed, teachthemto fight,andfinally,givethem a purpose.” Elysse

pursed her lips, appearingthoughtfulbeforeshenodded.“Yes, verymuch like a dog, adeadlyone,butadognoless.”

For a moment, Thar’sbloodboiled, the tinglewithinhim heating to match. Hisfingernails dug intohis palms,but something about the littletwitch of her lips, and herarrogance, told him she waspurposelygoadinghim.Afteradeepbreath,heunclenchedhis

fists.“So, you have restraint.

Good. Now, let me tell youwhy you’ll agree to be mymate. I know you better thanyou know yourself.Of all theBlades, you believe you’re thebest. As much as you searchforanyonewhocanmatchyouin combat, I doubt you’d giveup the chance to learn fromthe personwho defeated you.Especially if they said you

could become better thanthem.Ialsodoubtyou’drefusetheonelittlethingthatnigglesatyou.”

“Andthatwouldbe?”“Who—no—what you

are.”Coldprickles caressedhis

spine. He almost opened hismouthtoaskbeforehecaughthimself. “Even if any of thatwere true, the others wouldhuntusbothdown.”

She shrugged. “That’snothingnewtoourpeople.”

Thar narrowed his eyes.Why did he get the suddenimpression she was referringto him when she said ‘ourpeople’?“Let’ssayIagree,andby luck, youwin,whydo youwantme as a husband and tohelp me…”He let his voicetrail off. If he’d finished thesentence, he would beadmitting her superiority,

much less the fact hisstatement meant itsubconsciously crossed hismind. Now, that, was bloodycrazy.

“To continue our line, ofcourse,” she said, facescrunched up as if he asked aridiculous question. “You see,my dear Tharkensen, unlikethe other Blades, you’re ofpure Dracodar blood. If ourrace is ever to rise to take

revenge for the past, onKingJemareandtheentirecourt,onall those who play Far’anSenjin,wemustmake a child.Wemusthaveafew,infact.”

Far’an Senjin—TheGame of Souls. Thar grittedhisjaw.

“YouandIareamongthefew Pures left,” Elyssecontinued.“Thesamewaytheking has trained so many ofyoutohuntyourown,youand

I will fashion the greatestweaponsourpeoplehaveeverseen. Together, we will stophim. After all, with what’scoming across the RenigenSea, we’ll need quite a fewexceptionalwarriors.”

Thar had heard enough.“You’re full of shit.” He’dstood here and listened,mesmerized by what she did,thinking he’d finally foundwhat he sought. Until now.

“Not only because theDracodarareamyth,apeoplelong dead, but because you’retoo arrogant by half. Sittinghereallpretty,proddingatmypast, trying toconvinceme tobetraytheonethinginmylifethathasbeengood tome.Allyou’re doing is another formof begging.” Thar shook hishead.“Sad.Thisisgoingtobefun.” He dropped his handsinto his cloak’s folds, the

charges within his bodygrowing from spurts into acomplete flow that circulatedwithhisblood.Theskinunderhis skinhardened into a steel-likeconsistency.

With her eyes trained onhim, that serene smile he’dalready grown to hate on herface, the Temptress leanedforward,herelbowonherleftthigh. “Denialwill accomplishnothing. What you feel right

now is but a pittancecomparedtowhatyouare.”

He was done with talk.Shewouldpayforplayingwithhis mind. His service wouldbeginnow.

Elysse’s lips partedseductively. With her righthand she beckoned to him.“They say aman’s strength isthemeasure of his soul. Let’ssee how deep yours is.Whenever you’re ready,

husband.”

MenareMonsters

Alittleoveracenturylater

Peoples’ souls were

being torn out in the plazabelow Keedar Giorin. Notliterally, but if it was possibleto remove a person’s essence,the results might resemble

what he witnessed. Cries andwailsechoeduptohispositionon the rooftop as a motherlost a child. That child wouldsoon forget her face. Keedarcould picture the mother’sexpression: eyes vacant as ifshedied that instant, as if hersoul had been removed. Shefelltothegroundsobbing.

Other folk awaited theirturn on the mostly brokencobblestonesnear thewoman.

For many, when the soldierstook their children, theirexpressionswouldmatchhers.Desperationclungtothemlikea dark cloak. They pleaded,tears streaming down theircheeks, unheard prayersslippingfromtheirlips.

Ascantfewwerehopeful.Hopeful their child wouldn’tbe chosen.Or that their childwouldbe.

Gloved fists clenched,

Keedar closed his eyes andsucked in a long, slow breathof the Smear’s foul air. Theimage of thatmother and theothers like her would beimprinted in his mind forsome time. It would bringnightmares to join those healready suffered. Nightmaresof his father dead on theground, golden scalesappearing on his skin asKeedar stood over him with

silverscalessproutingfromhisown arm and face. No, thatwould never happen. It wasonly a dream.Whenhe gazeddown on the square oncemore, he was calmer, but notbymuch.

In respect to people likethismother,heworehisworstrags. The clothing smelled ofthe folk who once ownedthem, mingled with hismustiness and sweat. A

patchwork quilt of memories.A recollection of those soulslost since the day his mothergave her life so he wouldn’tshare their fate.Ever sincehecould sneak out ontoKasandar’sstreetsonhisown,he’d gathered the cast offclothing, the discarded pain,mementos too agonizing forparentstokeep.

Under a midday sunwhosewarmth didn’t seem to

gracethem,peoplehuddled inamass belowhim and fartherup the lane, many in garbsimilar to his own, awaitingtheir turn with an examiner.For today was the Day ofAccolades. The Smear’sresidents presented the kinghisdue.GloriousKingJemarewhomadecertaintheKasinianEmpire thrived. And with it,sodiditspeople.

Except those in the

Smear.The thought of the king,

of the folk in the Smearsuffering, made Keedar grindhis jaw.Peoplemight laudtheking for the advances insociety,forthethrivinglivesofthemiddleandupperclass,butthis … this in square, theSmear itself, was the truecanvas onwhichKing Jemareand themonarchs before himshould be judged. Their work

was drawn in blood andmisery.

These people gave ofthemselves but received littlein return. Once, every twoyears, by order of a royaldecree several hundred yearsold, they surrenderedmore. Ifone were to be so bold as toask the nobility, they wouldreply that the gift the Smear’sresidentsgotfortheirsacrificewasoneoflife,asmeagerasit

was.This was a tribute of

souls, of babes, of those tooyoung to protest, to offerresistance, to understand theirplight. In the citadel ofKasandar, ancient customwaslike the rising and setting ofthe sun: inevitable, a routineon which the city thrivedmuch like the rest of theEmpire.

Keedar dreamed of the

day thingswouldbedifferent.If his people were trulydescendants of the fabledDracodarwithsilverorgoldenscales, power to have onceruled the known world, whenwould they stand up forthemselves? When would thisoppression end? He’d heardnobles tell stories as if theDracodar were monsters thatcame in the night to enslave,murder,eatthedead,andsteal

children. The only people hehad ever witnessed doanything of the sort were thenobilitythemselves.

Once, long before heunderstood,Keedarwonderedwhy the Smear’s residentscontributed to the Day ofAccolades. The answer lay inthe leather-armored men andwomenwho stoodguardoverthe proceedings: the King’sBlades.Anothersquadofthem

marched toward the square,the cadence of their bootedfootsteps so synchronous itwas akin to listening to adrumbeat. People on thestreet, regardless of theirheritage or their position insociety, made way for theBlades. In turn, thesewarriorsaccepteditastheirdue.

For those childrenchosen, thiswas their fate.Toserve in Kasinia’s armies, to

become among the elite, tohave songs sang of themshould they fall as heroes, tohaveachanceforabetterlife.Which mother or fatherwouldn’t want such a thing ifthey’d lived—no—if they’dsurvived and suffered withinthe Smear’s shadowy, rodentandgarbageinfestedstreets?

Mymotherforone.Despite her decision and

his father stating the Blades

were a travesty, Keedar oftenthoughtofwhatitwouldhavebeen like to become one ofthem. To serve. To die withhonor.Toliveneverhavingtoscrounge, not needing todespairover thenextmeal,orsellone’sbody,orsitonsomecorner begging for alms, orfearaknifeinthedark.Suchachance was lost to him, asfleeting as the wind that blewthe wisps of his sandy hair

acrosshisface.Ifanexaminerdiscovered him now, Keedarwasasgoodasdeadorworse.So, from his vantage on therooftop, he continued towatch,agonizingoverthehelphewishedhecouldofferthosewhowantedtoraisetheirownchildren, who cherished theideaoffreedom,whoknewthepromisedlifewasanillusion,adeception.

Keedar harbored no

misconceptionofhisabilitytorelievetheirtorment.Althoughhe was the son of a giftedfatherandmother,itwasmoreacurse thananythingelse.Hewas small for his age, blade-slim, not unlike many of hispeers in the Smear. A morepious young man might prayto the Gods for his people’sdeliverance but not Keedar.The Gods were as likely tohelp as he was to call on the

clouds overhead to break andcause rain to fall. May thehellstaketheGods.Hedidn’tcringeintheslightestathavingcursed the deities for theirworshippers, thewisemen,didthebruntoftheworkbelow.

Dressed in red and bluerobes, the wisemen shuffledamongthefolk,peeringat thebabieslyingonblanketsbeforeeach parent, and writing theirfindings in a small book. The

insigniaontheirrobes—aten-pointedstarinsideacirclewithanother circle at its center—representedthatwhichKeedardespisedand loved.Itwastheancient sign of the ten Gods,the pantheon of theDominion, but it also stoodfortheskillthatkepthimalive.Howironic.

Once the wisemencompletedtheirinspectionofarow, they passed the notes

theymadetoacrier.Thislittleman, all sinew and bones,announced the names, hisvoice carrying above theparents’wails.Guardssteppedforward to take the childrenlisted.

More than one parentcollapsed. Some clutched atthe soldiers cloaks, grabbedtheir booted feet, begged forthemnottotaketheirchild.Aspear butt knocked them off.

Others clasped their hands inprayer but made sure not toappear too exultant over theirchildren being spared. Notsurprisingly, a few who hadbeen refused, yelled for aguard,offeringuptheirbabies.

Keedar despised thoselatter folk the most. Yet hedidn’thatethem.

“Why, Father? Why dothey do this,” Keedar said inresponse to the near-silent

footstepsthatcreptupbehindhim.

Delisar grunted at havingbeensensed.“Becausemenaremonsters. Power is the whipthat drives them. For a taste,theywillsinktonewlows.”

“Whydowestandbyanddonothing?”

“It is theway thingshavetobe…fornow.”

“You’ve said the sameevery year since Iwas seven,”

Keedar snapped. “A promiseof changes to come, and yettheConsortiumsitsidlybyanddoes nothing to free thepeople who protect them.What’s thepointof theguildsif they do little to make lifeeasier?”Keedarcouldnothelpthewayhe felt, thedoubtsheharbored, even if he wanted.The guilds profited toomuchfrom the Smear. Could heblamethem?Heaskedhimself

that question regularly. Notonce did he say yes.After all,the Smear’s people made upthe guilds.Membership was awayoutformany.

“I’ll say again …patience.” Father becamesilent for a moment, his gazesolemn. “None of us shouldever end up in a box,” hemutteredunderhisbreath.

Keedaropenedhismouthto speak, but Father’s upheld

hand cut him off. Delisar’samber eyes became goldenrocks, his hairless jawhardened. In thatmoment, hechanged into the mix ofunyielding parent and hard-hearted leaderof theShipmenguild.

“Whatwouldyouhaveusdo? Attack them?” FatherpointedtotheBlades.Whetherthey held spear or sword orstoodbare-fisted,theywereno

less deadly. “Does yourmemory of the Night ofBladesfailyou?”Father’svoicerose a little, heated, “Yes, youwere three, but I hear you atnight, whimpering, crying outforyourMother.Untilwecanstandagainstthemandwin,wemustmovecarefully, insecret,plottingeachstepas if itwereour last, because it just mightbe.Thekingmustgethisdueevenifhedoesnotgetwhathe

desires.”Onearmquiveringathis side, Father’s fist openedandclosed,openedandclosed.Delisar inhaled longand slow.“Patience,”hesaidsoftly,“thetimewillcome.”

Father’s mention ofMother brought memoriesswarming into Keedar’s head.Heat, flames, scales, hismother’s voice as she cackled,thesmellofblood.

A man’s yell snapped

Keedar’sattentiontotheplaza.The entire square grew silentexcept for thebriefhowlof aswirlingwind.

Ragswhippedbythegale,the man held a knife in onehand raised above his head inthe act of stabbing. Thewiseman who he attackedlooked on with as muchconcern as a stone. The mancontinued to scream, armstraining down, but not

inchinganycloser.A Blade stepped in front

ofthewiseman,onegauntletedhand extended, fingers spreadwide. A moment later, theattacker’s arm hurtled down,came within half a foot ofstriking the soldier, and thenrebounded. The knifeshattered.

Keedar didn’t need tohear the snap to know theman’s arm broke. The

awkward angle at which ithung, the bones jutting outfrom the tangled red mess ofhis elbow, told its own story.The attacker crumpled to theground.

The Blade bent on oneknee over the man’swhimpering form. Slowly, heraisedhishandabovehishead.Aglowspreadaroundhisfist.

Keedar looked away, buthe could not plug his ears to

thesickeningcrunch.“Patience,” Father

repeated. “Remember all yousee, store it. Our time willcome.”

IntotheSmear

Winslow Cardiff was

tiredofwaiting.Eversincehewas a child his father hadpromised him a chance toprovehimself.Yearafteryear,he dealt with the excuses, thereasonswhyhecouldnottrainwith the King’s Blades. Andeverytwoyears,hewatchedasmere babies were chosen on

the Day of Accolades. Theirlearningbeganassoonastheycouldwalk.

Still Count Cardiffcontinued to lie to him. Forthatiswhatthosedenialswere:lies.Andnotevenwell-craftedones, simple denials meant todissuade an overzealous child.Time and again,Winslow hadanalyzed the words, theexpressions, wanting tobelieve, but his instincts, and

moreimportantlyhissoul,toldhim they were filled withdeception. He’d learned tolistentobothashe’dgrowntowake with the rising ofMandrigal casting its goldenglowacrossthesky.

He did not care if thedregs in the Smear weredescendants of the storiedDracodar.He possessed someskill in soul magic too as histutors had proved. Not as

much as others claimed thedregs did, but it was therenonetheless.No one could berecognized as a noble if theylackedsuchablessing.Sowhywere these commoners,criminals, diseased miscreantsof society, given a chance tobecome a Blade before thenobility? Why did he have togo through the Trial ofBraverywhile theyhadoneofthe greatest honors handed to

them? He growled under hisbreath.

Count Cardiff had yetagain refused him the chanceto take the trial last year atfifteen, but he was sixteennow,aman.Thehairgrowingunder his chin confirmed it.Hewould no longer allowhisfather to bar him from hisgoal. After the Day ofAccolades the year before, hewouldnotwait for it to come

again and witness the dregsacquire what should rightfullybe his blessing. Hisapprenticeshipwouldstartwellbefore then. He would see toit.The choicewashis andhisalone.

“Are you sure of this?”Gaston asked from where hestoodontheothersideof thetinyalley.Helookedridiculousin his disguise meant to copyoneoftheSmear’sdregsinill-

fitting,dirtyclothes.“I’ve never been more

certainofanythinginmylife,”Winslow declared. He haddressed similarly to his friend,but unlike Gaston he’dpracticed this for weeks. Noone would know thedifference.

“Is my face dirtyenough?” Gaston smearedsomemoredirtonhischeeks,rubbingitin.

Winslow chuckled. “Youlooklikeabeggar.”

“Perfect, then,”his friendsaid with a smile. Gaston’sexpression became serious,one of the few times heactually looked his eighteenyears rather than a skinnyyouth of thirteen. “Do youthink anyone will actuallyattackus?”

“If it appears theymight,we simply reveal who we are.

They wouldn’t dare touch anoble.” Even as he said thewords, Winslow had his owndoubts. His mother had diedin the Smear giving birth tohim, right after she’d tried tosave his older brother duringthe trial. Guild members hadbeaten her bloody. Hedespisedthemfor itbuthatedthem more for the privilegesthe Day of Accoladesprovided.“Besides,we’reboth

trained swordsmen.” Hetouched the weapon’s hilthiddenbyhiscloak.

“You know we couldsimplydoliketheothers…goneartheSmearbutnotactuallycross into it. That still countsaspartofthetest.”

“Whenhaveyouheardofanyone being accepted as anapprentice who did the trialthatway?”

“Accordingtotherecords

intheGrandLibrary,acenturyago, King Jemare’s son,Joaquin.”

“Whosesonandwhen?”Gastonopenedhismouth

andthenclosedit.“Precisely,”Winslowsaid.He stared out across

Deadman’s Gap, the streetclosest to the Smear on thisside of Kasandar. A marketmade up of ramshackle stallsand storefronts spread before

him.Thehomesandbuildingshugged each other here andwithintheSmearmoresothanin any other place in thecitadel. Even at this distancethe reek of garbage andclogged drains tainted the air.It smelled likedeath.Mired inperpetual shadow, alleys andlanes crisscrossed the area, sotight they could barely fit aman,muchlesstwo.IfthesunreallywastheGod,Mandrigal,

he’d turned his back on theSmear. No wonder the dregswerealawless,Godlesspeople.

“To ensure we aren’tdenied, we must go throughthe Smear,” Winslow said,hoping he sounded braverthanhefelt.

“What if we fail, Wins.Haveyouconsideredthat?”

“We won’t.” Failure hadnot crossed his mind. Hewould pass this test. “This

time next month, we’ll beapprenticeBlades.”

“You,will be, not I. I’monly here to keep you out oftrouble.”

“And a fine job you’redoingtoo.”

Gaston had no love forphysical combat. Even whenCountCardiffhadforcedthemboth to learn the sword, he’dresisted. It was something todo with his fragile body and

dislike for blood. He’d muchrather dive into the rumors,games, and political intriguethat almost every nobleappeared to have beenswaddled in from birth. Yet,for the sake of Winslow, hehad learned. Winslowrespected his friend for that.Hewouldhavedonethesamehimself.

“Whenourfathershearofthis, they won’t be pleased,”

Gastonsaid.“Itwon’tbethefirsttime

wehavedisappointedthem.”Theysmiledateachother.

On the Ten Hills, they wereknown for their pranks. Notthattheyhadattemptedoneinthepastyear,butcertainthingsremained with people. Thegutseedinthepunchatoneofthe balls had been genius.Several hundred noblesstinking up the air with their

farts. Counts Cardiff andRostlin had been red-faced.Winslow’ssmilebecameagrin.

His father had used thatactasanexampletoshowwhyWinslow was not ready tobecomeaBlade.ThefollowingmonthswerespentlearningofFar’an Senjin—the Game ofSouls—and the politicalmaneuvering associated withthemajornoblehousesontheTen Hills. A subjectWinslow

found beyond boring. Magicand battle, now, that piquedhisinterest,excitedhim.Nonemore so than watching theBlades conjure swords, maketheirbodiesashardasgranite,ormovesofasttheybecameablur.Hedreamedofachievingthosefeats.

“Youdorealizewemightcomeacrosssomeoneadeptinsoulmagic,”Gaston said as ifreadinghisthoughts.

“Yes, but it’s a slimchance at best.” The mentionof it grated at Winslow’sinsides. “They will take carenottorevealthemselvesifanyhaveskill inthearts.Overthelast few years not many haveshown the ability for muchmore than the basics.” Hisfather believed the dregswerehidingthegiftedamongthem,butWinslowbegged todiffer.The Gods had finally culled

the talent from them.Deservedlyso.

“I pray you’re right.”Gastonmade the circular signfor the Dominion over hisheart.

“WhenamIeverwrong?”Winslowwinked atGaston toeasehisfriend’sworry.

“You’ll be in my debtwhenthisisover.”

“Drinks and women onme then… at Jarina’s Hands

whenwe’redone.”Gastonsmiled.“AnygirlI

wish?”“Ofcourse.”“Then why are we still

standinghere?”Winslow chuckled. When

he gazed across Deadman’sGaponcemore,hismerrimentsubsided. Enough people hadgathered in the dreg’smarket.Noonewouldbeable topickout the two of them among

the crowd. “Act normal.Remember, these people arebeneath us. We have nothingtofear.”

Taking a deep breath, hesteppedfromthecorner.Witheach stride his heart rate spedup, andhis stomach tied itselfinknots.Therewasnoretreatnow. This moment was his,andhewouldbaskintheglorythat would come with thetrial’scompletion.Nooneand

nothing could take that awayfromhim.

WhatCannotBeSeen

The two boys didn’t

belong to the Smear. AsKeedarwatchedthemfromhisfavorite spot on the rooftop,that much was clear. Theystuck out like a pair ofunwashed urchins amongroyalty at a ball. To an

untrained eye, their simpleshirt and trousers matchedmost commoners, not unlikehis own garb, but he knewwhattolookfor.Theirattire’selbows and knees lacked thecorrect amount of wear; theirshoes had a little too muchshine; they walked with theirbacks a bit too straight. Onlyguild members or nobleswould carry themselves withany hint of pride or swagger

neartheSmear’sstreets.Thesetwo were definitely not theformer.Notwiththewaytheycast an occasional furtiveglance around them.Also, thegrime on their faces was notnatural.What gave them awaymore than anything else wastheir hair: well-oiled, combed,tooclean.

With a groan, Keedarwashed his gloved handthrough his tangled, sandy

locks.Damn you nobles andyour silly challenges. Whydoes this have to happen onmywatch?

He found it hard tocomprehend why anyone ofstaturewantedtoventureneartheSmear. Ifhehadachoice,he would wade in piss beforehesetfootwithinamileofitsstreets. All the district had toofferwasdilapidatedbuildings,sewage, dirty streets, and a

reek that made shit smell likeperfume. That is if one didn’tcount disease, robbery, ordeath. Still the young noblescame. It was either an act ofbraveryorstupidity.Suchfollyremindedhimofadogchasingits tail. The mutt could nevercatch the thing but it ran incirclesafteritanyway.

Perhaps their insistencewas a case of peer pressure.Not that Keedar could relate.

Hehadnoclosefriends.Longago,theSmearhadtaughthimtheharshlessonofattachment.It left him betrayed andbloody, and his best friend,Raishaar, dead. He blamedhimself forbeing too trusting,for believing that guild lifecould not change people theway it did. No longer did hesuffer from suchmisconceptions.

Sometimes, the guilt of

his own escape wormed itsway into his belly. He haddone the one thing he wasgood at: he hid.Whenever helooked back on that night, heknew if he hadn’t he wouldhave been fodder for themaggots. Since then, he’dlearned quite a few tricks.Those and his presentexistence gave him a smallmeasureofsolace.

Hecontinuedtostudythe

two boys, wondering ifsomeone among the crowdedstreetswould eventually directthem away from the Smear.Noonedid.Forthemostpart,the Smear’s residents steeredclearofthe inquisitivenobilityunlesstheycrossedDeadman’sGap, which marked theSmear’snorthernborder.

Sixteenyears ago,whenarobberyledtoanoblewoman’sdeath, the King’s Blades had

left a seaofblood andbodiesas retribution. The Night ofBlades.Itwasthelastnightherecalled Mother’s face … heranguish,hermadcackles…heshutthememoriesaway.

Yet,with suchapast andthe risk of a thrashing orworse, every so often, usuallyatsummer’send,thesewell-to-do children played this gamewhere they snuck close to theSmear. In his short lifetime,

Keedar hadn’t seen any bravethe maze of lanes and alleyscaressedbyshadows.

Except these two youngnoblemendidjustthat.

Myluckbedamned.IfhebelievedintheGods,hemighthave sworn they conspiredagainsthim.

Mortified by the boys’stupidity, the potential dangertheyplacedthemselves in,andthe repercussions, Keedar

shook his head in disbelief. Itwasn’t as if the nobility didn’tknow the risks. Anyone wholivedmorethanafewweeksinKasandar did. The Smear’sdenizenswere as likely to kissyou as they were to kill you.Theywouldbrandishadaggerand fight to death forsomething as simple as asidelong glance. If youventured into the Smearunprepared and unwelcome,

chances were you ended upwith empty pockets and astomach full of steel for yourtrouble. Hell, a man mightslide his blade into you whilegiving you a friendly embrace.Keedar touched the patch inhisoldshirtthathidhisscars.

“Followthem.”Father’s deep voice

startled him. Cursing silently,Keedar attempted to act as ifhe knew Delisar had been

thereallalong.Afaintchucklelefthimpainfully awareofhisfather’s impressionconcerninghisefforts.Punishmentfortheslipwouldcomelater.

“Allow no harm to cometothem,”Delisarsaid.

Half a foot taller thanKeedarandwiderinthechest,Delisarcastashadowwhenhefinally moved to the roof’sedgewhereKeedarcouldgetaglimpse of him without

turning his head. Eyes wearyand tight, honey-coloredpricklesofagoateeshadinghischin,Delisarappearedas ifhehadn’tsleptindays.Exceptforthe two thin braids fallingbehind his ears, his hairsupported the notion. Today,Father wore his guild’scustomary deep blue and afinger-lengthinsigniaofashipwrought ingoldpinned tohislapel.

“If you need to get theirattention, use their names:Gaston and Winslow. Tellthem the counts won’t bepleasediftheyknewwhattheywere up to.” Father paused.Brows so thick they touched,Delisar peered down amongthe crowds, one corner of histhin lips curling in distaste.“The last thing we need isanother Night of Bladesbecause of some hardheaded

noblechildrenandoverzealousConsortiummembers.”Fathernoddedtowardtheplaza.“I’mtooclosetomygoalforthat.”

Keedar followed hisfather’s gaze, picking out thethree young men who musthavedrawnDelisar’sattention.Focused on the nobles, theyslipped among the commonfolkwhoweresettingupstallsor browsing wares in thesquare below where criers

announced their goods. Theboys wore the black and greyrags that marked them as theShaded Snakes guild. Theirnamesake would be tattooedontheirrightcheeks.

The Snakes were theworst of the fourmain guildsthatmadeup theConsortium.Keedar despised them like hedid no other. If a murderhappened, chances were theSnakes committed the crime.

Theytrainedtokillwhilemostothersadvocatedlearninghowto survive.Whether their actsandskillbrought inextracoindidn’t matter to him. Thosesame contracts were as likelyto garner unwanted attentionfrom the nightwatch or theBlades.

The thought soured hisstomach as the Snakesmaneuvered through thethrongs below. As usual,

Rockbottom Plaza was alivewithcolorandactivity.Peoplehaggledwithstorekeepers,andrunnerscarriedwordfromoneshop to the next or amongvarious merchants. Coinmen,cudgelsinhand,earsandnosespierced with golden hoops,kept a wary eye on all theproceedings, sparing littlemore than a disgusted glanceattheSnakes.

ThethreeSnakes,allofan

agecomparabletohisnineteenyears,stoppedforamomentata fruit vendor, their gazesflitting to the nobles whoturnedoffontoCarlsonLane.

“Go,”Fatherordered.Without hesitation,

Keedardidastold.Hehoppedonto the parapet, sprintedalong its length, and leapedoverthestreetbelowontotheadjacent structure. Using themomentum gained, he took

three lengthy strides to scaleup the wood-tile roof’s slopeto its apex, and jumpeddownonto the wall that separatedeach building. Then he wasrunning again, repeating theprocess, up one side of thepeakedroofs,downtheother,untilhereachedCarlson.

Running this way wasalmostasexhilaratingaswhenhe dashed through theParmien Forest in his weekly

training sessions, or huntedwith his father, stalking andthen chasing down somewildanimal, leaping effortlesslyfrom branch to branch. Herelished being able to traversetheSmear inthisfashion.Inafew months, when iceencrusted the citadel and galeforce winds spiraled downfromthenorth, thiswouldnolonger be possible. Heremembered a time when he

would trip or stumble on apursuit like this, needing torely on the leather greaves hewore to save his shins andknees from abrasions. Thatwas then. He leaped nowwithout looking, the cracksand tiles of the rooftop asfamiliartohimastheamberofhiseyes,asmuchapartofhimashisskin.

Midwaydownthelane,hepaused to listen. Cocking his

head,hepickedoutthetell-talesoundfromthenoble’sboots.Not the scuff ofworn leatherorslapofbarefeetoncobbles,but the clip and tap fromharder heels and soles, fromshoes of a richer cut. Thefootfalls drew closer and sodid their whispers. Keedarpeeredovertheroof.

The nobles passed by,stepping gingerly aroundgarbage, itsreekwaftingupto

him.Notfaraway,onoppositesides of the lane, the Snakesfollowed. Keedar frowned.Oneofthemwasmissing.

Still as the spears ofshadow below, Keedarscanned the street. Ahead ofGastonandWinslowwasabigcurve that ended where itconnectedwith a narrowpaththat led to several basements.Alongthebuildings’wallswereacollectionofdiscardedboxes

and piled garbage, but therewas no sign of the missingSnake. Keedar gauged thedistance from the nobles totheir stalkers. At the sametime, the boys finally lookedbehindthem.Theirstepsspedup a moment later as theythrust their hands into theircloaks.

Urgency pressed onKeedar. He had to act beforeeitherthenoblesortheSnakes

didsomethingtocondemnthedistrict to several months’suffering through raids. Thelikelihood of riots wasn’t far-fetchedeither.Althoughapartof Kasandar, the Smear clungtoacertain independence thatwent undisturbed as long asthe Consortium provided theking’s coffers and theprominent houses with theirtribute. Assaulting nobilitybroke any such protection. In

the king’s eyes, an examplewould need to be set again.ThebruntofanyviolencewasdestinedtofallontheSmear’snormal residents whostruggled to surviveonadailybasis.Worse yetmight be theeffect on Father’s plans.Keedarwasn’t privy to all theConsortium’s inner workings,but Father had been on thevergeofsomebigdeal.

Thesuddenfearoffailure

abitter taste in hismouth, hesped along the rooftop. Hisemotionssettledoverhim likeablanket,butnotoncedidhetry to suppress them. Instead,he embraced his feelings,drawing their covering closer.It gave him a sense ofconfidence,ofstrength.

When he gained thesection where the parapetcurved,heleapedoff,knowingthat he was in the blind spot

between the incoming groupand wherever their guildmatehid. His body hurtled acrossthe street toward the adjacentbuilding’swall.As soonashisfoot touched the bricks, hepushed to the opposite side.Whenhemetthatstructure,herepeated the process, hoppingfrom side to side at an angle,almost as if he leaped downstairs.Helandedsoftly,dartedtoward garbage piled against

an open doorway, sidled intotheshadows,andwaited.

The clip and tap offootstepsdrewcloser.

They will not see you.They.Will.Not.See.You.

The young noblemenrounded theupperpartof thecorner,glancedbackonce,andthenhurriedon.Metal glintedfromtheirhands.

“The counts will not likethat you’re here,Winslow and

Gaston,”Keedarsaid.The boys started before

baring their short swords.They peered in his vicinity,brows drawn together, eyessearching, gazes passing overhimseveraltimes.

“The worst aren’t theones following but thosehidden farther along the alley,around this corner. Come tothis doorway. I can keep yousafe.Thelastthingweneedis

for you to get hurt and forriotstobreakoutagain.”

Asheexpected,theyweremorethanalittlehesitant.

“Look, there’sno time towaste. If I wanted you twodead or to rob you, I couldhave done so already. Youhavebutafewsecondsbeforeeither party knows somethingis wrong. Come to me now.”Keedar said the last bitforcefully but without

shouting, putting every ounceofhiswillintothewords.

Squinting in the directionwhere he hid, and fidgetingwith theirweapons, theyoungmentookafewtentativestepsand then broke into a run,headingfartherdownthelane.

Shit.Soon after they

disappeared from view, theirfootsteps came to an abrupthalt.

Keedar hoped he’dcalculated correctly. Keepingtime in his head, he countedhow long he had before thetrailing Snakes gained thecorner. Within moments, thenobles reappeared. Theysprinted toward him. Keedarletoutarelievedwhoosh.

When they entered theimmediate area around thedoor, the two boys gasped,eyes finally able to pinpoint

him. Keedar suppressed asmile.Fromadistance,nobilityalways seemed so grand tohim. Up close, these two lefthimthoroughlyunimpressed.

Theonewithasquarejawand a goatee under hiscovering of grime opened hismouthtospeak.Keedarraiseda finger to his lips. The boy’sgreeneyes flashedangrily.Hisfriend, body appearing as if aslight wind would blow him

away, rested a hand on hisarm.The onewith the goateeshook the hand off, stillannoyed, but his face calmedsomewhat. Despite the dirt,Keedar made out their lightpinewood pallor, synonymousto most nobles but not all.Keedar carried a hint of ithimself. For him, the colormeant something other thanprestige. It represented thebane of his existence, the

reason many in the Smearshunnedhim.

With a nod, Keedarindicated the doorway’s otherside. The doubt in theirexpressions was obvious, butthey complied nonetheless,copying the way he hunchedhis back against the darkwood.

The Snakes appearedfromboth directions. Four ofthem in total. Keedar

recognized them.Troublemakers whoconsidered anyone to be fairgame. Icy prickles needled athim for a moment before hesuppressed the feelingand thememoryofRaishaar.

You will not see us.We’re invisible to you.There’s nothing here butgarbageandanolddoor.

He repeated the wordsseveral times, each one more

desperate than the last, eachsentence carrying his will. Asthe Snakes took in theirsurroundings, befuddled,Keedar’sheartthumpedasifitwantedtoburstfromhischest.Their gazes swept by thehidingplace.

“Monroe,Handal,how inall the hells did they get byyou?” Killian asked, wrinklinghisnose.Facemarredbyburntissue,hewas the tallerof the

Snakes.Andthemostvicious.Instinctively, Keedar

almosttouchedtheareaofhisshirtthathidhisknifescars.

“They didn’t pass us,”Handal protested, voice risinga notch. He had some of thesharpest eyes Keedarencountered,butwasasdumbasabrick.

“You sure they didn’t goback your way?” This fromMonroe, whose skin was

darker than most otherThelusians in Kasandar. Hewas so black, his skinpractically shone, making hiseyesmilkyorbsandhismouthayellowmaw.

Killian’s response was amereheadtilt.

“S-sorry.” Monroeavertedhiseyes.

ThelastoneoftheyoungSnakeswasMileen.Shehardlyever spoke, neither did she

miss much. Of them all, sheworriedKeedar themost.Hergreen-eyedgazereturnedtohishiding spot several times.Forehead wrinkled, she beganwalkingtowardhim.

Keedar’s heart skipped abeat.

Somethingclatteredinthenarrow path Handal andMonroehadusedtogetaheadofthenobles.

“Shit,” Killian exclaimed.

“Idiots.I toldyoutheygotbyyou.”Herandownthestreet.

The others followed,except for Mileen. Frowning,shestillstaredatwherehehid.Keedar held his breath,imploring her not to see him.He swore she could hear theway his heart drummed.Seconds stretched for aneternity before she shook herhead, and trotted after herfellowguildmates.

As Keedar let out arelieved sigh, the door behindhimopened.

AnUnexpectedSavior

Keedarwhippedouthis

dagger and spun to face theopen doorway. Darknessgapedathim.Hewrinkledhisnose at the smell of mold. Ifhe strained, he thought hecould make out a silhouette.He tilted his head slightly,

trying to make out what layahead.Other than his and hischarges’ breathing, no othersoundgreetedhim.

“Your father said to takethem straight through to theother side,” a gravelly voicesaid from the interior.Keedarbroughthisknifeup.“There’llbe someone there to escortthem out. He also warnedthemnottocomeback.Notifthey wish to live. Now, step

inside before those Snakesreturn.”

Keedar glanced behindhim, still hesitant. The noblesalsohadtheirweaponsbared.

A lamp sparked in ahallway ahead. All Keedarmadeoutwasabluecloakanda gloved hand that placed thelamp on a table. The head ofthe cloak turned slightly tothem, the face mired inshadows and fingers of

dancingflames.“Giveme a fewminutes.

When I light the next one,you’llknowthewayisclear.”

“Well, you heard theman,” Keedar said, relieved,“inside.”

Their helper’s formdisappeared down the hall asthey ventured into thebuilding. Keedar closed thedoorbehindthem.

“I’m Gaston. This is

Winslow. Thanks for savingus.”

Up close, Gastonappeared even bonier thanKeedar first thought. Keedaroften considered himself thethinnest person in Kasandar,certainlyinalltheSmear,untilnow.ComparedtoGaston,hewas a decent build. The boyhad to be sick. No way ahealthy noble looked like onetheSmear’sstarvingdogs.

“CallmeKeedar.”“Why interfere? They

wouldhavedoneusnoharm.”As broad of shoulder as hisfriend was a twig, Winslow’svoicewasdeepandstrong,likean older man’s not a boy’s.“Yourleadersknowbetter.Allyou dregs know better.”Contempt colored his tone.Even in the dim light, thescornwithwhichhe inspectedKeedarwasunmistakable.

Keedar also sensedsomething else. Uncertainty.Without flinching, he metWinslow’s gaze. “Doeseveryone agree with the waythings are handled in theGolden Spires, or how thecounts make decisions up onthe Ten Hills without visitingsomeoftheotherdistricts?Infact, do the counts alwaysfollowtheking’sorderstotheletter?”He took inWinslow’s

frown. “No? So what makesyou think it’s different amongdregs, thieves, Kasandar’sscum? After all, that’s all weare, aren’t we?” He hadn’tmeant to sound bitter, but hecouldn’thelphimself.

“But—”“No buts. Ever since the

Night of Blades the Snakeshave sworn to make one ofyoupay.Younobleshavebeensmartenoughtostayouteven

when you play your dumbgame.Atleastuntiltoday.”

“It isn’t a dumb game.”Gaston sounded more than alittleindignant.“Itisn’tagameatall.”

“Really? Well, considerme confused. There isn’t shitintheSmear.No.Correctthat.ShitisallthereisintheSmear.By the abyss, it’s even namedcorrectly. You have all theworldbeforeyouontheHills.

Whycomehere?”“Atest,”Winslowsaid.“What?”“Every year, each count

chooses a student to beapprenticed with the King’sBlades,” Winslow explainedgrudgingly.“Oneofthetestsisto venture as close to theSmear as possible. Any whoenterandreturnunscathedareautomaticallygivenaspot.”

Keedar stood open-

mouthed.Although the Smear’s

inhabitants made up some oftheir ranks, the Blades werethemostelitewarriors,abletoharness the essence of theirsouls as a form of powerbeyond any normal human.He’d seen them throw fire,make swords from nothing,encase their bodies and handsin lightning, and tear rents inthe earth, aswell as useother

forms of soul magic like therace from which theydescended.

Despite the Day ofAccolades, he still wonderedwhatitwouldhavebeenliketobe trained by them instead ofhis father. It would neverhappen. Not for one of hissocial status. Not for one asold as he.But aman still hadtohavehisdreams.

Would Mother be alive

todayifshehadletthemtakeme?

That night still hauntedhim, filled with flames, herscreams,andscales.Heshookhisheadagainsttheimages.

“Now you understand,”Winslowsaid.

Still numb, Keedarnodded.

“To be honest,” Gastonadded,“Ihavenoreal interestin becoming a Blade nor the

skill. I came because he did.”He gestured toWinslow. “Heoften finds himself in moretroublethanhecanhandle.”

“You’re a good friend,then,” Keedar said, “a betteronethanIcouldeverbe.”

“How was it that youwere able to hide us andyourself like that?” Winslowwassquintingathim.

Keedar shrugged. He’dhoped they wouldn’t ask, but

he had his answer prepared.“I’ve always been able to dothat.Myfathersaidit’saforceof will. If I wish for it hardenough,andstand intherightspot,Iwon’tbeseen.Thefirsttimeiteverhappened,Iwasinthe Parmien Forest, beingchased by a derin.” Heshuddered, recalling the grey-furred beast with canines aslong as his forearm, bobbedtail, and eyes like glittering

coals. “It had me to kill. Istood against a tree, hoping itwouldn’t seeme.Somehow, itlost sight ofme. It could stillsmellmethough.Itcircledandcircled, confused, until myfatherandhismenshowedupand chased it off.” As areminder, Father had insistedhe wear the derin leatherglovesandgreaveseversince.

“The Creator’s Blessing,”Gastonwhispered.

“Orsoulmagic.”Winslowfrowned.“Soundsasifyoucanmeld.”

“If that were true,”Keedar said,meeting his eyes,“I’d be dead.No one escapesthe examiners.You can checkthe Golden Spires’ records.They’ve tested me severaltimes.Ithinkit’sjustluck.”

“Or theCreator.”Gastonreturned Keedar’s doubtfulgazewithashrug.

“Piss on the Creator andthe entireDominion,”Keedarsaid.

A gasp escaped Gaston’slips.

“Uneducated heathens.”Winslowspattooneside.

“Youmustbepissedthen,because an ignorant, faithlessdreg saved your ass.” Keedarlet them digest that for a bit.Although well-versed inreligion due to the lecturers

Father employed in secret, heremained unconvinced theGods existed. Believing theTen, or the Dominion as thebooksoftencalled them,wereall part of one all-powerfulbeing was similarly ludicrous.“Anyway, we avoided adisaster for both our friendsand family. That’s all thatmatters.”

“We owe you,” Gastonmuttered.

A scowl was all KeedargotfromWinslow.

“It’s fine. Not like itdidn’tbenefitmetoo.”KeedarknewWinslow’s type.Nowaywas he going to admit a debtto a dreg. He growled underhisbreathattheterm.

“Should I want to repayyou, how will I find you?”Gaston averted his eyes as heaskedthequestion.

“I’m usually on a roof

somewhere.PassnearbyandIshouldseeyou.”

A lamp bloomed downthehall.

“Well, it’s time to go.”Not looking to see if theyfollowed, Keedar headedtowardthelight.

ANewSourcetoBleed

Muchaboutthestables

broughtcontentmenttoCountAinslen Cardiff. Whether itwas thearomaofmanure, thesmell of horseflesh, theanimals’ stomps, snorts, andwhinnies, or the feel of hayunderfoot,eachcontributedin

itsownway.Nonegavehimasmuch pleasure as the horsesthemselves.

“You enjoy this place, doyou not?” Fair-haired and ofevenfairercomplexion,CountLeroi Shenen walked with hishandsbehindhisback.Beyondhis ability to sense emotions,the man had always been anastuteobserver.

Ainslen disliked thataboutLeroi.Itmadetheman’s

quiet voice and relaxeddemeanor more than a taddisconcerting.“Ido.”Withhisadmittance,Ainslenpushedhishorn-rimmed glasses downonto the bridge of his noseand allowed himself adisarming smile. “It’s one ofthe few places in the citadelwhere I get to see lifeunaffected by politics. All thehorses want to do is to runfree.”

He gazed out toward thefield where a few of theanimals trotted or cropped atgrass. Dying rays of sunlighteased across the slope above,illuminating the surroundinghills in long lances, andreflecting from his mansion’swindowpanes on MandrigalHill.Withinthisdipinthelandthe rest of Kasandar wasinvisible.Notsilent though. Ifhe strained, he could pick out

thenoisesasthecitadelwounddownforthecomingnight.

“So why not let them betrulyfree?”

“They could be if theyreally wanted to. The truth istheyhavebecomeaccustomedto captivity. They enjoy theirlifeasitis.Anythingelsemightkillthem.”

“Much like the dregs inthe Smear then,” Leroi said,“and not too different from

theshackleswewear.”“Howso?”“Like them, we are stuck

inacycle,doomedtoplayoutour hands in struggles andpoliticsfromonegenerationtothe next, never truly able tostep away from what weworked forover the years lestweloseitall.”

Ainslen knew Leroifancied himself an avid playerin Far’an Senjin as well as

somewhat a philosopher.Hearing House Hazline’sleader voice distaste for thegame was surprising andrefreshing. He thought all thecountsrelisheditsintrigueandthechanceitprovided.

Leroi stopped at a stallwhere a red dunmare peeredat them. “Beautiful,” hewhispered.

“This one is Marjorie.”Thementionofhisdeadwife’s

namesentatrickleofoldgriefthrough Ainslen. The heat ofsuppressedangerattemptedtofollow,buthesquashedit.

“Namedafteryourwife?”Leroiarchedaneyebrow.

“Yes, this was herfavorite.”Forabriefmoment,Ainslen allowed thememoriesof his wife’s smiling eyes andhigh cheekbones to suffusehiminwarmth.

“Sorry for your loss.” A

faraway expression crossedLeroi’s face. “The pain nevertrulyleavesus.”

Ainslen waved the countoff.“TheGodsgive;theGodstake away.”He let out a deepbreath. Such an admissiontook a lot fromhim. “It’s thewayoflife.”Ithadtakenafewyears to come to thatrealization,,manyspentwithanoosearoundhisneckreadytodrop from a stool in these

samestables.“Speaking of life, what

progress have you madeagainsttheConsortium.”

Pausing before heanswered, Ainslen consideredwhathecouldreveal.Itwasnosecret that he worked todismantle theguilds andbringthem in line with his ownplots. However, consideringtheeffecthisplansmighthaveon the economy in the short

term, especially to men likeCount Shenen, he needed totreadcarefully.“Wellenough,Isuppose. If you’re worriedover whatever goods theybring in from Kheridisia,Heleganandthelike…goodsyou covet, then be at ease. Ihave no intention ofpreventing that part of theirendeavors. Kasandar needs it.Kasiniaasawholedoes,moresonowthanever,ifthestories

of the fleets leaving theFarlandsprovetobetrue.”

“So youwouldnot try tocripple my chances shouldSuccession Day present itselfduring our time?” LeroisearchedAinslen’sface.

CountCardiffsmiled,thistime allowing his desires toshinethrough.“Icouldsayno,but itwould not be the truth,would it?Yousaid it yourself.The game is asmuch our life

as our life is the game. Bydefeating everyone, my rulewouldbethatmuchstronger.”He stepped closer toMarjorieandstrokedhernose.Snortingcontentedly,thehorsenuzzledhishand.

“At least you’re honest. Ihavetorespectthat.”

“Igrewoutofdeceityearsago.” Ainslen recalled hisyounger days, his brown hairalmost to his waist when he

served as one of the King’sBlades. Tomost, he appearedashadeof thatformerman instrength, which is preciselywhat he wanted. “I thinklaying out all my cards servesbetterinthiscase.”

“Andthosewouldbe?”“Mandrigal and Hazline

are among the strongesthouses. Together, we canassureourselvesofvictory.”

“True,” Leroi conceded,

“but we still have eight othermajor houses to consider.Wewillneedatleastoneortwooftheothers.”

“Easyenoughtoarrange.”“In the end, one of us

must lose while the otherclaims the ultimate prize,”Count Shenen said, his facestudious. “How does thatmakeyoufeel?”

Ainslen envisioned thegears spinning in the man’s

head.Leroibelievedhimselftobe the stronger practitioner insoul. If Succession Day camedown to a final duel betweenMandrigal and Hazline, Leroicouldpicturehimselfwinning.ThatsuitedAinslen’spurposes.“If we have no issues servingtheother,thenitmattersnot.”

For an instant, CountShenen’s eyes grew cold, andthen he smiled, the linesadding to his wrinkles. “Of

course. This proposed unionof yours would also ensurethat we don’t turn on eachother. At least notimmediately.”

“Just so.” Ainslen dippedhishead.

“I will have to speak toElaina.Asyouknow,thegirlisheadstrong. Like her father.”Leroigrinned.

“Yourlordship.”The drawling Marishman

accentstoppedAinslenbeforeheansweredLeroi.

He turned, opening hismouth to reprimand Shaz.He’daskednottobedisturbedin these negotiations. Thescowl on the slant-eyedassassin’s scarred face twistedAinslen’s stomach. Only onething would bring the manhere.

Winslow.“If you will excuse me,

Count Shenen, I must attendto this,” Ainslen dipped hisheadinapology.

Browsdrawingtogetherinadeepfrown,Leroiwavedhimoff. “Go, take care of yourbusiness. It is of obviousimportance. I think we havecome to a mutual agreementanyway.We canwork out thedetailsonanotherday.”

Trying his best to ignorehis heart’s tremulous flutter,

CountCardiffdippedhisheadandhurriedafterShaz.

“My son did what?”Count Cardiff’s face grewheatedasheconsideredShaz’swords.Heremovedhisglassesand set them aside lest heflung them across thechamber.

“The young masterentered the Smear, yourlordship.”DespiteShaz’sthick

Marishmandrawl,not a singlebitofconcernleakedfromhiswords.

The slight trepidationover Winslow’s wellbeingseeped away with theknowledge that if things wereworse, Shaz would havedelivered such dire news first,yet to allow the boy to enterthat district was nearunforgivable. Ainslen spunfrom the window with its

expansive view of the lightedstreets surrounding the TenHills. Chest heaving, fistclenched to prevent the urgeto strike at the man beforehim,hetookonestepforward,andstopped.

Any other servant mighthave cringed or began toapologize but not Shaz. Theassassinslouchedbackintothechair across from where thecountfacedhim.Themanwas

implacable. The burn scarsacross the left sideofhis facedidn’t somuchas twitch.Notonce did Shaz’s gaze waver.Hisexpressionwasasflat-eyedasavillageidiot.

Ainslen washed his handthrough his short curls.Mistaking the slant-eyedMarishman for being slow ofwitwouldbeanotherperson’slast mistake not his. Instead,the count inhaled deeply,

taking a whiff from thescentedcandlesburningwithintheroom.Gingerspicedriftedinsmokywisps.MuchliketheteaMarjorieusedtomakeandthe perfume she favored.Where the thought of hersometimes drove him into afrenzy, on this occasion, itsoothedhim.

“Explain yourself.”Ainslen still glared at Shaz, ifwithalittlelessintensity.

“What’s to explain? IfollowedWinslowandGaston,andtheywentintotheSmear.”

“You are mistaken. Youmean they ventured near theSmear.”

Shaz remained silent andexpressionless.

The boy was a fool,lacking the understanding ofthe risk he’d taken. If thewrongpersonhadgottenwordofhis intentions,hewouldbe

dead right now, just anothervictim of Far’an Senjin. Asmuch as Winslow had grownstrongeroverthepastyear,helacked the physical gifts tosurvivewhat hewantedmost:to apprentice with the King’sBlades. I should have seenthiscoming.Theboyhadeverbeen stubborn, defiant even.When he set his mind tosomething, Winslow pursuedhis goal like a hound on the

hunt. But to throw himselfinto that test to such anextent?

“Ishehurt?”“No, your lordship. A

little worse for wear, smellsfilthy,butotherwisefine.”

Tension eased from thecount’s shoulders. The tightmass in his stomachunknotted.“Howcouldyouletthis happen?” He ground hisjaw. “You were supposed to

prevent him from doinganything foolhardy. This …this…” Count Cardiff shookhishead.

“The men you sent withme were useless. Theywouldn’tlisten.”

“Wherearetheynow?”Shazproduced anecklace

from under his cloak. Severalears hung for it. “I put theirearstobetteruse.”

“Saved me the trouble,”

Ainslensaid,“butthatdoesn’tsolve the issue of you losingtrackofWinslow.”

“Unlike your kind, noamnesty exists for me in theSmear,” Shaz said, his accentmore pronounced than theaverageMarishmanwhen theyspokeKasinian.“Ifollowedasbest I could. If I had gottenany closer, the Consortium’senforcers would have hadmyheadonapike.”

“And they would havepaid.”

“I would still be dead,your lordship,” Shaz said. “Ihave a certain attachment tomylife,thankyouverymuch.”

The assassin’s insolencegratedhim,butAinslendidhisbesttoignoreit.Fromanotherperson, Shaz’s reason mighthavebeenanexcuse,one thatmighthaveledAinslentotakehis head, but few things

existed to dissuade theMarishmanfromdoinghisjob.On that short list, certaininhabitants within the Smearrosenear the top.“Iwillhavetodosomethingaboutthem.”

“What of the othercounts?”

“They’retoogreedytoseethe dangers the dregs and theConsortium present if wecontinue as we are regardlessof what commodities they

makeavailable,”Ainslensaid.“They might disagree.

How else would you begin toacquiregoodsfromKheridisia,Helegan or the Farish Isles?Since King Jemare bannedtheir merchants, theConsortium has been analmost priceless outlet.” Shazsmiled. “Unless the issue ismorethantheguilds.”

For a servant, Shaz wastoo smart for his own good.

Ainslen refused to voice anopinion, instead thinking tohimself. Even with theimportance of the Smear’sblack markets, something elsewithin the district bore moreimportance. It resided withinthe people themselves. Theyhad made an art form ofhiding their abilities, avoidingthe ancient decree that theymustservewithintheKasinianEmpire’sarmies.Someparents

wentsofarastosuppressanysigns within their children.Such acts led to stuntedgrowthsaswellasacullingoftheir own. Despite this, theyproduced enough specialchildren that it warranted theTenHillsandtheSoulThronesending those of noble birthwho were of the appropriateage near the district for theyearly test. To most children,the Trial of Bravery was a

game; to others, it was achallenge;tothosewhowishedto apprentice with the King’sBlades, it was much more.Winslowwasthelatter.

The thought of the trialscurdled Ainslen’s insides. Heglancedacrosstheroomtothelarge painting near the hearth.Marjorie, her hair likethistledown, features smooth,chin precise, smiled back athim.Kenslenwasnext toher,

his features a mirror of hismother’s. Beside them, armsaroundhiswifeandson,stooda younger Ainslen, hair to hisshoulders, eyes deep set,pleasureonhisface.Hehadn’tsmiled much in the year afterhe had the artist draw theportrait.

Memories of Marjorie’sdemise crawled their way intohismind.

Kenslenhadproventobe

more special than Ainslendreamed. On the boy’seighteenth name day, Ainslenallowed him to take the Trialof Bravery. Apprenticeshipwith the Blades would bringout the young one’s power.MuchtoAinslen’sdelight.ButMarjorie hadn’t approved. Asstrong as it seemed Kenslenwould be, hewas also smallerthanmostboyshisage,andhismind wasn’t as quick. Instead

ofventuringneartheSmearasinstructed, Kenslen crossedthe border. When confrontedby guild members, heattempted to make friends.They beat him bloody.Kenslen defended himself,killing several with his power.Although pregnant, Marjoriechasedafterhim.Wordspreadquickly.BythetimeshefoundKenslen, older moreexperienceddregshadarrived.

She gave her life for Kenslento escape. When the guildmembers finished withMarjorie,shewasbutsomuchpulp, dropped outside theSmear like offal. She diedwithinthenexthour.

And so began the NightofBlades.

The revenge Ainslensought that night had wentmostly unfulfilled. No matterhow many lives he took, it

would not return Marjorie.Still,inhissingle-mindedfocusto bring those responsible tojustice, he’d discoveredanother path.One thatwouldbringtofruitiononeofhislifelongdreams,whileatthesametime lending its help in layingwastetotheguilds.

“Your lordship, snap outofit.”

Thewordscutlikeaknife.Torn from his reverie,

thoughts full of malice,Ainslen spun to face Shaz.“Youdaretouchmymind?”

Sweat rolled down theMarishman’s forehead, yet hisexpression remained placid.“Lookatyourself.”

Even as Shaz said thewords, the glow caughtAinslen’s eye. It suffused hisballed fists and ran up hisarms. In a wavy, off-whitehaze, it surrounded his entire

body.Deepinsidehiscore,hissoul craved for release. Theenergycouldtakeanyformhewished. He always felt it wastoo bad he could not createsomething beyond reality’slimits.

After a deep breath,Ainslenallowedhisessencetorecede. “Thank you,” hemuttered.

Shazinclinedhishead.“So,” thecountsaid,“my

son survived the trial. I’mcertainhe’llbehere shortly todemand his apprenticeshipwiththeKing’sBlades.”

“Will you grant himpermission?”

“Even if I refusednow,Iwould eventually have to lethim go.” And I have noreason to stophim.Afterall,thisiswhatIwanted.Ainslenstroked his chin. There was away to play this to his

advantage if he reacted in therightfashion.

Judging from what he’dsiphoned from Winslowbefore, his son would havedrawn others to him. If notmelders, then those who hadextraordinarysouls.Maybethisboywasoneofthose.Strengthrecognizedstrength.

If I play this correctly,notonlymight I discover theConsortium’smovements, I’ll

have a new source to bleed.Mired in thoughts of hisascension, Count Cardiffsmiled. “Give me all thedetails.”

BaitandCycles

When Keedar reached

his home on Nissa’s Road,sandwiched between anabandoned tavern and awarehouse, his father waswaiting at the door. Antelenloomed large in the sky,casting its silvery glow onKeedar’s surroundings. Thehouse was sturdier than most

in the Smear, but from theoutside it appeared as aramshackle mess, eavesbroken, paint peeling, greenshowing on thewarpedwoodlike moldy bread. Bricks andmortar hid underneath thatfaçade, painstakingly placedthere by his father and UncleKeshka over a number ofyears. Although the shutterswere missing one or twowoodenslats,itwasdifficultat

best to tell if someone livedthere. Black paint covered thewindowpanesinsideandout.

“You did good today,”Delisar said before steppingaside.

“Thank you, Father.”Keedarenteredandclosedthedoorbehindhim,makingsuretoturnthekeyinthelock,andslide home both the top andbottombolts.

“I picked up some beef

stewwithpotatoesandricefordinner. I already had mine.Yoursisonthetable.”

Keedarheadedtowardthedining area. Candles threwlight along the way, barelyenoughtoseeby.Books linedthe shelves against the walls:reminders of his father’sinsistence on education. Hesighed as he considered thelecturer who would come topayavisitinthemorning.Not

that learning about the worldand learning in general didn’tfascinatehim,buthepreferredtobealoneontherooftopsorrunwithintheParmienForest.Solitudesuitedhim.

Within those woods,within the wilds, he reveled.Unlikeinthecitadel’sconfines,the forest was where hebelonged. Ever since the firstdays he ventured into them.Eversincehepickeduponeof

Father’s books and traced hisfingers along the drawings ofwoods and fanged mountainpeaks, lands with scorchingsands, blue seas, green seas,blackseas,seascoveredinice.Fascinated by it all, hedevoured Father’s teachings.Oftenhewonderedhowmuchthe connection resonating inhisbonestothewildhadtodowithwhatorwhohewas.

“Wash those hands.”

Father’s voice cut him fromhisthoughts.

Groaning under hisbreath,Keedarstrippedoffhisderin leather gloves. Dirtencrusted his palms andshowed black under hisfingernails. He sniffed. Hisodorwasn’tthebesteither,buthis stomach insisted a bathcouldwait,particularlyafterhepassedtheopendoorwayfromwhich thespicyscentswafted.

He almost stopped when hespotted thebowlon the table,steamrisingfromitscontents.Instead, he continued on tothe kitchen where he washedhis hands in a basin. Afteremptying it, he refilled thecontainer from the barrel offresh water. By the time hemadeittothediningroomandsat, Father was lounging on achairafewfeetfromthetable

Keedar dragged out his

own seat. Hunger gnawed athis stomach as he dug in. Itwas always like this when heused soul magic. It took asmuch physical exertion as itdidmental,sometimesmoreofeither depending on the areaof concentration. He was onhis fourth mouthful of stew,licking his lips, when Fatherbeganwithhisquestions.

“Sowhatdidyoumakeofthosetwo?”

Keedar swallowed thefood before he answered.“Not much but they deservesome respect for cominghere.”

“Notimpressedthen?”“No. Seemed like your

typicalnobles.Tooarroganttounderstand the trouble theywerein.”

“Yet, they still followedyou.”

“They had no choice.”

Keedar scooped up somepotatoes and rice, knowinghewasdownplayingthetwoboys.At first, he’d thought themstupid, but he realized he’dbeen oddly drawn to them,especiallyWinslow.

“Wordistheyhadquiteabittosayaboutyou.Gastoninparticular. You fascinatedhim.”

“Isn’t that what youwanted?”

“Yes. Now, all we do iswait.” Father grew silent, eyesdistant, lost in his thoughtsandschemes.

“What is it that youwantwiththecount?”

“To discover what heknows of us. And what hisplans might be. He blameseveryone but himself for hispast,butmostofallhelayshislosses at our feet. Your uncleconsidershimourbesthelpas

wellasourgreatestthreat.”Keedar continued to eat.

Sometimeshewishedhecouldget into Delisar’s head. Hecouldn’t say he understoodeverything his father did, butmuch of it seemed to becenteredonMotheroratleastherdeath.Attimeslikethis,hewondered what she had beenlike. Father told his share ofstories, and through themKeedar used his imagination.

Most of the time that wasn’tenough. Seeing other childrenwiththeirmothersdidn’thelp.When he asked his fatherabout her death, the answerwould be that she died well.Father promised to reveal allhe knew one day. Hopefully,one day would be soonerratherthanlater.

When he finished hismeal, hewashed it downwithwater.Fatherwasleaningback

withhiseyesclosed.“Areyousurethiswasthe

right choice? Letting themthink I can meld? I feel likebait.” He’d been skeptical oftheplanfromthestart,buthewasalsowillingtodowhateverhis father considerednecessary.

“You should. It’s whatyou are. No need to worry,your uncle and I will protectyou.”

“Perhapsnowwouldbeagood time to teach me morethansoul’scycles.”

Delisar opened his eyesandsatup.“That’sdictatedbyyou, not by anyone else. Thefasteryoulearn—”

“AndthemoreItrain,thebetter and stronger I’ll grow.In turn, more cycles willbecome available to me. Atleast until I begin melding.”Keedar recited more loudly

thanhe intended.He letoutafrustrated breath. “It justseems to be taking forever.Couldn’t you induce it liketheysayinthebooks?”

“That’s the problem withbooks. They can make somethings sound so easy, brushover all the danger.” Fatherheldhisgaze.“Idoubt Ihavetheskilltoincreaseyourcyclesthat way, not withoutexhaustingyoursoul,whichin

turn could kill you. I’m notwilling to take that risk, andneither should you. You’retrying to force this as yousometimesdowhenwespar.Ikeep telling you, you don’talwayshavetousetheedgeoftheblade;thebluntsidecanbejustasuseful.Whetherfromasevered throat or a brokenskull,deadisdead.”

Keedar groaned. WhenFatherstartedwiththesayings,

matters only became moredifficult.Still,ifhemanagedtoconvinceDelisar…“What ofUncleKeshka?Hecoulddoit,couldn’t he? You always sayhowmuchstrongerhe is thanyou.”

Fatherrolledhiseyes.“Heprobablycould.”

Excited at the prospect,Keedaropenedhismouth.

“Buthewillrefuseyou.”“Why?”

“He believes you shoulddevelop naturally. It couldprevent future issues. Thoseinduced tend to have shorterlifespansliketheBlades.Brief,violentliveslikethestrikeofaflint. A spark and poof …gone.”

Always someobstacleoranother. Still, hearing aboutUncle Keshka fascinated him.Themanwasasmysteriousasthe rest of the world outside

Kasandar. Supposedly he’deven crossed the Renigen Seaat one time. On the docks,Keedar had listened to manystories from the few sailorswho’d made the trip. Theyspoke of the wonders in theFarlands: the creatures, foods,andstrangepeoples.

“How many cycles doeshehave?”

“Eight,asfarasIknow.”Keedar whistled. Eight.

Twomoreleft.Thebookssaidonly one type of creaturepossessed ten cycles. Thethought brought backmemoriesofflamesandscales.He suppressed the worst ofthe images and consideredhisowngrowth.

The trauma heexperienced with Mother hadawoken sintu—the first cycle.It allowed him to sense hisown soul energy, to hold it

steady. Years of practice hadtaught him how to control it.The near-death experiencewiththederinhadtriggeredhissecond: koren. With it, he’dbeen able to hide his soul.According tohis father, beingable to use koren shouldn’thavemadehimimpresshiswillupon other people, butsomehowithad.Keedaroftenwondered if he’d triggered aninnercycleoropenedthefirst

of his abilities. His fatherdeniedknowledgeofanysuchchange, stressing that oneneeded six cycles, namely alltheouterandmedianones, tomeld.Almostasannoyingwasfather’s refusal to testhim forexactlywhattypeofmelderhemight grow to be. Thelimitations set not only byDelisar but also by UncleKeshkawere one of themainreasonsKeedarfrequentedthe

rooftops.“You’re thinking too

muchonit.”“Ican’thelpmyself.”“Trust me, I know how

youfeel.”Keedar doubted Delisar

couldrelate.“Father?”“Yes?”“How many more of us

areoutthere?”Father shrugged, broad

shoulders sagging more than

usual. “I’m not sure. A fewhundred? A thousand?Hopefullyenough.”

To Keedar, the numberswere as dreary as thecandlelight flickering on thetable.“AndtheKing’sBlades?Will they ever acknowledgetheirheritage?”

“We can only hope theywill.”

Confused, Keedarfrowned.

“I see the question onyourface.WhywouldtheystillsupporttheKing?Menwilldoand riskmuch fora chanceatriches and power. Includingbetray their own. Despite thefact that many of their livesbegan in the Smear, has thatstopped the Blades fromkilling or arresting one of us,knowing that person couldwellbetheirparent?No.Havethe deaths on the Day of

Accolades ever stopped theparentswhowishedtogiveuptheir children? No. Thepromise of a better life is agreat temptation, no matterhowdeceiving.”

“Success and survivalmeans everything. Trust noone, betray everyone if needbe.” Keedar quoted theConsortium’smantra.

“Exactly.”“Howcananyonelivelike

that?”“I often askedmyself the

samething,”Fathersaid,regretseepingfromhistone,“thenIconsidered us here in theSmear.Ifwelivedthattypeofa life centuries ago,wewouldbe more than myths andwhispered secrets today. Ourpeople wouldn’t be forced tohide like rats in a sewer orwaiting to be harvested likesomecrop.Better to livehow

wedothantoendupboundinabox.”

Keedar shuddered as heconsidered his father’s words.“If that’s true, then why riskexposing me? Exposing all ofus?”

Fatherbowed,shakinghishead. “Your uncle’s plan. Wehave him and yourmother tothank for the few of us alivetoday.Evenifit’sonlylivinginsqualororfear,we’restillfree.

One day we will regain whatwelost.”

The mere mention ofMother brought a surge ofpain to Keedar. Although heremembered little of her, hecouldn’t help the emotions.They were as natural as theessences of a person’s soulflowingaroundtheirbody.

“I see the hurt in yourface, son. Itwillpass.Nooneknows that better than me.”

Delisarstoodandgotintofirstposition, eyes closed, bothhands forming a loose circleaway from his body. “Come,meditatewithmeforawhile,itwillhelp.”

Keedar followed hisfather’s lead.Withmeditation,the process in which onetouched soul magic slowedtremendously. He sensed allthirty-two vital points aroundhis body, contained within

wispy circles, one inside theother. Those circles held thetencycles: thethreeouter, thethree median, and the fourinner. The latter were anindistinguishable muddle tohim.Of the other cycles, fivewere as clear as a cloudlesssummer sky, waiting for himto pull on whichever heneeded.Helongedforthedayhe could touch his shi, thefinal median cycle that would

makehimamelder.He applied pressure,

nudgingopenthepointswider.Soul gushed out, forming athick nimbus. Drawing onsintu, he controlled the flow,spreading it evenly around hisbody. It brought on animmediate sense of relaxation,of completeness. Inmoments,he was drifting away,weightless,aleafcarriedbythecurrentsofhissoul.

“At first light, Ineedyouto map routes for a fewmerchants,” Delisar said.“Consideritaspunishmentfornot sensing my presencetoday.”

Keedar suppressed agroan. Expressing hisdispleasurewouldonlygethiminto deeper trouble. Heconcentrated on his sintu,dreaming of when that lastcyclewouldbecomeavailable.

ACountandHisSon

Winslow Cardiff

trudgeddownthehall,seldomnoticing the paintings on thewall, and giving nothingmorethananabsentmindedwavetothe guards or servants whobowedtohim.Heshouldhavebeen livid. But instead of

seething,hewascrestfallen.Hehad ventured into the

Smear with such high hopes.Onlytohavethemdashedlikethe ocean’s swells throwing ashipagainstacliff.Howdidhelet three dregs scare him? Asloathe as he was to admit it,thedregshadputsomuchfearinto him he’d tasted it. Tomake matters worse, one ofthemhadsavedhim.

Keedar.

The boy had to be amelder. No other explanationfor what transpired came tomind despite Keedar’s denial.Where there was one, moreexisted. To think they werehiding within the Smear.Count Cardiff harboredsuspicions since the raidssixteen years ago, but nonehadrevealed themselvessince.Hisfatherwouldbepleased.IfIdecidetotellhim.

Not many melders hadbeen discovered in recentyears. In decades past, thatwasn’t always the case. TheSmear was once a place fromwhich the kings chose andfound such practitioners ofsoul magic. These men andwomen provided the base formany armies in bygone eraswhentheKasinianEmpirewasestablishing itself. As timewent on, those discoveries

grew less,until theywerenearnonexistent.

And now, he might haveunearthedonewith some skillin the arts. Surely, theDominion shone their Lightonhim.

Contrary to his currentdemeanor,Winslowmanagedaslight smile. He would find away to useKeedar’s ability tohis advantage. Until now,CountCardiffhaddeniedhim

an apprenticeship with theKing’s Blades. With hissurvival in the Smear, thatwould no longer be the case.Fatherornot,thecounthadtorespect the arrangement laiddownbythepastmonarchs.

Similar thoughts hadrepeated themselves onWinslow’s way home toMandrigal Hill. He shouldhave been elated at theprospect of becoming a

melder, possibly a Blade, ofthechance togooff insearchof his own destiny, make amarkontheworld,butithurtknowing his achievement hadcome at the hands of a dreg.Hesighed.Regardless,thiswasthe start to a dream. As hestrode through the mansion,hesworetomakethemostofhisgoodfortune.

In the Grand Hall, aguiserhadsetupaplay.Round

andsoftlikeasackofpudding,Felius Carin, possessed atonguesosilvery,hecouldsellsand to a desert. Winslowpaused despite the need tospeaktoCountCardiff.

Voice clear and refinedlikespringwater,Feliusorated,his double chins jiggling withhispronouncements,whilehisperformers reenacted thestory. This onewas a comicalretelling of how Emperor

Ilsindin, the last Dracodarianmonarch, convinced many ofthe Mareshnan kingdoms tosidewithhimbybeddingtheirwomen, even the lowlycommoners. If one were tobelieve those stories, hisphilandering spread some bitsof soulmagic to those not ofnobleblood.Thetaleswentonto say that it was the king’sprick that eventually got himkilled. Something to do with

too many deformed births,lack of potent seed, and anangry husband or two. Fromthe tale came the saying thatwomen were the precursor toany man’s downfall, but alsothat a good woman couldmake a man stronger. ToWinslow,aman’sfailurebeganwith bad judgmentcompoundedbyalackofcoin.

Enraptured, severalnobles watched the play,

dressed in fine jackets andtrousers or silk dresses linedwithembroidery.Theyseldomclapped for anything, but thepatter of their applauseresonateddownthehall.

ElainaShenenwasamongthem, her dress gold andbluewith a split down the middlefrombreasttoankle,revealingsilver satin with intricate, redscrollwork underneath. Shewas all curves and curls: her

body, her lips, the way shewalked, and the black tressesthat fell down her back.Winslow shook his head. Nomatterwhathisfathersaid,hewasn’t marrying that girl. Hehadnofeelingsforherbeyonda warming of his loins whenshewasnear, the scentofherperfume a sweet allure. He’dindulgedafewtimes,butsucha revelation would cause itsownsetofissues.

When he drew hisattention away from the play,he was standing before thehallway to the count’schambers. A man strodetoward him, sporting a nosethat overshadowed the rest ofhis face, dark hair in coiledbraids, and a complexion thatstopped short of nobility. ADarshanese, if Winslow’smemory served him right.Cloak aflutter, a small golden

swordprominent onhis lapel,thestrangerbypassedWinslowwithoutanyacknowledgement.Seeing a Blade leave hisfather’s quarters madeWinslowwishtobeone,whileat the same time he despisedthemanforbeingadreg.

Withasigh,henoddedtothe yellow-uniformed guardsstationed on each side of thefoyer and headed to themassive,oakdoubledoors.He

stood before the entrancepondering if he should enter.Whorls and carvings in thewood depicted two menfighting with fire. Scalescovered their bodies. Theywere Dracodar: the originalmelders, the strongest soulmagiciansthateverlived.Mostthought them extinct. Hisfatherbelievedafewstilllived.

After sneaking into hisfather’s study, he understood

thecount’sobsessionwiththerace.According tohis father’snotesandbooks,legendhaditthat one could gain aDracodar’s attributes byingesting their flesh,blood,ordonning their scales. Nearimpenetrable, a Dracodar’sscales were harder than thestrongest metals and moremalleable. However, thereports of the creature’ssightings were questionable.

Most were rumors. None ofthemdissuadedCountCardifffromhispursuit.

Taking a deep breath,Winslowknockedonthedoor.Moments passed in silence.For the first time, he noticedhe still reeked of the Smear’sstench.Hehesitated,butitwasalready too late to turn away.Tohellwithit,hewillhavetounderstand.

“Enter,”theCount’sdeep

voicecalledfrominside.Winslowpushedopenthe

door. Mosquitoes buzzed athim, andhe shooed themoff.He hated the damned things.Theyseemedtotaketoomuchof a liking to him. He eventhought his father enjoyedwatching him bat at them.Once,hesworehesawasmilesteal across the count’s face.Why his father kept hiswindows open and curtains

tied at dusk was beyondWinslow.Ifhehadhisway,hewould have closed them longbefore the insects gathered toinvade the chambers. Theywere a nuisance, alightingthemselves on any exposedskin to feed. As the thoughtcrossedhismind,heslappedatonewhere it pricked the backofhishand.

Smokeroseinwispsfromincense around the room. Its

sweetaromamingledwiththatfromscentedcandles.Sittingatatablewithalampilluminatinghis many books and paperswas his father, Count AinslenCardiff. At times like these,when deep into his studies, aperson might mistake thecount for being anything butan able-bodied, demanding,and dangerousman.With thehorn-rimmed glasses on hisnose, he appearedmore like a

professorthanawarrior;moresome librarian or assistantrather than one of the mostaccomplished and deadliestmelders outside of the King’sBlades.

People often saidWinslow didn’t havemuch ofhis father in him. Some evenwent so far as to spread vilerumorsthatCountCardiffwasnothisfather,statingMarjoriehad stepped out on him. Of

course, they refrained fromsuchstatementsinpublic.Thereportofsucharumorhadleftmorethanonemanorwomandead.Hisfather’sreactionwasthe main reason people werecareful not to mention hisdeceased mother or brotherwithin earshot of the count.Referringtotheminthewronglight or in any way deemedinappropriate sent his fatherinto a rage. Count Cardiff

seldom spoke of them toWinslow. And when he did,his words were steeped inmelancholy. On more thanone occasion, Winslow hadheard his father mutter theirnameswhileasleep.

Winslow still recalled theonetimeseveralyearsagothathe’d asked after his motherand Kenslen. Count Cardiffhad broken his ribs. Heshuddered to think of seeing

that murderous glare in thecount’seyesagain.

As far as looks went,Winslow could see why somefolk thought theway they didregardless of howpreposterous the idea was tohim.Where his hair was longand obsidian, the count’s wascropped short, brown andcurly.Winslowalsodidn’thavequite thesame lightskin tone.His shadewasa touchdarker.

Some claimed it to be a traitfrom his mother’s ancestors.But the two things he felt hehadincommonwiththecountwere his height and his greeneyes.

“It tookyou longenoughtoknockonmydoor. Icouldsmell you from here.” Noseupturned, the count gingerlyraised a yellowed piece ofvellum to the light andinspected its contents,

straininghiseyes.“I was somewhat lost in

thought.” If he’d rememberedhis father’s ability to senseanyone nearby, Winslowwould have presented himselfsooner.

“So you survived theSmear,” the Count said, toneoneofdisinterest.“IguessthismeansI’llhavetoappointyoutoaBlade.”

“IfyouthinkI’mworthy.”

“Thatdoesn’tmatternow,doesit?”

Winslowsaidnothing.Hepreferred not to appearenthusiastic lest the countchangehismindforthejoyofseeinghimbeg.

“Well, did you findanyoneor anythingof interesttoreport?”

“No. Several from theSnake’s guild set a trap, butsomeshopkeeperaidedus.He

letusthroughhisstore.”Shadowsflittedacrossthe

count’s face as he frowned.“Whywouldhedothat?”

“He didn’t relish the ideaof another riot or for theBladestoraidhishome.”

“Smart man. I’mdisappointed though. I madesure the guilds knew you andGaston were both counts’sons. I would have expectedthemtousethatinformation.”

Winslowfelthiseyebrowsclimb his forehead. Hebrushed away a natteringmosquito.

“Oh, do not look at melike that.Youwerebothquitesafe.DoyouthinkIwouldrisksomething happening to myonlyheir?Ihadmenstationedwithin the Smear. Still, youweren’t supposed toenter.Tobehonest,youweren’t totakethe Trial at all.” For the first

time the count met his gaze,eyes unyielding. “Yourmother’s fate couldhavebeenyours.”

It took all of Winslow’swill not to fidgetor showanyreaction under that heatedglare. “Why didn’t you havethemhelpusthen?”

“Did I send you into theSmear? No? Besides any helpfrommewouldhavedefeatedthe point of you going there.

My people lost you in one ofthosewretchedlanesanyway.”

“And you weren’tworried?”

“I didn’t say that, butshowing my concern aroundthe other counts would havebeenconsideredaweakness.”

Winslow smirked. A littlebolderforAinslen’sadmission,he said, “And you cannotafford that,canyou?”All thatever seemed to matter to his

father was their preciousreputation in the eyes of thecourt.

“Most certainly not,” thecount replied with a shake ofhishead.“Theydidmentionayoung boy trailing you twousing the rooftops, but Icounted on you being able tohandle one child. I’d hate tothink all the years having youbothtutoredinswordmanshipandtouchingyoursoulwentto

waste. Unless a person youencounteredhaddevelopedanactual melding ability, theywould not be able to beateither of you, much less bothatonce.”

It was an offhanded andindirect compliment, butWinslow had become used tohis father’s unwillingness togive him praise. Too muchpampering made a man soft.Glorify him and he stops

trying. Winslow didn’t allowhimself to relax or feed intohis father’swords,keepinghisfaceblank.

“The boy you mentionhelped us get into the storethrough which we escaped,”Winslow said. The admissionalmostmadehimcringe.

“Some would construethatasaviolationofthetest.”

“We didn’t ask for hisaid,”Winslowprotested.“Nor

didhephysically assist us in afight.”

“Well, that’s something, Iguess.” Ainslen shrugged.“Still, I wouldn’t reveal it toanyoneifIwereyou.Actasifitneverhappened.”

“Andifitcomesout?”“Deny it. We cannot

afford such a blemish. UsCardiffshavetheoldesttenureamong the Hills. We are asconstantasMandrigalhimself,

risingtoruleeachday,despitefallingatdusk.”CountCardiffdrew the God of Rebirth’striangular prayer sign on hisforehead. “Remember thatevery time you feel hiswarmth. Nothing and no onemust stand in the way of usreachingevenhigher.Mistakessuch as the one made todaycouldcostus.”

Winslowbowedhishead,notonlyatthementionofthe

God, but also to appearsufficientlychastised.Ifhehadhis way, politics would be ofno concern to him. But hedidn’t.Itwasasmuchapartofhis life as the air he breathed.Not wanting his father to goon one of his tirades, heremained silent, waiting fordismissal,butnonecame.Thecount appeared lost inthought. Relieved, Winslowwaited.

“Iwassosuretheywouldsee this as an opportunity notto pass up,” the countmuttered to himself. “So whydo nothing? What are youplanningnow?Icannotaffordfor anything to interfere withour day.” He shook his headandfocusedonWinslowoncemore. “Anyway, I will decidewhich Blade you willapprentice under in a day ortwo,butdonotgetyourhopes

too high. You will learn thebasicsandnothingmore.”

“Yes, Count Cardiff.”Winslowturnedtoleave.

“Oh,beforeIforget,havea messenger sent to AntelenHill. Tell Gaston I wish tospeaktohimimmediately.”

Winslow merely nodded.He’d already gone over theirstory with his friend. Thecount would discover nothingnew about Keedar. And he’d

findawaytoconvincetheboytoteachhimallheknew.

PowerinBlood

Count Cardiff watched

his son leave.When the doorclickedshutbehindtheboy,hestood, strode across the lushcarpets, and peered out theclosed windows. To his leftand right the Ten Hills andtheir individual mansionsspread before him, each oneseveral miles apart. They

circled the temples dedicatedto the Dominion, and thesoaring, granite, limestone,brick and mortar structure ofthe Grey Fist, the old king’spalace.Engineers andmeldershad built each mansion uponman-made inclines severalhundred feet high and leveledoff at the apexes. Below thecounts’ homes wereKasandar’s minor noblehouses, each avilla in itsown

right. As spectacular as theview of the lighted spiderwebof streets and edifices here inthe noble district was, theGolden Spires adopted byKingJemareforhisnewhomeshamed them all. Their glowdominated the skyline to theeast.

Ainslen ground his teeth.He’d climbed from armsman,tosoldier,toKing’sBlade,toamember of King Tolquan’s

court before Jemare, then acount, took the man’s headand his crown. That was theway of succession, theway ofthe game. Futures weredecided not only throughpolitics, but also by might,blood, and violence. Ainslenhimself had killed his ownfather to assume the rule ofMandrigal Hill. But he was acount, when he should beking. Unless he drastically

increased his position andpowerfarbeyondwhathenowpossessed,hetoowoulddietoadagger,poison, anarrow,ora sword, long before he grewgrey or held the title he sorichlydeserved.

Turning away from thewindow, he inhaled deeply,savoringthegingerspicescentofthe incenseheburned.Thesmoke chased the manymosquitoes from their homes

inthetwobucketsofstagnantwater beneath the rearwindows, leadingthemtowardthe door where the wispslessened. Tempted as he wasto savor what they’d gorgedthemselves on, he let theinsects be for now.Hewouldhave time enough to enjoytheminprivacy.

“So, what do you think,Shaz?” Count Cardiff focusedon the shadows near the

largest bookshelf across theroom.

The shadows shiftedslightly,takingonasolidform.If he chose to strain his eyes,he would be able to see theman hidden there before hebecame visible to the nakedeye.Buthe chose to conservehis energy instead. Plus, hepreferred to keep his abilitiesas a surprise. A precautionshould Shaz change allegiance

one day. With his knack fordetermining a person’sstrengths and weaknesses, theassassinwas too dangerous toever trust completely. Ainslensmirked. Betting on Shaz’sloyalty was like putting awounded deer in front of awolf and expecting the beastnot to attack. It was a losingproposition. But theman hadhis uses, some of themindispensableforthemoment.

Shaz stepped from theshadows like a black cloakunfurling. The act madeAinslen suppress a sigh.Alwaysonewithaflairforthedramatic, Shaz bowed, darkhair spilling from the hood’sedges.Whenheraisedhisheadto meet Ainslen’s gaze, theassassin’s eyes glinted in thedark.

“Enough already,”Ainslen said through clenched

teeth. “If I wanted aperformance, I’d send forFelius. Now, answer myquestion.”

Shaz made a sweepingbow. “As you wish, yourlordship.” He threw back hishoodtorevealhisscarredfaceand drooping eye. The othereye carried the acute slantattributedtoMarishmen.“Theboywaslying.”

“Well, I knew that

already.”“Did you also know he’s

grown stronger? Muchstronger?”

Ainslenpressedhislipsina tight line. His siphoninghadn’t indicated any suchchangeinWinslow.

“Ah,”Shazsaid,“soyourlittle insectshaven’tmadeyouawareofthechange.”

This time, Ainslen barelymanaged to hide any hint of

surprise at Shaz’s deduction,keeping his expression flat.Shaz’s knowledge of themosquitoes was troubling andwouldhavetobedealtwithindue course. For now, heneeded to discover exactlyhow much Winslow haddeveloped. “Do not worryyourlittleheadoverthem.Tellmewhatyousaw.”

“Very well. His essencehas collected in amounts to

matchsomeonethreetimeshisage who have never tappedinto its depths.” Shaz claspedhis hands. “His sintu is thickenough that if he knew how,he could tell when a personnear him touches their ownenergy. By the look of things,he’ll only become morepowerful. Maybe enough torivalhisbrother.”

The underlying tone andthe way Shaz eyed him gave

the count pause. The assassinwas too smart for his owngood. Out of habit, Ainslenglanced at thepicture hangingnearthehearth.

Marjorie.Thethoughtofhiswife sent a shiver throughhis body. Easing his eyesclosed, he inhaled deeply tocalm himself. Far’an Senjinwas unforgiving, but to havethe light she’d brought to hislife cut short by a former

King’s Blade was inexcusable.Ever since that day, he’dsworn vengeance. And hewould have it. The momentwas so close he could almosttasteit.

In thepast,hisdaysweretornbetween regret for losingherandwhathe’dgained.ToobadKenslendiedsoyoung,hisbodyandmindtoofragile.

The count sifted throughShaz’s words. Winslow’s

development might mean hecouldn’t touch the boy’s soulwithout his knowledge. Amore than worryingpredicament.

“Tell me, Shaz, is thereanythingyoudonotsee?”

“If I missed much, Iwouldn’t be such a covetedman.”

The smug tilt to Shaz’slips spokeof theMarishman’sarrogance. It was his flaw.

Although not of noble birth,Shaz was so absorbed in thegame, so wrapped up in themanywayshisemployersusedhim, thathe thoughthecouldmatch wits and blades withanyone. Such a belief wouldget him killed one day.However, today was not thatday.

“I need you to keep aneye on Winslow. Find out asmuch as you can about this

boy he met.” Ainslen hadalways suspected there wouldbe others like his son. Notencountering any since thewomantheydiscoveredduringthe Night of Blades hadn’tconvinced him they werenonexistent. The absencemadehimmorewary.

“Yes,yourlordship.”“Now, what news from

AntelenHill?”“Count Rostlin’s been

musteringasmuchfundsashecan. He’s sent traders all theway to Thelusia, Marissinia,andback.He’salsogarneredapartnership, or at least thepromise of one, with HouseHumelandHouseKeneshin.”

Ainslen nodded as hecontemplated the situation.“So he’s gathered quite aforce.”

“Yes, apparently evenCardintonwas interestedfora

time.”“Really? What

happened?”Shaz shrugged. “My

people don’t know for sure,but it seemsCardintonwasn’toverly impressed when hevisited.”

Ainslen tilted his head,frowning. “Cardinton is moreinterested in soul than anyoffer of a position besidewhomever wins come

Succession Day. For amoment, I was worried thatKestahadsomepoorbastardsstashedawayorhadcompleteda raid.”He paused, scratchingat his chin. “Still let’s notoverlookanypossibilities.Thesooner Imake certain Shenenhasnomoves leftbut tokeephisword,thebetter.IcanswayRostlin soonafter.Theotherswillfollow.”

First, he would need to

retrieve his prize. Along theway he’d discover this boy’sidentity and exactly whatthreat, if any, the Consortiumposed.Hesmiled.“Thankyou,Shaz.Youmayleavenow.Oh,andbeforeyoufollowmyson,visit High Priest Jarod. Tellhim I have a need for hisservices.”

With a flourish, Shazbowed and strode from theroom.

Afteronelastlookaroundthe room to ensure all was inplace,Ainslenputonhishorn-rimmed glasses, gathered hiscloakatthedoor,andthrewitover his shoulders. The timehad come to pay his respectstoKingJemareandarrangeforWinslow’sapprenticeship.

A mosquito buzzed byhim, its sac laden with blood.A faint glow surrounded theinsect.Grinning,hesnatchedit

fromtheairandpoppeditintohismouth.He closedhis eyesandwaitedfortheeuphoria.

The Golden Spiresstretched like gilded needlespiercing the clear night sky,their forms stark against thehuge silver disc that wasAntelen. On nights like thiswhen the moon was at itsfullest, the king’s homewas asight to behold. The ten

towers were all a part of onebuilding dedicated to theDominion. Built by Marishengineers, each one a meldercapable of placing a piece oftheir souls into an object tostrengthen it, they were acombinationofgranite,quartz,and polished steel withprecious metals worked in.The skill employed by theengineerswasoriginallysaidtohave belonged to the ebony-

skinnedThelusians,butgettinga Thelusian to work as acommon laborer was liketrying to catch the wind inone’s hand. They refused tobuild for any but their ownpeople, and warred with theslant-eyed Marishmencenturies ago over what theysawasstolenabilities.

Murder holes dotted thebulwark around the massivegate andportcullis that served

as the entrance into thegrounds. A guardacknowledgedAinslenwithfisttoheartashepassed through.Ainslen was the only oneseeking passage; all othervisitors having been turnedawayfortheday.Acoolwindcarriedthesoundsoftheever-vigilantarchersontheirroundsatopthewalls.

The count strode downthemaincauseway,whichsplit

offintoadozenotheravenues.Expansive courtyards, largerthan most farmers’ fields,surrounded the towers and itsshining walls. Paved withflagstones and interconnectedby colonnades, all but fouryards were practice areas forthe King’s Blades. Beautiful,manicured gardens, gurglingfountains, and exquisitesculptures occupied thosefour. Each statue was a gift

from a kingdom within theKasinianEmpire.

Clad in leatherarmor, thefew Blades who were visiblestood guard along onecolonnadeoranotherorattheentrances to variouscourtyards.Soldiers inredandblue uniforms patrolled thegrounds. The sounds oftrainingechoedfromtheotherareasthatwerehiddenbywallsand columns. Morning, noon,

or nightmattered notwhen itcametotheartoffighting.

Ainslen knew better thanto think his arrival had goneunannounced.Asifreadinghisthoughts,oneofKingJemare’spersonalattendants,dressedinall gold, hurried down thestairs that led into the spires’pristinecorridors.

“The king bids you awarm welcome, CountCardiff,” the servant said,

bobbing his head. “He awaitsyou in theMandrigalWing. Ifyouwillfollowme?”

“Leadon.”As they passed through

the halls with their paneledwood ceilings, walls sprinkledwith precious metals, murals,paintings, and varioushangings, Ainslencontemplatedhisvisit.HeandJemare had been friends backwhentheywerebotharmsmen

at the start ofKingTolquan’srule. Their competition beganthen, lasting until they bothbecame Blades, and thenJemare earned the title ofcount.ButasJemare’sstarhadcontinued to rise with hismeldingskillsandthevictorieshe secured for the empire,AinslenhadremainedaBlade.When Jemare ascended to thethrone,andAinslensavedhimfromthespirit-likeHeleganese

assassins, they had enjoyedanother spurt of closefriendship for a brief time.Thatlasthadcomeatthecostof Ainslen taking MandrigalHill from his father who hadsenttheassassins.

Thepriceonlygrew.EversinceMarjorie’s death and thediscoverieshemadeafterward,Ainslen had chosen to keephimself apart from the kingandmostofhisaffairs.Hestill

attended the balls and paidbetter tribute than most toensureheremainedinJemare’sgoodgraces.

Inallthat,hehadnoneedto ask formuch from Jemare.He touched the king’s honorbadge where it hung from astringaroundhisneck,hiddenbyhisclothes.Noteventousethespecialauthoritygrantedtohim by saving Jemare’s life.But nowWinslow had forced

his hand. Of course Jemarewould not deny his request,but having to approach himannoyedAinslen.

Two Blades stood atattentioninsidethedoor,theireyes ever vigilant. They saidnothing as he entered theMandrigal Wing with itsmultitude of windowsspanning up the spire, thetwinkle of celestial bodies ablackandsilvertapestryabove.

Mirrorsreflectedandincreasedthemoon’sluminanceinsilverswaths.The sweetperfumeofflowersblooming in themanygardens filled the air. Waterbubbled from severalfountains.

Attheroom’scenter, inahalo of moonbeams as if hewere sent from Antelenherself, was King Jemare. Hewas a large man, all boulder-sized shoulders and carved

stone for a chest. Hisimmaculate silver coat withgoldscrollworkdownthesidemadehimappearalmostlikeadiamond held up to the light.With his head bent in prayer,neat silver braids falling downhis back, one could bemistakenintothinkingthekingwas not already aware ofAinslen’s presence. UntilJemare lifted his head,regardingAinslenwithpiercing

grey eyes before beckoninghimforward.

Ainslen took a deepbreath and set off down theflagstonedwalkway.Not oncedid he avert his gaze. Jemarewaswaryofanyonewhocouldnotlookhimintheeye.

“It’s good to see youagain, Ainslen.” Jemare gavehimawelcomingsmile.

Ainslen bowed from thewaist.“Same,sire.”

“None of that here.”Jemare stepped forward andclasped his forearm. “Walkwith me.” The king releasedhimandbegan tostridedownthepathbetween the gardens.“I find it refreshing how thiswing was created for the sunbut serves almost as good apurpose for the moon. Itremindsme that one can findunexpected uses out ofsituations. We have been

through much together, butthese last few years you havekept yourself apart. It worriesmesometimes.”

As it should, Ainslenthought as he strode next toJemare. “You’ve been busyrunningtheempire,andwellIhave had other duties toattend.”

“Therewasatimepoliticswould not stop you fromvisiting.”

Ainslenwantedtotellhimitwassomuchmorethanthat,butherefrainedfromdredgingup Marjorie’s memory.“Change happens for all ofus.”

“I suppose it does,”Jemare said. “Loss can dothings to man, none of thempleasant.”

Ainslen nodded hisagreement. After Joaquin’sdeathJemarehadgrownintoa

differentperson.Oncepatient,understanding, andcompassionate,hehadbecomeharder,moreruthless,andlessforgiving.

“Tellme,”thekingstaredhimdirectly intheface,“whathappened to us, to ourfriendship?”

AinslenmetJemare’sgazewithout flinching. “Youbecame king. It changedeverything. You know as well

as I that it’s simply the wayKasinia is, the way it hasalwaysbeen.”

“Imisstheolddays,”thekingsaidwearily.

“As do I.” Ainslenrecalled the times spentwomanizing together, sparringwith each other, planningstrategy and fighting battlesalongside each other. Theirrelationship changed in theyears leadingup toSuccession

Day during King Tolquan’sreign. Already dangerous,Jemare grew insatiable in hisneed for power until he tookthe crown. When he marriedTerestere,Ainslenthoughtherbeauty and demeanor wouldbringbackhisoldfriend.Howwronghe’dbeen.

“IwishIknewwhatcoulddivert the path we’re setupon,”Jemaresaid.

“As long as the guilds

have their freedom and wefollow Far’an Senjin, ourhistorywill continue to repeatitself.”

“Youhavealwaysblamedour troubles on the Game ofSouls. Perhaps, you are right.However, itasmuchapartofus as theConsortium and theDay of Accolades. We mightdislike certain things, but notonly are they a necessity, theyshapeus.”

“That shape at timesbecomessomethingugly.”

Thekingstoppedbeforearose bush its thorny vinescrawling up a trellis. He drewinadeepbreathas ifsavoringthe red blooms’ tantalizingaroma.“Andsometimeswithinthatuglinessspringsathingofbeauty. Like Terestere, likeJoaquin.”

Ainslencouldnothelptheheat that crawled up inside

him. “At what cost?” hewhispered,hisvoicehoarse.

“I-I’m sorry for whathappened—”Jemarebegan.

“Don’t…what’s done isdone. You had your chance.You’re the king, you couldhave stopped it, changed theTrial, transformed the game,decided how we lived.” Thememoryburned.

“Listen to yourself.”Jemarewasonceagainpeering

into his face, eyes pleading.“You are saying that I couldhave stoppedhowwe’ve livedfor a thousand years. It’s likewishing a mountain wouldsprout legs and move awaybecause you wish to pass orfortheKheridisianstoloveus.If I tried what you asked, itwould mean slaughtering allthehouses as they standnow,yours included. Is that whatyouwish?Even if I tried, the

entire land would rise againstme. I learned that early inmyreign.Wemight rule, but ourpeople are a strongone.Theyoften have the final say. Wemadethemso.”

Ainslen rememberedhowhe and Jemare would discussthe changes they’d make ifeither of them ever won thecrown.None of that came topass. As overpowering as thekingwas,asindomitableashis

will had been, he’d fallen intothe same old patterns, boughtinto the same old traditions.And it had taken Ainslen’sfamily. The count ground hisjaw.

As if seeing the pain andanger in his face, the kingdidnotforcetheissue.“Sowhatisit that brings you to metoday?”

“My son. Youmust haveheardbynow.”

“Ah, yes, the Trial ofBravery.Youmustbeproud.”

“If I had my way, hewouldn’thavetakenthetest.”

“But he did, and hepassed.You’reherenowtoaskfor him to beginapprenticeship with theBlades.” Jemare pursed hislips. “I could have himadvancedthroughtherankstobeginactualsoultraining.”

“No,” Ainslen said, “he

muststartasanyother.IntheGreyFist.”

Jemare’s brow creasedwithlines.“Areyourcertain?”

“Yes.”“Fine. I shall have him

assigned to the Fist before Ileave to meet with theThelusian and Marishmonarchs to address therumorsofaFarlanderfleet.”

“Thank you.” Ainslenknew the king must have

thoughtitstrangetorefusetheoffer, but the memory ofMarjorietoldhimthatkeepingWinslow where he couldalwayshaveaneyeonhimwasfor the best. Only theDominionknewwhatJemare’sintentions might be if hebecame aware of Winslow’sgrowth.

“I can almost understandwhy you wouldn’t want yourson to become a Blade, but

look at you and I, Ainslen.Forget the wars, we survivedallthoseyearsspentmelding.”

“Perhaps. But who is tosaytheDominionwillshineonhim as they did us? We, andthe few like us, were theexception,nottherule.”

“True,” Jemare said, “butchoicesoffatehaveeverbeenin Hazline’s hands. My oneregret is the children we lose.There are too many born

without a strong enough gift.So many reduced to invalidsand cremated.And then thereare the others, the onesinducedtoofastwhoburnouttheir souls. It’s becominghardertomaintainthearmies.”

Ainslen knew only toowell. “Have you considereddeclaringwaronKheridisiaoroneofthewesternlands?”

“Yes, but first I mustassessthisnewthreat.”

“Then I say scour theSmear.”

“Bah, you and yourobsessionwiththeplace.Theyalreadysubmitwhat theyhavetous.No.Iwillorderabiggertribute from around theempire.Thatshouldsufficefornow.” The king’s thickeyebrows drew together.“Well, if you will excuse me,Ainslen, I fear my attendantswish to prepare me for my

trip. You know foreign rulers… having to answer to memakes themno less impatient.Ishallleavetheorderforyourson as I pass the Grey Fist.WhenIreturn,don’tbesuchastranger,oldfriend.Bringyourboy for me to see. He’ssixteen, correct? He must bequitetheyoungmanbynow.”

“As you wish, sire.”Ainslen gave Jemare asweeping bow and left.

Winslowwouldnevermeetthekingifhecouldhelpit.

InvitationtoHunt

Two days later, a bit

past noon, Keedar easilypicked out Gaston onCobbler’s Lane, the streetadjacenttoDeadman’sGap.Amember of the Red Beggarguild, scarlet scarf around hisneckmatchingthatonhisarm,bowedprofusely to the youngnoble.Unlikethefirstmeeting,

Gaston rode a majesticchestnut stallion, certainly awarhorse of some typeconsidering its temperament.Twoguards in burnishedmailcleared a path through thethrongofpatronsontheirwayto partake in the deals andblack market items the plazaprovided. People shiftedaround Gaston and his menlikeripplesinapond.

The young noble stood

out. Not that they weren’tother well-to-do folk:merchants, bare-chested ship’scaptains, a coach flying thecolors of some lesser house,decently ranked soldiers andthe like, but they paled incomparison to Gaston’s laceand silk, hiswhite derin cloakhanging from his shoulders.Clothing made quite adifference even on one asbonyashim.

Afteradjustinghis leathergreaves and gloves, Keedarslipped across several roofsand shimmied down a wall atthe Smear’s edge. The twoguards gave eachother a lookand a smirk as Keedarapproached. Trying to appearas nonthreatening as possible,he kept his steps even,unhurried. He stopped whenthe closest guard leveled aspear squarely at his chest. A

hole through his gutwouldn’tdowellforhisdigestionorhisheartforthatmatter.

“Lord Rostlin, might thisdregbe theone you’re after?”The guard behind the spearoffered a lopsided grin thatsenthispockmarkedfacefromugly to the better part ofhideous.

Gaston wheeled hismount with a grace that saidhe’d been riding from birth.

Perhapshe’dbeen spatoutofhis mother’s womb on thedamned thing. With his faceclean, the young noblemanmade quite the picture. Whathe lacked in size, hemade upforinlooks.Hisskinwasabitpaler shade than Keedar’sown. Curly hair lay across hisbrow.Whenhe swept it fromhis eyes, he made a simplemotion seem sublime. Hecrackedasmile,revealingteeth

thatpracticallyglowedwhite.Warning bells, like those

usedwhen therewas a fire inthe Smear, tolled in Keedar’shead.He almost turned away.How hemanaged to stay andreturn Gaston’s grin wouldhave made his father beamwithpride.

“Keedar,” Gastonexclaimed over thesurroundingchatter,“sogladIfound you.”Hewaved to the

guard who lowered hisweapon.

No, I found you. Keedardippedhis head. “Howmay Ihelp…mylord?”

“How would you like toaccompany us into theParmien? Winslow and a fewclosefriendsarewaiting.”

“Me?” Keedar arched aneyebrow.

“I know no one elsearoundhere.”Gastonstillhad

that infectious smile. “Youhaveyourdoubtsaboutus,butwebothoweyou.Agoodtimeis the least we can offer.Besides, I remember youmentioned something about aderin.We’regoingtohuntoneofthebeasts.Itwillbefun.”

“Fun? Derin hunting isdangerous sport. It takes acertainkindofskilltoevengetclosetooneofthem.Thatisifyou don’t end up as fodder

yourself.”“Therewill be enough of

ustoreduceanyrisk.”“In that case,” Keedar

said, “you’re forgetting onething.”

“Oh?”Keedar glanced from

Gaston’s horse and then backtotheboy’sface.

“Ah. Meet us at theKeneshin—I mean the WestGate, we’ll have a mount for

youthere.”Keedar smiled at the

correction. For a moment heconsidered telling Gaston hecouldn’t ride. Before he couldutter a word, Gaston slappedhis reins and rodeaway.Aftergiving Keedar the once over,theguardsfollowed.

With a sigh, Keedarwatched until he lost them inthecrowds.Onedidn’tdenyanoble, and Gaston wasn’t

asking for his presence. Heexpectedit.

As he worked his wayback into the Smear, Keedarrelieved a peddler of a carrot,and took to the roofs oncemore. He traversed towardKasandar’s western outskirtswith its ramparts the color ofdriedblood.Using thebronzeand blackened steel spires ofCorten’s Shrine for guidance,he leaped over the spaces

between the haphazardbuilding layouts until heattainedhisgoal.

Whenhisapproachgainedseveral archers’ attention, heshimmied down a drain a fewhundred feet from the wall.The last thing he needed wasto put them on edge or riskending up a pincushion.Joggingtherestof thewayhesoon reached the district neartheKeneshinGate.

Intotal,Kasandarhadtengates along the hundred-foottall bulwark surrounding thecitadel. Each represented aGod or Goddess and theircorresponding Heaven withinthe pantheon of theDominion. Some folk jokedthat the Keneshin, Mandrigal,and Humel Gates, all locatedclose to the Smear, shouldeachberenamedtomatchtheTen Purgatories ruled by the

GodoftheAfterlife,Desitrin.The lecturers Father

employed insisted Keedarlearn as much of Kasinia’sreligions as its past. He oftenwondered how suchknowledge benefited himconsidering his lack of status.Fatherwouldalwaysreplythatknowledgeseparatedthelivingfromthedead.

Thissectionofthecitadelreflected the civilizations that

came to prominence datingback to the Fabled Era. Thedifferences, stark and subtle,were another reason heenjoyed the rooftops. Fromthem, thecitadel’sgrowthwaslaid bare, wood becomingstone, stone becoming metal,ruinbecomingrebirth.Ancientarchitecture gave Kasandar itscharacter—from giantbronzeworks, to stone arches,to towering statues of Gods

and Hell’s Angels, the latteroften defaced by those whoconsideredthemblasphemous.Amonolithic clock tower, thetimepiece in the form ofexposedgears,stoodoutinthedistance near several goldentowers whose structuresstretched up into the sky likegiganticneedles.Legendhaditthat Hazline, the God of theFates and the Thirty-twoWinds, and Antelen, the

Goddess of Time and Tide,createdtheclock.Ifheweretobelievethezealots.

The Golden Spires, KingJemare’shome,fascinatedhim.The slant-eyed Marishmen,who inhabited the BloodedDaggerMountains to the eastand believed the higher theybuilt the closer they were tothe Gods, raved about thetowers. In contrast were thestark, black, Thelusian

structures, square and squat, adirect opposite to the race’ssizethatspreadformilesfromthe spires. Supposedly, themidnight-skinned people usedtheirsoulsduringconstruction.Some said their homes werealive. Once, Keedar had triedto find proof, venturing closeto their houses, but the senseof foreboding they gave offmadehimturnback.Caughtinthe moment, he let his gaze

rove. Kasandar offered athousand stories spanningthrough eras that left it withsilver buildings, red basaltwalls, and glass coverededifices in the richest districtsdown to the ramshackle blotoftheSmear.Ifonlyhecouldsitandlistentothemall.

“Youthere,dreg.”The word and rough yet

commanding voice cutthrough his thoughts. He

almost shot back a scathingresponsebeforeherealizedhehad crossed the Smear’sborders.

Soldiers lined the roadsleading from the district,keeping an eye out for anywhomightbecriminals.Fromtime to time they referred todrawings they carried. Morethanone stopped topeer intoaRedBeggar’s facewhere theguildmembersat,pleadingfor

alms.Keedarhadstolensuchapaintingonce.Picturedon thecanvaswas a dark-hairedmanwithmultipleknifescarsacrosshis cheeks and a womanwithtingesofsilver inherhair,hereyes amber jewels, remindinghim of his own. She and themancouldhavefitrightintheSmear.Hewonderedwhowasdepictedonthewantedpostersnow.

Keedarrecognizedoneof

the guards. He often saw themanonhisweeklytripintotheforest with Father. The guarddidn’t bother to look at hisdrawing. Instead, he gaveKeedar a nod andwaved himby.

The streets here in theGreyWardweren’tascrowdedas those along RockbottomPlaza. This section heldnothing of real value unlessonewanted to strip oldwood

and rotted bricks from abuilding. Or hire theoccasional whore. However,the purveyors of flesh whofrequented this area weren’tthe prettiest. Keedar couldn’thelphislipstwitchingwiththethought. These whores wereveritable hags: gap-toothed,more fat than curves,disheveled, wrinkly, scarred,and stink. They couldmake amansavorthewharfs.

Weaving his way throughbackalleys,hereachedthegatein short order. Set into thewall’s basalt and granitesurface, the structure loomedbeforehim,allgreymetalwithrusty traces near the joints. Ithadtobeatleastfortyfeettalland thirty wide. Soldierspatrolledon thewall above it.Hecouldmakeouttheconicalhelmsof severalotherswithinthe towers to each side.

Inspectors rummaged throughthe contents of any patronentering the citadel. Thiscreatedalinethatstretchedforsome ways outside and alongthe Parmien Road. Thoseleavinggotnothingmorethanacursoryglance.

IfKeedarthoughtGastonwas dashing, when he sawWinslow,hecouldn’thelpbutgawk. In blue to match theclearest summer sky, he sat

upon a dark bay gelding, itscoat as immaculate as itsmaster’s clothing, its chestdeep. Silver scrollworkadorned his sleeves. Keedarschooledhisfacetocalm.Wastheboygoingtohuntor toaball?To kill a beast or stealkissesfromit?Leave it tothenobles to make a hunt lookpretty.Winslowbarelymethiseyesbeforecontinuing tochattoayoungmanwhodabbedat

hispudgyfaceregularly.Beingignored annoyed Keedar, buthe said nothing and showedless.

Anotheryoungman,whodwarfedthemareherode,heldGaston’s attention. FromwhereKeedarstoodhecaughtawhiffofwhateverscentstheywore.He suppressedagrinasthe imageof themstanding ina mirror crossed his mind,maids fussing over them,

getting them all nice andflowery.Theywereallfools.Aderinwouldsmellthemamileaway. The only ones whoappeared remotely ready tohunt were the spear-wieldingguards.

Conscious of his ownappearance,andthesweathe’daccumulated during his run,Keedar found himselfsmoothinghisclothing.Anactthatbroughtchortlesfromthe

nobles. He cursed at himselfunderhisbreath.

“Rellin,” Gaston noddedto Pudgy, “Harmon, meetKeedar.”

Keedar bobbed his headtoeachinturn.“Mylords,”hemuttered.

Their gazes said theythought as much of him asthey would a speck of dirt.Thenagain,judgingfromtheirdress, a little soil would be

bothersome. Or it mightactually do them some good.Well,hewouldshowthem.

“Your mount.” Gastongesturedtoadun.

Shorter than the others,the horse waited patiently. Itdidn’t prance or roll its eyeswhen Keedar approached. Hewalked around the animal,handsathis sides, takingnoteof the sturdy legs and thepronounced withers. Round,

brown eyeswatching, the dunsnorted.Keedarsteppedcloserandallowedtheanimaltosniffhim.Once he was certain thehorse had his scent good andproper, he reached into hispocket and produced thecarrot.A glint lit its eyes as itnuzzled his hand, and thentook the morsel. Keedarstroked its neck. When herubbeditschestanddownthesides, the dun was chewing

away, ignoring him. Keedardidn’t need to look up to tellall eyes were on him; he feltthem.Hesmiledwithhisbackstill to them before hestraightened his face.Withoutaword, he swung up into thesaddlewithease.

“Whenever you’re ready,mylords,”hesaidasseriousasa preaching wiseman. Thelooks he received were thingsofbeauty.

Winslow took the lead.The others followed a stepbehind, conversing amongsteach other, but ignoringKeedar.Thatwasfinebyhim.What would he say to theseyoungmenanyway?Theyhadaboutasmuchincommonasaroosterdidwithahawk.

And yet Father wantedhim to befriend them. Well,Winslow and Gaston at least.The other two were of no

consequence. They could geteaten by a derin or skeweredby a spear and he wouldn’tcare. In truth, he’d probablyenjoy the former. Despite thedebt Winslow and Gastonowed him, he realized heneeded tobidehis time.Whathe did with the horse didn’thelp.Hewas certain they hadexpectedhimtofallonhisass.Itwouldn’tbethefirsttimehedisappointed themor the last.

Pretending to be a lessermanwouldn’tdo.Onehadtohaveat least a little pride andstubbornness. If he let Fathertell it, he had a head likegranite.

Theykept to theParmienRoadatfirst,bypassingfolkonhorseback, coach, or foot.Some were farmers andmerchants, while othersappeared to be lesser off,heading toagreat city to seek

their fortune. Good luck tothem. Keedar smirked.Chances were they’d end upjoining the makeshift homesthat dotted the landsurrounding the citadel. KingJemare and other monarchsbefore him had tried toprevent such expansionsbefore, citing the structuresand growth as a risk toKasandar’s safety. But whenno threat had visited the

empire in a century or more,such enforcement becamequite a bit more difficult tojustify.Tothepointwheretheking had apparentlysurrendered.

Whenthelastsuchhomesdisappeared, undulating plainsspread before the group.Farmlandbled intoshrubbery,brush into copses, andeventually,aftercrestingahill,the woodlands began below

them. Spruces, pines, and oakmade up the Parmien’s bulkwith the occasional massivewhite ash standingout. ‘Olderthan the forest itself,’ Fatherusedtosay.Keedarbelievedit,considering their girth andheight.Tenmenholdinghandsmightnotencirclethegigantictrunks.

Engrossed in histhoughts, and so accustomedto coming to the forest,

Keedar hadn’t immediatelynoticed what else lay below.He frowned when it finallycaught his eye. Anencampment sprawled at thewood’sedge.Flagsdepictingagolden sun on a field of redfluttered in thebreeze.Othersrepresenting minor housesflew nearby. Keedar only hadeyes for theonewith the sun.It was Count Cardiff’sMandrigalinsignia.

Keedar glanced fromoneboytotheother.Gastonworea smile, while Winslowappeared either annoyed,apprehensive, or acombination of both. Theothertwocontinuedtochatteras if nothing had changed.Keedar couldn’t help thetightness easing up hisshoulders. Nothing of thisencounter felt good. WhenWinslowletoutabreath,gave

aslightshakeofhishead,andflapped his reins, Keedar’stensionincreased.

As tempting as it was torideaway,theglancesfromtheguards and their positions tohisflankandrear,suggestedheshould stay. He tried to sinkintohimselfandavoiddrawingon his soul. The last thing heneeded was for someone tosee what he could do.Knowingthecounts’habitsas

he did, Bladeswere certain tobeamongthoseinthecamp.

The trot to theencampmentseemedtolastaneternity. With each step,Keedar’s concern increased,andhishandstightenedonthereins. He memorized soldiers’positions, noting any possiblemeans to flee.Theareawheretheattendantstetheredmountschasedawayanysuchideas.

Atleasttenhandlers,allin

leather,were feedingover twodozen hounds. The animalswere so engrossed in theirmeal they made little noisebeyondslurpingandsnapping.Agust sent theodorofadogkennel to Keedar. The reekgavehimasenseoffamiliaritythat he found comforting. ItremindedhimoftheSmear.

“Are you well?” Gastonasked.

“I’m fine,” Keedar

answered.“Ijustdidn’texpectallthis.”

“Ah, because for amomentthereyoulookedasifyouwouldratherbeanywherebuthere.”

“Too much finery forme.” Keedar gestured to hisclothes,littlemorethanragsincomparisontotheirgarb.“IfIknew therewas going to be aball or women and a feast, Iwould have dressed the part.”

Hespatintohispalm,wipedathis face, then ran his fingersthrough his tangled locks.“There,allbetternow.”

Gaston laughed. “Somemight not take too kindly tothat.” He leaned closer. “Onanother note, I would checkmyselfwhen it comes to suchflippancy. Count Cardiff hasbeen known to throw peopleintothedungeonsforless.”

“You seem to know him

well.”“He’sWinslow’sfather.”Keedar almost stopped.

He’d known Father wasplayingadangerousgame.Theextent was now beginning tosetin.

They followed a pathbetween tents where soldiersin yellow uniforms stoodguard. The route was takingthem to a large pavilion withblack and grey stripes, the

CardiffMandrigalflagflappingabove it. Noblemen greetedthe young men with waves,nods,orbows.Keedarguessedthedegreeofrespectdependedon their status. He took noteoftheirattire.Notoneamongthemwore anything tomatchthe young men. He could tellthey were nobility from theircomplexion and their bearing,but in worn leather, roughercloth, swords at their hips, or

bows in hands, they appearedeverybitthepartofhunters.

“We’ll have to getchanged too.” Again Gastonhad that little smile. “Youdidn’t think we’d go afterderins dressed like this, didyou?”

Speechless, Keedarshrugged.Well, that’s what Igetforassuming.

Theydismounted. Severalattendants took their horses.

Keedar frowned at thedeference shown to him,before dismissing it as simplybeing in the young lords’presence.Theyapproachedthepaviliononfoot.

The entrance swept asideandamansteppedout.Therewas no mistaking CountAinslenCardiff.Hewashalfafoot taller thanhis son,whichmeant he towered overKeedar.Hisleatherswereofa

finecut;sofinethatitwasasiftheyhadbeentailoredwhilehestood.Bootswithbucklesandstraps reached to an inch ortwo below his knees. Well-oiled and sandalwood brown,hishairwascropped to framehis face with a curlmeticulously placed at hisforehead. His face’s angularlines and planes stood out,none of which showed inWinslow’sfeatures.Infact,his

color was lighter than hisson’s. Green eyes radiatedknowledge, insight, and ahunger reminiscent of a wolfhavingseennewprey.

“Welcome. Keedar is it?My son had quite a bit to sayaboutyou.”

A nimbus like heat risingfrom desert sands sprang uparoundthecount.

Sintu.IttookallofKeedar’swill

nottoreact.

TheHeadsofThreeSnakes

The nimbus around the

count remained constant,perfectly balanced, not eventhe tiniest bit of essencesleaking away. Only a mastercouldexhibitsuchcontrol.

“You must have riskedmuch.” Voice smooth and

resonant, without a trace ofmalice, thecountgaveaslightdipofhishead.

Sweat rolling down hisbrow, Keedar inhaled slowly,hisstomachaflutter.Theeffectof the count’s projectedemotions weighed down onhim, sucking at him like themudintheParmien’smarshes.It rolled in prickles across hisskin. With no need to hideeither his nervousness or his

fear,Keedarlickedhislips,andrubbed at his cheek. He wasone of the Smear’s residents,despised by the nobility,maligned for the way theylived,oneamongacommunityruled by criminals. Worrywouldbenatural.

HebowedfromthewaisttoCountCardiff. “I didwhatanyrespectablemanwoulddo,mylord.”

The count laughed, a

deep, hearty sound to matchhis voice. Several guardschuckled.

“I apologize,” Ainslensaid,“buthearing thatcomingfromoneoftheSmear’sdregsIcouldn’thelpmyself.”

Dregs. Keedar hated theword. Remembering Gaston’swarning, he made himselfsmile. “I would have laughedatmyselftoo.”

The count’s soul abated.

With it went the encroachingimpressions. The nimbuscreated by sintu, by thecontainmentandcontrolofhisessence around his body, stillpersisted. Besides Father, thiswas the first time Keedarencountered another personwho appeared to always havethe first cycle engaged. Fathersaiditcamenaturallywithtimeandpractice.

“Well, I was looking

forward to meeting you.”Count Cardiff met Keedar’sgaze. “Particularly sinceWinslow insisted we shouldinvite you to this hunt. Itseems he and Gaston havetakentoyou.”

From the way CountCardiff’s eyes tightened,Keedar could tell he wasn’tpleasedby theprospect.Whatnobleman would be? Whichbegged the question of why

theyhadinvitedhim.Whynotjust send me some kind ofreward through a servant?Frowning, he thought of howthecountcarefullywordedhisgreeting. Not once did hedetailwhatKeedarhaddone.

Curious, Keedar gaveWinslow a quick glance. Theyoung nobleman had drawnhis brows together and wastapping one finger on hisgloved hand. Obviously, the

count’s version of whattranspired didn’t please him.Why would the elder Cardifflie? The one answer thatsprang to Keedar’s mind sethisheartracing.WinslowmusthavetoldhisfatherhethoughtKeedar could meld. Thatexplainedtheuseofsintu andtheskillthatfollowed.

“I’mhonored,mylord.Alittle scared, a little out ofsorts, but honored. I’m not

used to all this.” Keedargesturedtohissurroundings.

“Of course you’re not,”thecountsaid.“Well,comein.No need to stand out in theday’s heat. Time enough forthat when the hunt begins.”He spun on his heels anddisappearedinside.

WinslowandGaston saidtheirgoodbyestotheirfriends.The two left withoutacknowledging Keedar, which

wasfinebyhim.Hedidn’tlikethemmuch anyway.Pompousasses.

“I’llberightin,”WinslowsaidtoGaston.

With a shrug, Gastonheadedinsidethepavilion.

“Look,” Winslow strodecloser to Keedar, “I don’tknow what game my father’splaying, but this was his andGaston’s idea.” His voicelowered to a whisper. “I saw

the look on your face for thefaintest instant there when heforced his soul on you. Iwouldn’t put it past him tohave noticed also. If you’rewondering, I didn’t tell himhowyousavedus.Becareful.”

“I’m confused,” Keedarsaid. “Exactly what do youmean? I told you back in theSmearthatIhadnocluewhenitcomestosoulmagic.”

“Play dumb if you wish,

but I warned you.” Winslowstalked off toward the tent’sentrance.

Keedarfiguredhehandledthe situation as best he could.However,heknewifWinslowhadn’t given up on hissuspicions by now, then henever would. Things weregoingbetterthanhehoped.Allexcept for the count. Aftertasting the man’s power, hewasmorethanalittleskeptical

of his father’s and UncleKeshka’sabilitytoprotecthim.Resigned to the course he’dalreadyset,hetrailedWinslow.

The pavilion’s interiorsmelled of whatever food thecount had been eating. Fromtheplattersonthetable,lunchhad consisted mainly ofroasted chicken, fruit,vegetables,bread,andaflagonofwine.Ahoundworriedatabone in one corner. It raised

its headwhenKeedar enteredbeforegoingback toworkonitsmorsel.

“So, who’s thisshopkeeper that helped you?”CountCardiffindicatedachairnear the table.He turned to arack filled with spears ofvarious lengths. The weaponswere favorites when huntingderin.

Keedar sat. In the farcorner, both Winslow and

Gastonwere undressing. Twosets of leather gaiters andchestpieceshungnearby.

“Some man off CarlsonLane, my lord. I doubt heownstheplace.Justhappenedtobethere,Ithink.Inevergotagoodlookathim.”

“Hmm.Twopeoplefromthe Smear decide to help twoyoung nobles.” The countfaced Keedar. “Does thatstrikeyouasstrange?”

“For people who don’twish for the Blades or thearmiestovisittheSmearagain…no.”

“Unless I’ve become aterrible judge of age, you’re abityoungtorecallthosedays.”

“I was three, but Iremember them well enough.The Night of Blades claimedmymother.”

“Ah. My apologies.”CountCardiffappearedlostin

thought for a moment.“Where exactly did you livebackthen?”

“Pauper’s Circle, mylord.”

The countmade a soundin back of his throat. “That’soneofthedeepestpartsoftheSmear.Notmanyhavehomesthere.Not if theywish to liveforlonganyway.”

Keedar glowered at thecountbeforecatchinghimself.

“Bah. Again, pardon myinsensitivity. It’s not often Igettodiscussthatdistrictwithone of its own.Well, I mighthavetovisitthisCarlsonLanesoon, pay this establishment avisittothanktheman.”

Keedar got the sense thecounthadotherintentions.

“Allthreeofyouareluckythose guild members did notcatchyoufirst.ShadedSnakes,right? The ones with serpents

tattooedontheirfaces?”“Yes.”“Winslow?”“Yes,CountCardiff.”“Send for Lieutenant

Sorinya.”Winslow, now fully

garbed in leather, a shortsword at his hip, ducked hisheadthroughtheslitthatmadeup the tent’s entrance.Wordspassed between him and aguard.He returned inside and

dippedhisheadtohisfather.“Letmeaskyou,Keedar,”

thecount’stonelostanyjollity,“why do you think the Smearis theway it is?Whydoes theConsortiumthrive?”

Keedar didn’t need tothink about it for long.“Because the counts allow it.Thekingallowsit.”

“Why?”“Intruth,IwishIknew.”

Obviously the man enjoyed

hearing himself speak soKeedardecidedtooblige.

Count Cardiff’s eyestwinkled. “I like you, Keedar.You hide what you knowwell.” As Keedar made tospeak, the count cut him offwith a wave. “No need. It’sfine. Let’s say I can tell thatyou are smarter than you leton.Anyway,somemightthinkthe Smear is the way it isbecause of sheer oppression

from the Hills or becausesociety’s dregs are pushedthere.Inways,that’strue.PartofwhattheSmearhasbecomegrewoutofhistory,itscurrentexistence a combination ofsentimentality and usefulness.Did you know that pastmonarchsstockedtheirarmieswith the Smear’s inhabitantsfirst?”

Keedar nodded. “As thestory goes, after the defeat of

the Dracodar, and those whosupported them, came theCulling. The Kasinian armieshunteddownthosewhocouldharness their essences in anyform.They collected theonesthey didn’t kill and bunchedthemintostockadeswheretheSmear now stands. CortensKasandar, the victorious king,saw away to use them.Whatbetter way to replenish hisarmies than by adding those

strong in soul tohis own?Ofcourse, the inhabitants at thetimeweretoosetintheirwaysand their hate for Mareshna’snewempire.Cortensturnedtotheir children, deciding theeasiest way to influence aperson was to start fromyoung.Andsobegan theDayofAccolades.”

“Good,” Count Cardiffsaid, “at least you know ofyour history. Too bad your

kindhas forgotten yourplace,having long since outgrownyour usefulness to the armies.If not for the Consortium’svalue in commerce, theSmearmight not exist today. Coin,myyoungdreg, iswhatmakestheworldfunction.”

“I thought it was power,my lord.” Keedar wished hecouldtakethewordsback.

“Power can be bought.Andyoucandispensewiththe

‘my lord’. You have about asmuch respect for me as yourfellow associates.” The countpaused.“Which is finebyme.I’d have it no other way.Things that separate peoplefrom different stations in lifeareanecessity.Youhateit,butyour sentiments are fine. Forthemost part, I feel the sameof the Consortium and theSmear as a whole. But thereare times when one evil must

be tolerated to bring aboutsomegood.”

“Or to benefit yourpockets,” Keedar said underhisbreath.

“Iheardthat.”“Sorry,I—”CountCardiffshooedhim

off. “No need. You’reabsolutelycorrect.”

“So if the Smear isn’tneeded to stock the armies,why do we still have theDay

ofAccolades?”Keedarasked.“Tradition.” The count

shrugged. “Besides, once in awhile,wedogainagemfromthechildrenoffered.”

Anoiseat the tent’s flapsresolved into a Thelusian, hiscolor matching the largeshadowhecast.Hiseyesweremilky swirls in a cup of blackcoffee. A tiny golden bladeglinted on the lapel of auniform identical to his

complexion.“Yousentforme,Count Cardiff?” His voicesurprisingly lacked the slowenunciation the Thelusiansoften had when not speakingtheirnativetongue.

“Yes,Sorinya.”Faceapictureofcalm,the

lieutenantwaited,headbowedto avoid touching the tent’sroof. His gaze passed overKeedar for the briefestmoment. In that one glance,

Keedar sensed the mandismissed him like a horseflickingitsearsatabuzzingfly.

“IneedyoutogointotheSmear.You alone. Bring backtheheadsofthreeSnakes.”

“Aparticularthreeoranythree?”

“Ifyoucanfindthethreewho decided my son was fairgame,thatwouldbebest.If itprovesmore trouble than it isworth,thenanythreewilldo.”

Without another word,the Thelusian turned to leave.Despitehisbody’swidthbeingmore than half his height, hisgrace would have been anyelegant dancer’s envy as heducked outside. For amoment, he blotted out thesun’s rays before hedisappeared.

“So, why do you think Iorderedthosedeaths?”

Because you’re a

ruthless, murdering prick.“An example,” Keedar said.“There’s no doubt in yourmind that word got aroundconcerning what happened.ThefactthattheSnakesmadesuch a move says they’rebecomingtoobold,toosecurein their own power. Yourretaliation shows them theycan,andwillbeknockeddowna peg when necessary. It alsotellstherestoftheSmearthat

you will not hesitate to useforce,butatthesametimeyoucome off as consideratebecause you didn’t send in anentiresquadofBlades.”

The Count gave a slightbow. “Has anyone ever toldyouyou’resmartforadreg?”

“Seeing that this is thefirst time I’m in the companyofnoblemen…no.”

Count Cardiff chuckled.“Ireallydolikeyou,Keedar.I

see why my son and Gastondoalso.You’re…interesting.”A horn blew. Count CardiffnoddedtowhereWinslowandGaston stood to one sidewatching and listening to theconversation before he facedKeedar once more. “I heardyou have a thing for derins.Let’sgohuntone,shallwe?”

SecretsofaDerin

The day’s heat coupled

with the Parmien Forest’soppressive swelter bore downon Keedar like a physicalweight. On days such as this,he wondered if the God,Mandrigal,supposedlythesun,was not actually one of theTen Purgatories’ flaming pits.IfKeedarwere anywhere else,

hewould have looked aroundforablacksmith’sfurnace.Thegreenery, the abundant trees,the earthy smells, and thedetritusrustlingunderfoottoldhim there would be no suchsighting.Vinessnakedthroughundergrowth before creepingup trunks and losingthemselves in the leafycovering. The main huntcompany passed one of theancient white ashes; the holes

amongitsbranchesandtrunksinhabited by numerous birds,their songs a lively chorus.Daysthiswarm,whensummerwas supposed to be all butended,meantwinterwouldbeterrible.

Winslow rode on hisright;Gastononhisleft.Theirfriends, Rellin and Harmon,kept heir own company withanother group of nobles,shunningKeedar.Forhispart,

Keedar basked in theattention, and the curious andat times scornful glances hereceived from the nobility.Count Cardiff’s horse trottednearby, the man appearingboredwiththeproceedings.Inthe distance, the houndsbayed.

Through the treesgalloped a soldier on a dunmare.Hepulledupbeforethecount. “The hounds are

trailingone,mylord.Lessthanamilefromhere.”

“Well, gentlemen, this iswhat you came here for,”CountCardiffyelled,“theoneto take him down gets threemonths tribute free.” Hegestured to the guard whowheeledhismountandheadedbackthewayhecame.

Toseenoblesdig intheirheels, flap their reins, andwhoop to the top of their

lungstookKeedarbysurprise.Withinmoments,thefiftymenand their soldiers sped off inpursuit, their horses’ hoovesthundering over the forest’ssounds.Hemadetofollowbuta gloved hand on his reinsstoppedhim.Winslow’shand.Along with the youngerCardiff, therewasGaston, thecount, and his guardcomplement.

“What are we waiting

for?”Keedarasked.“Myfather.”CountCardiffwasstaring

offatnothing.Theshimmerofhis nimbus expanded. Thistime, there was no wash ofemotional intent from theman. Keedar felt no mentalimpact at all,buthenoticedabuild in physical pressure. Amoment later it stopped, andthe count’s sintu returned tonormal, or at least normal for

him.“Derins are smarter than

mostanimals.”CountCardiff’sface showed the strain ofwhatever he’d done. Hewalked his horse closer toKeedar’s mount. “Smarterthan most humans too,” headded softly. “Did you knowthey can also meld?” After aglance at Keedar’s gloves, thecount searched his face.“That’s how they trap their

prey, by influencing theirmind, giving them a sense offalse securitywhen in fact thederiniscloseby.It’salsohowthey escape. They can leave atrail, a scent in whateverdirectiontheychoose.”

Unflinching, Keedar metAinslen’s penetrating, greeneyesandshrugged.“Actually,Ididn’t know that. My fatherconsiders them a worthychallenge,plustheirfurfetches

a fortune in RockbottomPlaza. There’s always somenoble’s representative willingto outbid the next man forderinfur,flesh,orblood.”

“Why do you think thatis?”

“The price or what it isthey want?” Keedar asked. “Ifigured it’s because mostnobles aren’t very good athunting derin. Plus, they havethe coin.Why put yourself at

riskwhen you can simply buywhat you need? As for thederins themselves, their furkeeps out not only cold butmoisture. It lasts for decades.More than one apothecaryswears by the healing powersof their blood andmeat. Andthe wisemen? The wisemenclaim they can tell a man’sfuture when they drink theirconcoctions made from derinpissorshit.”

“Inways,true.Butthere’smore to it than that.” CountCardiffflickedhishandout.Inresponse, his guards trottedoutofearshot.HegesturedtoGaston andWinslow. “If youwill also excuse us?” Whentheyleft,heturnedtoKeedar.“Have you ever heard of theDracodar?” The count’s voicewaslittlemorethanawhisper.

Keedar felt as ifhisheartstilled. “I’ve read about them.

They’re the firstmelders. Thestrongest too. The old tomessaymostMareshnanscantracetheir bloodlines back to them,Kasiniansincluded.”

Thecount’sfacelitup.“Adreg that reads.You’re full ofsurprises.Well, letme guess,”he continued in aconversational tone, “thesebooks of yours, they mentionhow one might attain a pieceof a Dracodar’s power,

correct?”Thequestioncuttooclose

to home. Keeping his faceexpressionless as his stomachchurned was a chore in itself.“Yes,but theDracodararealldead. The ones that weren’teradicated in the ThousandYear War died years later tothe races they encounteredacrosstheRenigenSea.”

Count Cardiff’s smirk letKeedar know how much the

man believed the historybooks.

“Let’sassumetheremightbe Dracodar alive today,” thecount said. “If one werecaptured or killed, its bodywould be worth a fortune,perhaps a king’s ransom. Ifwhat they say about ingestingthecreature’sfleshordonningitsscalesaretrue.Thinkaboutit, to be able to wield soulmagic comparable to theones

once worshipped as Gods?Whowouldn’twantthat?”

“You sound as if youdoubtyourownwords.”

“On the contrary, myyoung dreg, I feel exactly theopposite.” A smile that saidthe count knew things otherssimply could not comprehendflitted across his features.“You see, derins have similareffects. The power is in verysmall quantities, and one has

to be an extremely strongmeldertoharvestit,butitsarethereforthetaking.”

Speechless,Keedarlefthismouth hanging open, theearlierconcernfor thecount’sknowledge a fleetingmemory.Thoughts reeled through hishead at the revelation. Heglanced up in time to seeCount Cardiff watching him,hisgreeneyesglintingwiththesun’s rays, a predatory hunger

shining deep within. Hesnappedhismouthshut.

“Well,nowyouknowwhyderins are so sought afterdespite the dangers. You alsoknow why they’re so difficultto capture or kill.” Ainslen’sstare didn’t waver. “Whichbegs the question: how did ayoung boy escape a derin’sclutches? Why is he wearinggloves made from the beast’sleather?Unless, of course, the

story you told my son was alie.”

Keedar’shearthammered.The plan had been for thecounttobesoenrapturedwiththeideaofamelderwithintheSmear that he’d venture intothe district himself as therumors increased. But CountCardiffhadhimherenow.

“Well?”“I-Ilied,mylord.”Thecountthrewhishead

back and laughed. When hestopped, his eyes were steelypinpoints. “No, you’re lyingnow.”

“I—”Count Cardiff held up a

glovedhand.“Atidbitforyou.Somethingthatwhoevermightbetryingtoteachyoutomeldeither failed to reveal or youseemtohaveforgotten.Everyliving creature possesses someform of soul magic. It’s as

natural as breathing.Sometimes, it’s employedunder extreme emotions, likedangerous, life threateningsituations.

“Why do you think ahunter in the woods mightmanagetoliftatrunkweighingseveral thousand pounds offhis friend? Or a man mightleapacrevasse?Orsurvivethefreezing wastes within themountainswhen buried under

by an avalanche? The mindtriggers their soul, openingupthe vital points, bringing outabilities they wouldn’t possessnormally. The difference witha melder is that we can learnhow to open them on ourown, harness our essences atwill.”

Keedar acknowledged thecount’s words with a nod. Ithad been one of the firstconcepts Father taught him,

butthathadbeensolongago,he hardly ever considered it.Recalling Count Cardiff’swords,hefrowned.Hehadthedistinct impression the countwas including him when hesaid ‘our’. “If that’s the case,perhaps you’re right. I mighthave triggered some hiddenability back then to savemyself.”

“And again when youhelpedmyson?”

Keedar shrugged, turninghispalmsupward“Iguess.”

“Some coincidence. Youshould come to the TenHillsandbetestedagain.”

A lump grew inKeedar’sthroat.“Webothknowwhatitmeans if I were to pass.” Hecouldn’t contemplate his owndeath.

“They’re exceptions toevery rule.” At first, Keedarthought the count must be

joking.Theman’s facewas asgrave as the king’s headsman.“Icouldclaimyouasfamily.Abastardson.Itwouldn’tbethefirsttime.”

“I-I don’t know. There’smyfatherand—”

“I can be veryconvincing.” If Ainslen’sexpression matched theheadsman before, his entirecountenance now reflectedsomething worse, something

dark, deadly, and unforgiving.“Iwillgrantyousometimetothink on it. Until then, let’shunt.” The count rode off tomeethisguards.

“Whatwasthatallabout,”Gaston asked as he rode upnexttoKeedar.

“Probably my fathermaking one demand oranother,”Winslowadded.

Keedar shook himself.“Um.Hewantedme toknow

what would happen if hediscovered I was part of theplotagainstyoutwo.”

“Why would he thinkthat?” Confusion cloudedWinslow’s face. “As much asI’mloathetoadmit it,youdidsave us. We were at yourmercy.”

Thatwasdifferentcomingfrom Winslow. Keedarregarded him with an archedbrow.

“What? Any man whosurvivesaprivateconversationwithmyfatherdeservesalittlebitofrespect.”

“Never mind that Idragged your ass out of theSmear,”Keedarsaiddryly.

“You didn’t exactly dragus,”Winslowprotested.

“Have it your way.” Thelittle back and forth madeKeedarbreatheeasier.

“We better catch up to

them,”Gastonsaid.Keedar frowned. “Aren’t

they going in the wrongdirection?”

Count Cardiff and hismen were heading west whentheothershadgoneeast.

“However it is he findsderins, he’s never wrong.”Gaston flapped his reins androdeafterthem.

With no choice in thematter,Keedarfollowed.

HunterandHunted

Proof of Gaston’s

words arrived soon after.While the hounds bayed andshouts andwhoops continuedfrom the west, Count Cardiffled them to a clearing in theforest’s eastern depths. Awhite ash tree occupied the

center. Even by the trees’standards, this one wasgigantic, at least twice thelargest one Keedar recalledseeing. The trunk itself couldbealargehome.

A derin rested on itshaunchesnexttothetree.

In all the hunts with hisfather, Keedar had yet to seeonethissize.Asbigasapony,the derin watched them, itscolor blendingwith the trunk.

Itsshorthairlayflatmuchlikethe hounds. This one had nomane,whichmadeitafemale.If the beast stood stock still,closed its mouth so the pinktongue didn’t show, and kepttheblackbeadsithadforeyesshut,hewouldn’thaveseenit.Count Cardiff’s raised handand subsequent pointing hadrevealed the location.Although the derin didn’tstand or growl when they

approached, its pointy earsprickedup.

MemoriesfloodedKeedarof his first encounter. Nomatterhowmanytimeshesawone of the creatures or howmanyyearshe’dhunted them,the recollection still lived,bringing with it a measure offear. That day was much likethisone:hot, sky soclear anddeep it seemed to stretch onforever, each breeze or gust a

gift. Sweat trickled down hisforehead. Something waswatchinghim.Everycrackofatwig,rustleofleaves,cryoftheforest’s denizens set him onedge.Theydid the samenow.Anyshadowfeltasifwhateverwatched also followed. Hebroke into a run, crashingthrough brush and branch.When he finally stopped at aclearing, his back against awhiteashat itscenter,aderin

slunkfromtheforest’sedge.Itstared him directly in the eye.Frozen,heartthumping,theairchokingly palpable, he prayedthecreaturewouldn’t seehim.The pressure threatened tocrush him. Whispers—impressions more than words—coaxedhimtorelax.

“Keedar!” A hand shookhis shoulder. “Keedar!” Thevoicecalledagain.

Theworldcamebackinto

focus. With a shake of hishead, Keedar took in hissurroundings. He was in theParmienForest, but hewasn’talone. Gaston, Winslow,Count Cardiff and his menwere with him. Winslow wasthe one with a hand on hisshoulder.

Immediately,hisattentionnarrowed in on the derin.Withoutadoubt,heknewthebeast had been in his head.

Judging from the experience,this was not the first time.Worse still was the realizationthat thecreaturehadnotbeenalone.Confirmationcamewithachorusofwhinnies.

“Count Cardiff,” Keedaryelled.Heyankedonhisreins,trying to bring his dun undercontrol.

Spear in hand, the countwas already off his horse. “Iknow.” All around him, his

retinue of guards dismounted.“You four,” he pointed outsome men, “keep an eye onthebeastnexttothetree.Therest of you focus on thewoods.”

“What’s happening,”Gastonasked,voicethick.

Winslow must havesensed the danger, becausehetoo leaped off his horse. Hedrewhissword.

“Get your bow and be

ready.” Keedar swung downoff his mount. “There’s morethan one derin. It might be apack.” He withdrew the twoslim blades he kept hidden inthe sleeves of his tunic. “Agood knife is a man’s bestcompany in the Smear,” hesaid in response toWinslow’sraisedbrows.

As if the creatures heardhim, growls and snarls issuedfrom the woods. Chirping

birds cut off. The oncewarmday abruptly grew cold.Branches snapped. Paddedfootfallsabounded.

“Tighten the circle,”Count Cardiff called over theheavybreathsofmen and thesnorts of mounts. “Put thehorsesontheoutside.”

Eyes rolling,many of thehorsesfought,strainingagainstthe reins. One of the guardsreleased his. The animal

reared, dropped back to theground, and took off towardthe trees. The horse gallopedas far as the fist gap in thefoliage when a dark formbounded from the brush.Another leaped from amongthe tree branches. The horsescreamed.Highpitchedgrowlsandsnarlsfollowedasthetwoderin tore flesh from bone,dragging their prey to theground.

Asterrifyingasthesoundswere, Keedar recognizedanother danger. His heartrattledinhischest.

“Above us!” Keedarglancedupintothegreatwhiteash’sbranchesthatspread likeawebofwood.

Derins dropped from thelimbs. Keedar lost count atfive. Screams ensued.Something heavy, carrying amusky stench, slammed into

his back, all muscles andsinew.Clawsrakedathim.

Keedar cried out, aburningpainscouringhisbackand side. He felt wetness.Twisting,hestabbed,hisbladesinking into flesh until hishands andhilt struck fur.Thederinwhined.He plunged thenext dagger in, withdrew, andrepeated. He barely heard thesnarls or felt the teeth. Bloodgushed over his fingers, hot

and thick, its sharp scentdriving him on. Despite hissticky hands, he didn’t stopuntilthebodybecamelimp.

Cries, wails, and yells ofthosedyingorfightingechoedall aroundhim.Derins let outhigh-pitched growls. Keedarpushedthecorpseoffhim.Hestaggered to his feet, his sideandbackthrobbing.

Leathers ripped in severalspots, blood seeping through,

Count Cardiff was protectingWinslow and Gaston. Theman’sspearspunandwhippedin his hands, a blur of darkwood and flashing steel. Eachtime it snaked out, a derinwhined and bounded away.Guards still fought, but mostwere down with derins atopthem, worrying at the corpsesor at men who screamedbefore their throats were tornout.

The massive beast they’dtracked to the clearing stalkedto one side. Not once did itjointhefray.Headdown,earslaid back, it slunk back andforth, beady eyes trained onCountCardiffandhiswards.

Count Cardiff’s andKeedar’seyesmadefour.

“Run,” the countmouthed.

As he uttered the word,Count Cardiff slammed his

spear into the ground, buttfirst. Sintu swept up aroundhim in a torrent so large andsolid, it blocked him and thetwo boys from view in atranslucent sheet like awaterfall.Their formswereanindistinctblur.

Throughthewavyhaze,ared hue grew. It explodedoutward.

A concussion rockedKeedar, blowing him off his

feet.When he managed to

scramble to his knees, andeventuallystand,hisearsrang.Somehow his mind clung tothe count’s order. Saliva thickin his mouth, driven by theghastly images of death allaround him, and the pain inhisside,hefled.

He had no particulardirection in mind, but byinstinct and habit, he headed

northeast.Yearsspentrunningthe forestwithhis father tookover.Nothingmatteredtohimbut the need to escape. Notthe ringing, not the burningalonghisribs,notthescreamshe left behind. What a fewmoments ago had been aracingheart, the choking tasteof fear, became exhilaration.Exerting himself in the wildwas freedom. When he lethimself go in this fashion he

had no worries. The worldbelongedtohim.

One thought dominatedhis mind as he bolted. Theywillnotseeme.Theywillnotsee me. I am not here. Hebegged for it,demanded it. Inhis heart, what he wantedwould be. There could be nootheroutcome.

When he darted throughthe samegapwhere thehorsedied minutes earlier, no derin

sprang onto him. The corpsewas still there, mangled andbloody, barely recognizable asamare.Exultant,agrinspreadacrosshisface.

A thud sounded less thana dozen feet away. From thecorner of his eyes, he caughtsightofawhiteblurthesizeofa pony. The reek of a wildanimal assaulted his nostrils.What had been joy quicklydegenerated into a fear so

strong it set his feet churningfaster,hisheartkeepingpace.

He bounded up amongthe trees, leaping from onebranchtothenext.Eachjumpwas a combination of instinctand skill honed frompractice.He didn’t need to think, onlytoreact.

The white blur keepingpace through thebrushbelowpushedhimharder.

Legs burning from the

effort, he had no idea howlong he fled. Every soundbroughtnightmaresofpaddedpaws giving chase. Visions oflarge canines tearing into hisflesh drove him faster. Coolbreezes whipped by him.Sweat brought tears to hiseyes, its salt making him lickhislips.Trunks,branches,andbrush whipped by. Shadowsgrew teeth. Snagging twigswere claws. Every indistinct

patch or mound became thewhitederin.

In themidstofhis flight,helosthimself.Hefloated.Nobranch could block his path.No foliage could hinder him.No root or vine could triphim.

When he sensed fulldaylight with no shadows, notrees in his peripheral vision,grassunderhisfeet,hedaredaglance behind him. He was

clearoftheParmienForest.A roar echoed, rolling

acrosstheplains.Keedarsmiled,knowingit

was a cry of utter frustration.Asheran,thesmilegrewtoapout. Tears rolled down hischeeks.NeitherUncleKeshkanor Father had shown up aspromised. The pain from hiswoundscouldnotcompare tothatinhisheart.

PriceofPower

Swordinhand,Winslowtook in the carnage aroundhim.Bodiesofbothderinsandmen littered thedirtandgrasswithin the clearing. Cries andmoans rose from thewounded. The stench of offaland blood was so strong hevomited several times. Heretched again at the sight of

entrails spilling from a guardhe knew, one with whom heoftenplayeddice.Montienwashis name. He had a wife andtwo boys. Most of the deadguardshadawifeandchildren;family they would never seeagain.

Fighting back tears, helost track of the deceased.Those living were the menwho’d ran off after the falsescentfromthederins.Andyet,

ithadn’tbeentheirreturnthatsavedhim andGaston.CountCardiff had been responsiblefortheirsurvival.

Hisfatherhadfoughtlikean animal, yelling andshouting, almost as if hereveled in the bloodshed. Thespear had become a blur thatstabbed, blocked, rapped,whirled, and killed. Thewounds his father sufferedwent ignored. Still that hadn’t

been enough. Until whateverpower his father unleashedsentthecreaturesrunning.

My father saved us. Herepeatedthewords.Aneedtolean down and hug the countthreatened to overwhelmhim,regardless of what the manmight think of the gesture.Knowing his father wouldconsider such a display a signofweakness,Winslowmoldedhis spine into steel ashe took

inthedeadandwounded.Wisemen,dressed in their

blue and red robes, pickedtheir way among the bodies,bending to tend to thosewhostill lived, or indicating thedeadtotrailingguards.Forthedead, they paused to utter aprayer.Guardsdraggedbodies,derin and human alike, pilingthemonthebacksofwhatevermountsstilllived.

Over to the side, a

wisemanstitchedupagashonGaston’s arm. Teeth gritted,Gastongroanedeverytimethewiseman pushed the needlethrough and pulled to tightenthecatgutsuture.Winslowhadsomehowmanagedtofendoffa derinwithout sustaining anywounds. Its blood stained hisswordred.Withtherealizationthat no beasts remained toattack, he finally sheathed theweapon.

A hand on his hilt,Winslow tried to keep hisvoiceevenasheaddressedhisfather. “What did you do tomakethemleavelikethat?”

Stretched on his side,Count Cardiff had anotherwiseman, this one a white-haired High Priest of theDominion, rubbing a pungentmixture over his wounds.Winslow could tell the priestdidmorebythesoulhesensed

gatheredaroundtheoldman.“I frightened them with

mylooks.”“Thisisn’ttimeforjests.”“Onthecontrary, if there

was a time to laugh, it wouldbenow.Acelebrationoflife.”Count Cardiff winced.“Appreciation for not endingup as dinner.But if youmustknow, I drove them into afrenzy and gave them thedreg’s scent.” He grunted as

the High Priest’s hands duginto several inchwide slits onhisabdomen.Redbubbledup,and then dribbled down hisside.

Winslow hissed, theconcern he felt for his fatherfleeing. “Father, why wouldyoudosuchathing?Hesavedus.Hesavedme.”

The High Priest’s handspaused before they continuedworking again, kneading flesh

and tissue together. It tookWinslow amoment before herealized the concoctioncontained meat, blood, andwhatappearedtobefur.

“Getaholdofyouranger,boy,andaddressmeproperly.”

Winslow hesitated beforehe dipped his head. “Sorry,CountCardiff.”

“Much better. Anyway, itwaseitherusorhim,”Ainslensaid without a trace of regret.

“I’dchooseuseverytime.”“Whatifhe’sdead?”“Then it’sanotheruseless

dreg gone. One less in theSmear that I’d have to dealwithatsomepoint.Rememberthepurposeofallthis.Ourdayiscoming.Whenitarrives,wewill be the richest, mostinfluentialhouse.Nothingandnoonemust stand in thewayofthataccomplishment.”

His father’s callous

disregard for life always setWinslow’s blood to a boil.More so now than before.Keedarwastheproductofhisenvironment, and maybe athief, but he deserved betterthan todie to the derins.Notonlythat,butWinslowblamedhimself. He should have sentKeedar back when Gastonappearedwithhim.Thecountwould have been upset, mayhave meted out punishment,

but he’d experienced hisfather’s wrath in the past. Hecouldmanage.

“Don’t tell me you’regoing to sheda tear forhim,”Count Cardiff said. “Besides,he might be alive. The derinssounded rather unfulfilled awhile ago. But if the idea ofyourlittlefrienddyingbothersyou, then perhaps you’re notready to apprentice with theBlades.”

Winslowhadnoideawhatto say. Any retort might beperceived the wrong way.Keedar’s predicament was aconcern, but not one forwhich he was willing tosacrifice his apprenticeship.The thought made him feelmorethanalittleguilty.

“That’s what I thought.What I didmight seemharsh,but I have alwayswarned youofbeingtootrustingandabout

making friends. The way Igained my position, and themethodinwhichyouwillholdontoitwhenthedaycomes,isby trusting no one, and doingwhatever you must. Successandsurvivalgohandinhand.”

“I’ll try to keep that inmind.”

“No.Youwill.Anyotherway and you have alreadyfailed.”

“It isdone,my lord,” the

priestsaid.“Thank you, High One.”

Count Cardiff ran his handalong his ribs and grimaced.Catgut showed where thepriest had stitched up thewound. “I lost a lot of bloodtoday. I might need a smalltransfusionfromyou.”

Winslow nodded. Thiswouldn’t be the first time hisfather had requested such.When the count had been

woundedduringduelsonthreeother occasions, he hadneeded blood infusions whilethe High Priests worked onhealinghim.

Count Cardiff broke intoa grin as he peered aroundthem. “I must say, this was asurprisinglysuccessfulhunt.”

At a loss for words,Winslow clenched his fist.“Andthedead?”

“Aswith anywar, there’s

boundtobecasualties.”Winslow opened his

mouth to tell his father thiswasn’t a war. But the countalready knew that. Instead, heshookhisheadandsighed.

“Help me up, my boy.And if you doubt meconcerning the hunt’s results,justaskHighPriestJarodhere.Hecantellyou.”

Without waiting, Jarodanswered.“Itwasaverygood

hunt.We could hope for lessdeath toourown,but at leastnonoblemendied.The richesMandrigal Hill will earn fromthesederinswillputthemwellahead of the other houses intheking’sgraces.”

“See? Even the Order ofthe Dominion approves ofwhat we’ve done here. Whatmore can you ask?” CountCardiffheldoutanarm.

“Nothing, I guess.”

Winslow pulled his father tohisfeet.

“Nomatterwhat,”CountCardiff limped over to thewhite ash tree, “always lookfor a way to profit from theworst situations. There isalwayssomethingtoearn,evenifit’sonlyalesson.”

“What’s to be learnedhere?”Winslow pointed to allthedeadandtothered-stainedground.

“Never underestimateanyone or anything that candrawonthepowerofitssoul,”Count Cardiff said in a grimtone.

When Winslowconsidered the fight, thescreams, the way the derinsreacted, leading them into atrap, how his father battled,the power he’d expended, hecouldn’t help but nod inagreement.

TheEbonBlade

Sitting in the study,Keedar grittedhis teeth ashisfather unwound the bandagesfrom his ribs. They stunk ofblood andmedicine.Hell, thewound hurt. Keedar hissed,sucking in air between histeeth.

“Easy,” Delisar said,“remember, what you feel is

more mental than physical.Your mind can make fleshignore pain. A strong soulconquers pain. Repeat it toyour yourself, make it yourwill.”

Keedartriedtodoastold,but the day’s memoriesoverwhelmed him. “You saidyouweregoing tobe there tosave me if somethinghappened,” Keedar muttered.“You and Uncle Keshka.

When the timecame,noneofyouwerethere.”Thetearshadalreadydried,butthefeelingofabandonmentstillstung.

Delisar hung his head.“I’m sorry, son. I tried, but Iunderestimated the count’sskill.Hemanaged to throwusoff his trail. The importantthing is that you survivedagainstallthosederinsandthecounthimself.”

“I—”Keedarwas on the

vergeof saying thathealmostdied, but the last bit of hisfather’s words concerning thecount gave him pause. “Whatdo youmeanby surviving thecounthimself?”

“Many practitionersemploy the second of theouter cycles, koren, to slowaging by decreasing theamount of soul they use.Youon the other hand, come soclose to stopping your soul

completely that you hide it,whichmakesyouunnoticeable.The derin should never havespotted you afterward. Whichtells me the count must havedone something.” Delisarsquintedathim.“Icanseetheresidueofameldusedonyou.It’s,”hesniffed,“sometypeofscent, like an attraction,possibly geared towardanimals.I’dbewillingtowageritbroughtthederinafteryou.”

“Isthatevenpossible?”“Yes.Certainmelderscan

detachapartoftheirsoulandattach it to someone orsomethingelse.It’sdoneusingsera. However, not only canthe person project their soul,but they’re able to applyvariouspropertiestoit.”

“The count’s anAlchemist,” Keedar said.Althoughhecouldn’tmanifestsomething physical, his ability

tohidealsoreliedonhisuseofsera toproject the ideaofhisinvisibility onto anotherperson. As one of the threeskillsinthemediancycle,serawas a necessity to berecognizedasamelder.

“You’ve no doubt seenBladesuselightning?”

Keedarnodded.“I’m not speaking of

sending short bursts throughthe air, but having it around

their arms or body,” Delisarsaid.“Toaccomplishthat,theyapply the properties of alightning strike to their soul,thus copying it.” Keedarnodded again. “Well,whoeverdidthistoyou,I’massumingitwas the count; he detached atiny sliver of his soul,mimickedsomescent,perhapsone for mating or food, andapplied it to you. A skill likethatrequiresgreatstrengthand

finesse fewoutside theBladescould match.” Browsfurrowing, Delisar drew hismouthintotightline.

Keedar mulled over hisfather’s words, anger buildingas he considered that CountCardiff had used him in anattempt to secure his ownsafety. From the reportsdetailing who survived, themanhadsucceeded.Therewasno telling how far the count

would take matters once hediscovered Keedar still lived.Absently,hestrokedhisglove.After a moment, he stopped,andlookedatthesoftleather.

“Why didn’t you tell meabout the derins? That theycanmeld?Andhowwearingapart of them can increase aperson’s soul,” Keedar asked,voicesoft.

“Because if you kept allI’ve taught you in mind, you

would know to expect anyliving being to be able toharness its soul, whetherconsciouslyornot.As for theleather, it was to give you anedge, something touseasyoulearned.”

Soulexistedineverylivingthing.Keedarhadallowed thefirst concept to slip hismind.Still, the idea of using thederins grated at him. “Whatmakes what we do, using the

derins,anydifferentfromwhatthe nobles have done to ourancestors, to any of us whohavethetraitstheyseek.”

“Derinsareanimals,son.”“That doesn’t make it

right.” Keedar kept his voicelow,holdinginthesmolderinghe felt inside. He balled hishand intoa fist. “I’msure thenobility see us as animals,perhaps less than animals. Itdoesn’texcusewhat theyhave

donetous.”“Life is full of harsh

lessons.Inthiscase, it’saboutour survival and using anyadvantagewecanfind.”

“The same as they oncedid in the past to bring ourpeople to the brink ofextinction,”Keedarargued.

“Yes. And from the wayour people acted then, wedeserved it. Power can dothings to a man.” Delisar’s

features softened. “It changeshim,makeshimforgetwhatisrightorwrong,makeshimlosesight of his values, his friends…Thesamecanbesaidforaneed to exist, to live that onelast breath. Existence is abalance of life, death,weakness, and strength. Son,therearemanythingsIwishIcould change, but for now, Iwill take what we have.Without it, youwouldn’t exist

today.”Those last words gave

Keedar pause. He took in hisgloves and the feel of hisgreaves against his shins.Couldhegivethemup if theymeant his death? He couldn’tpicture himself doing so, noteven now. “One day, I’llchangeallthis.”

“You can try… you cantry.”

Keedar inhaled, long and

slow. “Are there otheradvantagesgainedfromderinsor any other creatures that Ineedtoknowof?”

“Other beasts?” Delisaranswered, brow wrinkling, “Icannot think of any, but I’mnot well versed in the wilds.Thatismoreyouruncle’sarea.As for the derins themselves,orobtainingsoulfromanotherperson, it depends on thecircumstance. Control is the

biggest difference between amelder and any person orcreature that happens to drawonitsessenceunawares.Moreoften than not, in a normalperson, actively using theirsoul might happen once ortwiceinalifetimeatmost.Foramelder,ouradvantageisalsoour disadvantage. Melders’lifespans gradually shortenwiththe increaseduseof theirsouls. Although we replenish

our energy, there’s a piece ofusthat’slosteachtime.Atinypiece, but over the years, itadds up. Using soul fromanother source helps tocounteracttheeffect.”

“But I’ve heard ofmelders who live forcenturies,”Keedarsaid.“Doessoul residue from somethingdeadlastforever?”

“No, it doesn’t. Suchmelders live particularly long

through the maintenance ofcycles rather than actuallyusing an ability. They rely onthe natural build up andbalanceofkoren,whichkeepsthe body from breakingdown.”

Keedar nodded,understanding now why hesometimesfeltrefreshedwhenhemeditatedorwhenheusedhisskilltohide.“So,whatnowas far as Count Cardiff and

yourplan?Hemadeitobviousthat he knew I’ll become amelder. He even suggested Igo to the Golden Spires andreporttotheexaminers.”

“Adeathsentence.”“Accordingtohim,hecan

havemepardonedbyclaimingI’mhisson.”

“Notsurprisingforhim.”“Father,he’snotgoingto

comeintotheSmear.”A hand stroking his chin,

Delisar asked, “What makesyousocertain?”

“HesentaBladetodohiswork for him. A hugeThelusian. He’s supposed toreturn with the heads of thethree Snakes who tried toattackWinslowandGaston.Ifnotthem,thenanythree.”

Delisar swore under hisbreath. “You met Sorinya theEbonBlade?”

For the first time,Keedar

had the sense that his fatherwasafraid.“Yes.”

“This isn’t good.”Delisarshook his head. “I expectedthecounttoreactbutnot likethis. Sorinya has never beenknown to constrain himself.”Father began to pace. “He’s amurderer, but he’s also theclosest thing to a Dracodar.He’s an offshoot, a philodar.Like the others of his kind,Sorinya has mastered at least

seven cycles and his abilitiesspan across three types. Hismain specialty is that of aManifestor. The other Bladesyou’ve seen in the practiceyard who can create actualweapons and the like fromtheir souls have all learnedfromhim.”

Keedar grew moreshocked with each revelationof the Thelusian’s power. Heknew his father’s skill set

might be comparable, andmaybe the other ConsortiumHeads, but Keedar was nofool.WhateverFatherplannedwould mean going up againstseveral hundred men andwomen as strong as Sorinya.How did they hope toaccomplishtheirgoal?

“Listen,” Father said, “Ihave to warn the Snakes.Sorinya will take his dueregardless, but we cannot

afford too large aconfrontation.Imaybegoneafew days and can’t risk youbeing here should Sorinyadecide to expand the count’svengeance.I’msendingyoutothe River Quarter. It’s JarinaHillterritory.Consideringtheirfeud with Mandrigal, Ainslenwill think twice before havinghis men step foot in thatterritory.”

“Father, The Smear is

whatIknow.Ican’t—”“You’re worried forme.”

Delisarsmiled.“Icanholdmyownshoulditcometoafight.However, you’re in no shapetorun.WhateverpainIcausedyou today was unintended.And again I’m sorry. Youmean more to me thananythinginthis life.Soplease,doasIask.”

“Yes,Father.”“Good.” Father ruffled

his hair like he used to dowhenKeedarwasyounger.

It brought a smile toKeedar’s face. That simplegesture alone eased hisworry.If he hadn’t witnessed whattranspired earlier, he mighthave felt lifemightwork itselfout.WhenKeedar stopped toconsider it all, his father’swords sparked thememoryofhis conversation with CountCardiff.A lumpformed inhis

chest.“Father,there’ssomething

else.”In the process of

strapping on a sword, Delisarpaused,andfacedKeedar.

After a deep breath,Keedar let it out. “Have thecounts ever taken otherchildren and claimed them astheirown?”

Delisar was silent. “Yes,”he finally said. “There isn’t

timetogiveyouallthedetails,but some of theBlades and afew noble children wereorphans. Worse yet was howthey lost their parents. Theking had them killed. He’scollected a nice stable fromwhich he siphons his ownpower. There’s a reason theycall it the Soul Throne. Youweretobeoneof them.Yourmotherrefusedtosendyou.”

Flames and scales.

Scalesandflames.Images of Mother’s face

racedthroughKeedar’smind.

AMessageinShadow

“Delivered less than

anhour ago,” Shaz said as hehandedAinslenthenote.

Count Cardiff rested hiswalkingstickagainst the table,and unrolled the piece ofpaper. It held instructions forthe meeting he’d been

anticipating. On the bottomwas awax seal in the likenessof a derin. He read themessage, blinked, and thenreaditagain.Thelocationwasa bold move, one meant togarnerhisattention.Andso itdid.

“What of the othermatter?”Thecount foldedhislips,hismindstillpreoccupiedbythenote.

“Done. And it was a

pleasure.”Ainslenremovedtwogold

bits fromhispurse.Thepricehadbeenworth the result.Hesmiled inwardly. Afterwatching High Priest Jaroddisplay his work on severaloccasions, he knew this latestendeavorwouldbe successful.Once someone revealed thesecret, House Hazline wouldbe tied to him.He hefted thecoins,lettingthelamplightplay

offtheirsurface.Across from him, Shaz

licked his lips, eyes glintinggreedily.Themanstankofsex.Somuchsothatthechamber’smosquitoesbuzzedaroundhisgrey-cloaked form. If theassassin wished, he could sethimself up for many years ofmodest living with thispayment. But Shaz was awomanizer. Even afterexpending himself earlier,

Walker’s Row or the seedierRiver Quarter would see himbeforethenightended.

“Are you certain shecouldn’t tell the difference?”Count Cardiff closed hisfingersoverthecoins.

“I watched them rutenough times to know whatshe likes.”Awicked grin splitShaz’s face, making the scarsstandout.Ifevilexisted,someof it resided in the assassin.

“Trustme, when I was insideher, she kept calling out hisname.”

“Whatoftheinnkeeper?”Shaz’sfacelitup.“Follow

me if you will.” He headedtoward the rear windows thatlooked out onto the houndkennels.

Curious, Ainslen limpedafter him, leaning heavily onhiswalking stick from time totime.Hewincedwhenever he

hadtoraisehisleftfoot.Shaz pointed down

towardwhereadozenhoundssnarled and fought overseveral chunks of meat. “Igave the dogs a treat. TheyneededitafterwhathappenedintheParmien.”

“Master Conor was goodman,abittootalkativeformyliking, but a good mannonetheless. He had a lot offriends. Hmm. Spread the

rumorthathegotcaughtwithsomemerchant’sboy,andthatHeleganese assassins werehired.”

“Yes,yourlordship.”“No one else saw you,

correct?”“Ofcoursenot.”“Good.” Ainslen flicked

the coins to the man. “WhenShenen gives you the job,makeitconvincing.”

Shaz caught them, and

they disappeared into hiscloak.“Muchappreciated,yourlordship.”

“Any word concerningKeedar?” From what he’dseen, the boy was strong insoul, possibly more so thanWinslow. Seeing him run hadbeenimpressive.

“Yes, my sources say hesurvived.”

Ainslen expected nothingless but still ground his teeth.

“He’sanuisance.Alreadyhe’sbegun to affect Winslow. Icannothavethat.Makecertainhelearnstostayfarawayfrommy son.” He did not wantKeedar dead just yet. If hecould discover a way to holdonto the boy withoutquestions or without Jemare’sexaminers becoming involved,Keedar’s power would be awelcomeasset.

“As you wish, your

lordship.” Shaz pulled hishoodupoverhishead,bowedonce,andlefttheroom.

Events were moving infull swing now. Thievesremained true to themselves.Put a shinybauble in frontofone, andhewas sure tomakean attempt to steal it. And Iwillbetheretoslicehishandoff. Ainslen smiled. His allieswere in place. The otherkingdoms would either align

themselvesorfall.Thoseweretheironly choices.Decadesofmaneuvers and planning werebearing fruit. Sweet, succulentfruit.

Vengeance for Marjoriewas his to reap.KingAinslenCardiff.Thetitlehadamusicalringtoit.Hopefully,hewouldbethefirstofa longlinewithhis reign lasting for numerousyears.

He left the mansion and

headed out toward the ridinggrounds and the stables bycoach. When he arrived, heinstructed the driver to wait.Such a visit was not unusualfor him. Many a night he’dspent time here talking to hishorses.

Themanwas standing inthe shadows, not masked bythem in imitation of Shaz’sability.Hesimplystoodwhereit was darkest. Grey within

black and stiff as a frozencorpse.

Ainslensniffed,hopingtogetawhiffofhisguest,butthesmell of manure, horseflesh,and oats was overpowering.The man still did not budge.Left with no other choice, hereached into his coat andtossed the stranger the honorbadge.

A glovedhandwith long,slender fingers snaked out to

snatch it. A tiny spark lit inthat palm, casting unevenwavesacrossthinlips,adaintynose,andwhatappearedtobethebeginningsofatattoo.Thelightsnuffedout.

“I will send exactly whatyourmaster requires,”Ainslensaid,“makingiteasyforhimtolay blame at our feet.Providing thathe canconfirmwhat he claims is in thepalace.”

“A bird will be sent toyou. When you touch it, youwill know.” The voice wasraspy, but a slight inflectiontold Ainslen his guest was afemale. Itmadesense.Amaleof their kind would not havemade itpast thegates.A flickof her wrist sent the badgebacktohim.

Ainslen caught it andslipped it over his neck. “AreyoucertainthoseIsendwillbe

enough for your master toachievehisgoal?”

“It is of no concern toyou. The fulfillment of yourportionisallthatisrequired.”

“On the contrary, it is. Ifyou should fail, you will havethe combined might of fourkingdoms under Kasinianbanners descending on yourpeople.”Thiswastheproblemwithdealingwithsubordinates.They never truly knew or

understood the motivationsandplansoftheirbetters.

“We have ever been apatient people,” the womansaid in a low, lifeless voice.“The Red Swamps must berepaidinkind.Wehavewaitedthislong,wecanwaitlongerifthe need arises. Be warnedthough, cross our borderswithoutapproval,andthistimeit shall be your own who liegutted in the Treskelin

Woods.”Ainslenrecalled thebattle

shespokeof.Thatday,Jemarehadbecome likeoneofHell’sAngels, ripping through theKheridisian ranks near theCliffsofaThousandSorrows.The enemy had fled into theTreskelin Woods where theyshould have had theadvantage. But not againstJemare the Unbridled Blade.He’dleftthegroundsoakedin

their blood. The swamps hadrunred.

For a moment heconsidered if he should eventrust this woman and hermaster. What if they failed intheir part? However, thechance they would succeedwith his help was too big anadvantage to relinquish. Itwould give him what heneeded tobind certainhousestohiscause.AndtheOrderof

theDominionwouldbackhimeven further. This was theright course of action, maybetheonlycourseofaction.

“I will provide thewarriorsyourequire.Usethemwell.” Without awaiting ananswer, he turned and strodeaway. It was time to use thehonor granted to him bysavingKingJemare’slife.

JustLifeandDeath

Winslow felt as if he

was floating on air. In animmaculate golden coat,whorls of red thread runningdown the sleeves, andemblazoned with the HouseMandrigal insignia—the suninsideacircleonascarletfield

—on the left chest, he rodethrough theGrey Fist’s gates.He’ddressed inhisbest todayto impresshismentor.Carvedfromfeldsparandlimestone,amassive castle spread beforehimwithfivetowersthatgavethe place its name. Metalground on metal as theportcullis lowered beforeslamming shut with aresoundingclang.

Soldiers gave a slight dip

of their heads but nothingmore.Onthefacesofsomehethought he saw grins. Headforward and back straight, heignoredthem.

“Captain,”Winslowcalledtooneguardwith four stripeson his uniform, “where can Ifindtheapprentice’sregistry.”

“YoumustbeyoungLordCardiff,” the captain said. Hepointed. “The last tower onyour left. You’re expected.”

Themansmiledwarmly.Winslow nodded and set

offatatrot,acoolwindathisback.Heexpectedtoseemoresoldiersintheoldking’scastle,butdecidedtheymustbeawaypracticing formations or somesuch, especially with thereports of an enemy invasioninMarissinia. The castle itselfwasinastateofdisrepair,afarcry from the Golden Spires’pristinegrounds.

Asmileeaseditswayontohisfaceashecrossedtheareabeforethewesternmosttower.Two men supervised severalyoungboyswhowere dressedin ragged attire. They weregoing through a litany ofexercises and some form ofbare-handed combat. As hepassed, the men called for ahalt.Theboysclimbedtotheirfeet. He expected to seedetermination and some

semblanceofpleasureontheirfaces. Instead, theirexpressions were blank.Frowning, he continuedtoward thebuilding.Whennoonecametoassisthimortakehishorse,hedismounted, tiedthe reins around a post, andstrode into the training hall’sregistry.

It was conspicuouslyempty.

Hehadneverbeen inside

thebuilding,butWinslowhadspentmanynightsdreamingofits contents, the bustle ofeveryday activities, thecamaraderie of his peers, thering of steel on steel, trainersshouting instructions, thesweating, straining,apprentices. There was noneofthat.Hewasgreetedbygreybricks, old carpets, barewalls,and a yawning space like agiant’stoothlessmaw,smelling

of old age. At the far end ofthe room was a table with abored-looking man sittingbehind it. Winslow stoppedandstaredinconsternation.

“No need to stop,” theman called, voice carrying aMarishman’sdrawl.“You’reintherightplace,sweets.”

“I—”“Before you go gettin’ all

big-headed on me, sweets,yourfathermusthavetoldyou

thatbein’acount’ssonmeansnothin’here.”Themanstood.He was a foot shorter thanWinslow, slim even with hisleather armor,his slantedeyesand yellowish skin toneconfirming what his accentsuggested. “I’m the authority.That’s the thing to remember,sweets. Now, I can go on tosay, that if you feel yourposition means I shouldrespect you and come

grovelin’, singin’ praises,scrapin’andbowin’thenyou’dbe mistaken. You can try,though, demand somethin’ ofme, put me in my place …”the man grinned, yellowedteeth showing, “I’d like that.It’snoteverydayIgettobeata noble bloody and get awaywithit.”

“What madness is this?Myfather—”

Winslow never saw the

man move. One moment theMarishmanwasstandingatthetable, and the next he wasbeside Winslow, reeking ofsweat. A backhand, a knee tothe stomach, and Winslowfound himself on the cold,rough floor. Blood trickledfromthecornerofhismouth,its taste as bitter as hisembarrassment.

“My name is DrillmasterLestin, but you’ll call me

boss.” The drillmaster’s bootscameintofocus.Theyhadthemetallicglintof ironsabatons.“I’m one of the Blades’trainers.”Apieceofvellumfellnext toWinslow’s face. “Thishere is your contract, signedover byCountCardiff. If youwantout,allyouhavetodoisscribble on that last page.Goahead, you’d be doin’ me afavor.” A pause followed.Winslow made no attempt to

touch the scroll. “If you wishtocontinuethenlisten.”

Winslow opened hismouthtospeak.Ironsabatonssentpainlancinguphisribs.

“Uh, uh, I said listen.”Another pause, and thenLestin continued. “See, thatwasn’t so bad. Been a whilesince I got an apprentice ofyour age. Thewee ones listenfrom the start. It’s why theypick‘emyoung,youknow,like

takin’fruitstillgreenfromthetree and makin’ it ripen howyouwant.You older ones arealwaystrouble,especiallywhenthey got a swollen head likeyou.”OneboottiltedtoasidesoWinslowcouldseethesole.“Thesehere are good for thatsort of thing.Canpop a skulllikearipemelon.ThelastoneyourageItrainedwasSorinya,and look how he turned out.Damnshame.Stand.”

Ribs throbbing, Winslowcrawled to his feet. With histhumb, he wiped the wetnessatthecornerofhismouth,hisfinger coming away bloody.He wanted so much to strikeattheMarishman,buthisribs,Lestin’s grin, and the man’shardeyes,warnedhimitwouldbeamistake.Abadone.

Lestin reached out,knuckles covered in ridgesunder the skin, and

straightened Winslow’s coat.“There, all pretty again,sweets.” The Marishmansniffed.“Yousmelllikefood.”He shook his head andsmackedhislips.“You’regoin’togrowoutofthatrealsoon.”

The drillmaster walkedaroundhim.“Thereoncewerehundreds of thousands ofBlades and trainees here, butbeing a Blade kills you assurely as a deep gut wound

without a wiseman to tend toit. Now, the king has movedthe trainin’ mostly to theGolden Spires.” When hereturned, he met Winslow’sgaze.“Allthat’sleftareaselectfewapprentices.Idoubtthey’llspeak to you, though, youbein’ new and all noble-like.Yousee,they’realldregs,likeIusedtobe,orsotheysay.Butenough talk, I tend to getcarriedaway.Anyquestions?”

“Wh-Why are you doingthis?”Winslowmuttered.

“Why?” Lestin’s browwrinkled.“Becauseit’sthewayof the Blades. You noblesalways come here with thisdream of honor. There isn’tany honor in bein’ a Blade,sweets. It’s just life anddeath.Mostly death. If you’re toosoft, you can’t dowhat needsdoin’.”

“The Blades are about

honor, fighting, wielding soul,allinthenameoftheking,forKasinia,”Winslowretorted.

Lestin threw his headback and cackled. “You’vebeen readin’ too manybleedingbooks.Theydomakea Blade’s life sound like adream, don’t they? Them andthoseguiser’splays.What is ityouthinkBladesdo?”

“Keep the king’s peace,conquer in the name of

Kasinia, and defend thethrone.”

“You’re right there.Now,how do you think theyaccomplishallthat?”

“Soul—”“Heh. Soul magic. You

think that’swhat you came tolearn?No,sweets,youcametolearn how to be hard. Youcame to learn how to suffer,how to make men suffer, seethembleed.Youcamehereto

learn to accept that you’regoin’todieyoung.Mostofall,youcametolearnhowtokill.”

“No.”Winslowrefusedtobelieveallheheard.Someofithad tobe lies,butdeep insidehissoultoldhimdifferently.

Lestinarchedaneyebrow.Winslow dipped his head,wincing in preparation for ablowthatnevercame.

“Haveyoueverbeen inabattle,sweets?”Lestingrabbed

Winslow’shandandturnedhispalm up. “No, you haven’t,you’resoftlikeableedinggirl.”Lestin’spalmswere likeroughsteel.“Well,warisn’twhatyouthink it is, all songs, andhonor, and camaraderie. It’sblood, guts, sweat, andbrains.The hardest, most ruthless,and smartest survive.Theonethat can make his opponentcower, wins. The Blades dowhat they do because people

fearthem.Andthere’snofeargreater than death. Except ifyou’re a Blade, then deathmeans nothin’ more than arelease. Still sound glorious toyou?”

“No.”“Good.Youseemtohave

some sense for a noble. Andsome fire by the look in youreyes.” Lestin nodded,seemingly satisfied. “Whateveryou thought this would be,

forget about it. I guarantee itwill be the hardest thing youeverdidinyourlife.”

Winslow deflated, allenthusiasmdrained.Thiswasafarcryfromwhatheexpected.In onemeeting, thisman hadshattered all his dreams of aBlade’slife.

“So, I say again, sweets,”Lestin bent to retrieve thevellum, “you can sign and gobacktoyournicelife.”

Asmuch ashewished todoasthedrillmastersuggested,somethinginWinslowrefused.Perhaps it was too many ofthose sleepless nights spentimaginingwhatitwouldbeliketo earn his apprenticeship.PerhapsitwasthechaseintheSmear or the events in theParmien Forest. He metLestin’s leer and hard eyesonce more. In that moment,Winslow decided he would

prove his worth and hisperseverance to thisMarishman.

“Very well.” Lestincrumpled the parchment.“Welcome to hell. MayDesitrinwatchoveryou.”

AGirlandaSword

Keedarhadno love for

the name of the inn, butsomething about itsatmospherecalledtohim.TheHangman stood next toanother tavern called theGlittering Lady in the middleoftheRiverQuarter’smazeof

cobbled streets and lanes. Ofall the establishments in thearea, it appeared to be one ofthe less favored, which wasperfect. Despite his concernfor his father andwhatmightbe happening in the Smear,Keedarfeltasenseofreliefatbeingaway.Itmighthavebeenthe chance to breathe thecleanerifbrinyairthisclosetotheRiverOst’ssluggishwatersor simply being able to walk

downastreetwherehedidnothave to step in garbage orworse. Not that the Quarterwasspotlessbyanymeans,butcomparing the two was likeputtingaRedBeggarnexttoanobleman.

He sat near a windowlookingoutontotheroadsthatwere always wet, as if theyperennially carried the river’smoisture. Seafarers andrivermen strode along, the

difference between the twooften a case of swarthier skinand lighter clothes for thosewhokepttotheoceans.Quitea few of them wereDarshanese, hook-nosed anddark-haired,havingbravedtheRaging Sea along their coaststo lead those less adept atnavigating its tumultuouscurrents. A few FarishIslanders, bodies covered intattoos, stood out among the

crowds.Withtheking’srecentpardon, themen of their racehad appeared in droves. Onein particular, so much biggerand more tanned than othersof his people that it wasobvious he was a half-breed,walkedwithadancer’sgraceashe headed toward theHangman’sentrance.

Martel, Father’s Sword,was a man of angular linesfromhisfacedowntohislegs.

It was as if he was sculptedfrom stone. His green eyeswere a reflectionofhismixedheritage. Itwas saidwhen theSword came to see aman, allthat remained would be guts.Although he sported tattooslike the Farish Islander heclaimed tobe, his complexionwasclosertoaThelusian.TheonetimeKeedarhadmanagedtogethimtospeakofhispast,Martel said his mother was

rapedbyoneofthebig-bonedmen. Keedar didn’t doubt it.Not with the hate that shonein Martel’s eyes whenever hesawhisdarkerhalf.

“Rose,” Keedar called tothe serving girl behind him,“bring me another cup ofcoffee,butspikeitwithalittlemesqa. In fact, make it moremesqathancoffee.”Hefoundthe liquor a bit bitter for histastes, but it was a Farish

Islandfavorite.“Yes, m’lord,” Rose

replied, her voicenot carryinga hint of her Marishbackground.

“And please, stop callingmethat.I’mjustacommoner.Myname’sKeedar.”

“Yes,m’—Keedar.”Well,that’sastart.Ithad

been hard enough to get thewoman to say two words tohimwithoutbowing.Thenthe

Hangman’s owner had askedhim if he was interested inRose’s other services. He hadtried not to show hisembarrassment, but he wascertain it must have writtenitselfonhis facewith thewayMaster Hernol burst intolaughter, holdinghis big belly.Keedarwondered if he pokedthe man with a pin if hisstomachwould pop.Not thathe hadn’t been admiring

Rose’s curves and swayingwalk, but the innkeeper wastoo watchful by far. Pot gutbastard.

The door opened and letin a breeze of cool air and awhiffoftheriver.Itoffsetthewarmth from the hearthagainstthefarwall.

Martel eyed him, gave anod, and then strode over. “Ikeep telling your father youshould live here in the

Quarter.”Hepulledoutachairand sat to Keedar’s right.“You’re far too valuable tolose.”

“Hello to you too,Martel.”

The Sword inclined hishead.

“Asforvalue,Ithinkyouand my father matter morethan I ever could. Perhapswhen I’m up there in years Icanclaimthesame.”

“Appears as if you’recallingmeold.”

“Well,Istillhavehair.”“You brat.” Martel

grinned. “I’m bald by choice.Besides,theladieslikemyheadthisway.”

“Ifyousayso.”“Ido.I’mtellingyou, the

waytheystrokemyheadwhenIhaveitniceandoiled.It’sliketheywanttomake lovetothething.”

Keedarrolledhiseyes.Rose reappearedwith the

cup of coffee, the odor fromthe mesqa rising with thesteam. She bowed severaltimestothem,avertedhereyesfromMartel’srovinggaze,andgaveKeedaraslightsmile.

“Nice girl you havethere,” Martel said as shewalked away to serve anotherpatron.“Looksasifshe’dbeanicetumble.”

“I wouldn’t know,”Keedarreplied,buthemadeithis business not to glance inRose’s direction. Even so, hecouldclearlypictureherbrowncurls, skin like smooth honey,eyes that seemed so innocent,a smile that made him blush,andcurvesthathadhimdreamof how she would feel in hisarms.

“Sothat’showitis,isit?”Martelchuckled.

“What?”“Boy, you should know

by now that you can’t hideanything from me. Here’s afreetip.Shelikesyou.Andnotfor you to spend coin on hereither.”

Keedarsaidnothing.“The way you’re red in

the face might make a manthink you never had a tastebefore,butIknowdifferently.Justdon’tgetattachedtoher.”

Marteltookasipfromthecup.“Hmm.Goodstuff.”

Rather than have Martelcoach him on how toapproach Rose or startrecounting his own exploits,Keedar decided to change thesubject. “So what’s the wordfromtheSmear?”

“Well, Sorinya’s goingabouthisbusiness,killedafewSnakes, but he’s still on thewarpath.”

“What’s my father doingabouthim?”

“Seeing to it that theEbon Blade doesn’t kill toomany.”

Keedar shook his head.“Why not simply stop him.You’re Father’s Sword. Isn’tthat part of your job?” Hehadn’tmeanttobringupwhatmight be happening, butsomewhere in the back of hismind heworried not only for

his father but for the well-being of any caught inSorinya’spath.

Martel stopped with thecuphalfway tohismouth.Herested it back down on thetable. “There’s no such thingas simple when dealing withoneof theirkind.BladeornoBlade,don’t you think I’d liketo get my hands on him?That’s the very reasonDelisarsentmehere.HeknowsIhave

aspecialplace inmyheartforSorinya and his people. Andthere’s noway I’d let upuntilone of us is dead. So he sentme here to watch after you,and tomakecertain thecountdoesn’tsendsomeonehere.Asfor stopping Sorinya, ifsomeonedid,thatmightsparkthe nobles to dispatch anentiresquad.”

“It’sthatserious?”“Delisar believes so. It’s

the nobles and their damnedpolitics. Reports from ourpeopleinsidesaythere’sboundtobeanuprisingsoon.WhatisitthattheHillscallit?”

“SuccessionDay.”“Yes, that,” Martel said.

“I’ve been in the middle ofoneof thembefore,waybackwhen Jemare took the crown.Trust me, it’s not pretty.Makes the Night of Bladesseem like an outingwith your

lady by the riverside. Nobleskillingeachotherandanythingelse not pledged to them.Wecan only hope we aren’t hereto see it when it comes.”Martel threw back his headand downed the rest of themesqa.

Lecturers, books, orsecond hand accounts hadpassed on any details Keedargarnered concerningSuccession Day. Most folk

didn’t like to speak on it.When they did, theymentioned nobles formingarmies and something aboutFar’an Senjin—oldDracodarian for the Game ofSouls. His father said part ofthe gamewas played outwithevery Day of Accolades. Inancient times it was a contestheld within the nowabandoned arenas wheremelders battled each other

with a princess’ hand as theprize.

“So theplan is forme tojust sithere,”Keedarsaid.HecouldbeofbetterusescoutingtheSmear.

“I’denjoyitifIwereyou.I might boast, but I wouldn’trelishgoingupagainstSorinya.A man would have to beinsanetodoso.”

“Andmyfather?”“Believeitornot,ifIhad

tochooseoneortheotherinastraight fight, I’m putting mycoin on Delisar. All of it.”MartelturnedtoRose,holdingup his cup. “Ay, young miss,moreofthis.”

The ideaofDelisar beingthat strong in soul brought asmile toKeedar’s face.Marteldid not give praise lightly. Italso eased some of theapprehension he’d beenexperiencing.

Martel put his palms onthe table and pushed to hisfeet.

“Didn’t you just orderanotherdrink?”

“That one was for you.”Martelwinked.“Ihaveajobtodo.Ican’taffordtogetdrunk.You, on the other hand, needto loosen your tongue andworry less. I’m sure yourservinggirlwillbehappierforit. You’ve been through a lot

foronesoyoung.Beingadeptatsoulmagicisasmuchaboutfightingas it is toknowwhenyour body needs rest. I’ll beoutside keeping an eye onyou.” The Sword strode fromthetavern.

“He no longer wants hisdrink?”RosesaidfromnexttoKeedar.

“It’sforme.”Rose bowed, placed the

glassonthetable,andmadeto

turnaway.Keedarreachedoutand touched her arm. Shestoppedandlookeddownintohis face, a shy smile on herlips.

“CouldIspeakwithyouamoment?”Heheldhergaze.

“Of course. Whateverm’lord needs.” She cast anervous glance toward theinn’sfrontdesk.

He sighed, stood, andheaded over to where Master

Hernol stood behind thecounter, picking at hisfingernails, trying to appeardisinterested.

“Yes?” The innkeeperglanced up, one corner of hismouthcurvedup.

“I need some time withRose. Take it from the coin IgaveyouwhenIfirstcame.”

“See, I knew you wouldcomearound.Everyonedoes.”

Keedar restrained himself

from slapping the man in hisleering, obnoxious face. “Youwillsaynothingofthistoher.IfIhearoneword,theSwordwillpayyouavisit.”

Theinnkeeper’seyesgrewround and his hands shook.“Y-yes, my lips are sealed,youngmaster.”

Without another word,Keedar returned to whereRose waited. “Come, I’mfamished. Show me what’s

good here in the RiverQuarter.”

PriestsandPlots

Surrounded by the

scents of a dozen incenses,Ainslen eased into a seat inHigh Priest Jarod’s chambers.He winced as he leaned overto rest his crutch against anearbychair.Thewisemanhadpaintings dedicated to eachoftheDominion’sGodshangingon his walls, the largest of

whichdisplayedMandrigal,hisheadwreathed ingold likethesun he represented, as herescued those who’d beenfaithfultohim,snatchingtheirsouls from the Great Beyondandbringingthembacktolife.Such nonsense. Ainslensmirked. To think that apeople as civilized as his stillheldtotheseinanebeliefs.

“Ah, Count Cardiff,”Jarod said in his too smooth

voice as he entered, “pleasantsurprise. I did not expect toseeyousosoon.”

“My wounds have beenhealingnicely,thankstoyou.”

Jarod’s eyes roved overthecrutch.“Butyou’restillnotable towalkwithout aid. Youshould have stayed home andsentforme.”

“That’stheexactreasonIcame.TocarryoutmyplansImust heal faster. I had blood

taken from the boy today.”Ainslen held up the ceramiccontainer. “With what Lestinputhimthroughinhisfirstdayor two, thiswas thebest timeforit.”

Jarodhissed.“Youshouldhavewaited.Itisalwaysbetterifthetransfusionisdonefromone body to the next. Theblood is at its most potentthen.”

“The boy’s growing

stronger.I’veseenitformyselfnow.Hemighthavepickedupon what was happening. Icannotriskthat.”

“Fair enough.” Jarodpoked his head out the door,said a few words, and camebackinside.Backbentslightly,he shuffled over to acomfortable armchair near abook rack. “Selentus will behereshortly.”

“Good.”

“How are your otherendeavors?”

Jarod might have beenwelloverninetyyearsold,butAinslen could never tell.Exceptforhissnowyhair,andhis bent back, which Ainslenknew to be a ploy, all elseabout thewisemanspokeof ayounger person. His deftfingers inwhateverhedid,hislack of wrinkles, and his eyesmost of all. Theywere a blue

so piercing they might havewellbeencarved fromapieceofcobalt.

“Things aregoing sowellitmakesmenervous,”Ainslenreplied. Lying to the wisemanwas pointless. Jarod had nograsp of melding as far as heknew,butthemanhadafountofinformationthanrandeeperthan the River Ost. “Amessage arrived by raven toconfirmmysuspicionsofwhat

theKheridisiansarehiding.”Jarod’s mouth formed an

‘O’. His eyes lit up. “TheFatherwill be pleased to hearthis. When can he expect histribute?”

“First,Imustcommissiona squad of Blades, and then Ineedtotakethecrownbeforeyou and yours can have yourrewards.”

“Jemare is no fool. Bynowheknowsthatthehouses

are all plotting. How do youplantosecuretheBladesifhedecides to put a stop to thecontracts?”

Ainslen produced theking’s honor badge. “I havealreadysentouttheorder.”

“A shrewdmove. You’vegrown bolder the closer youhave come to success.” Jarodintertwinedhisfingers,makingthemcracklikeamansteppingon ice across a half-frozen

lake. “Be careful not tobecome too clever for yourown good. Remember,nothing happens without theapprovalofourOrder.”

The Order of theDominion.Ainslensuppressedtheneedtogrimace.Theyhadtoo much power by far,holdingswayovermostofthepopulationthroughprayerandthe temples. The priests wereasmuchapartofFar’anSenjin

as the nobles who activelyplayed it. One day he wouldhavetoseethatchanged.

“A man might almostthink you didn’t trust him.”Ainslenmade a steeple of hishands.“Afterallhe’ssacrificedand given in the name of theOrder. Because of me, youhave a foothold where youhavedreamedforyears.Alittletrustwillgoalongway.”

Jarod smiled. “You have

our ear and our help. That’squite enough. We do thankyou for all you have providedus. Soon, you will wear ourgratitudeonyourhead.”

“AndforthatI’minyourdebt.”WhichiswhyIneedtodiscoverwhois thissecretiveFather of yours. Chop off amonster’s head and the bodywouldrot.

“When do you expectdelivery?”

“Two months at themost.”

“Time enough foreverythingtobeinplace.”

A knock sounded on thedoor.

“Enter,”Jarodcalled.Similar to Jarod, Selentus

was another wiseman whoappeared almost ageless.Unlikehisbrethrenhestillhadblack hair, combed and oiledto match the precise trim of

hisbeard.“You sent for me, High

One?” Selentus bowed toJarod.

“Take the blood fromCount Cardiff and get theroom cleaned and ready.He’sinneedofatransfusion.”

Selentus gave amerenodtoAinslen.Intheirtemple,thepriestsrecognizednoauthoritybuttheirown.

“This time I prefer to

remain awake during theprocedure,”Ainslensaid.

“If that is your wish.”Selentus took the container.“A topicalnumbingagentwillworkforwhatweintend.”Hefaced Jarod, bowed once, andleft.

“Are you certain you canstand the pain?” Jarod’s browfurrowedashespoke.

“I’ve already suffered theworst pain I ever could,”

Ainslen said, recallingMarjorie’sdeath.Thememoryoften came upon him here inthetemples.Hefoundhimselfquestioning the reason theGods had for taking the livesofhislovedones.

“There’s a differencebetween physical and mentalanguish.”

Ainslen shrugged.“Perhaps. I have been in alltypesofbattles,sufferedmany

differentwounds,andnothinghas hurt like it did that night.If I could persevere throughthat, then I can withstandthis.” He didn’t wish to tellJarod that he needed the hurtto feel alive. Much that oncemoved him no longer did.Oftentimeshewonderedifhehadanyemotionsleft.

“The choice is yours, butbecareful.Yourfeelingsareasmuch a part of your soul as

anything else. Together theydetermine who you are andwhatyoubecome.”

“No need to lecture me.Youtrainedmewell,butIambeyondallofthatnow.”

Lips pursed, Jarod shookhis head. “You worry mesometimes.”

I should worry you allthe time. “What do you thinkof the dreg now that hesurvived the derins?”

Previously, High Priest Jarodhadbeenunimpressed.

“Hehas turnedout tobean interesting case. You’veconvincedmehe’sspecial.I’mstill baffled as to how wemissed him, but soon enoughwe shall discover hisbackground.”

“You and I both knowhow the examiners did notpickuponhim.YourOrder’sstubbornness by refusing to

acknowledge that the Smear’sinhabitants have been hidingthe more gifted children. Ifneither their abandonment oftheDominionnortheirlackofproducing dominant Bladeshaveconvincedyou,Iwonderwhatwill.”

TheHighPriest’spiercingeyes glittered as his facedarkened. “It would do wellforyoutobecarefultowhomand where you voice such

sentiments. It’s almost as ifyou suggest that we areinvolved in whateverdeception you think may beafoot.”

“SorryifIoffendedyou.”Ainslen had nothing butsuspicions. He chided himselfforsayingabittoomuch.“Myanger over what happenedwith my wife sometimes getsthebetterofme.”

Jarod dipped his head in

acceptanceoftheapology.“AsI said, I will inquire into theboy’sorigins.”

Besides the transfusion,there was another reasonAinslenhadcome.Nowwasasgooda time as any to inquire.“I heard you visited HouseHazlinetoday.”

“Idid.”“Well?”Jarod took his time

answering. The man had a

habit of liking people to hangonhiswords. Finally, he said,“Shehasmissedherblood.”

Although Ainslenexpectedtheresults,theywereno less pleasing. Theconfirmation ensured Shenenwould fall in line regardlessofwhat anyone elsemight offer.“Come, let’sbedonewith thetransfusion.IthinkI’llbeableto stand almost anything aftersuchnews.”

AnAssignment

Dayshadstretchedinto

weeks and Keedar foundhimself not thinking muchabout home other than theoccasional concern for hisfather. Rose kept himcompany on a regular basiswhenHernolhadnoneedforher. Keedar enjoyed herpresence. Not only had she

seen to his wounds, but shealsokepthimfed.Beddingherwas a plus. She’d shown himaround the Quarter, gottenhim new clothes, andintroducedhimtoseveralinnswhere he could enjoy themusic and the food while hestolekissesfromher.

He no longer wore thebandages, and the stiffness heonce feltwas gone.To be ridof the stenchofmedicineand

old blood had been welcome.Of late, he practiced sintu,usinghissoultocoaxhisbodyintohealingevenfaster.Ithadworked.Whenever he sparredwith Martel, he could almostkeep up, and not once in thepast week had there been atwinge.

Sitting at the window, hewaslookingoutontothebusystreets when he spotted afamiliarformapproachMartel.

Keedar’s breath caught in histhroat. It was the first timeFatherhadcometoseehim.

“Rose?”“Yes?”Shewasfixingher

dressinthemirror.“Ihaveavisitor.Canyou

showhimupforme,please.”“Certainly.” Rose walked

over to him, hips swaying,gavehimapeckonthecheek,andleft.

Keedar waited, listening

forthefootstepsonthestairs,and then as they approachedthe door. Seeing his fatheroutsidehadbroughtafloodofemotionsandlonging.HewasgladtoseeDelisaralivetosaythe least.Knuckles rapped onthewood.

“Enter.”Fatherstrodein.Hehada

satchel slung over oneshoulder,andhewaswearingafine cotton shirt and trousers

in his favorite blue. Delisarstopped,foreheadfurrowedashe eyed Keedar’s bare chest.Then he glanced over to theunmadebedanditscoversandback toward the door. Hiseyebrowsclimbedhisforeheadbefore he smiled. “I see youhave made yourself quitecomfortable.”

Keedar’sfaceflushed.Forthe first time, he realized theroomstankofsex.Heopened

hismouth, closed it, and thenopeneditagain.

“Noexplanationneeded,”Delisar said. “I would havedonethesamemyself.Intruth,I was beginning to worry.Since the time I brought youto the Quarter, I have yet tosee you pursue anything butyourtraining.”

More heat rose inKeedar’s face. To say his firstencounter with a woman had

been embarrassing as well asenlightening was anunderstatement.

“Come,giveyouroldmana hug.” Delisar laughed, eyestwinkling.

Still speechless, Keedarmanaged a smile as he strodeover to his father, and theyembraced. The momentseemed to last forever, thescentofsweatandhorserisingfrom Delisar. They released

each other, and Father gavehimanodofapproval.

“You look well,” Fathersaid.“Howareyoufeeling?”

Keedarraisedhisarmandturnedabittoexposehisside.“Asgoodasnew.”

Father inspected his ribsand chest. “You’ll wear a fewscarsfortherestofyourlife.”He slid his fingers across theroughpatchesandthefurrowsalongKeedar’sside.“Butthen

there’s something about scarsthat makes women want youevenmore.”

“Andhere Iwas thinkingshelikedmeforme.”

Fatherchuckled.“How are things at

home?”Keedarstrodeovertothe bed, picked up his shirt,andbegantopulliton.

“Fine for now. Sorinyagot his due.A fewmore diedthan I would have liked, but

sometimesthat’sthepriceyoupay.”

“The Snakes had itcoming anyway. They werebecoming too bold andcareless.”

“Yes but they’re still ourown.”Delisar sat in the chairKeedar had vacated. “At leastthis should sate the count’sappetiteforabit.”

“WhofelltoSorinya?”“Several you don’t know,

but he also got the ones thatfollowedthecounts’sons.”

“Allfour?”“No, three. Monroe,

Handal,andMileen.”“AndKillian?”“Hewentintohiding.No

one’sseenhimsince.”Although theywere from

theSmear,Keedarfeltlittleforthose particular Snakes. Theywere the ones who had killedRaishaar so long ago. He

regretted that Sorinya hadn’tgottenhishandsonKillian.Asthe leader of that little grouphewastheworstofthelot.

Keedar got the distinctimpression that his fatherwaswaiting to tell him more.“Whatisit?”

“I see you’re enjoying ithere. I haven’t seen you lookthis content since Raishaardied.”

“And you dislike being

the one to tellme it’s time tocomehome.”Keedarexpectedasmuch.Hewouldbelyingtohimself if he said he hadmissed the Smear a great deallately. Rose’s affections madeiteasytoforgettheplace.Buthomewaswherehebelonged.Fornow.Thetimespentawayfrom the Smear had got himthinking of the world outsideKasandaragain.

“Well, yes,” Delisar said.

“Except you won’t be goinghomejustyet.”

Keedar’s eyebrows shotuphisforehead.

“Word is that Winslowtookissuewithwhathappenedtoyou. It’sanopeningforus.A good time for you toworkyourselfintohistrust.”

“How do I accomplishthat?” There was no way hewas venturing into the TenHillsforachancemeetingwith

thenoble.Notifhewantedtokeephisskinintact.

“I’ll see to it that anopportunitypresentsitself.”

“HereintheQuarter?”“No. I’ll have someone

get you into Walker’s Row,”Father said. “Theboyshave atastefortheladiesthere.Keepaneyeonthemandmakesurethey stay out of trouble.Withwhat happened to CountCardiff, someone will think

MandrigalHillisatitsweakest,ready for the taking. I wouldexpect one of the other Hillstoseethisasaperfecttimetobe rid of Ainslen’s heir whilethecountisstillrecovering.”

The idea of heading intothe more affluentneighborhoods was less thanappealing. The thought oftakingonsomeassassin?Evenmore so. “I’ll stick out likerottenapplesonfeastday.And

what if I can’t stop the onetheysend.”

Delisar’slipscurledintoadevious smile. “This time, I’llensure help is nearby. As foryour appearance, you’re goingtohavetheproperattire tofitin. I have been grooming youfor years. Your time here hasproven you can play the part.Your speech will tell themyou’re educated, and yourcolor will say you might be

some noble’s bastard. All youneed to do afterward is keepan eye on your two friends. Ihave a sense they will needyou.”

Although skeptical,Keedar nodded. “I’ll do mybest.”

“I’m certain you will.”Delisarstrodeoverandruffledhishair.“Youalwaysdo,anditmakes me proud to call youson.”

The gesture easedKeedar’s fears somewhat. Hesmiled,happytoknowthathepleasedhisfather.Yet,deepinhisgutanothersensetoldhimthingsmightnotgoaswellasDelisarwashoping.

“First, before you leave,”Delisar said, “wemustdiscusshow you will approachWinslow.”

Keedar sat back andlistened.

ShatteredDreams

“It’s nothing like Iexpected,”Winslowsaidashethoughtofhistrainingsessionsthe past few weeks. Tearsalmost welled up in his eyes,but he squeezed them backwith grim determination. Hecould not bear to look at thecitadelbehindhim.Insteadhestared past the battlements

toward the WhetstoneMountains, a white and greenmantle upon their shoulders,theirpeaksshroudedbygrey.

“Blades … glorifiedmurderers. I tried to warnyou.” Gaston stood besidehim, cloak flapping in thewind.

When he needed time tothink, Winslow liked toventure up onto Kasandar’snorthern battlements,

breathing in the fresh, cool,crispair.Theviewbeyondwasalayerofgrassyplains,copses,and undulating hills, all theway to theWhetstone’s rockyfeet and snowy crags of theirhighest point. A contrast ofsoft and hard, fertile andbarren, life’s warmth anddeath’s freezing grip.ReflectionsofKasandaritself.

“No, they can’t be likethat…allthestories…”

“Are just that, Wins.Stories. Songs, tales spun bythosewhoareblindedbywhatgood the Bladesmight do, orby those who wish to hidewhattheyreallyare.”

Disheartened, Winslowshook his head in denial.“Theyareasmuchareasonwerule today as any other. Thesacrificestheymadeforus,theblood they shed, the braverytheydisplayed…noneofthat

isalie.”“Withitallcomesdeath.”“But—”“You’vealwayschosen to

ignoremewhenever I say theBlades are nothingmore thandregs, despite whatevereducation we give them.”Gaston turned and gesturedtowardKasandar.“Ifyoueverpaid attention to the dealingsof thehouses like I have, youwould know this, but you

pretend theDayofAccoladesdoesn’t exist until it suits you.You act as if Far’an Senjindoesn’t surround you. Likewhen you wanted to take thetrial. Despite what you mightwish, you aren’t invisible,Wins.Peopleseeyouforwhoyouare:acount’sson.Andnotany count, one of the mostprominentinKasinia.”

Numb, Winslow took intheTenHills and theGolden

Spiresafewmilesfromwherehestood.Sodistinctlydefinedwerethericherneighborhoodsfrom his vantage that hewondered how he’d neverconsidered it before. Theywereplacesofwide,brightlylitavenues, small castles, greatmanses, brick and polishedstone,thrivinggardens,andairthatonemightsavorwhenyouinhaled

In contrast, the poorer

districts were like creepythreads of rot at the edges oftheir neighbors, each onefouler than the next.Crumbling buildings, brokenfaçades, and leaking roofspopulated them. The homescrowded together, huggingeachotherasifseekingshelterfromthedenizensthatwalkedthe cracked cobbles. Garbagechokedtheirstreets.Andifhewas there at this moment, he

would retch on the filth ofdecayandcloggedsewers.

Withhis dreamsof glory,andwhatbeingaBlademeantnow shattered, much ofKasandar’sbeautyfeltlikealietohim.Onebigillusion.

“It’s better if you wouldforget becoming a Blade andconcentrate on learning theintricacies of politics instead.SuccessionDaymaybe closerthananyofus think,”Gaston

said.“I care nothing for their

plots.” Winslow returned hisattention to the north.“Sometimes I feel as ifKasandar itself is holding meback. There’s a bigger worldouttherethanwhatwehave.”

“Filled with heretics,thieves, the uncivilized,monsters, and madmen,”Gastonsaid.“Youcanhaveit.I rather my life here. You

should too. There’s nothingoutthereforyou.”

“Andwhat’shereforme?Years stuck meddling inpolitics, wondering whichhousemightbeplottingtokillme? A life spent shackled toElaina?” Count Cardiff hadpressured him earlierconcerningwhenhewouldaskfor her hand. He feared hisfather’sreactionifhetoldhimhe had no intentions on

marrying the girl. Particularlysince Lestin had reported hisinability to complete severalrequirements during histraining. The count hadactually snickered when hepresentedLestin’s review.Theexpressiononhis face saidheknewWinslowwouldfail longbeforethearrivaloftheactualtesttobecomeaBlade.Wherewillthatleavemethen?

“Elaina’s a prize that

manywish theyhad.Thinkofour lives, the privileges, theriches, the women,” Gastonsaid.“YouenjoythemasmuchasI.Alwayshave.SometimesIfear you won’t realize all youhave until it’s been snatchedfromyou.”

“My dreams and yourshavealwaysbeendifferent.”

“Notsomuchdifferentasmine being more sensible,moreattainable.”

“So the bloodshed onSuccession Day, all the liveslostandthechaosthatfollows,wouldbeworthittoyou?”

“If itmeantmy father oryoursruled?Yes.”

Tryashemight,Winslowcould not picture CountCardiff on the throne.Amanmight aswellwish to touch astar. “And you scoff at mydreamtobecomeaBlade?Theday the houses rise against

King Jemare is the day everycountmeetstheCreator.”

Gaston shrugged. “Andwewouldrisetoreplacethem.It’snotas if theydidn’tkill toachievetheirpositions.”

Winslowsnorted.“If you can have your

fantasies, I can have mine.Anyway, enough of thisbrooding. You’ve almostruinedmymoodforthenight.Time for you to make it up

with drinks and women.Jarina’sHands?”

“Ifthat’swhatyouwish.”CountCardiffhadadvised

him to use caution and notventure to their usual haunts,warning of the possibilityassassins might be dispatchedfrom the other houses. Itwashis father’sway of controllinghim yet again. Tonight, hewoulddotheopposite, ifonlyto feel as if he had some

freedom.

StrangerinBlue

Keedarwasflashingthe

most charming grin possible.Well, maybe it bordered oninsolent. But insolence was anobleman’s middle name,especially here in Walker’sRow.With his hairwashed, itfell past his shoulders likelayers of honey-colored satin.No dirt hid beneath his nails.

He hadn’t felt this clean inyears.When he thought on itfurther, he’d never been thisclean. Inhaling,he savoredhisscent.Hewouldbeanorchid’senvy.

Dressed in silk pants, ahomespun, white linen tunichangingtohiskneeswithdarkcrimson satin along theedges,and derin leather spauldersdyedtomatch,hestrodealongthe flagstoned streets. Damn,

helookedgood.Ifhedoubtedhis appearance, and he mostcertainly did not, the way thewomen eyed, ogled, andgiggled at him would havesweptthemaway.Hesmiledtohimself as they whispered toeachother.

Well known for itsrevelry, the Row provided awealth of establishmentswhere one could cater toalmost any vice. The women

herewere renowned forbeingexotic, spanning frombronze-skinned, tattooed FarishIslanders;milky complexionedHeleganesefromthefarnorth;big-boned Thelusians, skinobsidian and shiny; slant-eyedMarishwomenwiththeirstiltedaccents; to voluptuousKheridisians from thewesternforests,nosesrefined,skinlikesilk. He even spotted a fewDarshanese among them, the

dark-haired, hook-nosedpeople standing out in beautyeven here. Few among thewhores wereKasinian, and ofthose,mostborethetannedoryellowish pallor that markedthem as middle class folk.Each attempted to outdo theother in their style of dress,some to the pointwhere theystrutted around with only alace cloak to cover theirbodies. He shivered with the

thoughtofwearingsolittle.Keedar couldn’t help but

stare. Nobles, accustomed astheyweretotheactivities,paidthe women no heed, laughingamongst themselves whileheading to one tavern oranother from which musictinkledorblared.Anightwatchpatrol passed nearby, shieldsheld in front, spears tappingthecobblesastheymarchedtothecadenceoftheirboots.

Although Father hadreassured him he wouldn’t bequestioned by the watch orregarded in any fashion otherthan being of noble birthhimself,Keedarstillfoundthereality surprising andexhilarating,ifabitstrange.Hewas used to the oddexpressionsintheSmearwhenhe mingled on the streets.Once in a while, a personmight make space for him.

That was until closerinspection.When theynoticedhis cheap and at timespatchwork clothes, theydismissedhim.AlongWalker’sRow, no one paid him anyundue attention. In their eyes,hebelonged.

Thepudgymerchantwhohe’drodewithintothispartofKasandar was long gone, hiscoach trundling away as heheaded off to sell wine and

cloth.Thesameman,Denton,had turned out to be one ofFather’s agents. Another eyeopener. Denton informedKeedar where he might findGastonandWinslow.

Jarina’s Hands, the signoutfrontdeclared,namedafterthe Goddess of Revelry,KeeperoftheFourthHeaven.He stood before the tavern,the mélange of odors fromwithin setting his stomach

growling. The air in thisdistrictwassuchafarcryfromtheSmear,itsmelledasiftheywere in two different cities.The perfumes wafting fromthe various streetwalkers werea constant reminder of thedisparity.

Keedar expelled a breath.Itwasonethingtostrollalongstreets shrouded by darkness,quickly bypassing theilluminationthattorchlightand

lamps provided, where hedidn’thavetospeaktoanyone,but completely another toenter a tavern and not standout. Worse would be if hismannerismsandlanguagegavehim away. Confidence is yourally,heremindedhimself.

Acknowledging he wouldaccomplish little outside, hestraightenedhisback,strodetothe door, and pushed itinward. What struck him as

strangeatfirstwasnoticingthesouls from most within theroom. They intermingledwitheach other, reacting accordingto that person’s purpose. Hecould tell where a womandidn’t appreciate beingtouched and the subsequentresponseoftheman’sapology.Fatherhadtoldhimthismighthappen, the ability to senseother nimbuses beyond thoseofmelders,buttheabruptness

of its appearance left himtaken aback. Shrugging thethought off for the moment,hesurveyedtheservinghall.

Nobles crowded aroundtables, eating or chatting.Thoseinrichersilksandsatinshadboothslocatedtoonesidewith softer lighting. A harpstrummed in time to the lowcroonof a female’s voice thatsang a tale of EmperorIlsindin, the last Dracodarian

monarch, as he tried to purgeall Mareshna of the races heconsidered inferior or tainted.Theconflictshadlastedseveralmillennia, but people referredto it as the Thousand YearWar. It painted CortensKasandar as the first greatMareshnan ruler after hedefeatedIlsindin.

“Can I be of service,m’lordship?M’lordship?”

Keedar caught himself.

Hefoldedhishands,drewhisbrows together as if theserving girl had annoyed himwhilehewasdeep in thought,and then said, “Yes. I’d like atable, preferably in thatcorner.” He pointed to asection a bit dimmer than theremainderoftheinn’shall.

The slant-eyed girl, mostlikely aMarishwoman,bowed.“Asyouwish,m’lordship”Heraccent confirmed Keedar’s

assumption.“Bring me a flagon of

your finest and your bestdish,” he added as he strodetoward his chosen table, notwaitingforhertoleadtheway.

“Yes,m’lordship.”When he reached his

chair,hewaitedforhertopullit out, and he sat. He wavedher away. Leaning back toappear relaxed, he let theshadow cast by the curtain

behindhimfallacrosshisface.Chatter and laughter rolledacross the room in varyingamounts. The more raucousmen slapped serving girls onthe ass or pulled them closefor a feel.A fewstreetwalkersswayed among the crowd,offering their services fromtable to table. One man hadhis hand on a Thelusian’s tit,his pale flesh standing out onher inky skin. Keedar found

Winslow and Gaston towardthebackinaprivatebooth.

Surrounded by fourwomen,he thought theyoungmen would be all smiles.Gaston’spleasurewasevident.Expression glum, Winslowstared into a glass and its redcontents.Oneofthewomen,aFarish Islander with bronzeskin and half dozen piercingsin her nipples, snaked a handout to caress Winslow at the

elbow of his black satin shirt.He stared at her; she bowed,andeasedaway.

“Yourdrink,m’lordship.”The serving girl placed theflagonandaglassonthetable.“The food will be alongshortly.” She gave a quickdipofherheadandleft.

The night dragged withKeedar keeping an eyeon thetwoyoungmen.Onmorethanone occasion, Gaston had his

pants at his hips with awoman’s head in his lap.Winslow still appeareddisinterested, no matter howmany times his friend tried tocheerhimuporsentagirlhisway. Whatever was troublinghim,Winslow had no interestinrevelry.

Tomakecertainhe fit in,Keedarcalledoveronegirloranother from time to time,fondled them a bit, before

giving thema few copperbitsor a silver bit depending onhow impressed he was withtheir bodies.He couldn’t helphismanhood’sreaction,buthewas able to restrain himselffromgoingfurther.

He was dabbing at hismouth, the taste of the roastdeerstill fresh,andtheeffectsof his drinking bringing on alight buzz, when Winslowstood. The count’s son

dropped several silver roundson the table, judging by thecoins’ size.He helpedGastonto his feet. Cursing loudly,words slurred,Gastonmadeafeeble attempt topushoffhisfriend before collapsing backintohis seat.Winslowassistedhimoncemoreandheadedforthedoor.

Keedar made to standwhenhenoticedamanacrosstheroominanoutfitofablue

so dark it appeared black.Underhishat,theman’scheekbore mottled scars. What haddrawn Keedar’s attention wassintu’s unwavering nimbusaroundhim.Itwassostrongitresonated. Although thestranger was attempting toseem disinterested, his slant-eyed gaze tracked the youngnobles several times. Nosooner had Winslow andGaston departed than the

stranger stood and pulled thehatdown.Whenheheadedforthe door, he moved with ahunter’sgrace.

After Keedar droppedtwo silver bits on the table,and downed the last of hisdrink,hefollowed.OutontheRow, Winslow and Gastonweremakingtheirwaydownaside street toward a line ofcoaches. Not far behind, themantrailed,buthewassteadily

catching up. Consumed withsupportinghisfriend,Winslowdidn’tnotice.

A knot formed inKeedar’sgutwiththecertaintythatthishadtobetheassassin.He hoped the help Fatherpromisedwouldbenearby.

As the two youngnoblemenwerepassingapointalongabuildingwherethewallformed a corner, hiding thatpart of the street from

illumination,thestrangermadean impossibly long leap. Thenimbus around him bunchedand then expanded as he didso.

Winslow must havesensed the assailant somehow.Heturned.BeforehewasabletoextricateGaston’sarmfromaround his neck, the manslammed into him, driving allthree of them into the cutoutbehindthebuilding.

Drawing on the samedesperation that goaded himon in the Parmien, Keedarsprinted toward them. Herounded the corner in time tosee Winslow, bare-handed,attemptingtofendofthemanwhosearmroseandfell,metalglinting from his fist. Keedarbarreled into the attacker’sback,burrowinghisfaceintoacloakandclothes that smelledofpinecones.

They fell in a heap, butKeedar scrambled to his feet,daggers twirling up into hishands. Already standing, theman swept his hand out.Ripped from his grasp,Keedar’sdaggerswentflying.

Teeth glinting in a facewreathed in shadow, the mantook a step forward. Keedarwrenched at his will,demanding that the attackernot see him. He darted first

left then right, convinced hisskill would work. Theassassin’s trackingeyes andaneven wider grin saiddifferently.

Before either of themcould react, whistles sounded,followed by footstepsthudding on cobbles. Thenightwatch. Thank the TenHeavens.

With one last look atthem,theirassailantfled.

“Thank you … again,”Winslowwheezed.

“You’re welcome.”Keedar bent and helped himup.

Together, they rolledGaston onto his back. Hereeked of liquor. A bruisestoodoutonhisforehead,theareawet,sticky,andred.Theychecked him thoroughly toensure he suffered no otherwounds.Thoughunconscious,

he was breathing evenly andhadasteadypulse.

Before they could decidewhat to do next, thenightwatch made it to them.Armor and weapons clinking,the soldiers surrounded them,spearstrainedonKeedar.

“Stop it,” Winslowordered. “Put away yourweapons.He’safriend.”

A few hesitated, theirgazes drifting to one of their

order who bore a swordinstead of a spear and shield.Unlike the others, he wore aleather coif under his conicalhelmet. There was somethingdisturbingly familiar about thegreen eyes that regardedKeedar.

“What’s your name,sergeant?” Winslowdemanded.

“Costace,youngmaster.”Winslow rounded on the

other soldiers who still stoodwary, eyeingKeedar and theirsergeant. “Why are youlooking to Sergeant Costace?I’m Count Cardiff’s damnheir.” He pointed at Gaston’sprone form. “And this isCount Rostlin’s son. I gaveyouanorder,nowobey.”

The men mumbled theirapologiesbeforeeasingback.

“Haveafewofyourmenstay,Costace.The rest can try

to find our attacker. He’s aman in blue with a hat.”Winslow nodded in thedirection he disappeared. “Hewentthatway.”

Costace passed outinstructions, assigning four ofthe watch to them, andsending the others down thestreet. The sergeant thenhelped Winslow and Keedarcarry Gaston to a waitingcoach. They eased the

wounded noble onto thecushionedseats.

WhenWinslowheadedtothefronttopassorderstothedriver, Costace nodded toKeedar. “Thank you forhelping the counts’ sons.”Under his breath he added,“Likeyou,he’stoovaluabletolose.”

Underthelamplightinthecoach, Keedar saw thesergeant’s face in its entirety.

Martel’sgreeneyesstaredbackat him. The Sword cracked asmile.

“Are you well?”Winslowasked, glancing from KeedartoCostace.

Keedar hadn’t heard himreturn. “Um, y-yes,” hemanagedtosay.

“Youlookasifyousawaspirit.”

“No, nothing of the sort.Iwasalittleconcernedisall.”

“No need to worry. Youare under my protection.”Winslow dipped his head toMartel. “Sergeant Costace, wewillbeonourway.”

“Yes, young master. Safetravels.” Martel bowed andstrode over to his remainingmen.When thedriver flappedhis reinsandrolledaway, theywatched until the coach waswellonitsway.

Winslow checked on

Gaston once more. “He’ll befine.Aknockontheheadhasnever stopped him before.”He opened a flap behind himthrough which Keedar couldsee thedriver’s legs. “Head toany street near the Smear.”The driver gave a muffledanswer that sounded like anassent. Winslow closed theflap.

Still caught up in theshockofseeingMartel,Keedar

was staring out a crack in thecurtains as the signs andestablishments on Walker’sRowspedby.Fatherhadkepthiswordinamostunexpectedmanner.

“So, this is the secondtime you’ve shown up at anopportunemoment,”Winslowsaid after making sure hisfriend was comfortable. Twolamps on either side of thecoach’s velvet interior lit his

face. “The Smear I canunderstand, but what are youdoing in Walker’s Row, anddressedasanoblenoless?”

For a moment, Keedarconsidered lying.“WithCountCardiff still recovering fromhiswounds,myfatherthoughtsomeone might make anattemptonyourlife.InfightingontheHillsandallthat.”

Winslow gave him adubious look. “Two things.

First, thebusinessof theHillsisnoneofyours.Andsecond,no man does something fornothing. What is it that yourfatherwants?”

“Well, what happens onthe Hills is more a concernthan you think. My father’sinterest is in profits. If hecouldgathersomeinformationonwhichnobleisseekingwhatand when, or what particulargoods theHillsmight require,

then his profit marginsincrease. With the right help,he could make certain itemscheaperandforestall theusualprice fixing that happenswithintheConsortium.”

“He’dundercuthisown?”“The guilds know only

their coin.” Keedar shrugged.“Whichever leader finds thebest way to deliver it, he getsto dictate terms andagreements.”

“I see. So what do youwant?”

Keedar paused. At thispoint he was supposed tomention how most in theSmear shunned him, how hedidn’tfitin,hislackoffriends,how he simply wanted adifferent life, even somethingother than Kasandar. He wasto casually admit his ability insoul magic and suckWinslowin. Keedar didn’t quite know

whattomakeofWinslow,butthescornhepreviouslysensedfrom the young man wasabsent.

He told how he truly feltatthemoment.“Inallhonesty,Idon’tknow.”

ToHelptheEnemy

WinslowheldKeedar’s

gaze for a few momentslonger.Ifheconcentratedhardenough he had a knack forknowing when people lied tohim. No such deceptionemanatedfromthecommoner.Commoner. The name felt

oddinsteadofusingdreg.Three times now he’d

lived because of Keedar. Hecouldn’tthinkofhimthesameway any more. The idea thatthe guild member might bedeadbecauseofhisfatherhadeaten at him. He recalled atime when he wouldn’t havecared, when he would havelaugheditoff,buthenolongerfound pleasure in things heonce did. His feelings didn’t

makesensetohim.Intruth,heshould have despised Keedar.Instead, he’d developed anaffinity thathecouldnothelpnomatterhowhetried.

Tonight compoundedmatters. He glanced atGaston’sstillformoncemore.At least his breathing wassteady.Aftertiltinghisfriend’sheadtoseethegash,herippedthe sleeve from his shirt anduseditasabandage.Thesmell

of blood grew thick as heworked.Once satisfied, he satback, trying not to let theevents of the last few daysconsumehim.

He should have seen theattack coming, butpreoccupied as he was by thedisappointment of hisapprenticeship,he let any signof an imminent threat slip hisawareness.As he replayed thefight, he swore he’d seen his

assailant before, but exactlywherehecouldnotsay.Afteramoment,hebrushedaway thethought.Therewouldbe timeenoughtodwellonit.

“I can agree to deliveringinformationongoods and thelike,”Winslowsaid.Itwaspasttimetotrysomethingdifferentinhislife.

“We’ll give you apercentageof—”

“Coin means nothing to

me. I havemore than I couldpossibly spend.” He wasuncertain how Keedar wouldreact but acting decisivelyworked better than beingtentative. The training tobecome a Blade had so farbeen nothing he could haveimagined.Herequiredanotherway.

“What can we offer youthen?”

“Regardless of what you

say,Iknowyoucanmeld.Myfather believes it also.Whoever taught you, I wantthemtodothesameforme.”

“Even if I can do whatyousay,whatmakesyouthinkanymentorofminewishes toteachanoble?”

“Ifgaininganupperhandin the Consortium is asimportantas it seems, thenheshould.” Winslow could seethe lie forming. It was past

time to deliver his ownsurprise. “Whatever you’reabouttoclaim,itisn’ttrue.”

Keedar’seyesnarrowed.“I’m no melder yet, but

the ability is there. When IlookhardenoughorwhenI’maround a person long enough,Icantellwhentheylie.It’snotconstant,andIdon’thavefullcontrol of it yet, but ithappens. It’s as if their soulspeaks to me, tells me what’s

trueandwhatisn’t.”A smirk played across

Keedar’s face. Winslow couldsee the cogs turning in hishead,theskepticism.

“Count Cardiff isn’t yourfather,”Keedarsaid.

“You have to do betterthan that,” Winslow said,smiling.

Keedar simply looked athim.

Thesensehe’ddeveloped

said Keedar believed thewords. But he’d learned longago that a person’s beliefdidn’tnecessarilymakeathingtrue. Regardless, Keedar’sconviction radiated with toomuch force, too muchcertainty. Winslow’s mouthdried.

“No, that cannot be.”Thinking through his life,Winslow shook his head. Heremembered the count’s face

allthewayuntilhewasachild.A child…but not as a baby.Try as he might, he conjuredno visions of him in CountCardiff’s arms. Could that bewhy Count Cardiff neverspoke of his mother or hisbrother? He remembered hiswet nurse but not Ainslen.Shouldn’tIhavesuchimagesconsidering my mother diedgivingbirthtome?HestaredKeedar in the eye but met a

flat expression. “What do youremember of your motherfromwhenyouwereababy?”Fidgeting with his hands heawaitedtheanswer.

Keedargrimaced.“Idon’trecall a lot. Sometimes, I seeher holding me, looking intomy face, kissing me,whispering or singing to me,but …” He trailed off, hisattentiondrifting toacrack inthe curtains over the coach’s

windows. “What I remembermost is the night she died.Flames. Heat. Her screams.”Wetnessgatheredatthecornerofhiseyes.

“At least you have that,”Winslow whispered. “I’veneverfeltagreatconnectiontomy … to Count Cardiff. Ioften thought it was becausehe was always away onbusiness, leaving the servantstotakecareofme.WheneverI

would see other nobles orcounts playing with theirchildren,Iwouldwishtobeintheir place.” He consideredhow he and the count borelittle to no similarities inresemblance.Itonlymadehimfeel worse, a further jolt to asystem already in shock. “I-Icannot tell ifwhatyousaidofme is the truth, just that youbelieveit.OnewayoranotherIwillfindout.”

“If it makes you feel anybetter,” Keedar said, “youwere almost right about me.I’m close to being a melder.Most of what I do happensnaturally, without my fullcontrol, so I haven’t earnedthe title yet. My father saysonce I gain the last of themedian cycles, I’ll be a truemelder, and he’ll know mytype. Until then, I’m just atrainee. If youwish, I can ask

himtoteachyou.”Winslowcouldn’thelphis

slight smile. He neededsomething to hold onto. Thiswould do. “I’d like that. Formypart, Iwill helpwithwhatyouneed as long as it doesn’tinvolve bringing harm toanyone.Regardlessofwhetherhe’smytruefatherornot,thecount is the only father Iknow.”He’stheonlyfamilyIknow.

A knock on the woodannounced that they’d arrivedat their destination. “This isyourstop.”

“Thank you, I’ll see yousoon.”Keedar flung open thedoor, leaped from the coach,anddisappearedintothenight.

Winslow pulled the doorshut and sat back, mindwhirling.He’dagreedtohelpaguild leader, one of the verypeople his father loathed.

CountCardiff.DidKeedartellthe truth? Was the count nothisfather?Washeabastardassome rumors said? He hadalwaysbeen good at analyzingproblems, but he found noobvious answers. The rest oftheridetoAntelenHill,helaidback, closed his eyes, andfoughtbacktears.

When they arrived at theRostlin mansion’s front steps

onAntelenHill,WinslowwassurprisedtoseeCountCardiff,Kesta Rostlin, and severalattendants waiting. The bloodWinslow allowed thewisemanto takemusthavehelped.Hisfatherstillusedacrutchtuckedunderhisarmtowalk,buthiscomplexion was muchhealthier. Keedar’s wordssprang to mind almostimmediately, and he foundhimself wondering again if

theywerethetruth.By Count Kesta Rostlin’s

posture and the way he wasgesticulating, Winslow couldtell Gaston’s father wasn’tpleased. Face expressionless,Count Cardiff looked atKesta’spudgyhands thenmetthe man’s gaze. Almostimmediately, Kesta’s armsdropped to his side. To hiscredit, he did continue tospeak. Aidah Rostlin stood at

thedoor,wringingherhands.Whenever Winslow saw

Kesta, he thought of a largetub of jelly.Kesta’s expensivesilks and satins lookedridiculousonhim,butnoonewould dare tell him that. Notwith his temper, and not iftheywantedtolive.Unless,ofcourse,iftheywereoneoftheothercounts.

Within moments of thecoach drawing to a halt,

servants flung open the doorand helped Winslow lift hisfriend out. They restedGaston’s prone form on alitter before rushing off intothe house with him. Headthrobbing from the lingeringeffectsof thenight’sdrinking,Winslow watched in silence,muttering a prayer under hisbreath.

“What happened?” KestaRostlin’s jowls andmore than

ample belly shook with thequestion. His normally pinkfacewas redenough tomatchhis bloodshot eyes.He reekedofliquor.“Youweresupposedto be off enjoying yourselvesontheRow,notgettingintoafight.”

“Wasn’t a fight, someonetriedtokillus.”

“What?” Mouth open,KestaglaredfromWinslowtoCountCardiff andbackagain.

“Didyouseewho?”“No.Itwastoodark,and

he was too quick, but I’mpositiveitwasamelder.”

“I warned you thismighthappen,Kesta.”CountCardiffrested on the triangularsupport of his crutch,apparently at ease despite thetightness around his eyes.“Why would you allow themto go to the Row?”He facedWinslow. “And you, didn’t I

warnyou tobe careful?Did Inot tell you this would be agoodtimeforoneoftheotherhouses to attempt to kill you?WhenI’mweakened?”

“If you know who it is,”Kesta said, “you could stillchallengethem.”

Count Cardiff scowled.“Andyoushould thinkbeforeyouspeak.”

“So I’m supposed tostand here and take what

happened—”“Even if my father knew

whoitwas,”Winslowkepthisvoice low and calm, “if hecalledthemtoaduel,hewouldhave to fight the personhimself. If it’s CountsCardinton, Melinden, orShenen,allthreeareatleastasstrongasmyfatherinmelding.In his state, he would lose.Since he issued the challenge,hewouldn’t be able tohave a

champion stand in for himunlesstheyaskedforone.Andtheywouldnot.”

Kesta snapped hismouthshut.Hewasasbadatstrategyas he was ruthless. The manseemed to know one way toact, and that was withimmediateviolenceratherthanwith delicate maneuveringrequired by this situation. Asheads of the Jarina, Desitrin,andHazlineHouses the three

counts had enough riches tomatch four of the others. Itwouldbefoolishforhisfathertomoveagainstthem.

“Thank you.” CountCardiff dipped his head toWinslow. “If you feel sostrongly about it though,Kesta,youcouldcalltheduel.”

“I-I…”“Ornot.Wecanletthem

have this victory for now andfindawaytoretaliatelater.By

the time I have recoveredenough, if my wiseman’sestimates are correct, the twoweekwindowtocallwhicheverhouse it is intoaccountwouldhave passed. They bested usthistime,butweshallhaveourturn, trust me. Isn’t that thejoyofplayingFar’anSenjin?”

Winslowgroundhisteeth.Even in their sleep the noblehouses seemed to play thegame.

“I pray you’re right,Ainslen,” Kesta said. “I shallholdyoutoyourwordonthis.Remember, we need eachother, especially with theshipment due. Until we nextspeak,Ihaveasontotendto.”He turned and waddled offtowardhismansion.

From the way his fatherwatchedKesta’s back and thescowl on his face, Winslowcould tell he didn’t share the

samesentimentsasfarasneed.His father turned to him.

“Did you get an idea of thismelder’sskill?”

“No.”“Hmm. How did you

mangetoescapewithyourlifeanyway?”

“Thenightwatch.”CertainthecountalreadyhadareportWinslow wanted to keep hisanswerstoaminimum.

“Strange,” the count’s

expressionbecamethoughtful,“SergeantCostacesworesomeother noble assisted. A youngman a bit shorter than youwith sandy hair and ambereyes. Do you have any ideawhohewas?”

Winslow shrugged.“None.Somerandomstrangerwho decided to help, I guess.I’ve never seen him before.Possibly a young man fromone of theminor houses or a

visitor from elsewhere. Youknow the type the Rowattracts.”

“I do indeed,” CountCardiff answered. “Anyway,I’m glad that you are unhurt.Hopefully now you will heedmywarnings.Allofthem.”

“Yes,count,”Keedarsaidasmeeklyashecouldmanage,a sense of relief sweepingthrough him that his fatherhadnotforcedtheissue.

“Because Iwould hate todiscover that you were seenwiththatdregoncemore.”

Winslowsaidnothing.

GiftforaSon

“Lieutenant Sorinya

has returned, my lord,” theattendantcalled.

“Send him inimmediately.” Count CardifftappedafingerontheFarlandsmap. According to themarkings, several Dracodartribes still existed across theRenigen Sea, slaves to the

advanced yet savage race ofyellow-haired men he knewonly as Farlanders. Ainslenclosed the book, removed hisglasses,andwaited.

A moment later, Sorinyaentered. In one hand hecarriedasack.Withhimcamethe sharp scent of death. TheEbon Blade was wider acrossthan one side of the doubledoors. Whenever he steppedthrough a shadow, it often

seemed as if he disappeared.Mosquitoes swarmed towardhim, drawn to not only theblood but also to the man’ssweat.

It took a monumentaleffort for Ainslen not toengagehisshi.Butbyusing itto tell if the effect employedby Sorinya was a meldingability, he would possiblyexpose his own skills. Sorinyahad proven his loyalty for

many years, but there weresomethingsthathadtoremainsecretunderanycircumstance.BytheDominion,themanwasunnerving. Ainslen set hisglasses aside on the table. Heregarded the sack, and thenrolledhiseyes.“Wasthatreallynecessary?”

“You asked for heads,father. I brought you …” heemptiedthesackonthecarpet,“heads.”

Hair matted with driedblood, three heads tumbledacross the carpet beforebumping into a chest ofdrawers.Onthecheekofeachwas a snake tattoo. The deadeyes of two boys and a girlstaredaccusinglyathim.

Ainslen gripped the armofhis chair sohard thewoodcracked under the pressure.“Youhavegonetoofarnow,”hesaidthroughclenchedteeth.

Eyes narrowed, Sorinyapeered at him, and thengrinned.“HaveI?”Sintuflaredseveral inches from his body,hisessencehardening.

Realizing Sorinya’s goal,Ainslen brought his angerundercontrol.“Yes,youhave,butthisisneithertheplacenorthe time to teach you alesson.”

“And here I was lookingforward to class.” A hint of

disappointment coloredSorinya’s tone. The glowaroundhisbodysubsidedtoahair’slengthabovehisskin.

Ever since he adoptedSorinya, the Thelusian hadtested Ainslen, alwaysattemptingtoseewhowasthestrongest between them.Althoughhehad takenhim inquite a few years beyond theoptimalageforintegrationintothe Blades, he never thought

Sorinyawouldhavewanted tobeamonghisownpeople.Notafter the way he’d beenshowered with privileges andriches.

Howwronghe’dbeen.At eight, Sorinya took to

the books, reading about hisrace, visiting their buildingsandcommunities inKasandar.Inhisteenyears,he’dgoneona pilgrimage to his homelandand returned a changed man,

adoptingmanyThelusianways,including a willingness to testhissoulagainstAinslenwhomhe considered tobehis fatherand master. As told by thewarrior caste that led theThelusians, a boy earned hisfreedom, his right to declarehimselfamanbydefeatinghisparents. Since Sorinya savedKenslenfromthesamefateasMarjorie that night in theSmear, his challenges had

become more frequent. TheThelusian’s willingness to riskhisownlifebackthenwasoneofthethingsstoppingAinslenfromkillinghim.

“It will be a while yetbefore I allow you to havewhat you seek,” Ainslen said.He liked dealing with theBlades.Despite knowing theirupbringing, they actedwith asmucharroganceasthenobilitythemselves.

Sorinya shrugged. “Suityourself. I’m trying to helpyou.Bycustom,youwillhavetofaceme inayearanyway.Iwould rather you do so nowthanwhenI’minmyprime.”

A year. The Thelusianwould be thirty then. Wellbeyond the age the HighPriests had declared hewouldlive to see. Sorinya’s growthhaddispelledmanymyths.Theoldest being that only a full

Dracodarcouldmasteratleastseven cycles and live beyondhis twentiethyear.DevelopingintoaPhilodarwassaidtobeadeath sentence. Ainslenallowedhimselfaslightsmile.

“Anyway, what did youdiscover while in the Smear?”The excuse of a slight to theCardiff name had been morethan good enough for him tosendtheEbonBlade.

Sorinya slapped at his

arm. “Blasted pests. Why notlive outside if you’re going tokeep your windows open andlet in these cretins.” Hesmackedthebackofhisneck.

“WhatcanIsay?Ilikethefresh air. Ignore them andmakeyourreport.”

“There’s been anagreement between certainConsortium members,specifically the leaders of theShipmen and the Coinmen.”

Sorinya nodded to the threedecapitated Shaded Snakemembers.“Theydidn’tknowalot,andtheygaveupwhattheyhad without too much effort.Supposedly the plans are oldmanGiorin’swork.”

Ainslengrowledunderhisbreath.EversincetheNightofBlades, Delisar had swornrevenge to any who wouldlisten.IknewIshouldn’thavedismissed him out of hand.

“Did you manage to findanyone besides a Snake toquestion?”

“Your spy says they’vebeen advised to stay off theSmear’s streets and to refrainfrom their guild’s colors. Hedid lead me to anestablishment where I wouldhavebeenable to findat leastoneoftheShipmen,but thereweretwentyguardsposted.AsfortheCoinmen,HouseJarina

has extended their protectiontothem.”

DamnCardinton.Alwaysmeddling. I should have hadyou killed years ago. Ainslenletoutadeepbreath.

“Frustrating isn’t it?”Sorinya chided, “When youwish to fight a man, maybeevenkillhim,andyoucan’t?”

“Youkeep that up, and Iwill see to it that you neverjoin your people.” Ainslen

gave him a flat-eyed stare. “Ibet they could use you now,especially with this Farlanderthreat.”

Sorinya’s face became atwisted mask. His fistclenched. With it came arippingsoundashis rightarmburst through his shirt. Blackmuscles bulging, it was twiceasbigastheleft.

For a brief, panickedinstant,Ainslen almost tapped

into his soul, but the threatdisappeared almost as quicklyasitmanifested.

“Father or not, I will letyou know now,” Sorinyaturned to leave, “I will notstandbywhen theydo attack.Ifitmeanscominginhereandtearing you apart limb bybleeding limb,,” he shrugged,“sobeit.”

Ainslenwatched thedoorclose on the Thelusian’s wide

back. When he could nolonger smell the Ebon Blade,he snatched a mosquito fromthe air and popped it into hismouth. A smile spread acrosshis face with the feeding. HewonderedwhatSorinyawoulddo if he discovered the truth.He pulled on a rope next tothe door. Moments later, anattendantpeekedin.

“Send for my son. TellhimIhaveagiftforhim.”

ADayinTraining

“Father, this is

Winslow Cardiff, CountAinslen’s son.” Keedar stoodwithhisbacktothewhiteashtree. Itwas good to be in theParmien once again, inhalingthe gummy scents andlistening to the bird song. He

sighed contentedly. The sunwarmed his face while a coolbreezethreadedtheair.

“I’ve heard quite a bitaboutyoufrommyson.”Lipspursed, Father squinted atWinslow like he were anintriguingpiece toapuzzlehehadbeenworkingon,actingasifhewasnowseeingthenoblefor the first time and had notalready followed them to thisclearing.

“Is that good or bad?”Winslow fidgeted with hisgloves.

For once, Winslow hadworn something moremundane and suited for theParmienForest.Fall’schillwasbeginning to set in, and thelight leather and close-fittingthick linen would keep himwarm but not hinder anymovements. Father wassimilarly dressed.Forhis part,

Keedar had scroungedtogetherwhathecouldfindinRockbottom Plaza that hehoped wouldn’t make himseem so poor in Winslow’seyes. Still, the young noble’schoice in wear and muskyperfume made him feelinadequate.

“It’sgoodenoughforme.If it were bad, you wouldknow.”FathergaveWinslowawarm smile, one that should

make him a bit morecomfortablethanheappeared.

“Sowhendowestart?”“Patience,” Father said,

“is the first lesson you willlearn.”

“Yes,sir.Sorry.”Keedar snapped his head

around to Winslow. This wasthe first time he’d ever seenthenoblebemeek.

“Ihavea few rules.First,youmustneverrevealanything

I teach you to anyone else.”Fatherpaused,againsquinting.“Judging from what I see,someonehadbeensuppressingyour soul for some time,possibly years. If you practicesome of what you learn herewhen you’re in public, youmust restrict it towhatLestinteaches you. Any othertouchingofyoursoulwillgiveus away. Unless in defense ofyour life, use nothing I teach

againstanotherperson.”Winslow frowned. “Will

some experienced melder notsee that I’m using my soulanyway?”

“They will, but that’snatural. We use our souls inone form or another everymoment of the day.With therigorsthedrillmasterisputtingyou through, people willexpectyourenergytogrowonits own. Nothing I teach at

firstwillexceedthoselevels.”“Fine.”Delisar’s sintu increased

around him, envelopingWinslow. The young nobleshuddered.

“Do you agree to followtheserules?”

“Yes,Ido.”“Now, you’re bound.

Should you break your word,I’ll know. Not only will Irefuse to instruct you further,

but there’s a chance,depending on why you brokethe contract, that myself oroneofmyownmaypayyouavisit.” Delisar’s eyes and facebecame flat, his eyes dead.“That wouldn’t be good foryou.”

Winslow swallowed.“Understood.”

“Good.” Father beamed,hismoodchanging.“Now,forthe first lesson. Developing

your soul is as much aneveryday task as exercising.Thetwooftengotogether.So,for today, you will run withKeedar.Trytokeepupasbestyou can. If you do wellenough, I’ll teachyou the firstrequirementapersonneeds inorder to meld; the mostimportantandoverlookedpartof being able to see andmanageyoursoul.”

“Ihave learnedthebasics

before.” Winslow puffed outhischest.“I—”

“What you’ve learnedbeforemeansnothing tome,”Father said calmly. “Everyinstructor is different. Andthat’sanotherthing…youwilldoasIsaywhenIsaywithoutquestion. If you feeldifferently, we can end thisnow.”

“Sorry, sir. It will nothappenagain.”

“Good. Now, if you’reready,wewillbegin.”

“What of the derins.”Licking his lips, Winslowpeered into the thickestfoliage,eyesshiftingfromsidetoside.

“I’ll always be nearby,”Delisar said. “They won’tattackyouifI’mclose.Idoubtyou’ll see them anyway, butthat doesn’t mean they aren’tthere or they don’t see you.

They’re particular about whoand what they eat. Whichremindsme…next time youcome here, wear no perfume.It reeks. Come with yournaturalscentornotatall.”

Winslownodded.“What about their leader?

The female?”Keedar couldn’thelptheslightflutterthatcamewithhismemories.

“I have someone keepinganeyeonher.Now,go,run.”

Not wanting to givehimselforWinslowanychanceto hesitate further, Keedartook off. He headed for apatch of spruce and pine thatwasn’t toothick, their leavesaspongy carpet on the ground,their scents awelcome respiteto Kasandar’s stench.Calculating that if he ran forhalfhisnormalspeeditwouldbe a good test, heweaved hiswayamongsaplingsandbrush,

thegreenofleafandbrownofbarkasmuchapartofhimashis own skin. He’d gonemaybetwohundredfeetwhenan incongruousscent—severalspices he couldn’t place—brokehimfromhisenjoyment.

Winslow was a stepbehind him. And Keedarhadn’theardhisfootsteps.Theunexpected happened then, asWinslow not only drew even,but pulled ahead. Sweat

showing from exertion, thenobleranasifhe’ddoneithisentirelife.

The nimbus created byWinslow’s unconscious use ofsintu waxed and wanedunevenly, but its spurts wereso powerful Keedar felt itpushing against his own. Hegapedwith the realization thatthis was Winslow’s naturalstate, carefree, lively, and notthe glum, brash, at times

arrogant, and rather distantindividual he portrayed.Winslow glanced his way, thecorners of his lips curved up,but his eyes focused. Theintensity written on hisfeatures told Keedar of hisother traits: fiercedetermination andcompetitiveness. Winslowbelievedthatifthiswasarace,hewasgoingtowin.

Keedar couldn’t help his

own smile as tingles easedthrough his body at thechallenge. In smallbursts theyspread from his core inrhythmiccharges,thetypethatonce lifted the hair along hisarms when lightning struckone of the spires in the oldtemplededicated toKeneshin,the Grey God of Storms. Hetapped into his soul, drawingfrom nonessential parts hedidn’t require for running,

concentrating the energy onhis pumping legs and arms.With this—tern—the lastability in soul magic’s firstcycle,hisspeedincreased.Ifhedecided to, he could travelfour times his current speed.Instead, he tempered his paceuntil he led Winslow by adozenstrides.

Aglanceoverhisshouldershowed Winslow drivingharder to keep up, his cheeks

expanding and deflating like afish washed up on the shore.Winslow’s nimbus grewstronger, the trees and brushseen through it a mélange ofgreens, yellows, and browns.But without the control toapplyhisenergyappropriately,his speed didn’t increase tomatch.

Refocusing ahead beforehe crashed into a branch ortripped over roots, Keedar

maintained his pace. Thesecondpartof this testwouldbeendurance.

Threehours later,Keedarfinallydrewtoahaltnearoneoftheforest’smanypools,thesun’s rays glinting from itssurfacelikeagoldenjewel.Thewildlife scattered at hisapproach.Hewasdrinkinghissecond fill from his waterpouch when Winslow brokethrough the trees near the

pool’s edge. Face flushed andgasping for breath, Winslowstopped and bent over. Sweatdrippedfromhim.

“Here,” Keedar tossedhimtherefilledpouch.

Winslowlookedupjustintime to catch the leathercontainer. He gave a gratefulnod in Keedar’s directionbeforehethrewhisheadbackand guzzled. Within seconds,he was coughing and

sputtering.“Take your time. You

wouldn’t want to choke todeath.”

After a few more gulps,Winslowwipedhismouthwiththe back of his hand. “H-H-Howlongdidwerunfor?”

Keedar glanced to thesun, now well on its curvetowardevening.“Atleastthreehours.”

“I—” Winslow held up

his hand and took in a fewmore deep breaths. When hischestfinishedheaving,hesaid,“I have never run like thatbefore. I mean, I have alwaysbeen better than the otherswhenwespar,butwehaveyetto do anything like this evenwhen my father,” he paused,brow wrinkled, “when CountCardiff brought in a Marishswordmaster.”

Keedar snorted.

“Considering the way younobles are quick to behead amanformakingyoulookbad,I’m certain the swordmastermusthavetakeniteasy.”

“Whatever.” Winslowmoppedhisbrow,dranksomemore, and then poured wateroverhishead.“Thiswasn’tsobad. Not nearly as rough aswhatmydrillmasterdoes.”

“I could have made itharder on you, but I saw no

reason to.” Keedar had heardthe nightmare stories of theBlades’ vaunted training.Fatherclaimedsomeof itwasnecessary, but that eachstudent should be judged onhis or her own merits. TheBlades were different, Fathersaid,becausetheytrainedmentokill.

“Howdo you think I didtoday?”

“That’s for my father to

say,notI.”Winslow sighed. “So

whereishe,andwhatnow?”“Now, we wait.” Keedar

settled down on a boulder todoexactlythat.

The third part of the testhadbegun.

In truth, Winslow’sperformance had beensurprising. For a person whohadnotgonethroughyearsofpractice, he had an uncanny

graspoftern,abletotakeabitof soul from one part of hisbody and apply it to another.Keedarwasuncertain if itwasa natural occurrence or if ithad been induced. Delisarwould be able to telldifference.Thoseadeptinternwould excel at thecorresponding median cycle,hyzen,whichallowedapersonto shiftnearly all of their soulto a specific body part, thus

making it incredibly strong orflexible. It weakened theunprotected parts, but thebenefits and need defined itsuse. Keedar smiled, the sunwarminghisface,theprospectof watching Winslow’sdevelopmentexcitinghim.

Afternoon dragged intoeveningwithnotmuchpassingfor conversation betweenthem. On several occasions,Winslow opened his mouth,

but then closed it withoutsharing his thoughts. By hispinched expression andgrindingjaw,hewasfrustrated,but he refused to voice hisdispleasure.Thedaybirdsandanimals chittered into silence,and owls and the night’sdenizens took up their calls.Antelenrose,castingitssilveryglowacrossthelandandwaterto honor the Goddess afterwhichitwasnamed.

“Notbadatall.”Keedardidn’t react tohis

father’s voice, but Winslowstarted. The young noblescrambled to his feet.Expectinganoutburst,Keedarwaited, but none came.Instead, Winslow dipped hisheadtoDelisar.

“You passed the firstthree tests required.” A lampsparked to life in Delisar’shands.“Anaturalabilityabove

others to draw on your soul.Endurance. Patience.Youwillneedallthreeifyoueverhopetobecomeamelder.”

“Thank you.” Winslowbeamed like a child tastingsweetsforthefirsttime.

“Temperyourexcitement.It may take years yet beforeyou accomplish your firstmeld.Thisisbutasmallstep.”

“I have no care for howlong it takes. I promise to be

asdiligentastudentasanyyouhave.” Winslow glanced atKeedar, eyes showing hisdetermination.

Delisar smiled. “It’s goodto set yourself a goal, even ifit’s a bit lofty.” He turned toKeedar. “I see you used terntoday. Be careful whendrawingonit.Theweaknessitcreates in other parts of yourbodycanbeglaring.It’sbestifyou use sintu to help protect

whatyouexposed.”“Yes,Father.”“Well, that is all for

today,” Delisar said. “Makeyour way to Kasandar. I willseeyoubothonthemorrow.”HehandedthelamptoKeedarand trotted off into the darktreeline.

Hours later, they exitedtheforestwhereWinslowkepthis stallion. In the distance

Kasandar’s twinkling eyesshone from the battlements,spires,andtowers.

Winslow mounted andheld a hand down toKeedar.“Inorder togetback into thecitadel at this time you’ll needme.”

“You’renotworriedwhatthe count might think ifsomeone reports us enteringtogether?” Keedar grabbed aholdoftheoutstretchedhand,

put one foot on the stirrup,and pulled himself up behindWinslow. “I’d hate to haveSorinyaafterme.IheardwhathedidintheSmear.”

Winslow stiffened, andthenletoutaslowbreath.“Hewon’t kill you. The count willscoldmeforbeingseenwithacommoner, but beyond that,hewon’tdomuchelse.Hehasotherissuestodealwith.”

“If you say so, but it’s

yourass.”“Indeed, it is.” Winslow

flappedhis reins, and they setoffatatrot.

It felt strange havingsomeone ofWinslow’s staturewilling to place themselves atriskonhisbehalf.Atthesametime, the gesture wascomforting.

After a while riding insilence with the wind’s chilland crickets’ chirps to keep

them company, Winslowslowed the horse to a walk.“Why did you choose to helpusthatdayintheSmear?”

Keedar shrugged. “I toldyou,betterto lendyouahandthanhave theNightofBladesrepeatitself.”

“That’s when you lostyourmother,wasn’tit?”

AsuddenlumpformedinKeedar’sthroat.Heswallowed.It took a great effort for him

not to show any otherreaction.“Yes.”

“They say my mother’sdeath started the Night ofBlades.”

“Areyoucertain?”KeedarunderstoodnowwhyWinslowhaddespisedtheSmear.

Winslownodded.“I’msorry.”“I have no memory of

her,”Winslowshrugged,“soIdon’tfeelmuchwhenitcomes

up. There was a time I hatedeverything the Smear stoodfor,butnow…Idon’tknow.Count Cardiff, on the otherhand…”hisvoicetrailedoff.

“My father has alwaysinsisted that the Consortiumhad nothing to do with yourmother’s death. And I believehim.”

“Doyouknowwhokilledyours?”Winslowasked.

“Exactlywho?No.”

“But it’s why you train,why you wish to become amelder, to one day takerevenge.”

“That and the Smearitself, the way we live.” TheDay of Accolades was fastapproaching. Monthsremainedbeforeitarrived.Thethought of watching thesufferingsouredhisstomach.

Winslow grunted as if heunderstood. “I wanted to

becomeameldersomyfatherwould be proud of me, butnow, I’m not so sure. WhatwouldyoudoifyoufoundoutDelisarwasn’tyourfather?”

“I…Idon’tknow.”Thethoughthadnever crossedhismind. “I would be hurt. Iwouldwant to knowwhomyrealparentswereandwhytheyabandonedme.Beyondthat,Icouldn’t say.” He couldimagine the turmoil Winslow

was experiencing since therevelation. “You asked meoncewhatwasitthatIwanted.Have you ever been down tothe Smear on the Day ofAccolades?”

“A few timeswhen Iwasyounger,”Winslow said. “Thelast few years … no. Thegrandestballsareheldon thatsameday.Acelebrationoflife.It’s an old custom. And Ialways got upset when I

watchedthechildrenchosen.IwantedtobeaBlade,andhereI had to see people given aprivilege that I thought wereundeservingofit.”

“Undeserving? Trust me,most would rather hold ontotheir babies. For us in theSmear, it’s anything but acelebration or about beingchosen.Thewisemencometotake the king’s tribute.”Winslow stiffened. He

obviouslyknewwhatitmeant,but Keedar continued. “Manygive up their children whomight be gifted in soul magicinordertofillthearmy’sranksorforthechanceatbecomingaBlade.Some,whoknowtheirchildren possess no skill,surrender theirbabies,or theytry to,because thepromiseofa life in the court, in thearmies, is better than howwelive in the Smear, even if an

earlydeathfollows.”“I-I’m sorry,” Winslow

whispered.“WhatIwantistoputan

endtotheDayofAccolades.”A sense of triumph easedthroughKeedarathavingsaidthewords.Hefeltcomforted.

They fell into silence therest of the way. When theyarrived at the Keneshin Gate,Winslow announced himself.The guards hurried them

inside through the sally port.Not long after, they partedways.

As he hurried along thedarkstreetstowardtheSmear,Keedarcontemplatedtheday’sevents. He’d had a certaindislike for Winslow, but aftertoday, the young noble hadgained his respect for passingthe tests. It was as UncleKeshka often said: ‘A man’sstrength is themeasure of his

soul.’Bythetimeherealizedhe

was being followed, he’dpassedintotheGreyWard,thereek of drains in need ofcleaningfillinghisnostrils.Theusual whores occupied onecorner or another or baredtheirassetsatoneofthedimlylit inns along the cobbledstreets.Fromthecornerofhiseyes, he picked out the fourmenwhopaidnoattention to

thewomen,noteven inscornfor their moribundappearances. Although theytried to appear nonchalant, attimeslaughingwitheachother,hecouldtelltheirfocuswasonhim. With his best chance toescape being the rooftops,Keedarveereddownanalley.

He managed one steptowardawallwhenheheardalow buzz and something hardstruck his knee. Pain shot up

his leg, and it buckled. Theclatterofmetalonstonewasadistant sound. He pitchedforward.

A shadow loomed overhim, the smell of pine conesdriftingfromit.

“A warning.” The voicecarried a Marishman’s stiltedaccent. “Stay away from thecounts’ sons if you wish tolive. You’re being spared thistimebecauseyouhelpedthem.

Thenexttime,wewon’tbeasgenerous.”

The first kick to his ribssent fire up his side. Whenotherbootedfeetjoinedin,allhe sawwerebright lights, andthenblackness.

AChildandaPromise

Without bothering to

knock, Winslow shoved openthe doors to Count Cardiff’schambers. “Father, what didyoudo!”heshouted.

A handwith an iron gripsnatched him from theshadowy depths of the drapes

near the door. He clawed atthe steely fingers, but theydidn’tbudge.Whenheglancedup,hemetdark,glitteringeyeshidden within a hood. Awoodland scent drifted fromthe person. The meager lightthat trickled through thehood’s depths shone off ascarred cheek. The mottledflesh tried to jog a memory,onethatwassoonforgottenbythe blade pressing against his

sternum.“Let him go.” Sounding

mildlyamused,CountCardiff’svoicefilteredacrosstheroom.

A pause ensued, and forthe briefest moment, the griptightened. Murderous intentradiated from the eyes withinthehood.

Winslow sucked in abreath, fully expecting to feelthe painful jab as the bladepierced his skin. Instead, he

found his arm free. CountCardiff’s protector slippedfrom the room, the doorclosing behind him with abarely audible click. Able tobreathe once more, Winslowfelthischestunclench.

Incense burned as usual,its aroma dressing the entireroominfall’sgarb.Today,thecurtainswerethrownbackandtied off to allow in afternoonsunlight. The lush carpet

beneath his feet matched thefurniture and the rest of theroom’sattire.Inafinecutgreyshirtandjacket,CountCardiffsat in a cushioned armchair,peering at Winslow over hisglasses.

Across from him wasElaina. She wore a silver silkdress with ruffles on thesleeves, a split from herbreastbone on down exposingthe yellow satin beneath, its

edgestrimmedwithlace.“My wayward son, come,

sit.” Count Cardiff gesturedtowardthenearbychairbuthissteel-eyed expression said itwasacommandnotarequest.

Seething once more,Winslow strode to the seatlocatedcloseenoughtoobtaina whiff of citrus fromElaina.Hefelthergazeonhimashesat, no doubt wanting to seehis reaction to his favorite

scentwhentheywouldmeetatan inn near Walker’s Row.Since the chase in the Smearhe had not indulged in herpresence.

Normally,hewouldgraceherwitha smile,but todayhewasnot in themood.Not forher or Count Cardiff’sinsistence on their marriage.He frowned as he met herteary-eyed gaze. BeforeWinslow could ask, Ainslen

spoke.“You see, my dear Lady

Shenen,mysonhasdecidedtolatch onto some dreg as afriend.” Count Cardiff staredWinslow in the eye, his gazecold and unrelenting. “Thedreg had to be warned of hisproper place. I think my sonmeans to take issue with meonthematter.”Asmirkplayedacrosshisface.“Haveatit.”

“Itwasn’t awarning or a

lesson. You had him beatenhalftodeath.”

“Hardly.Wasn’theabletocrawl away? A small mercy.AmIcorrect,LadyShenen?”

“Count Cardiff has theright of it, Winslow,” Elainasaid,hervoicemelodicchimes,despitewhathereyesshowed.“There’s a reason they belongin the Smear. A reason it iseven called the Smear. Theyhave no place among us.

Sometimes I wish the kingwouldwipethedistrictclean.”

“They’re people, Elaina,not animals. And having noplace?Do you say that of theBladesthatprotectus?”

She pouted beforepressing her thin lips into aline. “The Blades are anexception. TheDominion hasshoneonthem.”

Expecting anything lessfrom her or any of the other

nobles would be too much.None could relate or wantedto familiarize themselves withthe suffering of the Smear’speople. When he last spokewith Keedar the previousnight, the young commoner’swords andplight had touchedhim. He spent the nightcontemplating the Day ofAccolades and Far’an Senjin.Notuntilhe’dspenttimewithKeedar did he put much

thought to either or to thelivesintheSmear.

“Perhaps I should sendfor Sorinya then, since thepunishment wasn’t to yourliking.”

“No,” Winslow saidquickly, “what you did wasquiteenough.”

“So you approve of thedreg’spunishment?”

“Yes.”Winslow hung hishead.

“Good,nowtothematterat hand. Count Shenen hasinvited you to dinner threemonthshence.Webothexpectyou to propose to Elaina atthattime.”

“Father—”“She’swithchild.”Winslow opened and

closed his mouth. It couldn’tbe. He’d taken everyprecaution.Whenheturnedtolook at Elaina, he saw tears

wellupinhereyes.Whywouldshebecrying?

“I missed my blood thismonth. One of the maidsnoticed and word got to myfather. Ihadnochoicebut totell him,” she whispered. “Hewas very upset. So much sothathesentoneofhismentoWalker’sRow.”

Winslowgaped.“Now, we know which

house and why,” Count

Cardiffsaid.Ainslen’s response and

demeanorwere a far cry fromthe outrage Winslow wouldhaveexpectedconsideringthatHouse Hazline andMandrigalhad brokered a deal. In fact,the count’s eyes spoke ofsatisfaction, pleasure even.This being Count Cardiff, heknewthemanwasassessingallpossibilities, unfolding thegame in his head. Winslow

understood the lack ofconcern. With this revelation,their houses would be joinedregardlessofwhatanyoneelsemightwish.

What am I going to do?Hecouldnotmarryher.Lovewas out of the question.Children? He was less thanprepared.Obviously, revealinghow he felt wouldn’t go overwell.So,hedidnothingbutsatwearingastunnedexpression.

“I cannot say that I’mexactlypleasedbythis,”CountCardiff said, “but in eachsituationthere’ssomegood.Aunionbetweenourtwohouseswilldouswell.”

Winslow stood andwalkedover toElaina. Staringintohereyes,heheldhishandout.Shetookitandstood.Toavoidlosinghisnerve,hedrewher into his arms, inhalingdeeply,hercitrusscentstrong.

He prayed this display wouldsatisfy thecountandgivehimtimetothink.

“I’ll do what is necessaryfor you and the child.”Winslowmeanthiswords.

In his arms, he felt herchest rise and fall as sherelaxed. Her face was coolagainsthis.“Thankyou.”

He considered sneakingaway, but doing so would becontinuing a vicious trend of

parents abandoning theirchildreninhisfamilyline.Thethoughtgavehimpause.Ifnotthe count, then who were histrueparents?Whatheritagedidhehold?Withthethoughtandthe anguish it brought, hesqueezed Elaina harder. Shesighedincontentment.

“Well,” the count said,“with that out of the way, ifyou will excuse us, Elaina, IhavetospeaktoWinslow.”

After kissing her on thecheek, Winslow let her takeherleave.

“Now to you,” CountCardiff began, once the doorclosed, “you will not be seenwiththatdregagain.Ifyouare,IwillsendSorinyatobringmehishead.”

Winslow shuddered as herecalled the night not so longago. Sorinya had returned. Aservant woke Winslow from

his sleep to attend his father.Whenhewalkedintothissameroom, his father had threeheads on the floor near thetable. They were the Snakesthat had shown themselvesthatnightintheSmear.

Mouth drying, Winslowclosed his eyes with thememory. “Sometimes Iwonder if you aremy father,”hemuttered,“ormygaoler.”

“I’m the person saving

youfromyourself.”“What if I need no

saving?WhycanInotgrowtobewhoIwish?”

“To bring the Cardiffname down?” The countleanedforward.“Listentome,and listen to me well, I amyour father and provider, andas aCardiff, youwilldo yourdutytoseeusrise.”

Notevenahintofalie.“That starts with you

marrying Elaina. You did thedeedthatsawherwithchild.Iwill not stand by and see ourhouse pulled down by aconflictwithherfathernow.Iwould let him kill you longbeforethatday.”

Again, no deception.Winslow’sinsidesgrewicy.

“Asforthisdregyouhavebefriended, I shall let him beon one condition. Never beseen with him again. Should

anyone bring word to me ofthe contrary, I will have hishead.”

“You won’t hear of mewithhimagain,”Winslowsaid.

“Good, because I cannotaffordanyquestionsnow.Theshipment I expected will behere in the coming weeks.With it we will become theHill’s most influential house,possibly surpass even KingJemare himself. Dangerous

times are ahead. You haveenough distractions already.You cannot afford any more.Fromnowon, your timewithLestinwillbeextended.”

Winslow nodded. Hewoulddoexactlyashesaid.

CaressofaMaiden

Four weeks had passed

since the beating. Still a bitsore from the broken boneshe’d suffered, Keedar winced.ThewisemenFatherhiredhaddoneanadmirablejobknittinghim back together, but theycould do little about the

spasmshesufferedsometimes.Today, he sat by the murkypool, waning sunlight peekingthroughthetrees,andwatchedas Winslow practiced hisbreathing andmeditation.Thenoble was learning fast.Despite Winslow’s denial,Keedar wondered how muchhe knew of the attack thatnight.

None of it matteredmuch. Father insisted on

keeping Winslow as anapprentice.ItwasKeedar’sjobto help train him, so he did.However, they no longerreturnedtoKasandartogether.Infact,Winslowhadsuggestedthey approach the city fromdifferent gates. That didn’tstop them frommeeting laterat night in the River Quarter.Not nearly as lawless as theSmear, it offered them anoutlet from their lives, and

with Winslow and Gastondisguised as scruffy sailors, itmade for funKeedar had notexperiencedsinceRaishaarwasalive.

“Done.Shallwereturn?”“Hmm?Oh, yes.Meet at

theHangman’s?”Winslow smiled.

“Certainly,whynot?Seemsasif you’ve taken to Rose.” HeclappedKeedarontheback.

“Ihaveno ideawhat you

mean.”“Whatever you say.”

Winslow chucked. “Anyway,I’ll see you there within thehour.”

Headed in two differentdirections, they left theclearing. Rose’s silky tresses,dainty looks, and theroundnessofherass,somuchlike an apple, occupiedKeedar’s mind. It wasn’t thathe had any great feelings for

her, but the serving girl knewwhat she was about. Hisreleasewithherwasunlikeanyotherheexperienced.Whenhereached the Humel Gate, henodded to theman his fatherhad stationed there, hurriedinside, and took to the roofs.The last two weekends, heswore someone had followedhim,butwheneverhesearchedhissurroundings,therewasnoone there. By the time he

reached the Quarter with itsbriny air, the River Ost’sbrackish waters flowing pastthe docks, and music andlaughter tinkling up from itsstreets, Gaston and Winslowwere already waiting outsidetheHangmantavern.

“Youtwostandoutlikeahag with too much make-up.Paintedallprettyandstillcan’thide what she is.” Keedarsteppedfromthealleybetween

theHangmananditsneighbortheGlitteringLady.

“I doubt that.” Since thefirst couple weeks of trainingwith the Blades,Winslow hadallowed his beard to grow,givinghimamoreruggedandscruffy look. “I think I canadequatelyplaythepartofoneofyounow.”

Gaston, more than a tadridiculous in baggy sailor’sbritches, ahatpulleddown to

shadow his eyes, his face toogrimy, gave Keedar a grin. “Iwould have to agree withWins.”

“You would. No matterwhat you twodo, yourhair isalways too clean and yourshoes too shiny. Which sailoror commoner you know thathas polished boots? And wemightnotwashasoftenasyoudo,Gaston,butintheQuarter,asailor’sfaceisnotlikelytobe

thatfilthy.”Gaston scrubbed at his

cheek.“A lucky thing not

everyone is as adept as you atspotting these issues. Shallwe?”Winslowgestured to thedoor from which music andlaughterdrifted.

“I don’t mind if I do.”Keedar led the way inside.Soon they were drinking,laughing,andcarousingwithin

thetavern’ssmokyconfines.“I’ve been meaning to

ask,” Gaston began, speechslurred, “what do you two dointheParmienanyway?”

KeedarexchangedglanceswithWinslow.

“And don’t deny it,”Gaston waggled his finger atthem,“Isawthatlook.”

“You’re seeing things,”Keedarsaid.

“Imost certainly am not.

My vision’s perfect.” Gastonleaned forward. “Come on,Wins, we’ve been friendsforever, have we not? Ifollowed you the last twoweekends. Yes, yes, I know,you had someone dress likeyou to throw off anyonewhofollows,butyoucan’thidethatwalk of yours from me. Andyou,” he pointed at Keedar,“you may take to the roofs,but it’s always at the same

time,andmymanwatchesyouruntowardtheforest.”

“I wish you would havedecided to train with theBlades,” Winslow said. “It’snothinglikeweimagined.”

“So you said before. Itcan’tpossiblybethathard.”

“On the way home, I’llshowyouwhatmyarms,back,and ribs look like. As for theParmien, I go there one dayevery weekend to lessen the

shock of what my body willexperience when I return tothedrillmaster.Thinkofitlikeriding a horse: the more youdo it, themore your legs andassbecomeusedtothechafingand your mind to theexertion.”

“And you?” GastonturnedhisgazetoKeedar.

“Derins.” Keedarshrugged. “My father huntsthem,Itoldyou.”

“Ah. Coincidence then.”Gaston’s voice lowered. “Iwould be careful though.There are rumors spreadingthat you’re consorting withdregs, Wins. This doesn’thelp,” he gestured aroundthem, “but at least we’redisguisedhere.”

“Peoplecansaywhattheyplease.Aslongasnooneseesme,itmattersnot.”

“And if your father gets

windoftheselittlemeetings?”“Hewon’t.”“But—”“Look, Gaston. It’s bad

enoughthatmyapprenticeshipis more like torture thantraining.Ineedsomefreedom,somewaytoescape itall.Thequiet of the woods and beinghere with you two sometimesfeel like all I have that’s myown.” Winslow’s expressionhardened. “I will not let

anyone take that away fromme.”

“Fine, fine. I canunderstand that. I was simplywarningyou.”

“Well,” Keedar said, “ifyou two are finished arguingoveryoursocial issues,IthinkI’ll have another drink, and agirl.”

“Sounds as fine a plan asany.”Gastongrinned.

Winslow signaled for a

serving girl. “Where’s Rosebeentonight?”

“I have no idea. One ofthe girls said she didn’t comein to work.” Keedar wishedshe was there now. He coulddo without the way Gastonpeeredoverhisglassatthem.

The rest of the nightpassed uneventfully. Patronscameandleft.Thetalkamongthe rivermen and sailorscentered on rumors of a

FarlanderfleetsomewhereeastintheRenigenSea.ItmatteredlittletoKeedar.Iftheywishedto invadeKasinia, itwouldbemonthsforthemtoroundtheGiant’sHorn to the southeastinDarshan, if they chose thatroute.Hedoubtedtheywould.The storms in the Raging Seafrightened the hardiestseafarers. Trying to landanywhere else meant eithercrossing the Steppes of the

World to face the Thelusiansor fighting the Marishmen intheir mountain strongholdsalongthecoast.Supposedlynoone had ever won such abattle.

“Well, if it’s fine by youtwo, I’ll take my leave now,”Keedarsaid.SinceRosehadn’tappearedforwork,hedecidedtopayheravisit.

Lost in their own drinks,and the pleasure the

Hangman’s serving girlsprovided, the two of themwavedhimoff.Hedropped afew coins on the table, left,andimmediatelymadehiswaytotherooftops.

Accompanied byAntelen’s pale strands and achill wind, he approachedRose’shomeintheBurrows,atwisted warren of lanes andstorefronts in the RiverQuarter. The area smelled

about as good as bilge water.Asexpectedthewindowtoherbedroom was lit. Standingdirectlyacrossfromit,hetriedtoseethroughthemilkypanesofthesecondfloorabode,butcould make out nothing. Heshrugged, dropped down totheground,andwaited.

Notmanyfolkwereaboutat this hour, which he liked.He would be able to tell ifanyone followed him. A

couple rivermen swayed by,singing some song, speechslurred and raucous.Whenhewas certain of his safety, hecrossed the street, andheadedtotheentranceinthealley.

He smiled when hereached the door. The lanternhanging on its post cast itslight on the single flower in apot set against the wall. Rosewas alone tonight. KeedarbegantosingMaiden’sCaress,

a songabout aMarish servinggirl who meets a Thelusianstonelord, turns out to be arunaway princess, and stops acenturies oldwar between thetwokingdoms.

Hemadesurenoonewaslooking, reached behind thepot and picked up the key.Withinmomentshewasonhiswayupthestairsstillhummingthetune.Whenheenteredherhome,heinhaled,takinginthe

spicy aroma of perfumemingled with food. Hefrowned at an odd metallicscent and another thatremindedhimofthewoods.

“Rose?”hecalled.Shewouldoftenmeethim

in the kitchen or the sittingroom, but she was in neither.Drawn to the bedroom’sillumination,heheadedinthatdirection.

“Rose?” Keedar pushed

thedoorinward.Shewas lyingonthebed,

sheets blood-soaked, lifelesseyesstaringattheceiling.

Immediately, Keedarsnakedahandtohisdagger.Arustle like a whisper of windcame from behind him. Thewoodlandsmellsuffusedhim.

Pinecones.Keedar whipped the

daggeroutandthrewit.Inthesame instant, he leaped after

the weapon. Somethingsnagged his cloak. He surgedforward, the sound of tearingmaterialaroarinhisears.

When his dagger hit thewindowpane ahead, cracksappearedacrossitssurfacelikespider webs. He hit the glasswith his shoulder. Cold airgreetedhim.

Drawing on his soul, hehardenedhissintuandpusheditawayfromhisbody,blasting

awaysliversofglass.Ashefellhe twisted to make sure hecould land feet first. Theinstant his sintu met thecobblestone’s resistance, heimagineditbeingasoftspringandmadeitso,pushingoffashelanded.

Something thuddednearby.Avoicecursed.

As fast as he could, hebounded across the street toan alley.Not daring to glance

back, he used the walls tospring up between the twobuildings.Whenhegainedtheroof’s edge, he pulled himselfontoitssurface.

A scrabbling soundmadehimlookdown.

Cloak spilling about him,amanwas trying toclimb thewalls. He fell down, swearingin Marish. When he glancedup, and their gazes met, themansnarled.

The scarred face sent ashiver through Keedar. Hedashed away from the roof,fleeing to theSmear forallhewasworth.

MeetingsinaShrine

A sharp pain to theribs woke Winslow. Groggywithsleep,hecrackedopenaneyelid.The clouds bled.Or atleast so it seemed on firstimpression. He rubbed at hiseyes. It took him a fewmoments for his vision to

adjust and for him to orienthimself. The sky wasn’tbleeding. The hues were acombination of sunrise andlackofsleep.

Pain lanced through hisside again, distant, as if itdidn’t exist. A muffled noiselike someone trying to speakunderwatermadehimturnhishead.Hehad todososlowly.If he shifted too fast, he’dsufferanotherheadache.

The sound came again.Definitely,avoice.

With realization, theworld rushed him all at once.The voice blurred into a facebelonging to DrillmasterLestin.Thepainwasthetoeofthe man’s sabaton strikingWinslow in the ribs. Lestininsisted on wearing thearmored boots even when hedressed in leather as he wastoday.With acknowledgement

of the day came the cold.Winslowshivered,curling intohimself.

Another day of traininghadbegun.

He groaned and crawledto his feet. What misled himwasthelight inthesky.Everydaybeforethisone,he’dbeenawokenwhiledarkness stole apiece of the morning. Afoolish man would think thetrainers had let him sleep late

or that itwasa rewardforhiseffort since his apprenticeshipbegan. He was anything butfoolish.

“Come now, sweets, it’stimetobeupandatit,”Lestinsaid.“BytheGods,youstink.”

Whether or not he didreek,Winslowcouldn’tsay.Hecouldn’t smell himself. Noteven the chilly breeze carriedhisodortohim.Butthen, theinability to identify one’s own

scent was indicative ofdrowninginyourstenchforsolong, your nose had grownaccustomedtotheit.

Hehadlostcountofhowlonghehadbeentrainingwiththe Blades. Most of it was ablur. The first few weeks sawhim take quite a few beatingsbefore his body screamed forhim to rise. Now, he reactedmuchfaster.Anyotherpersonmight have given up. Many

did. He figured that was thepoint of all this training. Tohim, the routines had nothingto do with learning how tomeld, no matter how muchLestin said theopposite.Theydesigned this abuse to find aman’s breaking point. Well,they’d have a long wait. Hepromised himself that muchafter his first set of brokenribs.Afterthetenthhealingbya wiseman, he made it a

solemnvow.Hewondered if everyone

went through these types ofrigors,buthehadnoframeofreference, no one to ask. Theother trainees here shunnedhimasifhehadaplague.TheBlades who visited the GreyFist spoke to none but theirownand their employers.Notonebookinthelibrarydetailedtheir regimen. Similar tomostthings about them, it was

steeped in secrecy. To makethe situation worse, when hewas allowed home onweekends, Count Cardiff keptthe door to his chamberslocked and his books hidden.Finding anyone who mighthave gone through theinitiationwasawaste.Nosuchrecordswerekept.Atleastnotwherehecouldaccessthem.

“You dreamin’, sweets?”The drillmaster’s slanted eyes

narrowedtomereslits.“No,boss.”“Good.”“What’s today’s task,

boss?”“Carryin’rocks.”He didn’t bother to ask

why. The wrong questionsonly led to more menial andbackbreaking labor. Fulfillingthe taskmeantmonotony.Hehad quickly learned how todealwithrepetition.

“Remember, you came tous for this. Bein’ a Blade ismorethanjustlearnin’howtomeld. It’s about survivin’ theworst,bein’fasterandstrongerthan the next person, bein’heartless,feelin’nopain.Mostofall,it’saboutkillin’,sweets.”The drillmaster licked his lipsas if savoring the taste of hiswords. “Yes, it is, sweets. It’sallaboutthekillin’.”

Winslow shuffled over to

the mound of stones. All hecould think of was hisupcoming break due inanother week. An eternityaway. When he returned, hewould be sure to wear a nicescent, maybe lavender. It wasoneofthefewthingsheclungtoevenasLestintriedtostripitaway.

Days later,withfall’schillsettling in, Winslow stood

looking into a hearth’s ruddyflames in Corten’s Shrine. Hepulled his derin cloak aroundhim before rubbing his handstogether, blowing on them,and holding them out towardthefireplace.Keedarwaslate.

He fought the urge topace back and forth lest hedraw unwanted attention tohimself. The news hepossessedhadsethimonedge.The idea of it all was almost

toomuchtofathom.Ifitweretrue, then his life wouldchange.Hewouldseetoit.

For the first time inweeks, Count Cardiff’s doorhad been open. When hesnuckin,hisfatherwasasleep,snoring at his desk. Next tohim was his ledger forupcomingshipments.Winslowstill found it hard to believewhat he’d seen written in hisfather’s hand. Finally, the

Dominion had shone theirLightonhim.

To say the past monthshad been trying would havebeen anunderstatement.Theyhad been downrightfrustrating. He dared notconfront the count with hisinquiries about his mother.And questioning the servantsin a roundabout methodprovedtobesimilarlyfruitless.Each one had been gradually

replaced over the last sevenyears. Down to MissRathingire—hiswetnurseandtheCardiffseneschal.Thepastattendants’ whereabouts wereunknown,asecretastightasavirgin’ssplit.

Added to that was hisapprenticeshipwiththeBlades.The last few days had beenespecially rough with Lestinputting him through severalphysical and mental tests.

These ranged from rigorouscourseswherehehadtoclimbropes, crawl through muck,shit, and all other manner offilth,splitlogs,carryfirewood,lift heavy stones from onepoint to the next and backagain, track a target in theforestsatdayandnight,andattimes spend a day where theydenied him a meal but madehimsitwithabowloffoodinfront of him. Once, they had

him fill a large pot with aspoon. All that was in lieu ofthebeatings.Still,heheldontohisvow.

Through it all CountCardiffactedasifhenolongerexisted. Soon enough,Ainslenwould have to pay attention.Hewouldmakeitso.

Time and again, theconcernhehadforElainaandtheir child threatened toburrow its way into his head.

She had begun to show a bit.Thedayof the ill-fateddinnertocelebrate theirunionwouldsoon arrive. How he woulddeal with that was still amystery.

The one consolation forthe time spent in the GreyFist’s practice yards was histrainingwithDelisar.Hemightbemonthstoayearawayfromaccomplishing his first meld,but at least he was learning.

With Lestin, those monthsmightbeadozenyears.Whenhe inquired after themethodsthe Blades used, Delisarrepeated his mantra that notwo teachers delivered theirlessonsthesame.

Seeking calm, Winslowtookadeepbreath, closedhiseyes, and repeated Delisar’sfirstlesson—muchthesameashis father’s tutor had taughtyears ago. Meditation was the

naturalway to senseone’s lifeenergy. The energy itselftraveled around the body inspecific patterns much likeblood, following the samecourse as the veins. In hishead, his soul appeared asthreewispycircles,onewithintheother.Theyheldthethirty-twovitalpointsthatcontrolledhisitsflow.

Each circle containedtheir cycles. Two of the three

outer cycles and one medianwereclearlyvisibletohim.Theremainder were a blurredjumble. All he required nowwasthefirst.

He systematically tappedintosintubyapplyingpressuretothevitalpoints,openingandclosing them until theymatched, allowing his essencetospreadevenlytoallpartsofhis body. A coveringmanifested to prevent the

natural leakage of his soul.With it came a calm, floatingsensationandhisnimbus.

Whenhe learned that ifaperson’s soul leakedcompletely, it would be fatal,he asked how was it thatanyone lived since the vastmajority of people could notmaintain sintu. Delisar’sanswer was simplistic butmadesense.Aswithblood,thebody had a natural process to

control the loss, namely theveins and the skin. For soulenergy, the points restrictedthemselves when a personslept or when soul becamedeficient. Also, most humansdidn’tuseenoughoftheirsoulto create such a life-threatening situation unlesstheyknewhowtomeld.

Relaxed,Winslowopenedhis eyes. He held up his arm.Thenimbusflowedaroundhis

body inawavyhazeaquarterinch from his skin. He oftendreamed of possessingDelisar’s skill. His teacher’ssintuspannedatleastsixfeet.

“Risky,doingthathere.”Winslow jumped at

Keedar’s voice. His nimbusleapt in reflection of his fear.“Risky for you, not for me,”he answered trying to appearunperturbed.

Dressed in the robes of

the shrine’s serving boys,Keedar knelt near Corten’sstatue, head bent in prayer.“You wouldn’t be saying thatif someone from your housediscovered you. I know it’saddictive, but you need to becareful until the Blades teachyou.”

Winslow opened hismouthtotellKeedarhewoulddo whatever he felt butstopped himself. Keedar was

right, even if it galled him toadmit as much. “I will makesurenoone seesme. Iwasn’tfollowedanyway.”

“So you think,” Keedarkept his head down as heglanced toward a nearbywiseman who turned offtoward another room. “Haveyou heard what happened toRose?”

“Yes,sadthat.”“I was there. They used

her to try toget tome.Itwasthe same person who beatme.”

“What?” Winslow’s headspun.He’dbeen extra careful.How had Count Cardiffdiscoveredthem?

“It’sbestifwedon’tgotothetavernsanymore.Eventhisis risky.” Keedar paused.“Having said that, what’s soimportant that I had to gothroughallthis?”

“Ashipment.”“And? Please tellme you

didn’t drag me out here forthat? There’s been plentyshipments. What’s so specialaboutthisone?”

Winslow could hardlybelieve the words as they lefthis lips. “Scales. Dracodarscales.”

ASpecialContainer

Count Cardiff circled

the group of soldiers. Eachonepossessedthetypicallargenose, full lips, and themidnight skin tone of mostThelusians.Allhadtheirheadsshaved bald, oil glisteningfrom their scalps as to be

expected of the Thelusianwarrior caste. He had to lookup to every one of them.Unwavering eyes appeared asif they saw through him. Ontheir hips, they carried theircurvedblades.

“We will deliver an armyoftenthousand,”Seligulasaid,hisvoiceasing-song lilt.He’ddeclared himself to be thearmy’s general, the leader oftheirForebearers.

Ofaverageheight,dressedintrousersandatunicofsomepale leather, Seligula appearedinconspicuousfromadistance.Until one saw his eyes. Theywere a sharp blue like thewaters around the FarishIslands on a clear day. Staringinto them was akin to seeingintothedepthsofamurderoussoul.Ainslenshiveredwhenheconsidered what he felt whentheir gazes met. He avoided

such a connection at all costs.Itwasworsethanthereekofacorpse masked by perfumethatwaftedfromtheman.

“And you’re certain theycandefeatwhatwewill face?”Impressed, Ainslen still staredatthesoldiers.

“Positive.”“I admire your

confidence,Seligula,butIhaveseen your kind before. Brash,overenthusiastic, infatuated

with your own prowess. Alllike you have fallen.” Ainsleneyed thegeneral,wondering ifhe’d made the wrong choice.“ThemenyoufaceareBlades,born fighters. Bred to kill.Trained in every deadly art.They will not give quarter.Theyknownoretreat.Fearisaword they do not recognize.Pain to them is as a gnatalightingontheirskin.”

Seligula’s lips spread into

a thin, scornful smile. “Tellme, my dear count, whathappenstoabladewhenithasnot been put to use, when ithas sat unoiled, when it hasnot seen a whetstone inyears?”Hisexpressionbecamestony. “It grows dull, useless.Worse yet, the metal rusts.Thenitiseasilybroken.Soitiswiththese...Bladesofyours.”

“Letusbothhopeso,foryour sake.” Despite the need

for victory, a small part ofAinslen also wished thegeneral’s assessment wasincorrect.

“You are aman ofmanyplots, Count Cardiff.” Seligulashookhishead, thebald sidesoiled and shiny. A strip ofbraidsbeganathiscrown,andraninaneatlineuntiltheyfelldown his back. “Be warned,crossinguswouldnot gowellforyouandyours.Remember,

Ihaveseenthemfight.”Inadvertently, Ainslen

gazed across to where headshung on pikes along thebulwark of the Marishstronghold, Ernassa. The citywas once said to beimpregnable with its greatwalls and position set into amountainside with no otherapproaches than by the sea,which led to a windingstaircase carved into the cliff,

orupanarrowpassknownastheBloodyCorridor.NoteventheKasinianEmpire had evermanaged to breach the city.Smoke billowed up fromErnassa’s carcass. Blackened,gapingrentsshowedalongthewalls facing theocean.Severaltowersseenabovethebulwarkwere broken, as if a massivehand had punched a holethroughtheirsides.Ashfell inasootycloud,attimesswirling

inawesternwindthatstankofcharredwoodandflesh.

“Point taken. However, Iwould worry more about theKheridisians. Skirting them isnotawisedecision.”

“Induetime,theytoowillfall.” Seligula waved offAinslen a little bit toononchalantly, the tightnessaround his eyes speaking offrustration and a dislike tobeing coached in strategy. “If

youmustknow,havingaccessto your landwillwork towardthatgoal.”

The answer was fairenough to Ainslen. “As soonasyouhavedeliveredonyourpromise, I will make mymove,” Ainslen said. He’dtried his best to curtail hisexcitement, but he could feelthethrilleasinguphisspine.

Seligula nodded towardseveral slaves. Bracelets on

their wrists clinking, two bentto pick up a grey, metalliccontainer.ItremindedAinslenofacoffin.He’dseenthesamefeatureless receptacle within ahistorybook’spagesduringhisresearch. The materialsupposedlytrappedsoulinanyform.

“HowamItobelievethiscontainswhatyousayitdoes?”Ainslen raised a questioningeyebrow.Apartofhimwanted

to rush over to the container,rip it open, and use itscontents for himself.He tookadeepbreath, forcingdownashudder as he considered thepower lying only a few feetaway.Allinduetime.

“YourownBladessawusdefeat what it holds. If theirtestimony is not enough, Isuggestyouhirebettermen.”

“Very well.” He had notcome this far and gained this

much by trusting any oneman’s words. At some point,hewouldinspectthecontents.

“I can see your mind atwork,” Seligula said. “If youopen the caseprior to itsuse,your prize will lose somepotency.”

Convenient. “Well, yougavemeawarningearlier,soIreturn one in kind.” Ainslenwore his best scowl. Thegeneral’s attitude had needled

him ever since theymet.Oneday, Seligula would rue themoment hewas spit from thewomb. “Should this be anysort of deception, a deepenoughholedoesnot exist tohideyouandyourkind.”

Seligula threw his headbackandlaughed,high,hearty,and shrill. When he finished,hewipedathiswateryeyes.“Iwill take your words intoconsideration.” He choked

backanotherchortle.Face heated at the man’s

reaction, Ainslen turned towheretwoofhisBladeswaiteda few feet away. “Bring that,”he indicated the container.“It’spasttimeforustoleave.”When he faced Seligula oncemore, the general was alreadywalkingaway.

“I look forward to ournext meeting,” Seligula called,ahintofmerrimentstill inhis

voice. Not once did he lookback.

An awful sense of dreadfilled Ainslen for a moment.He gazed at the heads alongErnassa’swalls, picturing theirblank stares taking him in,theirlipswhisperingilltidings.The reek of cooked flesh andburned wood threatened tooverwhelm him. He coughed.Deep inside, he lackedSeligula’s enthusiasm for their

nextencounter.Kesta Rostlin stepped up

beside him. “That man givesmethechills.”

“Me too,” Ainslenadmitted grudgingly. “Butsometimes we must makedeals with monsters to gainwhatwewish.”

“Are you certain we candefeatthemifthisgoesawry?”

“I do.”Ainslenhopedhesoundedmoreconvincingthan

hefelt.

TheUndertow

Carrying a bundle

wrapped incloth inonehand,Keedarsurveyedthebuildings.The main edifice in Pauper’sCircle was a reflection of thearea:charred,shinglesmissing,wood rotted,with lifeless eyesfor windows. Since the NightoftheBlades,onlythehardiestandmostdestitutestill resided

within spitting distance of theCircle.IftherestoftheSmearwas laden with refuse alongthe streets, then Pauper’sCircle was a veritable dump.And it reeked like one. Thecold air helped dampen thestench, but not enough topreventKeedarfromfeelingasif he’d spew his dinner.Garbage was piled so high aperson would need to climbovertogainaccesstothealleys

and buildings on the otherside, unless they knew thecitadel’s tunnels, specificallythose within the Smear. Withone last glance at where hismother had burned, Keedartook a deep breath, pulled ascarf up over his mouth, andenteredthetunnel.

Once he ventured deepenough that darknessdevoured him, he stopped.Inside the shaft felt colder

than outside. He closed hiseyesandconcentrated,delvinginto his soul around his eyes,callingontern.Frompressurepoints around his body, hesiphoned aminiscule piece ofenergyandaddedittohiseyes.Heeding his father’s warningaboutweakeningotherpartsofhis body when using tern, hecompensated by making hissintuthicker,nearsolid.

Whenheopenedhiseyes,

the tunnel appeared to have adim glow. Not as bright asdaylight or even an oil lamp,butitallowedhimtoseeafewfeet ahead in abject darkness.Tiny eyes by the hundredsglinted likeglitteringcoals.Hecringed at the number of ratsbefore he set off. Watertrickled down the walls, itstinklesanoddcounterpointtothe rodents voicing theirdispleasureathispresence.He

sloshed throughallmanneroffilth,muchof itwrithingwithitsownlife.Morethanoncehekickedoff rats thatdecided totaketheirprotestsanotherstepfurther. They squealed then.When he reached where thetunnel split four ways, heheaded to the left. Somethingbigger than a rodent splashednearby. Keedar was glad forthe partial darkness. If he’dseenwhateveritwas,hemight

have been inclined to flee.Instead, knowing the tunnelslikehedid,hetrudgedon.

Hearrivedatablankwallblocking his path. Stretchinghis hands out, he felt aroundfor where the wooden panelshould be. In daylight, itlooked like any other part ofthe wall. Once he located thepiece, he rapped three shorttimes, followed by two more,and then another three.

Nothing changed about thesurfaceinfrontofhim,buthegot the distinct sensation thathewasbeingwatched.Bumpsraisedonhisskin.

Moments passed filledwith the drip, drip of water,the splashes from the sewer’sdwellers, rats’ squeaks andsqueals, claws scrabbling onstone, his breathing, and thenauseating stench. The grindof well-oiled gears joined the

noises, followed by a lowrumble.Slowly,thewallslidtooneside.

A long hallway stretchedbefore him like a road to oneof the purgatories. Torches insconces threw light along itslength, but even they weren’tenough todefeat the shadowsthatcaperedwiththecracklingflames. Dressed in deep blue,silentguardshuggedthespacesbetween each torch. The

insignia of a ship glinted ontheirlapels.

Without his night vision,they would have fit thedescriptions of the Hells’Angels waiting to escort thecondemned.Withit,theyweremembersofFather’sguild:theShipmen.

Keedar stepped inside.Thewallclosedbehindhim.

“Yes, Martel, I knowyou’re there,” Keedar said,

voiceechoing.An indistinct blur on his

right became the Sword, whocalledtheUndertowhishome.The man’s prowess in stealthwas second only to some oftheBlades.

Marteldippedhishead.“Istill say it isn’t fair thatoneasyoungasyoushouldbeabletoseeorsensemesoeasily.EvenDelisarhastrouble.”

Keedar had no intention

in telling the man it was noeasyfeat.Instead,heshrugged.“Some people are better atsome things than others. Isn’tthat what you and Fatheralways say when you’reteachingme?”

“Your arrogance doesn’thelpeither.”

Keedarbowed.“I learnedfromthebest.”

Martel’s teeth flashed inthe dark. “Indeed, you did.

Well,let’snotkeepyourfatherwaiting.” They headed deeperintotheUndertow.

Kasandar was a citadelbuiltuponthecorpsesofmanycities andwithmany lives.Asabove, the dead left theirmarks here in the Undertow.Metal and glass glinted fromthe walls around him. Statuespeeked from among rubble,heralds of an era gone by.What they walked on might

have been a street, theflagstones below thembrokenand crumbling. Keedar couldpicture a wide avenue andsome king in his coach pulledby fabled ereskars, the giantbeastsflickingtheirman-sized,roundears,swishingtheirtails,and baying as they lumberedon, each step an earthquake’srumble.TheUndertowwas asmuch a part of the citadel asany other, with the folks of

everyracewhocouldn’tfindahome above or lacked heatduring the frigid winters,deciding to live withinKasandar’s ancient flesh likeparasites. The farther awayKeedar traveled from thesewers, the more the odorschanged. Now, the air held amixtureofmustiness,rust,dryrot,andmold.Afewhundredfeet deeper, he picked outincense: saffron and a hint of

jasminetobeexact.“I see you’re ready for

tonight.” Martel broke thesilence. He nodded toKeedar’s choice of grey andblack cloth in imitationof theSnakes.“Isuppose that’syourchange?”

Keedar held up thebundle. “The finest noble’sclothing a silver round couldbuy.”

Martel whistled. “You

could have picked up somelovelieswiththat.”

“I could but then myfatherwouldhavemyhead.”

“I wasn’t suggesting youdoit.Buttobehonest,Delisarhasnoconceptoffun.Helostthat when …” Martel’s voicetrailedoff.

Knowingwhat theSwordwas going to say, Keedar fellinto silence. The last thing heneeded tonight were thoughts

and dreams of Mother. Hisfatherhadassuredhimthattheupcoming attack was the firstmajor step in repaying thoseresponsible for her death.Heartheavy,he letoutasigh.Perhaps tonight Father wouldbegin to lift some of theweight, ease some of theburden and grief, the deep-rooted anger he carried like amantle.

They turned off through

an archway and into a sidelane.The lightingherewas sobrightKeedarshadedhiseyes.He released his tern, allowinghisnightvisiontodissipate.Ittook a few moments for theeffecttowearoff,butwhenitdid, they were in a well-illuminated area with roaringbraziersandseveralstructures,eachconvertedfromoldruins.Men and women in Shipmengarb bustled about

purposefully, making lastplans. Young boys ran backand forth with notes andmessages from one section toanother. A few acknowledgedMartel with nods or quickbows.

When they reached thecentral room, Martel openedthe door and ushered Keedarin.Oillampslittheroom,anda brazier lent its heat. Booksby the stacks leaned against

walls, or were strewn acrossthe tables and chairs.On onetable sat a half-eaten meal.Fatherwasporingoveramap,pointing out something toseveral hard-eyed men. Eachwas dressed as a noble. Themen nodded theirunderstanding.

One man appeared todisagree.Hewastallerthantheothers, all muscle and sinew.White streaked his beard and

mustache, his hair was snow,butUncleKeshka’sdispositionspoke of a younger man, onein his prime. A sword stoodout in a scabbard on his hip,its hilt unremarkable. He andDelisar argued out of earshot.Finally, Uncle Keshka threwhis hands up and stalkedtowardthedoor.

Whenhe sawKeedar,hiseyes narrowed. He drewabreastandlookedhimupand

down like a drillmasterinspecting a raw recruit.Tenderness showed in hisexpression. “I pray he doesn’tmake this mistake, son. If hedoes,therewillbenothingbutthesorrowsforyou.I’llwaitaslongasIcan.”Withoutwaitingforareplyheleft.

Keedar frowned at hisuncle’swords.HelookedfromFather to the closeddoor andback again. Still confused, he

walkedovertoDelisar.“Right on time,” Father

saidbeforeturningtohismen,shakingeachhandinturn,andwatchingthemtaketheirleave.“Martel, if you would be sokind to make sure I’m notdisturbed.” Delisar rolled themap and tucked it under onearm.

“Yes, sir.” The Swordslippedfromtheroom.

“Well,” Father’s gaze

rovedoverKeedar,“Ican’tsayIlikeyouintheSnake’scolors,but it has to be done.Remember—”

“I know, Father. Onlystayas longasneededforyoutousemeasalocator.Areyoucertain the count will beunabletodisruptitthistime?”

“I’ve taken extraprecautionssorestassured.”

“What if somethingshouldgowrong?”Asmuchas

he hated the possibility,Keedar knew it had to beconsidered. Father alwaysstressed trying to prepare foranyeventuality.

“Thenyouhead toUncleKeshka’swithoutfail.”

“Throughthepass?”“Orbyanyothermeans.”Keedar’s brows climbed

his forehead. He hoped itwould not come to such achoice.

Father strode over andhugged him. Taken bysurprise, Keedar automaticallyreturned the gesture. After amoment, Father held himaway,peeringintohisface.

“This has been a longtime coming, son. The roadfromherewillonlygrowmoredangerous. Your uncle arguesagainstthis,butwemustmakea stand now. This is the besttime with the Day of

Accoladessoonuponus.Ifallgoeswell,inafewweeks,we’llbe well away from Kasandarand any troubles our peopleface. We’ll be returning oneday,notasbeggarsoroutcasts,hidingwhoorwhatweare,butas saviors, rescuing thekingdom from its greatestenemy.”

“Who?TheFarlanders?”Stories along the docks

had increased of late, saying

that the Farlanders hadinvaded along Marissinia’seasterncoast.Supposedly,theywere unstoppable, havingconquered every land acrossthe Renigen Sea. More thanone ship had returned fromthose ports bearing the newsand the Farlands flag: anereskarwithamanatop.Fromall accounts, the creatures haddied long ago. The sailorsclaimed thecontrary, going so

far as to state that theFarlandersrodethebeasts likehorses. Keedar was confidentin the Blades’ ability to stopthis threat. If the Marishmen,with their renownedswordsmanship, metal armor,and synchronized phalanxesdidn’t defeat them, then thegiant Thelusians surely would.Even then, there was still theSteppes of theWorld and theBloodyCorridortocross.

“Yes and no,” Delisaranswered.“Firstwerescuethekingdom from itself as yourmother dreamed of doing.”His voice hardened. “Thereasonwesuffer isbecauseofthe kingdom’s greed formorepower rather than protectingthepeople.Thewillingness tokill,eradicateanentireraceforpersonal gain, for somethingthey were not born with.Unless,weletitbeknownthat

we’renoone’smeat,thetrendwill continue.” He paused.“Why do you think theFarlanderscrossedthesea?”

“Idon’tknow.”“It’sforus.Forwhat’sleft

of us. To exact revenge andclaim the remainder of whatthey think they own. Today,we embark on a goal begancenturies ago in preparationfor their coming. Winning isthe only way we survive.

Anything less isdeath.Shouldwe fail we become what yousee down here,” Delisarpointed at the history booksand old maps, “memories.Now come, there’s much youmustlearnaboutthebox.”

RekindledTrust

Much had changed

about the Golden Spires.UnlikeAinslen’spreviousvisit,King’sBladesbythehundreds,separated by rank, stood inneat rows along the causewaythatledtotheentrance.Sintu’sfaint glow encompassed eachofthem.Alongthewallcarvedfromthesamestoneandmetal

as the towers, archers andlancersstoodatattention.

A Blade approached,dressed in light leather armorsimilartohiscounterparts.Hebowed. “Count Cardiff,apologies for the delay. Thekingwillseeyounow.”

Without a word to theman, Ainslen strode towardthe massive gate. The guardsstared straight ahead, as ifoblivious to his presence, but

hekneweachonesawhimandwerereadytostrikehimdownshould the word be given.Adjusting his glasses with hisforefinger, he smiled. Jemarewasworried.

Although they appearedto be on good terms, Ainslenknew better than to thinkJemarecompletelytrustedhim.Hewould be a fool to do so.Jemare was as shrewd as hewaspowerful.Withtherumors

planted to point at everyhouse, the king would weedout each potential threat if hecould.Thelatestployhadbeento divvy up the city in tensections between the majorhouses. Those who producedthemostfortheking’scoffersfound themselves in his goodfavor. The others? Not somuch.

A Blade had visited theunderachievers, thosewhodid

not maintain the requiredquota.On one such occasion,the Blade returned with thehead of a prominent familymember.

A neat method in whichto rid oneself of enemies,Ainslen confessed to himself.Directly attacking anyone thehouses would have drawn theire of all ten as well asKasinia’s people and outlyinglands. Such action might lead

to an open rebellion largerthan the king could hope tocontain. Attempting to ruleunder force of arms withoutthepeople’ssupporthadfailedother tyrants in the past.Kasinia’s subjects respectedFar’an Senjin and all itrepresented. The Dominionhad always blessed whicheverkingdom played it the best.For over a thousand yearsnow, their light shone on

Kasinia, and with it cameprosperity.

The situation played intoAinslen’s plans as the weakerhouses scrambled for outsideresources provided by theConsortium. With Walker’sRow and the Smear itselffalling under his thumb, heeasilymet the king’s needs. Ifhe didn’t, he had his allies torelyuponforadditionalcoin.

Deep in thought, Ainslen

strode through the maincourtyard.Themajorityof thesculptures had been removed,and people’s heads bobbedaroundthemanicuredgardens.Under the watchful eyes ofolder Blades, childrenprogressed through rigoroustraining regimens, churningwhatwereoncethrivinglawnsinto sandy patches, the grassbrown andwithered.Whetherbeaten with wood strips

repeatedly to strengthen theirbodies,contortedintoextremepositions,or repeating a litanyof exercises and forms, oneaspect remained constantaroundeach.Their soulswereamong the strongest Ainslenhad witnessed in quite a fewyears. Where had the kingdiscovered this new crop?Ainslenhad sent examiners toevery major town or village.He was certain of it. Deep in

thought, he ascended thestairs, and entered the spiresproper.

Troubled by the king’srecruitment,Ainslencouldnothelp but notice the abundantguardsalongthemainhallandits many offshoots. Not allwere Blades, but they weremelders. He absently wavedawayservantswhoboredishesaswascustomarytoanynoblevisiting Jemare. The scents

from his favorite meats andfruitsdid littleforhisgrowingsense of trepidation. By thetime he reached the throneroom’s vast double doors, hisstomachwasinknots.

“CountAinslenCardiffofHouse Mandrigal,” anattendantannounced.

The doors swung open,lettingout thesweetaromaofvarious incenses that burnedon the ten braziers lined on

one side of the chamber. Acarpeted colonnade spanned ahundredfeetintotheroom.Itended at a short set of stairsthat led up to the high seats.ToAinslen’ssurprise,nootherBladesorguardsoccupied theroom. In fact, the chamber’sonly inhabitants were fourattendants, Queen Terestere,and the king. Ainslen refusedthe urge to frown at theemptiness,butthesoftthudof

his own footsteps soundedloud to his ears, a reminderthat he alone approachedJemare. This was one of thefew times Ainslen wishedseveral of the other counts ornobles had been present. Heexpected Blades or guards toappear at one of the manyshadowyarchwaysbeyond theopen spaces on either side ofthecolonnade.Swallowing thelump in his throat, he strode

forward.King Jemare dwarfed the

Soul Throne on which helounged. In his embroideredshirtandpants,crownperchedonhishead,hair inneatsilverbraids, beard shaped in atriangular goatee, he appearedalmostas imposinga figureasAinslen recalled. Almost. AsAinslen approached, he couldtell the man’s cheeks were atad more withdrawn than he

remembered a few monthsago, shoulders not as chiseledin his fitted garb. If Ainslenexpectedtheking’sfacetobeamaskofconcern,whathesawthere left him taken aback.AlthoughJemareattempted togiveoffanairofamaninfullcontrol,relaxed,carefreeeven,Ainslencouldn’thelpbutnotethe glint in the king’s eye, theslighttighteningofhisjaw,andaminiscule clench of his fists

on the massive throne’sarmrests. A second beforeJemarewrenchedhisemotionsintotranquility,hissintuflaredwithasubtletythatmighthavewent unnoticed had Ainslennotbeenamastermelder.

Queen Terestere, on theotherhand,wasascalmastheoceanonawindlessday.

WhenAinslenreachedthestairs, he stopped, dropped toone knee on the lush carpets

below him, and bowed. Hekepthisheaddown,notdaringtobreathe,allthewhilehopingwhatever ill will the kingharbored would be kept incheck.

More than one king hadsuccumbedtothepressuresofFar’anSenjin in thepast.Onesuch monarch, Hemene, hadcalled the counts to him insingular, private audiencessuch as this, slew them, and

partook of their souls. He’dbeen known as the Hemenethe Savage ever since.Hemene’s rule ended soonafter as the entire city roseagainsthim.

NotthatAinslenexpectedJemare to be as brazen or asstupid as Hemene. The kingwasaformidableplotter.Ifhewanted Ainslen dead at thisverymoment,itwouldhavetocomeintheformofaduel.In

order for a king to duel onecount, hehad tobattle all tenone after the other with thelesser houses also present.Jemareoutstrippedthemall insingle strength, but in theEmpire’s history, no king hadsurvivedafterdeliveringsuchachallenge.

“Rise, Count Cardiff.”The king’s smooth baritoneechoedthroughthechamber.

As he complied, Ainslen

made sure to meet Jemare’sgaze.Amanwhocannot lookyou in the eye is amanwithmaliceinhisheart.ItwasoneofJemare’sfavoritesayings.

“Youlookwell,”thekingsaid.

“Asdoyou,sire.Andyou,myqueen.”AinslensmiledanddippedhisheadtoTerestere.

She nodded in kind. Thegold circlet on her foreheadstood out amid the raven

wisps that framed her face.Ainslen could not recall asingletimeheeverhadasenseof bad intentions from thequeen.Hereyes,amberwithahintofgreen,alwaysappearedkindly, even when sheattempted to keep herexpression neutral as she didnow.Inherpresence,hecouldnot seem to stop the slightincrease in his heart rate. Thefew times he’d spoken to her

at a ball or banquet hadremained imprinted in hismemory. The slight brush ofher hand on his.Glances thatpromisedalittlemore.Asmileto make a man swoon. Herchoice of ginger spice forperfume only added to theallure. She never made anyadvances, but he had thefeelingshewishedhewasking.

“Itfeels longerthat ithasbeen since we last met,

Ainslen.”Heat rising in his face,

Ainslen cursed himself forallowing the distraction.“Indeed,sire.”

Only a few months hadpassed sinceKing Jemare hadleft with the counts fromSerentar,Rendorta,andCorenHills tomeetwith the envoysfrom Thelusia, Darshan andMarissinia.He’d also used thetime to send word to the

kingdomsinnorthernKasinia.Near seven feet tall, the kinghad been as robust andsteadfast as Ainslenremembered, a giant amonghiscourt.Ashellhadreturned.

“Iknowthatlookinyoureyes,” the king said as heclaspedhishands.“Noneedtobe concerned. I am as strongasthedayIleft,perhapsmoreso.”

“Yet something has you

worried enough for me tonotice.”

“Doyourememberwhenwe first fought theKheridisians?”

Ainslen nodded. Both heand Jemare were young then,Blades in King Tolquan’semploy. At the edges of theTreskelin Woods, the brown-skinnedKheridisianshadusedmudtocamouflagethemselvesas they lay in ambush for the

Kasinian forces. Jemare hadled his faction of Blades deepwithintheenemyranksasifhehadn’t picked up on theirpresence through their sintu.When he neared the positionof the strongest among them,he’d stabbed down into thesoft earth. Blood pooled up.The Kheridisians had spilledfromthegroundandtreeslikean army of ants. Before theyattacked, Jemare threw down

his weapons and issued achallengetotheirleader,abearofamanwithteethchiseledtofangs.

The Kheridisians had agreat respect for unarmedcombat. They saw it as theGods’ will in deciding whoshould lead them. A sillycustom.

While dueling theKheridisian, Jemare had usedhis skill as a Manifestor to

create bladesmade from puresoulalonghisarmsandhands.Althoughbigger,hisopponentwas no match. He died influrry of slices. A simpleenough act to kill anoverconfident enemy. Inessence, he had cheated, butthedeedwasdone.Theenemyarmy had broken, slinkingaway into the surroundingforest.

“Wearetothese invaders

what theKheridisianswere tous back then,” the kingdeclared.

Ainslen gasped. “Theycannot possibly be thatstrong.”

“It’s the reason I orderedyouheretoday,Ainslen…thereason I called the sameaudience with each Hill. Wecannot afford SuccessionDayanytime soon. Some of theothers do not agree, therefore

I need to see where youstand.”

“Istandwith thecrown.”As much as Ainslen blamedKing Jemare for his part inMarjorie’s death and for notcurtailing the guilds long ago,he needed to convince theman of his loyalty. All else induetime.

“Good. With your visitsfrom Shenen and Rostlin, Iwasbeginningtowonderwhat

youplanned.Totell thetruth,it was a bit troubling. For amoment, only for a moment,mindyou,Iconsideredlendingmystrengthtotheothers.”

The king was lettingAinslen know he had menwatching the count’smovementsorspieswithinhishome. Ainslen felt his liptwitch. He expected no less.“A man must consolidate hisposition, sire. Test thewaters,

if youwill.We foughtmanyawar together. I defended yourlife with my own as a Blade.As tempting as Succession is,Kasandar and Kasinia as awhole has thrived like neverbefore under you. HouseMandrigal,HouseHazline,andHouseAntelenwouldlikeittoremainso.”

“AndCountCardinton?”“HouseJarinahasitsown

designs.”

“Isee.”“I expect you to have

your doubts, sire. However, Iintend to show you just howmuchyourrulemeans.”

Intrigued, the king’seyebrowsarched.“Howso?”

“Only together can wehope to hold off the Farlandinvaders, if what is said ofthem prove to be true,”Ainslen said. He knew thereportswereindeedcorrect.

“As I said before, if youdoubt that they areformidable,” the king’s voicegrew grave, “possibly capableofdefeatingusastheydidtheDracodar, wielding weaponswehavenotseenbefore,then,letmeconfirmitforyounow.Word arrived just today thatErnassa fell to them severalweeksago.”

“Impossible.”“Ihavecalledallourallies

to a meeting,” King Jemaresaid. “With you onmy side, ImayyetgainthesupportofalltheHills.These invaders havechosen an optimal time tostage a campaign against us.Right when the depths of thegame point to a possibleattemptatSuccessionDay.Wemust consolidate our forces.Thelusia and Marissinia willhave to fend for themselvesuntilwegatherourstrength.”

“Then the news I haveshould be even betterreceived,” Ainslen said.“Through my contacts withinthe Consortium, I’m bringingin a prize to Kasandar,smuggled from King Lomas’vaultsdeepinKheridisia.”

King Jemare frowned.“You seem to be hinting atsomething that could give usthe upper hand should theseFarlanders defeat the

Marishmen and theThelusians. Few things existwith such power. I can onlythink of one in Kheridisia.And thatwas a rumor, as ourincursion into their territoryproved. Are you telling medifferently?”

As the king’s eyes shonewith greed and wonderment,Ainslen grinned. “You areexactly right, sire. ImaginemysurprisewhenIdiscoveredthe

rumortobetrue.”“Wait,” the king said in a

breathyvoice,“thisiswhyyousent for somanyBlades.Andwhy your Thelusianabomination caused havoc intheSmear.HereIwasthinkingyou were plotting against me…”

Ainslenallowedhimselftoappearhurtbythesuggestion.

“I-I’m sorry, old friend.”Jemare’s face softened, his

shoulders slumping ever soslightly. “With everything thathas transpired since thesereports,Ihadnochoice.”TheapologywasasgenuineasanyAinslen had ever heard thekingdeliver.

“Forget all that, sire”Ainslen waved the king off.“Thedeliverywillbehere inafew months. It’s due weeksbefore the Day of Accolades,which is fitting. It will more

thanmakeupfor theBladesIlost when I present it forbidding at the auction. Thenwe can make real plans,startingwithasmallThelusianforce I can employ.” Ainslensmiled aswarmly as he could.“Since these Farlanders tookErnassa, I suggest we meetthem in the fieldandnotwaitforthemtobesiegeus.Wecansend word to King Menquanand the rest of Darshan. He

should know of the attack bynow.Havehimmasshisfleets.That should prevent anincursionupthroughtheRiverOst.Therewill benoneed tobeg for his help, and if hedoesn’t see theurgencyof thesituation,and the threat tohisown shores then he’s a fool.Withthoseborderssecure,wecan dispatch our forces todefend thepasses through theWhetstoneandtheDaggers.”

KingJemarenoddedwitheach point, absorbed in thestrategyAinslenwaslayingout.Hecalled foraservant.“Sendfor my generals. We have avictorytoplan.”

DeliveringaTribute

Riding between Count

Cardiff and Lestin, Winslowapproached theGoldenSpiresalong its main causeway. Thecount asking for his presencehad been a surprise. Evenmore so was the request forWinslow to dress befitting his

station, and to have theMandrigal flag fly with theircomplement. When heappeared in a scarlet coat,some of their company hadlooked athim sideways, sohewas glad he’d chosen not towear a scent today. Sweat andhorsefleshwouldhavetodo.

For a moment Winslowhad feared that Ainslen knewofhisplantomeetKeedarandGaston. When nothing

appeared out of the ordinary,he had managed to relax, butthis trip could not end soonenough.

Behind them stretched asnake of five thousandThelusians, the dark-skinnedmen riding horses to matchtheir color, their short spearsin hand in front of theirpommels. They were meldersand soldiers brought in to fillranksforthosedispatchedeast

to the Blooded Daggers andMarissinia’sborders.Aspartofa tribute and to help for thecostsofapossiblewar,PrinceTaelan, an exiled Thelusian,hadalsosentfiftychestsfilledwith gold. Itwas an honor tobring this cache to KingJemare.

The fall of Ernassa hadset much in motion, withBlades and armies pouring infrom the empire’s distant

reaches in preparation forbattle. The Kasinian forcesnow covered three fronts:northinthepassesthroughtheWhetstone Mountains, southalong the River Ost, and easttoward the Blooded Daggers.To see them march off hadthrilledWinslow.

Another similar companywaited at Mandrigal Hill,guardinghisfather’sshipment.He’d tried to get a glimpseof

what it might be, but he hadbeenturnedaway.Theauctionwas due to start on themorrow.Therewouldbe timefor him and his friends tosneak in and witness theproceedings.

“This is an honor webring to the king. Do notshame us or our house,”Count Cardiff said. Today hewore the traditionalMandrigalredandgoldwithacloakdyed

tomatch.Winslowexhaledslowlyat

thecountspeakingtohimasifheweresomefool.Healmostsaid he could return home toensure he brought no suchshametotheCardiffname.Astempting as it was, he bit histongueandnoddedonce.

Arrayedbefore theclosedgate was a squad of at least ahundred guards. More stoodready upon the battlements,

arrows nocked, bowstringstaut.

“These are dangeroustimes.” Lestin scanned thesoldiers. “A king must becareful.”Hesignaledforthemtohalt.

Aguardstrodeforward,abaldricslungoverhisshoulderwith a wide-bladed sword athiswaist.“CountCardiff,whatbringsyouheretoday?”

“LieutenantKerist, this is

the tribute and men sent byPrince Taelan.King Jemare isalreadyaware.”

TheLieutenantnoddedtoWinslow. “Young MasterCardiff,goodtoseeoneofthenobility has made it intoapprenticeship. It has been awhile since such hashappened.”

“Thank you, LieutenantKerist.”

Kerist’sattentionreturned

to Count Cardiff. “Sorry fortheinconveniencebutmymenmust check to see that thechests you carry are what theledgersstate.”

“Be my guest,” Ainslenreplied.

AquicksignalfromKeristand half the guards strodeforward. On the walls, thearchers still had not relaxed.Winslowfeltaslighttighteninginhischest,buttheinspection

itself did not last long. A fewwhispered words passedbetweenKeristandoneofhismenwhenitwasdone.

“Youmayproceed,CountCardiff, Drillmaster Lestin.”Keriststeppedaside.

Ainslen dipped his head,andflappedhisreins.Winslowfollowed. Ahead, chainsclanked, metal ground againstmetal, and then came theclack, clack of gears turning.

The massive portcullis andgate rose.Winslowbreathed asigh of relief, chest finallyrelaxing.

Nowordspassedbetweenthemastheyrodethroughtheentrance.Winslowhadbeeninthe Spires several times in hislife, but they never ceased toamaze him. He took note ofthe lack of statues andfountains in the maincourtyard, the abundance of

soldiers, and the myriad ofyoung recruits of varying ageswhowerebeing trainedunderthe assessing eyes ofinstructors. Shoutedcommands and responsesresoundedacrossthearea.

“If you ever get by me,sweets, thiswillbe thesecondpartofyour‘prenticeship.”

“I will make it here oneday,” Winslow said, suddendefiance building in him.One

way or another, he wouldmake it here among theseyoungmenandwomen.

“Weshallsee.”Winslow expected the

counttoberatethedrillmasterfor the way he spoke, butAinslen merely glanced fromone to the other with hiseyebrowarched.

They continued onthroughseveralsuchyards.Ateachone,Winslow’s envy and

determination surged. He wasgladwhentheygainedtherearof thewesternmost tower.Anattendant arrived to take hisand the count’s horse, whileLestin dismounted and calledfortheotherstodothesame.

Another liveried servantspoke to Count Cardiff.Whatever words passedbetween them, Ainslen wasnotpleased.

“Thekingwishestoseeus

immediately,”Ainslensaid.The servant opened his

mouthbuta lookfromCountCardiff halted him andbrought on a slew ofapologies.

Winslowfeltasifhisheartstopped. He thought theywouldat leastbegranted timeto prepare before beingpresented to the king. At thesame time, therewasa certainsense of excitement and awe.

King Jemare was a hero, amaster of war, renowned forhavingstretchedKasinia’sgripinto Thelusia, Marissinia, andDarshan. Kasandar thrivedunderhimmoresothanatanyother time except for theGoldenandFabledEraswhenKing Menshir and Hemeneruled.

“Leadtheway,”thecountsaidmorethanalittletersely.

Theattendantbobbedhis

headseveraltimes,turned,andshuffledinside.WhenWinslowmade to enter, Count Cardiffreached out and stopped him.Theywaited amomentbeforefollowingadozenfeetbehind.

“Sayaslittleaspossibletothe king. He might decide totestyou.”

“Why?”“With all that has been

going on with the attack onMarissinia,someofthehouses

have seen it as a chance toeither increase their supportfor the king or efforts againsthim. You have never shownmuch of an interest in Far’anSenjin, but for the Hills, it’slikebreathing.”

Winslow frowned. “But Ihave no knowledge ofanything.”

“Ah,youmightthinkyoudon’t,” Count Cardiff said,“and that is exactly what

makes you perfect. Yourresponses due to yourignorance could be morerevealing than someone whoknowswhattheyareabout.”

“As you say, CountCardiff,” Winslow replied,resisting the urge to tellAinslen that he was smarterthan the count was willing toadmit.

“No.” Ainslen stopped,his fingers like rivets of steel

digging into Winslow’sshoulder. “Promise me youwill watch your tongue, andthinkoveranyreply.”

Wincing at the pressure,he nodded. “I promise.”Uneasiness crawled throughhim.Thiswasthefirsttimethecount had reacted in such afashion.Therehadtobesomeunderlying reason for thismeeting that worried Ainslen.Little enough had that effect

for Winslow’s mind not todrift tosomethingominousastheycontinuedontheirway.

Preoccupied by thoughtsofthecount’sconcern,aknotworming its way in his gut,Winslow hardly noticed theresplendenceondisplaywithinthe tower’s halls. Tapestries,paintings, chandeliers, andelaborate curtains flashed by.The carpet under his feetseemednonexistent.Whenthe

servant brought them to alarge, oak door, a likeness ofthe Ten Hills carved into itssurface, Winslow stared withhis mouth open at the twoThelusian Blades standingguard, their arms asbig ashistorso.

Theservantleftthemwiththe Blades, who pushed openthedoorandusheredthemin.CountCardiff’smoodchangedcompletelyastheyentered,his

face showing none of hisprevious agitation. Sweatbeaded Winslow’s forehead.Theroomsmelledofwhateverincensewasburninginthetwobraziersineachcorner.

An older man sat at ahugeroundtable,butitwasn’thim that held Winslow’sattention. It was the room’scontents. Ten sculpturesrepresenting each God of theDominionweresetagainstthe

walls in line with the finelydecorated chairs. The stoneseat the king rose from wasmore like a throne. Behindhim was a picture of all theGodscomingtogethertoformthe Creator. This was theOrder of the Dominion’sjudgment chamber, fromwhich the Ten High Priestsand the king made decisionsthataffectedmillionsoflives.

King Jemare wore an

immaculate white coat withsilveron the sleeves and largesilverbuttonsthatmatchedhisbraided hair and beard.Buckledathiswaistwasabeltthat held a scabbarded swordwith an ornate hilt. The kingwas almost as large a man asSorinya, but somehow,Winslow believed if the nearseven-foot Ebon Blade werehere, Jemare would stilldominate the room.

Something about the way theking held himself, back erect,jaw rigid, eyes intelligent, greyjewels, spoke of the utmostcommand.

“Count Cardiff, come,come,” Jemare said, wavingthem in, “and this must beWinslow.” He signaled, andthetwoBladesleft,closingthedoor behind them. “I hadhopedtoseeyoualone,youngman, pick that brain of yours

for a one who might be afuture Blade, but I see yourfather has no intention oflettingyououtofhissight.”

“Theboyisunpracticedatthis, Your Majesty, I simplywantedtomakesurehedidn’tmake a fool out ofMandrigalHill.”The countwore a smileasifhesaidthewordsinjest.

“He’s smart enough andold enough tobeonhisown,aren’tyou,Winslow?”

Uneasy, Winslow glancedatAinslen from the corner ofhis eye and nodded, “Yes,sire.”.

“See? Regardless, you’rehere and that’s fine by me,Ainslen.”

Count Cardiff gloweredfor a moment before hebowed.

“Wherearemymanners?”Jemare said. “Imight be kingbut there is no need not to

offer you seats. Sit, both ofyou.”Heindicatedchairsawayfromthetable.

After they sat, KingJemare did the same on thestone seat. “So,” he began,“Winslow, how fares yourtraining?”

Winslow got the distinctimpressionthatthosegreyeyeswere studying his soul.“Difficult. It certainly isn’twhatIexpected.”

“It must have been ashock to your system. Itdoesn’thelpthatLestin isoneof the hardest mentors.” Theking glanced over to Ainslen.“Ihadsuggestedtoyourfatherto allow you to skip that partandbeginwiththeBlades,butherefused.”

Winslow gaped in CountCardiff’s direction. He hadbeen enduring Lestin’storturous habits when there

wasnoneedtodoso?Ainslen shrugged. “Itwas

necessary. You know that aswellasIdo.”

“Indeed,” King Jemaresaid. “The best Blades had topass through those rigors.Suchapromotionwouldhavemeant induction, and fewsurvive past their twentiethyear when their vital pointsand cycles were opened byforce.”

A small part of Winslowwasgladthecounthaddeniedhim the chance for an easypath. Another bit wished hehad at least been given thechoice. There was nothing tobedoneabout itnow.HehadalreadycommittedtowhateverLestinsetbeforehim.

“I hear you’re to marryElaina Shenen.” The kingwaggledafinger.“Anicecatchshe is. With Mandrigal and

Hazline paired, you make foreven more formidable housesthanyouarenow.”

“Sire, I’m unaware ofwhat it means of any dealingbetween the houses. All IknowiswhatIfeelforher.”

“And she’s with child,”theking added. “Howdo youfeelaboutthat?”

Winslowcouldn’thelphissmile.Themorehethoughtofit over the months, the more

he’d liked the idea of being afather. For his child, he couldbe what Count Cardiff neverreally was for him. “I’mproud.”

“Good. I would expectnothing less from a Cardiff. IhearCountShenenwasnotatall pleased when he firstlearned.”

The night Keedar savedhim and Gaston flashedthrough Winslow’s mind.

“Under the circumstances anyfather might have felt thesame.”

“Yes, I could agree withyou there,” the king said. Hisgaze took them both in.“Winslow, I’ll be frank. Iwanted you here to get a feelfor the future of the housesundermyrule.Yourfatherhasproved his worth time andagain,nonemoresothannowwith the coin and soldiers he

garnered from one of theexiled Thelusian princes. Imyself could not approachthem,butyourfatherhasonceagain sacrificed of himself forthecrown, and for that Iowehim. I think you’re smarterthan you let on, which is agood thing, and a commontrait among the Cardiffs.Ainslen, you should beproud.”

Count Cardiff beamed

and Winslow could not helphisownpleasure.

“Well, youngman, if youwillexcuseus,yourfatherandIhaveanauctiontodiscuss.”

Grinning now, Winslowbowed to theking, nodded toAinslen and strode from theroom.Withthecountengagedin the meeting, it was theperfect time to hurry backhomeandmeetKeedar.

AnAuctionofPower

Drab and grey as the

ocean in winter, the coffin-lengthboxsatatoptheauctiontable. From where he hid inthe crawlspace’sdark confinesabove the lamplit room,Keedar recognized itsfeatureless, metallic surface.

The container didn’t appeardeepenoughtoholdacorpse,but what was insidemight beas bad if notworse.He’d notseenitskindbefore,butFatherhad drilled him repeatedlyconcerning its contents. Theold tomes in the Undertowspoke of it also. More oftenthan not, such discussionsdroveFatherintosolitude.

The container was thecreationofmurderers.

If the guards caught him,chances were he’d end up inone like it. Just like Mother.When it begins, follow theplans and get out. HerepeatedDelisar’sadvice.

Father had gone overevery painstaking detail if theboxwas at this secret auctiondeep in the bowels of CountCardiff’s mansion. Keedarhunched intohimselfwith thethought,thecrawlspace’sstone

walls around him seeming toclose in as he did so. Thekniveshiddenathiswaistbandwere a burdensome reminderoftheparthewastoplay.Forhim,failurewasnotanoption.

Althoughconfident inhisability to hide, Keedar knewhis presence bordered onsuicide. He cupped a glovedhand over his mouth tosuppress a cough from thedust his breath kicked up.

Mold, mildew and old agefought for prominence overhisandhisaccomplices’sweatyodors.He peered through thecrack in the ceiling onto thegatheringbelow.

Nobles congregated insmallgroups,dressed infineryto match the occasion, facescovered by masks as if at amasqueradeball.Planning thewinningbid,nodoubt.Thosewho passed the container

brushedtheirfingers longinglyacross its surface. Some werealmost reverent in theirapproach. Keedar could onlyimagine the riches each oftheir manservants carried inthe coffers across the room’sfar side where the King’sBlades kept watch, hands ontheir swords, gazes evervigilant, their uniforms baringthe Dominion’s rainbowcolors.

Lieutenant Sorinya, themassive Thelusian, garbed inmidnighttomatchhisskinandhis title ofEbonBlade, stoodattheirhead.Themilkywhitesof his eyes were visible evenfrom where Keedar hid.Keedar shivered, recalling thecarnageleftthenightsthemanpaidvisittotheSnakes.

“Make room for me,”Gastonsaid,hisvoicemuffledby a scarf. His lithe form

wriggledupbesideKeedar.“I can’t believe I let you

two talk me into this mess.”Keedarshiftedover.

“Shhh.”Winslowglaredathim, his eyes shining orbs inthe darkness of their hidingplace.

“Relax,Wins, we are toofarupforanyonetohearusifwe whisper. Besides, even ifsomeone catches us, it’s yourfather’sauction.Wesimply let

them know Keedar’s ourfriend. What’s the worst thatcan happen? A strapping?”Gaston placed his eye to thepeephole.

Winslow glared at theback of his friend’s head. “Ifonly. The count has a specialhateforKeedar.”

“Bah, he’ll probably justhave him beaten again andthen immediately marry youofftoElaina,”Gastonsaid,his

voice tingedwithmirth.Evenin the dark Gaston’s teethflashedwithhislopsidedgrin.

“Thatisn’tfunny.”Gaston let out a mildly

suppressedchuckle.“Icanseeyou two now, children andall.”

Winslow grumbled a fewobscenitiesunderhisbreath.

Keedar couldn’t help butsmile. He’d seen ElainaShenen. The girl was beyond

beautiful. He doubted if hecouldhaveavoidedherevenifhewanted.

“The crier’s arrived,”Gastonsaidexcitedly.

“Shhh. Damned fool,”Winslowadmonished.

Keedarputhisfacetothecrack and peered down. Sureenough,thecrier,amanwithabelly thatbattledhiscoat,andarms too short for his girth,stepped up behind the table

andonto thedais.Thenoblesarranged themselves in neatlines, the most prominentamong them first. A hushedsilence fell across the roomlike a moment of prayer at afuneral.

“Whatdoyouthinkitis?”Gastonwhisperedthistime.

“Who knows,” Winslowsaid.

“I’m wagering that it’sthose fire sticks from across

theRenigenSea.WhatdoyousayWins,asilverbit?”

“Please, it’s all nonsense.Sticksthatshootfireandmetalballs?I’llhavetoseeoneworkbeforeIbelievesuchaweaponexists.”

“Two bits then,” Gastonsaid withoutmoving from hisspot. “Don’t be cheap. Theysay that Ernassa fell to thosesame weapons and theFarlanders.”

“I’m certain it tookmorethan that to sack theUnbreakableCity.”

Keedar had heard thesame rumors, but he couldn’timagine melders beingdefeatedbyanybuttheirown.However,thesewerethesameFarlanders who laid waste totheDracodar. The thought ofonedayfacingthemmadehimwince.

Avoice rose frombelow,

crisp and clear with an edgethat cut the air. “Lords andLadiesoftheKasinianEmpire,I, Felius Carin, bring to youanother historical occasion,another historical auction.”The crier bowed with aflourish, drawing his brown,silken cloak across his body.Howhemanagedtobendpasthis gut, Keedar could notfathom, but it was like a wetsack squishing in on itself. At

any moment, he expected theman to begin oozing. “First,before we begin, a bit ofhistory concerning thiscoveted piece.” He gesturedtoward the grey container likea conductor at a ball, hisstubby forearm playing thepartofthebaton.

“Here he goes again.”Winslow practically groanedthewords.

They had informed

Keedar of the tediousprocessthe crier undertook, but hefounditno less intriguing.Hewonderedifthestorythemanwouldtellwasthesameastheones he’d read in Father’sbooks.

Felius Carin’s voice roseinpitch,buttookonthegravequalities of a lecturer. “In theannals of our illustriousCompendium, Etien wrotethatourancestorswhocrossed

the Great Beyond to inhabitour world, the ten Gods weknow as the Dominion,created the first intelligentcreaturesintheirownlikeness:theDracodar.

“Blessed with golden orsilver scales as hard as anyarmor, they stood no tallerthan we do now. They werefair-featured, bordering onhypnotically beautiful. Fromthem derived all other beings.

Theoneconstantamongthemthough,toprovesometruthtothese legends, was that theywereadept inmeldingbeyondanything we know today. Tothis day, their blessed abilityresides among some of us.”Henoddedtothenobility.“Ofcourse there are thoseundeserving of such gifts, butwe make use of them as wewill.”

The reference to theDay

of Accolades made Keedarcringe.

“Astimepassedandmoreraces were born from theDracodar,theyseparatedfromus, the people, placingthemselves on high. Somewould argue deservedly so.However, when they decidedthe time had come to purgethe land under their greatEmperor Ilsindin, we, thepeople, led by Cortens

Kasandar, fought back.Outnumbered due to theirstunted reproduction, theDracodar fell and disappearedintooblivion.”

Keedarwasasenrapturedby the crier’s telling as thenoblesintheroombelow.

Felius’voicelowered,asiftodivulgesomesecretmissive,spinning the story like a bardat the king’s ball, the crowdandKeedar dangling fromhis

every word. “But, not all ofthemaregone.Hiddenamongus by use of melding,Dracodar descendants, thenearest thing to the originalbeings, live in secret. Whyhide?” Arms spread wide hewaited as if expecting ananswer.

Before one was offered,hecontinued,“Forwithintheirscales, theirmeat, theirbones,residestheirpower:anincrease

insoul,inmelding,thatcanbepassed on to one lucky andstrong enough to obtain theirarmor, their bones, or ingesttheir flesh.” He paused foreffect. It was as if everyonebelow held their collectivebreaths.

Keedar’s chestconstricted. What Feliusdescribed could only be doneby the very strongestmelders.A person able to steal or

harness another’s soul musthave passed into the innercycles to master entope.Mouthopenhestareddownatall the prospective buyers, forthe first time reallyunderstanding what theirnumbersmeant.

How did Father hope todefeatsuchagathering?

“Today,LordsandLadies,CountsandCountesses,thatiswhat I, Felius Carin, the

greatest auctioneer,archaeologist, and historian ofourtimebringtoyou.”

“I present the scales andbones of a Dracodar,” Feliusannounced, voice athunderclap. “Let the biddingcommence.”

“Amazing,” Gastonwhispered,“this isevenbetterthanIthought.”

“A gold bit,” someoneyelled.

Keedarwhistledunderhisbreath. The amount was asmall fortune. The one offerbegan an uproar like arockslide crashing down amountain, nobles’ voiceslifting over each other. Theneat lines of nobilitydescended into chaos asofficerstoeithersiderecordedbids.

“Six gold bits,” said ashrill female voice above the

din.“A gold round.” This

from a noble wearing a maskwithaneagle’sbeak.

Next toKeedar,Winslowsucked in a breath. Keedarcouldunderstandwhy.Amancouldpurchaseabaronywithagoldround.

“Agoldmonarch,” said adeepvoice.

Theroomfellintosilence.Keedar stiffened. The man

making the pronouncementwas larger thanmost,woreanimpeccablewhiteuniform,anda golden mask. Silver braidshungtohisshoulders.

“Wait,” yelled someoneclosebehindthenobles.

The rough pitch of thevoice made Keedar’s eyeswiden and his heart race. Hecouldn’t see theperson as thenobles swiveled to take inwhoever it was, but he didn’t

needto.“You’re all bidding

without seeing the product?”There was a hint ofamusement in Father’s voice.“Someone says they have afabled Dracodar’s bones andscales, and we simply throwcoin at them? You’re all tootrusting. Not I. Kasandar is ahotbedofConsortiumactivity.Theblackmarket thriveswithtoomanyfakestocount.Show

usproof.”“Who might you be to

makedemands?”saidthemaninwhite.

“I thought this was asecret gathering,” Father said,“a place where we could relyon our anonymity from theother houses and a reprievefrom any of the king’s taxes.AtleastthatiswhatIpaidfor.Ifitisnot,letmeknow,andIwill take my gold monarchs

withmeandseemyself tothedoor.”

Nervous mutterings ranthroughtheroom.

“Very well.” The man inwhites gestured,palmupward,toFelius.

At the table, Feliusnodded to twoKing’s Blades.Armor clinking, bootsthudding on the carpetedfloor,theystrodeforward.

“Open it,” Felius

announcedandsteppedback.TheBladesstoodtoeither

sideofthecontainer.Momentspassedwheretheydidnothingbut stare at the grey surface.Keedar strained his eyes butmadeoutnochangesintheairaround them to signify theiruse of soul. Metallic clicksensued, ringing through thesilent gathering. Without theguards’ touching it, the lidswungup.

“Show them.” Feliusspread his hands out towardtheexpectantcrowd.

Glinting from the lampsin the sconces around theroom, a hint of silver rosefrom the container. Itunfolded.Gaspsfollowed.

Polished to a sparklingshine and in the shape ofclose-fitting armor, Keedarrecognized what he waslooking at. Scales. Thousands

upon thousands of themintricatelyjoinedtogether.

Worse yet was the soulrolling from the armor. Thepowercalledtohim;itwrithed,flowed,burstoutward.Hefeltits heat against his skin. Toomuch. Too strong. Someonebesidehimgasped.

“By the Dominion,”Winslow whispered inreverence.

Despite being high above

in the ceiling, Keedar wantedtoshyaway.Heshouldn’thavebeen able to see the energymuchlessfeelit.Notyet.Notaccordingtofather’steachings.Not around something dead.But the soul was there all thesame.

Memoriesroseanew,asifhe stood in thehall thatnightwhen the King’s Blades killedMother. Flames. Goldenscales.Mother’slaughterasshe

fought. He was huddled in acorner before strong armsgrabbed him and snuck himoutthroughthebolthole.

Therecollectioncutoff.Below,thelampsguttered

andblinkedout.

FriendorFoe

Winslow couldn’t see

as far as his outstretchedhands. Keedar and Gaston’sloud breaths sounded besidehim. His heartbeat wasthunder. The crawlspace’sconstriction pulled at him,screamed forhim to flee.Themusty odor and dust of theunusedcorridorsmade ithard

to breathe. His handsscrabbled for purchase on theroughstone.

Cries and shouts echoedbelow them. Then came thering of steel on steel. Hollowbooms followed. Although anovice in soul, he still felt thestrengthof themagic.Hisgutclenched.

“We have to get outnow,”Keedar said, breathless,his voice so near Winslow

flinched.“Who would dare attack

us?” Fear and disbelief tingedGaston’s tone. “Could it betheFarlanders?”

“Idoubt it,”Keedar said,“butitdoesn’tmatter,doesit?There’s a fight going on. Abattle between melders. Wehavetogonow.”

Nooneprotestedasonallfours they wormed their waythrough the crawlspace. By

memory, Winslow followedthe twists and turns. Eachcornermade it seem as if thetripwouldlastaneternity.Thesounds of fighting driftedfarther away. When he finallysawthecrackoflightfromthestoreroom ahead, he let out asigh.

He was the first onethrough, dropping downamong grain sacks. Gastonfollowed soon after. When

Keedar landed, he came upwith two daggers in hand, hiseyessearchingallaroundthembeforehisfacerelaxed.

“Follow me,” Winslowimplored. He made to headdeeperintothemansionwherehecould take thepassagewaysbuilt into the walls and leadthemtotheservants’quarters.

A hand on his shoulderstoppedhim.Thefingerswerelikesteel.Gaston’shand.

“No. We’re going to myfather’sguards.”

“What—” A jab from apointy weapon sent pain upWinslow’sspine.

“Gaston, what inDesitrin’s name are youdoing,”Keedarhissed.

“You think we didn’tknowaboutyourmeetingwithhim?”Gaston nodded towardKeedar. “I tried to warn youbut you wouldn’t listen. You

gave up your heritage for afucking dreg? Who do youthinkit isdownthere?It’stheConsortium. Dregs like him.Whether they are trying tosteal your father’s prize is ofno concern. It’s all a part ofthegamewecanuse.”

Winslow held up hishands. “Why, why would youdothis?”

“Like I said,Wins,Far’anSenjin.You’resocaughtup in

wanting to become a melder,chasing old stories, andbefriending this dreg, you’velost yourself. You forgetFar’anSenjinisn’tonlyforthecounts, for theolder folk, butus, the young men, thechildrenduetoinherit.”

“We were friends.”Winslow closed his eyes,allowing a sense of relaxationto come over him. CountCardiff’s advice echoed in his

head;words that spokeofnottrusting anyone and successand survival belongingtogether.

“Were, Wins,” Gaston’swords held a sense of regret,“now it’s time for HouseAntelen to rise. I’m tired ofyour whining, about notwantingElaina,yourdreamsofbecoming a Blade. Well, younolongerneedtofret,I’lltakeherandyourunbornchildand

makethemmine.”Winslowsnappedhiseyes

open, having drawn on hissoul.Metal came tomind.Hetook as much energy as hecould from the front of hisbodyandthrustittohisrear.

Gastonmust have sensedsomething, for he stiffened,muscles bunching. Thepressure from the bladedisappeared for an instant.Winslowfelt the thrustbefore

itstruck.Toolate.His spine was as hard as

theironhe’dpictured.Winslow dropped away

fromGaston.Inhisperiphery,hesawKeedar’shandflashup.A small grunt issued fromGaston.WhenWinslowhitthegroundandrolled,Gastonwasfalling.

A dagger’s hilt protrudedfromGaston’seye.

“No, no, no,” Winslowcried, the adrenaline from themoment washing away inhorror.“Itwasn’tsupposedtobe like this. What have Idone?”

“Saved your life andmine.”

“But—”“But nothing, he was

going to kill you and me.”Keedar walked over toGaston’s body and pulled the

dagger from the eye. It cameoutwithawet,suckingsound.He wiped it on the deadnoble’s clothes. “You noblesandyourdamnedgame.Fathersuspectedsomeonewasgivingthem information but hewasn’t certain. It’s why I’mhere insteadofwiththem.Myjob is to help you escape if itallwentwrong.”

“Noonewassupposedtogethurt...”Evenashesaidthe

words, Winslow knew howthey sounded. Silly.Child-like.Adream.This all had tobe adream. He closed his eyes. Ifhe pinched himself he’d wakeup. When he opened them,Keedar was watching him,blades in hand, an eyebrowarchedup.Winslowdeflated.

“You and many otherslike youarepawns,Winslow.”Keedar put away his kniveswith a flourish. “Pieces to

Far’an Senjin, like the Smear,theDayofAccolades, liketheBlades,likemuchofKasandarand the world King Jemarerules.All thatmatters to themis soul. He who has thestrongest soul, the quickestmind, themost devious plots,survivesthelongest.Theyvisitany villages and towns orhomesreportedtohavestrongmelders; they searchand tracehistories hoping to find

Dracodar, slay them and taketheir magic; they kill mothersandfathersandstealorphanedchildren.Likeyou.”

Thelastwordswerelikeaslap.“Sowhatdowedonow?I cannot stay here. CountCardiff will wantme dead, sowill Kesta, Gaston’s father.Not that I wanted to be heremuch longer anyway. Youheard what he said aboutElaina.”

Keedar’s eyes widened.“It’strue?”

“Yes. Our parents havealwayspushedus toward eachother.”

“What do you feel forher?”

Winslow searched withinhimself. “I like her, but that’sasfarasitgoes.I’dlovetoseemy son or daughter, raisethem, but I know now, allthat’s part of the game.

Another soul for either side.Oneday, Iwill beback if shehas the baby.” He made thewordsapromise.

“First,we need to escapetoseeoneday.”

“Well, after that,”Winslow nodded towardGaston’s corpse, “my route isoutofthequestion.”

“Thatwasnever going tobe our path anyhow.”Keedargavehimawrysmile.“Follow

me.”Leftwithnootherchoice,

Winslowsaidasmallprayertothe Dominion and headedafter Keedar. They exited thestoreroomandmadetheirwaydowna few floors.Theironlycompany this far into theCardiffmansionwas dust andcobwebs. Occasionally distantshouts passed above them.EachtimeKeedarstoppedandwaited.Bythetorchlightinthe

sconces on each landing,Winslowbecameawareof thefootprints in the dustystairwells where there shouldhave been none. At another,larger storeroom, Keedarpaused,putaneartothedoor,and then nodded after amoment.

Keedar eased the dooropen, and they snuck intoblackness. The sound ofrummagingcamefromnearby.

A torch sparked to life a fewseconds later. The fire castdancing shadows along thewalls. Mustiness and moldwormed their way upWinslow’snostrils.Keedar ledthemalongonewallbeforehestopped.

Afterplacing the torch ina sconce, Keedar begancountingbricksalongthewall,running his fingers along themortar. When he found what

he sought, he thumped thebrick with the meaty side ofhis fist. The stone pressed in.With a rumble, a panel slidopen. Keedar disappearedinside, the reek of sewagespillingfromtheopening.

Knowing this would bethe last time in the Cardiffmansion,onMandrigalHill,infact, on the Ten Hills,Winslow took a look aroundhim. The storeroom was as

desolate as he felt. He couldnot recall ever feeling thisalone, this lost. After a deepbreath, he followed Keedarintotheblackslit.

TheBellsToll

Hours later,Keedar led

themoutoftheUndertowandthesewersintoPauper’sCircle.

“The Smear?” Winslowgavehimanincredulousstare.

“Don’t worry.” Keedarchuckled. “With the way yousmell and look, you’ll fit rightin.”

Winslowsmirked.“Thisis

noescape.Thecountwillsendhismenhere.Thekingalso.Itwillbe theNightofBladesalloveragain.Worseeven.”

“If they can prove whathappened had anything to dowith the Consortium and notjust a part of your game.”Father’s plan had relied onthat. Their spies within eachhousewoulddroprumorafterrumor concerningwho playedwhatpart,hintingatwhichHill

benefittedthemostfromeachaction. All the way to KingJemare.

“I think youunderestimatethem.”Winslowgave a slow shakeof his headas they eased away from thedilapidatedbuildings.

The streets here weredesolate as usual. Overhead,Antelen hung huge, anominousreminderofhowhe’dslain Gaston. Orange

illuminatedtheskylineovertheTen Hills. A distant roar likethe ocean’s waves came fromthatdirectionalongwithtinny,metallicchimes.

“Do you believe thosewere a real Dracodar’sremains?”Winslowasked.

“You saw as much as Idid. If the prices they werebiddingwasn’tconvincing,thesoul coming from that thingmust have been.” Keedar still

couldn’t believe what he’dwitnessed.“Hells’Angels.”

“ButthatwouldmeantheDracodar live, that the booksCount Cardiff has …”Winslow’svoicetrailedoff.

“It would appear thatway.” Keedar let out a longbreath. He would rather nothave this conversationnow, ifever.

Winslow hung his head.“My father … Count Cardiff

doesn’tneedmuchofareasonto kill, but for this hewill doanything. Word of us willreach him. What of Gaston’sknowledge? They are as likelyto believe whatever CountRostlin says. Even if onlyAntelen Hill and MandrigalHill come after you, theirBlades will prove too much.Or have you forgotten thatalthough they belong to theking, that the Blades can be

commissioned as assassins bythe counts? Besides, neitherKing Jemare nor Ainslen willstopatthenoblehousesifthecontainerisnotretrieved.”

Keedar consideredWinslow’s reasoning. Supposehe was right? Even if Fathermanaged to escape with theDracodar’s remains, whatwould stop the Hills and theking from sending the Bladesinto the Smear to search?

Surely theywould scour all ofKasandar. If the remains didwhat the legends stated, whywouldn’t they? Any whopossessed thecontainerwouldbeathreattoolargetoignore.Delisar must have foreseenthis. He would have plannedsomethingelseasadistraction.Somethingmuchbigger.

“Youhavegrownquiet. Iassumeyouseethetruthofmywords?”

“Yes.” Keedar’s heartsunkwith theadmission.“Butit’sworsethanyouthink.”

“Howso?”“After I escaped the

mansion, my father’s orderswere for me to remain downbelowwithyou.Whatyousaidexplains why so many havegathered in the Undertow,leaving their belongingsbehind.”Keedarpointedattheorange hues limning the sky.

Heunderstoodtheearlierroar.“They’refightingrightnow.”

Winslow stopped. “They?What do you mean? TheConsortiumandtheHills?”

“A little of them, butmore of the King’s Bladesagainst the Hills. It’sSuccession Day, Winslow.That’s what my father andyourshavebegun.”Thewordsmade the cold night evencolder.

“May the Dominion saveus,”Winslowwhispered.

“If only they could,”Keedar said.Hehadnobeliefin the Gods saving or doinganything for anyone. TheyofferednoassistancethenightMother died, and theywouldn’t help tonight. If sucha thing as divine interventionexisted, they, like anyone else,looked out for their owninterestsfirst.“Whenthingsgo

horriblywrong,we’llbesavingourselves.”

“Why would your fatherdo this? He cannot possiblyhopetowinout.”

“Followmewhilewetalk.We need a better vantage tosee what’s coming our way.”Keedar headed toward abuilding at the edge ofPauper’sCircle,keepingtotheshadows.

The structure was once a

temple dedicated to the GodofWar, Humel, but was longsinceabandonedbyanyintheSmear who worshipped theDominion.Shinglesandbrickslittered the ground; metalstrips creaked in the breeze;lichen grew on the oncepristine pillars at its base; andthe statue of Humel—agigantic creature made fromearth as if amountain walkedandrodeachariotpulledbya

massive one-eyed horse—hadbeen toppled on its side. Birddroppingsdotteditssurface.

Bypassing the God’sfearsome visage, Keedarheaded up the stairs andthrough the gaping doubledoors. Inside was dark andcold, almost chillier thanoutside, and reeked ofunwashedbodies and shit: theproduct of those who calledthe place home. Antelen’s

fingers threaded throughcreases, filtering down fromthe many rents in the floorsabove, all the way to thebroken roof. Much of themassivestonestairsleadingupwerestillintact.

Warning bells tolled, oneby one, mourning throughouttheSmear.

Keedar broke into a run,takingthestepstwoandthreeat a time. When he staggered

ontotheroofandintocoldair,hegasped.

The earlier roar he’dheard, that he assumed musthave been fighting along theHills was much closer. Theking’s armies had alreadybroughtthefighttotheSmear.BannersbearingtheTenHill’sinsignia flew high, whippedinto a frenzy by the wind.Soldiers massed near theSmear’soutskirts,whilstothers

marched down the streets,setting fire to structures andmassacring any in their way.Several formations containedBlades,butnotnearlyasmanyas Keedar expected. Thedefendersdiednonetheless.

Consortium members,apparently not privy toFather’s scheme fought inpockets along various streets.They chose the ones narrowenough to provide them an

advantage. Others used therooftops to fire arrow afterarrowintothearmoredtroops.

The king’s soldiersmarchedonundaunteddespitehowmanyfell.Theysparednoone.Theold,theinfirm,noneof them mattered. Not eventhechildren.

Flames lit the blood-soaked streets and bodies inhellishhues.

Keedar’s stomach

clenched as he watched. Ittookaneffortofsupremewillnot to retch. Beside him,WinslowwhisperedaprayertoDesitrin, the God of theAfterlife, the Ten PurgatoriesGuardian.

Onseveralstreets,intheirrespective districts, the guildsformed their own ranks. TheShaded Snakes in their blackand grey to the east; the RedBeggars, the crimson of their

garb matching the bloodflowing in thestreets, tookupposition to the west. Directlyin the middle were theCoinmen, the jewelry theyfavored glinting under thetorchlight. Shipmen weresprinkled in among eachgroup. Even with four mainguildsandseveralminorones,their numbers were incrediblyinferiortotheking’sarmy.

“The guilds may be able

toholdoutforsometimedueto position and knowledge,”Winslowsaid,“buttheirdefeatis inevitable. They shouldsurrender now. Somebloodshed will sate the king’sappetite.Theymightbeabletosavetheregularfolkbeforetheking dispatches more Blades.Iftheydon’t,whoknowswhatwillbeleftthen.”

HalfhissensetoldKeedarto run the rooftops, warn

thosewhohaddecidedtostay,beg them to flee into theUndertow. To see his peopletakenontheDayofAccoladeswas one thing. To see thismassacre and do nothingwould be another. Blocked inby the south walls as theywere, leaving now would betheonlyhope for escape.Thebetter part of him wanted togive in to the knowledge thatsuch an effort would be

wastedandmightcosthimhisownlife.

He didn’t care. If hedidn’t try,hemightaswellbeone of the soldiers whopartook in the slaughter.Keedar turned to Winslow.The young noble must haveread his mind or seen thedeterminationinhiseyes.

“You cannot save them.”Winslow shook his head.“Whatever plan your father

had to escape, we need tofollowitnow.”

“I’mnobetter than themif I don’t try. This isn’t yourbattle,notyet.Iexpectnohelpfromyou,norshouldyouofferany. You have no knowledgeof these streets and rooftops.Return to the tunnels.Someone’s sure to lead youintotheUndertow.Ifnot,waitfor me. However, if I don’treturnintime,meetmeatour

pool in the Parmien.” Keedarreached out and grippedWinslow’sarm.“IpromiseI’llbeback.”

Expressiongrim,Winslowreturnedtheembrace.“You’reabettermanthanme.”

Without another word,Keedar took off and made aflying leap toward theadjoiningroof.Softasdriftingdust he floated down onto aparapet.Thenheran likehe’d

neverrunbeforepullingonhissoul for all it was worth. Hewouldhelpasmanypeople ashe could, and then he wouldfindFather.

AKillingGround

TheGoldenSpireswere

akillingground.They smelledof blood and death, meltedmetalandburningflesh.IftheTenPurgatoriesdidexist,theyhad to be like this: all moansandcries,thesufferingofmen,and rumbles as if the earthitselfwasbeingtornapart.

King Jemare had pulled

the majority of his remainingBlades inside the massivefortress. Several squads wereoff battling at the Hills. Thebrunt of the king’s forces,Blades and regular soldiersalike,wereoffattheoutposts,awaiting the Farlander army’ssupposed arrival. Except theFarland soldiers were alreadyhere at the Spires, with theirfiresticks, ripping throughwhat defense the king had

mustered.Ainslen’s own soldiers,

those trainedat theGreyFist,and out in Marissinia, helpedto defend Mandrigal Hill andthe other houses that backedhim. With Hazline, Antelen,Keneshin, and Humel on hisside, victory along the TenHills was almost assured. ButhereattheSpires,amidflames,smoke, and the screams andmoans of men, the deciding

battletookplace.The fight seemed almost

tooeasy.Against his force of

Farlanders disguised asThelusians, the Blades hadcome charging into the maincourtyard. Soul flowed fromevery one of them, linkedtogether in a thick layer withthe consistency of iron. He’dseen this attack many times:theBlades,manybare-chested,

slamming into a foe’s flanks,taking no wounds from theiropponent’s swords or bows.Each one in that first line ofattack would be Magnifiers,able to strengthen the naturalcapacities of their bodies orapply that effect to an objectthey held, making it nearunbreakable. What followedwould be a massacre as theopposingforcepanickedinthefaceof enragedBlades tearing

them apart, smashing themintothegroundwithbarefeetandfists.

Except not one Blademade it into the Farlanderranks.

Five thousand strong, theFarlanders formed a square,their booted feet resoundingwith impeccable timing. Inneed of every bit of power,they had dropped the formsthey’d created using soul. The

short spears they had heldbecame firesticks. A short,squatraceofthem,nonetallerthanfivefeet,madeupthetwooutermost lines, each aMagnifierbearingarectangularshield to match his or herheight. Behind those, andarmed with their deadlyfiresticks were two lines ofranged attackers, much taller,theirhairsoblonditappearedwhite. Casters, complexions

like polished sandalwood,made up the fourth rank,followedbyAlchemistsintheirflowing robes, heads bald.They held the center nearAinslenandSeligula.

They worked withseamless, lethal efficiency.Whenever theBlades charged,theCastersdroppedtheshieldmade from soul they haderected ahead of the line ofMagnifiers who were playing

the part of footmen shouldanyone breach the lines.Thunderfollowed.Asone,thefiresticks spat flames, smoke,and metal balls. Those whoshotwouldfallbacktoreload.The next rank took position.TheAlchemistswaited.

Ainslen had no ideaexactly how the firesticksworked. All he could tell wasthat the men applied sometype of powder in a bracket,

sighteddownalongthebarrel,squeezed their finger, andmagichappened.

Enhanced with soulappliedby theAlchemists, theballsrippedthroughtheBladeswhose hardened skin may aswell have been paper for allthe good it did them. Holesriddled their bodies.On everyassault, more fell dead thanwere able to retreat woundedandbloody.

Ainslen covered his earseach time the firesticksreleased a barrage. He alsoshuddered. For the first time,he understood the scornSeligula had for the Kasinianforces. Faced by this kind ofattack, by such fatal precision,theystoodnochance.

WhentheBladeschangedtactics, allowing their ownCasters to hurl soul enhancedby fire, earth, or given sword-

like properties, the Farlandershadananswer.Linkedinawayhe’d not seen before, theMagnifiers lent their strengthto their shields, making themseveralfeetthickerandtallerinan almost solid band of soul.Small pockets opened in theshield. Specific Farlandersstepped forward, better shotswith their weapons than thebest bowmen known toAinslen, and picked off the

Blade’sCasters.When any attacks flew

over the formation, thesecondary Magnifier rankthrew their shields likeboomerangs, disrupting theopposing meld. As each oneconnected to a projectile orreacheditsapex,itimmediatelyflew back to the owner onstringsofsoulprovidedbytheAlchemists.

Faced with such carnage,

with utter defeat, the Bladesfled into the Spires, no doubthopingtodrawtheFarlandersintoamoreevenfight.Smart,Ainslenthought.Itwasatactichewouldhaveused.

Seligula called outcommands in their sing-songlanguage, his voice risingabovethechaosofbattle.TheFarlanders separated intogroups of ten comprising ofeachmeldertype.Theyheaded

afterthefleeingBlades.Afifthoftheforcestayed.

Ainslenmadehisway intotheGolden Spires, intent ontaking the throne room andKingJemare.Despitetheknotin his gut at what he’dwitnessed, he could notcontainthethrillrisinginhim.

Today, he would finallyattainthecrown.

“Did I not tell you theserusted Blades would be no

match?” Seligula’s smugexpressiontoreatAinslen.Thegeneral strode down the hallwith his hands behind hisback. “We have hundreds ofyears worth of experiencefighting melders, defeatingactual Dracodar. Your half-breedswereneverathreat.”

Ainslenopenedhismouthtoanswer,thenfrowned.Theyhad passed the first hallwaywithout any resistance. He

cocked his head, listening forany sounds of conflict, buttherewerenone.

Seligulachuckled.“Thisisnothing new. We have seenthis before. Utterly smashingthe enemy’s morale often hasthiseffect.”

“I see.” Ainslen mighthave agreed, except he knewthe Blades. He had been oneof them. The way they threwthemselves without fear of

death at the Farlanders waspart of decades worth oftraining.Theywouldnothavegiven up the Golden Spires.Unless … unless ordered toabandon their posts by theking.

Although troubled by theprospect, Ainslen smiled.Wasit going to be this easy tobecomeking?Lostinthought,he heard little of Seligula’sboastful chatter. When they

reached the long foyer beforethe throne room, the goldendoubledoorswereopenwide.King Jemare waited near thethrone in leather armor tomatch theBlades, a sword onhiship.

“Justkillhimnowandbedonewithit,”Seligulasaid.

Ainslen ignored him.Wary, he let their contingententer first and spread aroundthe room, searching out the

archways for any hiddenadversaries.Theyfoundnone.

“It’s justme, old friend,”the king called. “Is this notwhat you wanted? A duelbetweenyouandI?”

“I could simply have youkilled.”Theideawastempting.

“But you will not. Yourpride won’t allow it. Youalways felt you were betterthan me, even when we wereBladestogether.”

“Indeed.AndnowIgettoprove it. Seligula,” Ainslenwaited for theman tostepupnext to him, “there are tenentrances within this room,each at an alcove. Dispatchyour men outside each tomake surenoonedisturbsus.Then you may take yourleave.”

“If that is your wish,”Seligula said, “but this is awastefulrisk.”

“This is tradition,”Ainslen responded, loweringhis voice, making it flat. “Iwould not expect you tounderstand,nordoIneedyouto.SimplydoasIask.”

“So be it.” The generalstalkedoff.

“Farlanders,”KingJemareshook his head and made atsking sound. “Of all thepeople, you choose thegreatest threat to our own

freedom. You would risk thatmuch tooverthrowme?Doeswearingthismeansomuchtoyou?” He pointed to hiscrown.

“Yes,” Ainslen kept hisgaze on the king while hewaited to feel if they werealone. “But this isn’t onlyaboutthethrone.”

“Oh?”Thekingappearedat ease as he spoke. Theweariness Ainslen noticed

before was gone. It was as ifthe man was refreshed,younger,more vibrant. “Whatelsecouldmakeyoutakesuchextreme measures, suchactionsthatwouldbefrownedupon by those you seek torule?Youspeakoftradition.Itis a tradition that Kasinian’speople pull down monarchswhotheyfeelhavebrokenthespiritofFar’anSenjin.”

“I can deal with the

people. Iamsure those in theSmearwillsidewithmeonceIdo away with the Day ofAccolades.”

“What?”“You asked what else

could make me do as I havedone.” A sense of calmsuffused Ainslen. “And youdarementionFar’anSenjin.Tothe abyss with the Game ofSouls,mayDesitrin shit on it.You took from me the one

thingthatmeantmorethanlifeitself.”

KingJemare’sbrowsdrewtogether, and by hisexpression,Ainslensawhedidnot comprehend or wasplaying innocent. He loathedtheman.

“You can stop thecharade. It did not take melong to discover the truepurpose of the Trial ofBravery.” Ainslen shook his

head, rage building like aweight in his chest. “Sendingnoble children, enticing themwith thepromiseofbecominga Blade, all so you candetermine theirpower in soul,those who might be a threat,so you can be rid of them.How many wives, mothers,children,haveyoutakeninthisfashion?Howmany have yousnuffed out for the preciousgame?”He clenched his hand

into a fist, his fingernailsdiggingintohispalms.

“Countless. This iscomical, Ainslen. You andyour righteous anger.” Theking suppressed a chuckle.“You scream and rage overyour loved ones, but is thatanydifferentfromwhatwedoontheDayofAccolades,fromwhatwedotootherkingdoms,tomerevillages?”

“They are beneath us!

How dare you speak of themasiftheyareourequals?”

Jemare smiled, but hiseyesweresteady,assessing.

Chest tight, Ainsleninhaled deep and slow,refusing to be goaded intoattackingbeforehewas ready.Whatever emotions he feltneededtobeput togooduse.Aslightpressurepushedathismind. He squinted at Jemare.As he thought, the sintu

around the man’s bodywrithed.

“So our lives are worthmore than theirs?” Jemare’svoice became conversational.“Far’an Senjin is what it is,what it has ever been. Theruthlesssurviveandthepitiful,kindheartedmasses fall to thewayside.Itisthewayofthings.It isourway.Nothingyoudowillchangethat.”

“No!” Ainslen bellowed.

“You tookmy wife and childfromme.Youtookmylove.”

“As King Tolquan tookmine.” Jemare shrugged. “Icould not have them back asyou cannot have yoursreturnedtoyou.Callitariteofpassage. I made you as hemademe,forgedinthefiresofsuffering and pain.You’remygreatestcreation.”

MemoriesofMarjorieandKenslen came alive in

Ainslen’s mind. Her face, herginger-spice scent, Kenslen’sinnocent smile, his thirst forlearning. Then the image ofherruinedbodysuperimposeditself over those, the blankexpression in Kenslen’s eyesafter witnessing his mother’sdeath.Thethingshehadbeenforced todo to theboy…allbecause of Jemare and hisblind pursuit of TharkensenandElysse.

“Besides,” the kingcontinued,“howmuchdidyoureallycareforthem?Yousee,Iknow what you did. I alwayshave. You convinced manythatyourbravewifegavebirthto Winslow on the night shedied, that the guildswere alsoresponsible for Kenslen’sdeath.Noneof it is true.Youkilledhim,yourownson, inavainattempttogrowstronger.And you took someone else’s

child from the Smear toreplace theone yourpregnantwife lost.” Jemare shook hishead slowly, smirking. “Didyou really think thatsuppressing Winslow’s soul,slowing his training, wouldfool me? When I’m finishedwithyou,hewillbemine.TheSoulThronecanusehim.”

Ainslenroaredanddashedforward. His secret would diewiththeking.Aswordofpure

soulsprungtolifeinhishand.It was white like a mistycollagebutnolesssharp.

Withadeftsidestep,KingJemare deflected the firstblows. His expression wascalm, serene. The impact oftheir weapons reverberatedthroughAinslen’shands.

By far the bigger andstronger man, Jemare gavelittle ground, but Ainslen hadspeed as his advantage. He

called on it now, applying hissoul tohis legs, to theflickofhisarmsandwrists.Withformafterform,hestruck.Atorrentof blows. Rapid. Nonstop.Tireless.

Jemare gave him thatinfuriating smile again. Andkeptup.Withasimplechangeof his arm’s angle, a twist ofhis wrist, a tilt of his head, alift of one leg when Ainslenspunandstruckathisfeet,the

king countered or made himmiss. Jemare had always beenbetterthanhimwiththeswordand melding, but Ainslenrefusedtobedenied.

Theyfellintoapatternofoffense against defense withthekingnotonceattacking.Itbecame a dance interspersedwith recollections of Marjoriein this same throne room,dressed in a beautiful gown,thecenterpieceofaball.With

eachimage,thecoldofsorrowand the heated fire of ragebloomed within Ainslen’schest. He fed those emotionsinto his soul, into his strikes.He became faster. He wasAinslen the Wind Blade oncemore, his attacks swirling liketheeddiestheyimitated.

And still, Jemarekeptup.ThemanwassupposedtobeaCaster, but here he wasfighting with improbable

speed.Sweat poured down

Ainslen’s face. His armthrobbed. The moment hisblows flagged a minisculeamount, Jemarechangedfromdefensetooffense.

When the king struck, ittook all of Ainslen’s strengthto parry the blow, all of hisagilitytoavoidbeingskewered.Even then, King Jemarescoredseveralnicks.

Something heavyslammed into Ainslen’s back.Asheplummeted forward, hetwistedatthelastmoment,hitthefloorandrolledawayfromthe king. He snatched a lookoverhisshouldertoseeachairhad flown across the roomwith a part of Jemare’s soulstillattachedtoit.

A crackling sound andsudden heat made Ainslensnap his head around. He

dived across the carpetedfloor.Flamestruckwitharoar,blasting heat against his face,smoke curling up from thecharredareawherehe’d stoodmomentsago.

Thekingshrugged.Breathing labored, anger

leaking from the extendedbattle, Ainslen found a calmdetermination.Hegazedatthesoul around King Jemare. Ahissescapedhislips.

Hehadexpected thekingto possess the abilities of atleast three different types ofmelders. Exactly which, he’dbeen unsure until now. Butthis last was surprise. If hestrainedhardenough,hecouldmakeoutwhatappearedtobean alternate version of theking, made up purely of soullikeawhitespirit.Itshiftedasthekingmoved,aswordinitshand. Ainslen forced his

mouthshut.“Youdidnotexpectyour

king tobe someweakling,didyou?” Jemare backed off astep,andalthoughheappearednonchalant,theriseandfallofhis chest said he pushed hislimits. Certain of his victory,he beckoned for Ainslen tostand.

“No,” Ainslen said as hepushed tohis feet, “I thoughtyou were stronger.” He

allowed any emotion to drainfromhisface.“Allmyresearchtold me you might be aDracodar. Even your tinyabilitytotouchminds.Ihopedand hoped. Only to bedisappointed. I know all youcan do now, and I canmatchit.” He blew out anexasperated breath. “What awaste.”

“A brave try, I mustadmit,” Jemare said, shaking

his head. “You are almostbelievable. Even if you werestill Ainslen the Wind Bladeyour death would beinevitable. Now, come,embracedeath.”

“No, my old friend.”Ainslen reached deep intohimself, calling forth the soulhe’d siphoned through hismosquitoes over the years,tapping into the depths he’dingested from Kenslen,

engaging the power from theDracodar scales he’d foundduring theNight of Blades inDelisar Giorin’s home. Thepower burned in him with aheat to match the sun. “It isyouwhodie.”

Ainslen’ssoulsplit intwoashedrewonwhathe’dtakenfrom the king. With his firstmove, he mimicked Jemare’sspeed and strength. Jemareblockedthefirststrike.

Faster.The second strike scored

a nick. Ainslen’s stomachfluttered.Hesmiled.

Faster.Ainslen marveled as his

four arms became a blur,unleashing blow after blow.The king no longer had thatsmug expression on his face;hisbrowcreasedwithworryashe barely managed to deflectsomestrikes.Witheachscore,

each rent in the king’s leatherarmor,eachflickerofbloodonhis blade, the flutter inAinslen’s stomach grew. Itbathedhis body, sang to him,hecouldseeMarjorie’ssmilingface, Kenslen’s graceful bodyashepracticedfortheTrial.

He grinned as he struckonce more. Drawing onSorinya’s strength, Ainslenpaused mid thrust, slamminghisfist intothemarbledfloor.

The impact blew back theking,whocompressedhissoulinfrontofhisbodytoabsorbthe impact.Using the velocityprovided by the explosion,Ainslen sprang forward,meetingJemareinonemassiveleap.

The king’s arm raised intime to block the blow.Ainslen yanked on the soulhe’d attached to it during thefight, pulling Jemare’s arm

down.A barely audible gasp

escaped the king’s lips asAinslen’s sword pierced hisheart.

“Y-you copied myabilities,” the king said as hecrumpled to the ground. “Im-Impossible.”

Mouthopenwide,unabletoutteranotherword,Jemare’sattention went to the wound.He touched the area with his

derin leather gloves, his handcomingawaybloody,andthenhelookedupatthecount.

Ainslen bent close. “ThisisforMarjorie,”hewhispered.

Hestraightened,andthenkicked Jemare in the face.Once. Then again.And again.With each thud, elation ranthroughhim.Asmallsenseofsatisfaction joined it. HepromisedMarjorietocontinuekicking until the kingwas but

somuchmeat.

SacrificeofaFather

The candlelight cast

monsters against the closetwall and into the dark roombeyond.Keedarwishedhehadadrinktorelievethedrychalkhismouthhadbecome.Wine,water, juice, any liquid wouldsuffice.He lickedhis lipsas if

itwouldhelp.They were on their way.

Murderers.Everyoneofthem.Nothing he or his father

could do would change that.No misdirection, no amountof pleading, fighting, nothing.Thesoldierswouldbethereinminutes. Suffused byhopelessness, Keedarshuddered, his skin clammy,crawling,andcold.Thecloset’sconfines did nothing to help

hisfear.Itwassuffocating.Hewanted out regardless of theconsequences. Only Father’spresence prevented him fromfleeingintocertaindeath.

Fittinghowtheyendeduphere in their old home. Hecouldn’t think of a betterlocation for his final restingplace.

Flames.Scales.Mother’slaughter.If theGodsweresowatchful,socaring,howcould

Hazline,theso-calledmakerofFate, be so cruel as to havethemreturnhere?

Keedar recalled how he’dsped across the Smear,warning asmany as he could.By the time he returned, thefighting had reached Pauper’sCircle. Cut off from thesewers, Father and a smallgroup fought against soldiersand melders. Sintu spilledfrom too many bodies to

count.Thebattleplayedoutinviolentburstsbetweenweapononweaponcombat,menusingsoul magic to rip apart foes,tearhugebitsofmasonryfrombuildings to fling at theopposing forces, or sendingflames in lances that leftscorchedbodies in theirwake.At times, one melder oranother faced off, conjuringweapons that struck in blurstoofastforhiseyestofollow.

Father’smengotthebetterofeveryexchange.

Until Sorinya the EbonBladeappeared.

The Thelusian sweptthrough like the night itself,smooth as sanded wood.Wherever the black bladewrought from his soultouched,mendied.Sometimesthe weapon didn’t actuallyscour a body. Sorinya wouldslice several feet from an

opponent, but the effect wasthe same. A gash appeared.The person cried out. Bloodfountained.The opponent felldead.

When Sorinya andFatherclashed, everyone gave themspace. The two fought likeHells’ Angels, all blurredaction,writhingsoul,andmeldaftermeld.

Black metal met Father’ssilver blade in a clash of

sparks. What followed was abattle of soul magic soincredible it was foreverimprinted intoKeedar’smind.Their energy zipped back andforth,growinglargerorsmalleralong certain limbs, hardeningtoparryanattack, lengtheninga blade for a farther strike,adding to their legs and armsforspeedorstrength.

Neithermangavequarter,oftenstandingsoclosethatthe

fight should have beenimpossible. Yet it happened.Faces sweaty, both panting,theyappearedevenlymatched.

A knife flew from thecrowd.Father shifted toparryat the same time that Sorinyamoved.Sorinya’sswordswungdown,theworlditselfslowing.Father’s weapon swept asidetheknife and swung in an arcback to Sorinya. It deflectedthe blow ever so slightly, but

the ebonblade sheared acrosshisside.

Sorinya pulled up shortbeforemaking thenext strike.His face a mottled mask ofrage,hestaredintothecrowd.

Count Cardiff steppedforward,“Finishhim.”

The world exploded inwhite as Father slammed hisweapon into the ground, theconcussion knocking back allbeforehim.Thenhe’dfled,his

blue-garbed Shipmen dying inhiswaketodefendhisretreat.

Drawn away from therecollection by theoverpowering scent of blood,KeedarstretchedoutahandtoDelisar. The tattered fabricalong the sleeves and chestofFather’s shirt were roughbetween his shaking fingers.Andwet.Wetterthanfromthesheer moisture of Keedar’shands. He prayed it wasn’t

Father’s blood as he clung tohim, listening to the unevenbreaths.

Keedar couldn’t stop hisface from contorting as hestruggled against the urge tobawl.Deepwithinhimself, heswore not to make a sound.Hewasamannotsomechild.Men didn’t cry. However, nomatterhowhardhetried,tearsstillrolleddownhischeeks.Hesqueezed his eyes tight. Tight

like the grip of Father’s armsaround him. Keedar’s hearthammeredevenfasterthanhisfather’s own with therealization that this might betheirlastembrace.

“Don’t move an inchwhen they come.” Fatherpushed back from him untiltheir gazes met. His eyesglistened in the candlelight’sflickering shadows. With histhumb, he brushed away

Keedar’s tears. “Be brave.Remember what I taught youwhenwehunted.Treat thisasif a derin is stalking you.Crouch here, and if someoneopens thedoor,will themnotto see you. It will work.Believeit,anditwillbeso.”

The flicker of his doubtmust have been plain forDelisartosee.

“Trust me,” Father said,voice firm, almost

commanding, yet abithoarse.Despite his trembling fingers,Father’s expression radiatedconfidence.

Keedar opened hismouth. Father’s finger on hislipsstoppedhim.

“Shhh.” The fingerlingered for a moment. “Youmust believe in yourself now.Listen to everything you hear.Remember all of this, everydetail. When the window

breaks, count toahundred. Ifanyone comes before then doas I said. When they leave,head downstairs. You willknowhowtofindthepassage.Flee to Uncle Keshka’s.”Delisar cut Keedar off as hemade toprotest. “I know, thedistancebetweenhere andhiscabin or the Sorrows mayseem farther than ever,especially now.But this is thevery reason I made you walk

those miles, run the Parmiensomanytimes.Youcando it,son.”

“Wha-What if they chaseme?”

“Youcanhidefromthemas you will now. The forests,the brush, the stones, all ofnature are your friends. Usethem to your advantage.Theydon’t know this territory aswellasyou.”Delisar squeezedKeedar’s shoulders

encouragingly. “You can dothis,andyouwill.”

Somehow, Keedar’sdoubts fled like a fleetingbreeze to match that rattlingtheir house’s shutters. Henodded.

Marching footstepsthundered a drumbeat ofdeath, followed by runningfeet as well as the clink ofarmor andweapons. Someonein a gruff voice shouted

commands.Father blew out the

candle. The closet and theroom beyond plunged intodarkness. An occasional caperof torchlight filtered in fromoutside.Shadowsflittedbytheclosedwindows.

“I love you. Tell yourbrother, I love him too, andthatI’msorryIwasn’tthereasa father should have been,”Delisar whispered before his

voicefadedtonothing.Keedar didn’t hear him

move, but Delisar’s fingerscaressed his face. Hoping totouch his father once more,Keedar extendedhishandbutmetemptyair.Allthatwasleftwas the odor of blood, hissweat,andhis rapidheartbeat.If someone entered the closetatthatmoment,hewascertainthey would hear his heartthump.

Ears straining for theslightestsound,hewaited.

A window broke. Keedarbeganhiscount.

Father’s voice rang fromoutside. Steel clashed. Soldiersshouted. Dozens of bootsincreased in pace, thunderingpast the windows, steeljangling. The sounds driftedfartherfromthehouse.

Nightmarememories toreatKeedar.Recollectionsofhis

dreamscrowdedhim,ofseeinghis father on the Smear’scobblestones, gold scalestinting his skin, red leakingfrom his head and chest. Hewanted to stand and givechase.

Several footstepsthumped inside. Doorscrashed asmen yelled to eachother, searching each room inturn. Torchlight drew closer.With each booted step,

Keedar’sheartbeat thatmuchharder. The taste of fear wasbileinhismouth.

Youwill not seeme. I’mnot here. This is nothing butold clothes and shadows.Dirty, stinking, dreg leftovers. He willed the wordsinto himself, into his soul.Thenheextendeditfromhimasfarashepossiblycould.

The light stopped at thecloset.Thedoorcreakedopen.

Not daring to take abreath, Keedar continued toenforce his will. Withoutmoving,heshrankdeeperintothe corner. Head down, hetook in the blood-spatteredsabatons.

“Nothin’ here,” a gruffMarishman voice yelled fromless than five feet away.“You?”

“The same,” came theansweringcall.

“Bloodynobles, gotus inheredoin’thedirtyworkwhilethe rest of them are havin’ allthefun.Cesare!”

“Yes?”“Let’s go find somethin’

tolivenupournight.”“Sure.”The boots disappeared;

theilluminationretreated.In his mind, Keedar let

outarelievedsigh,buthestillheld his breath. When he

heard the footsteps exit thehouse, he finally exhaled. Hemopped his brow. Aftercontinuing to count, hecrawledfromthecloset.Lyingon the floor, he stretched hiscrampedjoints.

Withsomefeelingworkedback into his muscles, heavoided thinking about hisfather, concentrating insteadonhisescape.Heeasedintoacrouchandfromthatposition,

made his way into thebasement.

Father’s instructionsreplayed in his head. Hecleared his mind and reachedout with his soul. Withinmoments, he sensed thefamiliar threads of his father’smagic. Itwas as clear as if hehadalamp.Hefolloweditintoa hidden door below thestaircase.

Minutes later, he was

runningdeepwithin thedank,desolate wastes of theUndertow with Father’s lastwords replaying in his headfollowed by Uncle Keshka’swarning.

ToMeetOnceMore

Joints stiff with cold,Winslowwaitedamongatree’sbranches near the pool. Thenight had been a terror untoitself.Soldiersfoughttheirwayinto the sewers. The tunnelshad a peculiar reek to themthat he couldn’t place until

they practically exploded intoroaring flames. Consortiummembers had filled the drainswith oil. King Jemare’s menroastedlikepigsonaspit.

A man by the name ofMartel, calling himselfKeedar’s guardian, had ledWinslow into the city underKasandar. The Undertow,Keedar had named it. Therewassomethingvaguelyfamiliarabout the man. At first he

didn’tbelieveMartel,butwithmoresoldierspouringintothesewers, Winslow had nochoice but to trail him.Architecture he recognizedonly from history bookspassed by in a blur as hefollowed Martel through themaze of ancient cobbledstreets and dilapidatedbuildings, many adorned withdesigns and structure thatwould still be amarvel today.

When they exited, theydid sothrough an abandoned minelocatedinsomefoothillsamileoutside the citadel walls.Martelnowkeptwatchontheground, his form as much apart of the forest as the treesandbrush.

Winslow’s mind raced ashe took in the night’s events.Either the king’s men hadorders to kill him or theysimply did not recognize him.

They did not hold backwhenever he faced them. Hecounted his blessings for histraining by his oldswordmaster, the harshtutelage provided by theBlades, and for what helearned from Delisar. If notfor all three, he might haveperished.

In the space of a fewmonths, his life had changedcompletely. Had he not

ventured into the Smear thatnightinanactofrebellion,hewouldstillbelivingwithintheHills’safeconfines,apartofaricher world whereopportunitiesabounded.Now,hewaslittlemorethanwhatheonce hated. A dreg. Anoutcast. Relegated to rags andforever expecting a dagger inthedarkfromsomeassassinorKing’s Blade sent by CountsCardiff or Rostlin. He shook

hishead.Sometimes, the truth and

forging one’s own way didn’tseem worth the effort or thehardship. Yet, deep inside, herecognized it was such trialsthat shaped men, particularlythegreatones.Perhapssuchafuture was beyond hisimmediate sight, but somegood had to come of all this.For him, it would start withdiscovering his true lineage.

Then one day claiming hischildshouldElainagoforwardwith the pregnancy. Amidst itall,hewouldneedtodealwiththeHills.Thethoughtbroughtonagrimaceandalumpinhisthroat. A task so dauntingmight prove beyondwhatevermeagerabilityhepossessed.

Althoughhekepthisgazeroving the forest for theslightest movement, he neversaw or heard Keedar’s

entrance. His only hint camewhen the crickets’ chirpspaused and the woods’numerous denizens ceasedtheir song. A moment later,Keedar appeared near thewater’s silver glint. He peeredaround.Andthen,hewasgoneagain.

Straining his vision,Winslowattemptedtospothisfriend again but failed.Something tapped the branch

near his head. He jumped atthe sound, the impact loud inthe still night. It came again.This time he traced the noiseto a falling pebble. Keedarstoodatthetree’sbase.

Winslowscrambleddown.“I thought you would notmakeit.”

“Butyouhoped.”“Yes,”Winslowadmitted,

smiling for the first timesincethe battle. “It’s good to be

around someone I know.”Heunderstated his feelings. Therelief at seeing a familiar facewas near overwhelming. “Sowhat now?” From themoonlight threading throughthe branches, he picked outKeedar’s furrowed brow.“What is it?”Winslow’s heartspedup.

“Stay still. We’re notalone.”

“No, a man who called

himself—”“No, I’mnot speakingof

Martel. There’s someone elsehere. Several people.” Keedardidn’t move but he peeredacross the clearing toward thetreeline.

“Twenty of them to beexact.” Martel’s voice almostmadeWinslowjumpoutofhisskin. Face mired in shadow,themanservant appeared nextto them, focused in the same

directionasKeedar.“Several of them are

strong melders,” Keedaradded.“Buthow?Howwouldtheyknow?”

For the briefest instant,Martel’s gaze flickered toWinslow.

“I didn’t tell anyone,”Winslowwhispered inearnest,on edge at themere idea thatthey might suspect him. “Iswearit.”

“You have as much tolose as we do now,” Keedarsaid, “so I believe you. CountCardiff, on the other hand,usedaskilltoplacethederin’shuntingscentonme.Ifearhedid something similar to you.With all the fighting, I forgotabout it. My father alwaysremoved it firstwhenever youtrained with us. I don’t knowwhat they’re waiting for, butwe need to get going.

Hopefully, we can outrunthem and find a place toremove the piece of soul he’sattachedtoyou.”

“They were waiting forhim.”Martelpointed.

The branches on theother side shook, and a wideform waddled out. Severalothers followed, their armorglintinginthemoonlight.

Winslowgaped.Hedidn’tknow if to laugh or be

petrified.Themoonilluminatedthe

first man as he stepped deadcenter into the space. It wasFelius Carin, double chinsprominent, his body burstingfromtheseamsofhisclothes.Any thought of laughter diedin Winslow’s throat as sintuspilledfromthemanwithsuchstrength that he felt it wherehe stood.Never in a hundredyears would he have thought

Feliustobeamelder.“Winslow, Keedar,”

Felius began, voice carryingclearandtrueinthestillnight.

Immediately, Martel heldup his hand. Felius’ voice cutoff,butWinslowcouldstillseehis lips moving. A momentlater,theystopped.

Somewhere within thewoods, an animal howled. ItsenticedownWinslow’sspine.

“So,thisisthemysterious

MinstrelBlade.”Martelcockedhis head, while still regardingFelius.“Sothosestoriesofhisability to enrapture a crowdweren’t exaggerated. Whoknew he would be the one?You twoshouldgetgoing. I’llseeifIcan’tmakethefatmansing.”

“You cannot possiblyhope tostandagainst themallalone,”Winslowblurted.

“Who said I’m alone?”

Martelmadeasmallgesture.Men slipped from the

shadows innumbers tomatchFelius’counterparts.EachoneofthemworeShipmen’sblue.

When the howl echoedonce more, Winslowrecognized the sound.Derins.Even theyhadgottenwindofimpendingdeath.

“Besides,” Martel dippedhis head ever so slightly, “Ihave a favor to repay Cardiff

andhismen.Theykilledafewfriends of mine.” The sinewyman’s gaze took on a feralgleam, and he licked his lips.“Youknowwhattheysay;onegoodperformancedeservesanencore.”

The nimbus that sprangup around Martel tookWinslow’s breath away.Combined with the man’sexpression, it was as if hestoodnexttosomewildbeast.

A reek emanated fromMartelto match. Winslow couldn’thelpbuttocuphisnose.

Palmup,Martelraisedhishandbelowhischinandblew.Energyfloatedawayfromhimlikewispsonabreeze,headingtoward Felius Carin and hismen.

“I wouldn’t worry aboutthe derins if I were you,”Martel chortled. “Theywillbepreoccupied.” He faced

Keedar, his face a slab ofunyieldinggranite.“Ithasbeena pleasure serving you, youngGiorin. You will make yourfather proud one day.” Hecracked a smile then. “Aswillyou, young man.” He dippedhis head to Winslow. “Now,run like you’ve never runbefore.”

With a roar to rival anybeast, Martel charged FeliusCarin and hismen. The wave

of blue followed, darkshadows spilling across anevendarkerground.

Flight

Too many emotions to

count spilled through Keedaras they fled. Most of themreeked of sorrow, longing,desolation, and fear. SorrowfornotonlythelossofMotherto the Smear but also Fatherand any friends he knew.Longing for all he’d lost, forthis all to be a dream.

Desolationbecauseofthelittlehe had left. Fear. Fear in theexpectation that the King’sBlades might appear at anymoment. Overpowering theothers, that last primalsensationdrovehim.Itsethisheartracing,hiseyessearchingfor any changes to signifydanger among the dappledshadows. It made dust of hismouth despite his sweatybrow,forcedhimtoignorethe

stabbingpainofexertioninhisside,andlenthislegswings.

Thefutureseemedbleakerthan the cold air whipping byhim, as dim as the moonlighttrying to pierce the veil ofclouds. All he had left of theworld he once enjoyed wasWinslow, who was as forlornas he, and whom he barelyconsideredafriend.

Andmemories.Memorieshe wished he could bury

withinhissoul’sdepths.The need for revenge

shouldhaveconsumedhim.Itdidnot.

No words needed to besaid between him andWinslow.Capturemeantdeathassureasthesungavebirthtodawnandbled its life into theskyatdusk.The thoughtkepthis feet churning even whenhis body screamed for him tostop, begged him to rest, to

easetheleadenweightshislegshad become, or to relieve hisburninglungs.

They had left the battlebehind some time ago. Theirknowledgeoftheforesthelpedthem to avoid the thickestpatchesandtoweavetheirwaythrough saplings and brush asif they followed someimaginary path. Nightcreatures abounded, theirchatter a dirge interspersed

with theoccasional pause thatmade his heart skip a beatevery time. Winslow’s nearindiscernible steps kept pacewithhim,andKeedarusedhisownbreath and strides to runto a rhythm only he heard.Each inhalation brought theforest’s many scents,reminding him that he wasfree. Whenever the nightsoundsstilled,hefoughtdowntheurgetostop, tostareback

the way they came and see ifanyonepursued.

Uncle Keshka’s offeredhopeforsurvival.Herepeatedthewordsinhisheadonmorethan one occasion. Sweatpoured down his face; thewind’s breath ruffled his hair;with each step he sworesomeonemust haveheard thecrunchof a twigunderfootorthe thudof a footstep despitehow hard he attempted to

tread lightly. At times hethought his own thumpingheartbeat would betray him.Whenever a tree’s leavesrustled he expected to see hisenemies leaping from itsshadowyarms.

For hours, they ran,exactly how many, Keedarwasn’t sure. Mandrigal’s firstthreads were chasing Antelenfromtheskywhenhedrewtoa halt. Shivering violently, he

hugged himself. His teethchattered.

Winslowpulledupnexttohim,featurespaleandstrained.Witheachgaspforbreath,theyoung noble shook. Headdown, Winslow appearedreadytocollapse.

AsmuchasKeedarfelthecould continue on, he knewWinslowneededrest.Runningthe Parmienwas nothing newtothem,butKeedarhadyears

of experience to draw uponwhile Winslow only hadseveral months. And not inweather as cold as itwasnowor with the upcoming incline.The temperature wasn’tfreezing yet, but it was ahindrance all the same. Thedistance they’d covered wasconsiderably less than duringwarmer times. Their soakedclothing didn’t help. Whereashehadnotnoticed themwith

his bodymoving, now he feltas if he wore cloth encrustedinice.

After sucking in anotherdeep breath, he said, “Upthere.” He pointed toward ahill.

The expanse of pines,spruce, and oak thatdominated behind them gaveway to older and larger whiteash and cypress with asprinklingofothertrees.Roots

entwined within the leafycarpet, jutting up like giantworms. Keedar scrambleduphillpastthefirstlineoftreesand into the next batch.Withfall’s scent and colors thickaroundhim,hepickedoutthelargest gatheringof leaves androots.

Sure enough, ashebeganto clear them, he found whathe sought: a space behind theroots measuring several feet

wideanddeep.Adenofsomesort. The reek of whateveranimal used it for a homespilledabovetheearthysmellsof the disturbed foliage.Sniffingagaintomakesurethescent wasn’t derin, Keedarbeckoned to Winslow with anod.

Winslow rustled throughtheleavestostandbesidehim.

“You get in.” Keedargestured to the V formed by

the roots and to the holebeyond.

Withoutasingleprotestatthe musky stench, Winslownodded, crawled inside, andcurledintoaball.Notoncedidhemoveorevenglanceup.Hemusthavebeenexhausted.

In no way could Keedarafford to lose his companion.Not now. From the first day,he’d seenWinslow, there wassomething that connected

them, even if the nobleharbored some animosity,acted indifferent, or at timeswith scorn. It wasn’t thatFather had made him seekWinslow out either. Withinhimself,hesuspectedhewouldhavedonesoanywayafterthatfirstdayintheSmear.

Keedar piled as manyleaves as he could into place,and then eased inside. Themere act of being within the

enclosedspacealreadyaddedalittle warmth despite hisdrenched clothing. They’d drysoonenoughanyway.HismainconcernwasforWinslow.

The nimbus aroundWinslow was faint but even.That boded well. It meant hehadnotexertedhimselftothepointwherehis soul leaked ingreat enough amounts topreventaquickrecovery.Restwould be the main

requirement. And food. Fornow though, regaining somesoulthroughinactivityandthebody’s natural healing processtook precedence. Theywouldn’t be able to stay long,butanhourortwowasbetterthan nothing. Leaning backagainst the roots and dirt, heallowedhiseyestoclose.

Keedar jerked awake.Faint memories of some

dream slipped through hisconsciousness like waterthrough open fingers. Anightmarewithbayinghounds.Where am I? He sniffed,takinginawhiffofsweat,dirt,and a wild animal’s stink. Acramp in his back made himwince.Hisarmfeltdeadwherehe’drestedonit.Hestrokeditto work the numbness out.Something warm stirred nexttohim.Aperson?

Itallcamebacktohimina sudden rush. The Cardiffmansion, killingGaston, flightintotheSmear,FatherbattlingSorinya, Father drawing thesoldiers away so he couldescape, meeting Winslow,MartelchargingFelius.

He took in hissurroundings. The shelter wasalmostaswarmasiftheyhadafew glowing coals inside theden. His clothes were dry.

Hopefully, theirshortresthadafforded Winslow’s soulenough time to recuperate.Whenhestudiedhisfriend,hegasped.

The nimbus aroundWinslow pulsed steady andstrong. Too strong for thehour or two he had plannedfor them to rest. He glancedupthroughtheopening.Fromthe sky, it appeared to bealmostnoon.

A sound cut through histhoughts. More joined it. Hefrowned, trying to place thenoise.

Eyes widening with eachadditional sound, he grabbedfor Winslow. “Get up. Wakeup,Winslow,now!”Heshookhisfriendvigorously.

Winslow woke, shakinghis head. “What? What is it?Gaston, I was dreaming that—” He cut off as his eyes

focused. “No, no, no …”voice trailing off, he washedhishandsthroughhishair.

“No time for that,”Keedar said. “We have to go.Now.Listen.”

The sounds came again.This time, they wereunmistakable. Several dozenhoundsbayed.

“Hell’s Angels,” Winslowswore.

“Theyaren’tcloseenough

toworryoveryet,but—”“You have never really

seenhoundsonthehunt,haveyou? From their baying, theyhavea scent,most likelyours.Theywillnotletup.”Winslowscrambledupandoutof theirhidingplace.

Keedarbarreledafterhim,almost knocking Winslowdown before he realized theyoung noble stood frozen,staring at something. Without

thinking, Keedar snatched forthedaggersathiswaist.

Bythetimehetookinthederin’s white form, it hadslammed into them. Winslowfell to one side with a grunt.Lying on his back, Keedarstared intoblackpits for eyes.Thederin’shotbreathstunkofitslastmeal.

With his arms pinnedbeneath him, there wasnothing he could do but wait

fordeath.Hisheartthumpedathousandtimesinthosesparsemoments. At any instant heexpected to feel biting teethmuch like a knife driving intohisflesh.

Yellowed canines flasheddown.Cryingout,he snappedhis eyes shut and tried toheave. The beast was tooheavy.

Butwhenthederinrippedatthefrontofhisshirt,hefelt

no pain. Keedar eased openfirst one eye, and then theother. The derin had a swathof the grey material from hisclothinginitsmouth.

Then the strangest thinghappened. The creaturewhined once and squatted onhis chest. Something warmsplashed on his stomach, randown his side. A rank stenchfollowed.

Keedar stared, slack-

jawed.With another whine, it

bounded off him and ontoWinslow, who was just nowtrying to scramble to his feet.It knocked him on his backandpissed on him too.Whenthe derin finished, she threwher head to the sky, howled,and leapt away, streakingthrough the forest in a whiteblur.

“W-What, in all that’s

unholy, just happened,”Keedar managed, knees weakwherehesat.

“The Creator saved us.”Reverence filled Winslow’svoice as he made the circularmotion to represent theDominiononhisforehead.

“No,”Keedargrimacedatthereek,“aderinpissedonus.I’m pretty certain that hasnever happened before …ever.” Keedar took another

whiff before turning his faceawayindisgust.Heopenedhismouth to belittle Winslow’sbelief,but instead,hesnappedhismouthshut.Whatcouldhesayafterwhathappened?Whatother explanation could therebetothebeastnotkillingthemboth? Before he conjured ananswer, the hounds bayedagain.

“Well,” Keedar slowlystood. He felt at his chest to

makesurehisbodywasinonepiece. Cold air whisperedacrosshisexposedskin,buthewas unharmed. “Whatever itwas, let’s hope it’s to ourbenefit.Wemustheaduppasttheridgeifwehopetoescapethosehounds.Wefollow itallthewayaroundtoKerinPass.”

“What of this uncle ofyours?”

“He lives beyond thePass.”

“Wait,yourUnclelivesinKheridisia?”

“Yes. In the TreskelinWoodstobeexact.Come,let’sgo.We can talk on the way.”Keedar headed up the hill,deeperintothetrees.

It didn’t take Winslowlong to catch up. “If I knewKerin Pass was the plan, Iwould have avoided this folly.With the garrisons located oneither side, there’s no way

through without the soldiersseeingus?Even ifnoonehassent a raven out to them yet,theywillhearthehounds.”

“I’ve managed to sneakthrough a time or two.Besides,wedohave aman atthe garrison who’s sure to letusby.”

“And how does he knowyou’recoming?”

Keedar paused to workhis way past a brush whose

thorny vines snaked throughseveralbranchesandaroundafew trunks. His mind workedto find an answer. If thePasswas out of the question, thenonlyoneotherplaceremained.

“I’ll take your silence tomean you realize this mightnotbe a good idea,”Winslowsaid. “And living in theTreskelin? Unless you’reKheridisian, all you will findthereisdeath.”

Keedarmanagedtosmile.“Notallstoriesaretrue.Someare to keep unwanted visitorsaway.”

“So you have been therebefore?”

“Afewtimes.”“And the wild

Kheridisians?”“I’ve never met any. My

uncle says they think he’scursedsotheyavoidtheplace.Theonlyoneswhoevervisited

were the more civilized whospokeourtongue.”

“That’s not any better.Theyhateus.”

“Iguessyouhaveanothersuggestion,then.”

Winslow shook his head.“We’re here already. Whatchoice do we have now? Butwe will need another waythroughthePass,andweneeditsoon.”

Keedar didn’t slow,

pushing forward harder, hismind mulling over what heintended. He’d managed itbefore, but he was unsure ifWinslowcouldmatchhisfeat.

The baying behind themgrew more insistent. Neitherof them bothered to glanceover their shoulders, choosingto remain silent instead andconcentrate on climbing thehill and through the forest asfast as possible. When the

hounds’ announced theirpursuit once more, they weremuchcloserthanbefore.

Keedar knew theywouldn’t make it to the pass.In desperation, he made adecision. One he hoped hewould live to laugh at in hisoldage.

“Ifyouhaveanotheridea,you need to come up with itnow.Wewon’tmake it.”Thefear in Winslow’s voice was

neartangible.“Follow.” Keedar broke

intoarun.Together, they snaked

throughtheforest, thesoundsof pursuit drawing closerwitheach passingmoment.Keedarwas certain if he glancedbehind,he’dcatchaglimpseofthe large brown or whitebeasts as they gave chase.After a nearly an hour spentfleeing, chest heaving, the

sun’sraysbeatingthroughtreebranches whose leaves hadmostly succumbed to thechanging season, he reachedhisgoal.

The woods abruptlybecame a grassy expanse lessthan a dozen feet wide thatended in jagged, stony edges.Beyond, it appeared as if hecould see forever. The windwhippedathisclothes,cuttingtothebonedespitethesun.At

the edge, the land fell away.Nothing but air separatedthem from the TreskelinForest where it spread athousand or more feet belowlikeamottled,greensea.

Theystoodontheedgeofaclifflinethatspreadfromleftto right before disappearingwhere the land curved oneither side.Keedarknew ifheventured past those corners,the precipice would continue

for miles in either direction,with theKerinPass to stop itonone side, theRiverOstonthe other, and then theShadowed Path that led intothe Marish mountains calledtheBloodedDaggers.The riftin the land always made himpicture some God, possiblyHumel,inoneofhiswarrages,drawinghismassiveswordandslicingaswathfromMareshnain a declaration of his

displeasure.“You brought us to the

Cliffs of a ThousandSorrows?” Winslow gaped indisbelief.“Isthisajoke?”

“That,”Keedarpointedtothe rocky crag before them,sand and pebbles falling offthe edge until he could nolongerhearthem,“isouronlychanceatescape.”

ALeapofFaith

Winslow refused to

believe the madness he’dheard.Afterall, thatwaswhatKeedar’s words had to be.Madness. Pure, unfetteredinsanity.

Staring down to thegreenery farbelow,hehuggedhimself as thewind gusted. Ifhepeeredhardenough,hefelt

as if the earth would rush uptomeethim.He torehisgazeawayfromthedrop.

TheCliffs of aThousandSorrows had been aptlynamed. Many an army hadbeen driven to its edges andbroken,bothaboveandbelow.Whenadistraught youngmanorwomanwentmissing,itwasoften assumed they went tothrow themselves from theprecipice. More than one

guiser’s tale spokeof thegriefthecliffswrought.Twoofthegreatest tragedies recordedwere King Roth throwing hiswife and children from itsedges in a jealous rage; and apowerful melder, Elysse theTemptress, who lured PrinceJoaquin,oneofKing Jemare’ssons,andflunghimoff.She’dbeen a wanted woman eversince.

At the lowest point, the

height must have been twothousand feet. Still in shock,he openedhismouth, but thewordsdiedonhislips.Keedarexpected them to climbdownhere? And he claimed he’daccomplishedthefeatonthreeprevious occasions? The oneconsolation for their locationwas the air’s crispness.Eddiessweptawaythestenchofderinpiss.

“W-Whatmadeyouclimb

downthis?”Winslowmanagedafterafewmoments.

“My father insisted.”Keedar shrugged. “A part ofmytraining.Firsttoexperiencethe ease of going through theKerinPass,andthentodotheopposite, risking death byscalingthesecliffs.”

Winslow shook his head.“Iwouldhavedied.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,andyouwon’tnow,either.”

“Gods be damned, howcanyoubesosure?”

Keedar arched aneyebrow at the blasphemy.“For one, your soul is strong.The same way you kept upwithmeintheParmienwillbethesamewayyousurvivethis.Secondly,youhaveapurpose.To find out what CountCardiff did to your realfamily.”

Winslow could think of

nothing special theyhaddonein their training that mighthelpwiththisfeat.Thesecondreasonpulledathim.“Who ismyrealfamily?”

Keedar smiled. “I’llmakeyou a deal. Make it to thebottom in one piece, and I’lltellyouallIknow.”

After peeking over theedge,Winslow inhaled deeply.Swallowing the lump in histhroattoregainasemblanceof

composure, he met Keedar’sgaze, and gave a slow nod.“Explainhowwedothis.”

From the somewhere inthe forest, the hounds bayed.Men’s voices joined in. LessthanamileawaybyWinslow’sestimation.

“Our training, when werun the woods, hasn’t beensome simple endurance orspeedtest,”Keedarbeganasifhe hadn’t heard the animals.

“It was a way to gauge yourreaction to the forest, to itssurfaces, to moss that canmake you slip, the branchesthat may trip you, vines thatsnagatyourfeet,toseeifyoucould pick a path when Iruined one. It tested yourhandlingof sintu and of tern.Asyou stand therenow,whatdoyoufeel?”

“Afraid?”Winslowsmiledat his attempted humor. “The

cold.Thewind.”“How do you feel it?

Wherefirst?”Winslow concentrated,

closing his eyes. After amoment,hesaid,“Onmyface…thebacksofmyhand.”Hepaused“Ifeelthewindfirstasitbrushesmyhair.”

“Now, open your soul.Good.Imagineitafewinchesfrom you, all around yourbody.”

He’d done this exercisemanytimesbefore.Itwaseveneasiernow.Infact,herealizedhe could accomplish the taskwithoutthought.

“Sense the difference,”Keedar said. “Recallwhat youdowhenwetrain.”

When he followed theinstructions, Winslow’s eyesopened wide at the newsensations.No.Notnew.Theyexisted before, but had been

closer to his body. The windbrushing him, the cold, theindividual blades of grassbeneathhis feet.He sworehesensed dust in the air and ahint of rain.Theywere a partofhim,aslighttouchasifthewindstillcaressedhisskinandhair, but they originatedfarther away. He glanced up.Thundercloudsgatheredinthedistance,blackandominous.

Raising one arm, he took

inwhathesaw.Thenimbusofsintu glowed around him. Itthrobbed in a wavy haze atleast four inches from hisbody.

Ashethoughtbacktothedays spent in the Parmien, heunderstood what Keedarmeant. His sintu allowed himto feel an object long beforehis body ever touched it. Thesense allowed for greateranticipation. He had often

wonderedwhyitappearedasifKeedar floatedwhen theyran.It was an illusion, the answerfor which lay in sintu. If heconcentrated hard enough, hecould make his soul almostsolid, push off the instant hisfoot or hand touched anobject. The possibilitiesseemedendless.

“Amazingisn’tit?”“Yes,”hehissedinawe.“Now,”Keedarsaid,“this

is the important part. Younormallydrawontern,shiftinga bit of soul fromother partsofyourbody toyour feet andlegs whenwe run. It’s naturalin you. However, I knowthere’sanothercycleyousee,amedian one, to match tern.Thatishyzen.With ityoucantake almost the entirety ofyour soul and shift it to aspecific body part. You did itwhenGastonstabbedyou.”

Winslow focused as helistened, drawing on that lastcycle he always saw in hishead, and thought he’d nevertouched. He realized he’dpulled on it to stop the knife.Soul blazed from all points,ready to do his bidding. Thesensation was one of near-overwhelming power. As atest, he applied the essence tohisears.

What had been distant

beforebecamearoar,thelightbreeze, a gale, small creaturessteps in the woods were agiant’s footfalls, the sand andtiny pebbles constantlytrickling down the cliff facewas an avalanche. Thecrescendo almost made himcover his ears. Working hardto concentrate, he picked outwhathesought.“Listen.”

Thehoundsweremovingaway.Totheeast.

“Strange,” Keedar said.“Why would they do that iftheyhadourscent?”

“Idon’tknow.I’mcertainthey were on our trail.” Thehounds still bayed as if theydid,butinthewrongdirection.“That’s the second time todaythe Dominion have shone onus.” Winslow released hyzen.The effect was like travelingfrom daylight into utterblackness.

“Tell that to my motherand father, and those womenandchildrentheKing’sBladesslew,”Keedarsaid.

Winslowwanted to chideKeedar for his lack of faith,butheknewitwouldmakenodifference. He understood hisfriend’s sentiments. In ways,he could relate if he lived inthe Smear, if he’d gonethrough the same struggles, ifhe had suffered through the

Day of Accolades. There waslittleinthearduous,deadlylifeoftheSmear’sinhabitantsthatwouldmake any among themwanttoturntotheDominion.Itwasnowonderthattheyhadabandonedthetemples.

“Before we start down,banish any thought that thiswill be as easy as running theParmien,” Keedar said. “Anylapse in your focus, and youwill fall to your death. With

this method, we’ll be able totravel faster than any normalclimber ever could. Theimportant thing is to relaxwhile you maintain hyzen,almost as if you might floataway. Resistancewill find youas a red smear on the rocksbelow.”

“Iwilltry.”Anxioustobegone lest what bravery hemustered fled him, Winslowadded, “Show me where to

climbdown,andIwillfollow.”Keedar frowned. “Who

saidanythingaboutclimbing?”“What?” Eyes bulging,

Winslow stared with his jawunhingedat theforestandthejagged stones leering at himbelow.

“You’retheoneallbigontheGods.Let’scall thisa leapoffaith.”

“You really are a ravingmadman, aren’t you?”

Winslowwhisperedhoarselyashe ripped his gaze away fromtheprecipice.

“No, I’m not.” Keedarturnedhisheadeversoslightlyand nodded toward the trees.“Wedon’thavemuchchoice.Ifigured although someone orsomething might have gottenthe hounds off our trail, anyhalfdecentcommanderwouldstill have a fewmen continueon in case we’d split up. I

guessIwascorrect.”Through the woods,

Winslow saw at least twodozen soldiers heading theirway. His chest constricted. Amansteppedfromthetreelinewithin twenty feetofhimandKeedar.

Immediately, Winslowrecognizedtheman’sfacewithitsruinousscarsappearingasifsomeone had thrust him headfirst into a fire.Although one

ofhiseyesdrooped, theotherheldaMarishman’sacuteslant.The assassin Count Shenenhad hired. Not only that buthe’dseenthesamemanbeforeat Mandrigal Hill, leaving hisfather’s chambers. Winslowlicked his lips, the cold, thewind,and theprecipicebesidehimallbutforgotten.

“Killian?” Keedarexclaimed,voicehigh-pitched.

“Youknowhim?”

Keedarstaredattheman,hishandrising tobrushathischest. “Yes. Listen, it’s eithertrust me and pray to yourGods or die to the likes ofhim,”hesaidunderhisbreath.“I’d rather leap from this cliffand come to a smashing endthan have him touch me. Hewouldenjoyittoomuch.”

“Ah, my young friends.”The Marishman smiled, hisaccent thick and drawling. In

one hand he twirled a shortsword. “You,” he pointed atWinslow,“gotluckythatnightbecause of him.” When hisattentionturnedtoKeedar,hiseyes reflected nothing butvenom. “You, you littlebastard, have made a fool ofmefar toomany times, takingtotheroofs.NoonedoesthattoShaz.”Theassassinglancedaround, arms spread wide.“There aren’t any roofs here

now.” He paused to let thewords sink in, and then hegrinned. “I’ll be mercifultoday.MoresothanIwaswithyourlittlewhoreorRaishaar.Ihave a proposal. Before therest of mymen get here, youtwojump.Ifnot,I’llmakesureyou stay alive for at least twoweeks. I have a talent forsustainingmenat thebrinkofdeath.”

Count Shenen’s

ruthlessness was wellrenowned on the Hills. Wordof the activities in his torturechambers had spread amongthenobility.Hehadahabitofskinning his victims alive andusing soul magic to preventthem from bleeding out.Winslow shuddered at theprospectofhimbecomingoneof them. Before his emotionsoverwhelmed him, he forcedthetightnessfromhisgut,and

relaxedhisshoulders.“I pray the Gods are on

our side,” Winslow mutteredsoonlyKeedarcouldhear.

“Onthree,then?”At those words,Winslow

nodded, his mouth abruptlydry. Involuntarily, his handsnakeddowntogripKeedar’s.Across from them, theassassin’s eyes narrowed; asmilespreadacrosshisscarredface. As Keedar said ‘three’,

the number was a raspywhisper at the back ofWinslow’smind.

When Keedar’s handpulledonhis,Winslow turnedandleapedfromtheCliffsofaThousandSorrows.

AmongFamily

Keedar’s stomach

lurched into his mouth.Freezingairrushedpasthimasthey dropped from theprecipice. Its force took hisbreathawayandbrought tearstohis eyes.Hedidn’t know ifto scream,cry, laughordoallthree in turn. If he hadmisunderstood Uncle Keshka

and Father, the exhilarationand fear of falling twothousand feet would be thelast thing he remembered.Howpainfulwoulditbewhenthey struck the ground if thatwere the case? Would everybone break? Would theysplatter? The absurdity of histhoughts made him chuckle.The chuckle became a roaringlaugh that echoed from thecliff walls as if ten thousand

versions of himself cackledinsanely.

Terror should havewrapped him in its icyembrace. Instead, a strangecalm suffused him. For amoment he wondered if theGods were seeing what washappening. Will you comerescue me, reach a handdownand stopmy fall?Givemea chance to seek revengefor my parents, for my

friends? Feel that I havesufferedenoughwithout yourintervention?Orhasmy lackof faithdoomedme?No,youshitsdon’tevenknowIexist,doyou?

Theforestbeforehimwasa green monster. Sandy earthand jagged stone fangs racedup to eat him. It was sotempting toclosehiseyesandwaitfordeath.

Fascinated by the

prospect, he stared as oneparticulardotbelowhimgrew.He chased the distractionsaway and concentrated onmaking his soul steady andeven. He drew on hyzen,placing almost the entirety ofhissoulunderhim.

The blot, once aninconsequential shadow,materialized into a humanform,armsoutstretched.Sintuwrithed around the person so

thick it appeared tangible. Ablastofhotair struckKeedar,too hot for the time of year,too hot for the currentweather,toohottobenormal.

Hestrucksomething.Exactly what, he could

nottell.Butitwassoft,almostlike hitting a cushionor somelavishbedloadedwithquiltsorfur coverings. The personbelow him, the forest, thesand, and the stones filled his

vision.His speed slowed. Thelast few hundred feet, hisdescent continued as if hesunk into thick mud. In awe,hestaredfromonesidetotheother.

“Praise be to theDominion, to the Creator,”Winslowuttered.

Glancing over, Keedartook in the utter reverence inthe serene smile thatencompassed Winslow’s face

asheheldhisheadtothesky.Keedar couldn’t help but togrin. “Creator, my ass. Lookdown at your savior, fool.”When Winslow compiled,Keedar grinned even wider attheyoungnoble’sbulgingeyes.“It’srudetostare.SayhellotomyUncleKeshka.”

KeshkaGiorin,whitehairwild, eyes tight withconcentration, stood with hisfeet splayed wide, trembling

handsout beforehim as if helifted a great weight andpusheditup.Hedrewhisarmsdowninchbyinch.Soulspilledfrom him in such greatamounts that Keedar felt itthrob against him, itsconsistency the same aswhatever his Uncle hadconjuredtoslowtheirfallandbringthemtosafety.

On several of Keedar’svisits,Keshka had forced him

to climb the Cliffs of aThousand Sorrows as part ofhis training. The sessionextendedwellintotheevening.Thestartandendhadn’tgoneso well, with him missing agrip or toehold, forgetting torelyonsintu and tern to helphim ease his weight or get abetter hold. When he fell,UncleKeshkacaughthimeachtime.

Keedar was glad he had

correctly interpreted hisuncle’s words from theUndertow. It pained him thatKeshkahadexpectedFathertofail.

The reminder of Delisarbrought fresh grief tearingthroughKeedar.Assoonashetouched the rocky earth, herushed into Keshka’s arms.Tearsflowedfreely.

“That bad, huh?”Keshkahuggedhimtight.

Keedar sobbed evenharder, dimly aware of thestench of derin piss on hisUncle’s clothing. “H-He tried,b-buttheyknew.”Sniffling,hewiped at his eyes while tryingtocomposehimself. “Itwasatrap. They came to the Smearand killed everyone.” Moresobstorefromhim.

“Of course they knew,”Keshkasaid.“Delisargrewtoocareless, too trusting. It isone

thing to have a goal, butcompletely another to chaseafter it so doggedly you losesightofthedangers.Thecountdangled the right bait.” Hesighed.“Whatofmybrother?”

“He fought the EbonBlade. They were evenlymatched until Count Cardiffgot involved. I-I…Icouldn’thelp. They were so strong. I…”Keedar’svoicetrailedoff.

Uncle Keshka eased him

awayfromhisbodyandstaredintohisface.Themanhadthekindest, most golden eyesKeedar ever saw. “I know,son.Andyouweren’tmeanttohelp. Not yet. Did they takehimorkillhim?”

“I don’t know. He ledthemawayaftertheycorneredus in our old home. Why,UncleKeshka?Why?”

“YouknowthereasonsaswellasIdo.”Thosekindeyes

becamedaggers.“Greed.Lust.Their damned Far’an Senjin.”For the first time, Keshkalooked over to Winslow. “Iguessyou’retheone.Youhavehis eyes, a bit of his face, butmostofallyouresembleher.”

Keedar frowned.He tooka step back and peered fromKeshkatoWinslow.“Uncle?”

The same bewilderedexpression overcameWinslow’sface.

“Come,I’lltellyouontheway.”Keshkaglancedup.“Weneed to be off before theyrealize what’s happened downhere.”

Keedar followed hisuncle’s gaze, but could makeoutnooneonthecliff’sedge.AsKeshkaledthewayintotheforest a few feet away, hemade to follow. A tug on hisarm brought his attention toWinslow.

“I’m sorry about yourparents,”Winslowsaid.

Keedar nodded, wiped athis eyes and followedKeshka.Whenheentered the embraceof branches and foliage, hetook one last glance up therocky walls. Killian wasstanding at the precipice’sedge, staringdownat them.Amoment later the knittedcanopyhidhimfromview.

They’d been trekkingthrough the Treskelin Forestfor some time, its creaturesmostlyquietaroundthem.Thewoods might have been acontinuation of the Parmien,withwhite ash and cypress indominance, sprinkled in withhalf a dozen species Keedardidn’t recognize, but thedifferences were too stark.Whereas the Parmien waslively and inviting, ominous

silences, impenetrableshadows,andmourningwindsdominated the Treskelin. Itsmelled old, like a place timehadforgotten.

Vines wrapped aroundbranchesandtrunks,andmosshung like ropy beards. Somecopses were so thick, hecouldn’t see beyond the firstleafy covering. The onset ofcolddidn’taffecttheTreskelinintheleast.Ancient,theforest

had a life of its own, a soul.Onoccasion he felt as if eyeswatched him from within thebroodingshadows.Thosedarksplotchesremindedhimofthetalesheonce readof themenand women said to have fledto these woods—theshadowbearers—people sotwisted by the crimes they’dcommitted while melding thatthey were forever lost inmadness. He shuddered to

thinkifthosestoriesweretrue.“Youknow,ItoldDelisar

itwastoosoontomove.Thatthis was a trap, and he wasmaking a mistake,” UncleKeshka finally said. “Butconvincing him of somethingonce his mind is set is liketrainingaderin.SometimessoaggravatingthatIgiveupforabit.”

Winslow cleared histhroat. “Derins cannot be

trained.”“Oh?Soyou’re anexpert

onthesematters?”Keedar made to tell

Winslow not to answer. Hisuncle had a foul temper attimes. For years, he’d caughtderins and attempted to tamethem.As far asKeedar knew,he failed every time.Questioning Keshka out loudand reminding him of hisattemptswouldbeagoodway

to spark his uncle’s ugly half.He wished he could seeKeshka’s face to tell how hewas taking the conversation.Before Keedar could utter aword,Winslowanswered.

“No, but I knew a fewhound masters who havetried.” Winslow had astubbornsettohis jaw.“Theyall failed.Theyhad toput thebeastsdowneverytime.”

“Is a derin a hound or a

dog?”“No, but it’s still an

animal.”From the way Keshka

missed a step, Keedarsuspecteditwastoolate.Witha sigh, he committed himselfto listening and hoping itwouldn’t get any worse thanwords.

“We’re beasts too, if youletsometellit.”Keshkashookhishead.“Thisistheproblem

withouryouthtoday.Youseea thing in one place, and youbelieveyouknowitall.Imean,thereisn’tachancesomeotherpart of the world worksdifferently.”

“Well—”“Tell me,” Keshka

gestured with one hand as hespoke, “could these houndmasterstrainahorseanymorethanahorsetrainercouldtrainahound?”

“Icouldn’tsayonewayoranother.”

“IguessIneedtoaskthederin that pissed on you,then.” Keshka sniffed at hisown clothes. “Bitchpissedonmetoo.Next time, Iought tomakeher take a chunkout ofyourass.”

Keedar gawked at UncleKeshkainthesamefashionasWinslow. Quick as thought,the encounter began to make

sense. “You tamed one andhaditleadthemaway?”

“Well, I had to dosomething.Theyweregoingtocatch you long before youmadetheSorrows.”

“Impossible,” Winslowsaidinabreathlesswhisper.

“Obviously not,” Keshkareplieddryly.“Letthisbeyourfirst lesson. Consider mostthings as being possible. Thatwaynoonecansurpriseyou.”

“How did you manageit?”Keedar asked. “Was it bymelding?”

“Always back to that, eh,son?”Keshkachuckledbeforehegrewserious.“Meldingcanhelp a man or beast toaccomplish manyextraordinary things, butpatience and practice are thebestteachers.It’swhatDelisarlacked at times. I had hopedyour mother would have

temperedhisurges.”“You mention people’s

parents often,” Winslow said.“Backthere,yousaidIhadhiseyes but said I looked mostlylike her.” He paused for amoment. “Do you know mymotherandfather?”

Keshka stopped soabruptly they almost ran intohis back. He stared down atthemasadrillmastermight toone of his students: all

seriousness and an air thatspoke of authority. Yet,Keedar noted the uncertainflicker in his eyes. Theyhardened into determinationoncemore.

“Yes,Ido,”Keshkasaid.“Whoarethey?”Winslow

asked, the words more a pleathananinquiry.

“Delisar Giorin is yourfather.YourmotherisLys.”

Keedar gawked. Disbelief

swept through him.Speechless, he looked fromKeshka to Winslow and backagain. Winslow’s face boreastonishment to match hisown.

“You’re Keedar’s halfbrother.”

“I cannot be acommoner’s child,” Winslowmuttered.“Icannotbe.”

Somewhereinthebackofhismind,Keedar analyzedhis

uncle’s words. Half brother?He looked atWinslow. Reallylooked at him for the firsttime. As sure as piss waswarm,hesawtheresemblance.The lines about the face, theeyes…theywereFather’s.ButKeshkahadsaidtheywerehalfbrothers. “We have differentmothers?”

“No.Fathers.”Thistime,Keedarlosthis

breath. The world seemed to

have come to a halt.Noneofthiscouldbetrue.Delisarhadbeen there from the start.Butat the same time,heknewhisuncleneverlied.“Who,whoismyfatherthen?”hewhispered,still not believing while hehopeditwasalladream.

“I am.” Keshka’sexpressionsoftenedashiseyesglistened wetly. “Why do youthink I’ve always called youson?”

Revelations

“I can see the doubtand a host of other emotionsflashing across your faces,”Keshka said. “You havequestions, no doubt, but first,letme tell you how this cametobe.”

Too numb to offer anyargument or sort the muddleracing through his mind,

Winslow nodded. In an efforttoclearhisheadhesuckedinabreath. Filled with wood rotand some animal’s droppings,the forests’ odors lent somesense of normalcy. Althoughearly evening, meager lightpenetrated the green canopy,creating patches of shadowand darkness that made himfeel as if something watchedthem from among thestatuesque trunks. When his

gaze roved to Keedar, hisfriend’s crestfallen face was afar cry from his normalconfidence.

“Let’s head on to myplace as we talk.” Keshkapeered into the trees as if hefelt the same uneasinessWinslow experienced beforehe spun on his heels andstrodethroughfallenleaves.

As they followedKeshka,branches clicked against each

other and leaves rustled.Spurred on by the wind’smoans, the noise commingledwith forest critters’ chatter. Inthe distance, hounds bayed.Winslowtensed.

“Noneed toworry aboutthose,” Keshka said. “Even ifsomeonebelievesyousurvivedthat leap, the Kasinians willthink three times beforecrossing into Kheridisiauninvited. Especially out here

inthelesscivilizedareas.”“Um, Uncle Keshka, can

you tellus…”Keedar’svoicetrailedoff.

“Ah,yes,yourstory.Oratleastyourmother’sstory.Well,first,youknowherasLys.Forme, andmanyothers, shewillalways be Queen Elysse. Forthose who hated her andwanted her dead, she will beElysse the Temptress, Elyssethe Princeslayer, or some

such.”Winslow gasped. He’d

readsomanystoriesaboutthewoman. Not only in CountCardiff’s research books onDracodar,butinseveralannalswithintheGrandLibrary.TheleastofheratrocitieshadbeenkillingKingJemare’ssonattheCliffsofaThousandSorrows.Farworsewastheinsurrectionsparked by her, primarilyamong the commoners. She’d

beenrumored toseduceotherranking nobles in severalkingdoms,convincingthemtowar with Kasandar over theyears.Kheridisiawasonesuch.He’d seen more than onepainting or aged wantedpamphletreferringtoher.Herbeauty was breathtaking, hereyes an amber so deep hepictured her mesmerizingthose foolish enough to stareintothem.

Such a person, a criminalwhocaredlittleforlife,whomthebooksportrayed to followonly her greed, could not behis mother. One glance atKeedar’s face, at his pursedlips,andtherecognitioninhiseyes, told Winslow his friendbelieved. Winslow refused toacceptit.

“Next,you’lltellusshe’saDracodar too,” he spat. “Amurderer such as she could

neverbemymother.”Keshka stopped. He

didn’t turn, but he becamedeathlystill.“Iwill allowsuchaninsultonlyonce,nephew.”

His mouth drying,Winslow kept his otherthoughtstohimself.

“Why Queen Elysse?”Keedarasked.

“Oh,” Keshka strodeaheadoncemore,“shewasnotan actual ruler in a kingdom,

but for those of us who shehelpedbecomeapeopleagain,she was our queen. Withoutherandotherwomenlikeher,wewouldbealotlessthanwearetoday,PerhapsevenwipedfromMareshnacompletely.”

CuriositygotthebetterofWinslow.“Howso?”

“Theygaveofthemselves,takingmorethanonehusband,more than onemate, in ordertoreviveourrace.”

Great. Not only is mymother a murderer but she’salso a slut. Winslow bit histongue.

“It’s why I neverbegrudged her relationshipwith Delisar. It’s more than Ican say for how my brotherfelt of me or anyone elseElyssefoundworthy.”

“H-Howcanyouactas ifwhat she did was nothing,”Winslowblurted.

“Because she had agreater purpose. I understoodthat. So did many others.Some didn’t. You see herability for seduction meanttheyfellhopelesslyinlove.”

“And you weren’t?”Keedar stared at Keshka’sback.

Winslow wondered whatemotions had to be tumblingthroughKeedar’shead.MaybethesameasI:confused,hurt,

not wanting to believe butknowing thisoldmanhasnoreasontolie.

“Make nomistake, son, Iloved yourmother with everyfiber of my being. However,some things in life are biggerthantheindividual,biggerthanone group of people. Survivalis one such. I learned totemper my feelings and seewhatsheneededtodo.”

“How did I end up with

Count Cardiff?” Winslowwanted the answer to thatmore thananything. Ifhewasto believe Delisar was hisfather,hehadtounderstand.

Keshka’s shouldersslumped visibly as he walked.The old man sighed. “TheHillshadspiesamongus.”

“Like they do now,”Keedar interrupted. “It’s whyyoumentionedtheSorrowsasyoudid.”

Keshka nodded.“Anyway,Elyssegaveanorderthat no one was to interferewith the nobles when theyplayed at Far’an Senjin,sending theirchildren into theSmearfortheTrialofBravery.Someone disobeyed, goingafterCountCardiff’s real son,Kenslen. His wife, Marjorie,intervened and was killed. TothisdayIdon’tbelieveoneofus was responsible, but that

matters not.”Keshka stoppedand faced Winslow. “That iswhenAinslentookyou.Don’tyouremember?”

Frowning, Winslowstruggled to find such amemory,oneofahomeotherthanwithCountCardifforhiswetnurse.Heshookhishead.

Keshka squinted, andthen cocked his head to oneside. “I see. Someone hastampered with your soul,

suppressing your memories.Wewillhave todosomethingabout that when we get achance.” He nodded absentlytohimselfbeforecontinuingtoleadtheway.

The idea of someonebeing able to tamper with hismind in such a manner wasdifficult for Winslow tofathom. But if Keshka said itwaspossible,thenitmustbe.

“WhywasIchosen?”

“The nobles used theblame placed on the guilds asan excuse to scour the Smearin an attempt to strengthenone noble house or anotherwithsouls.”

“What?” Winslowgrimaced. “I don’tunderstand.”

“A shame that youdon’t.There’sa reason it’scalled theGame of Souls. The nobilityuse any methods they can to

increase their soul, strengthentheir magic. The best way isthroughcapturingandkillingaDracodar,ingestingtheirparts,as you saw from the auction.Another method is bystockpilingthosethoughttobedescended from Dracodarbloodline,capturethemyoungenough and train them to dotheir bidding. The strongestareraisedasnoblessotheycaninfuse their power into the

houses. They do this inaddition to the Day ofAccolades.”

“B-But, that means …”Winslow found what he washearingdifficulttofathom.

“Yes. The nobility arechild thieves. Babies of thewrong coloring, who couldn’teasily pass for nobles aretrained to become the King’sBlades. The vaunted Hills arenobetterthantheSmear,than

thedregsastheyliketocallus.The family lines are allintermingled.”

As absurd as the ideamight have sounded, it madesense to Winslow. The storyexplained Count Cardiff’sobsession with the Dracodar,hisneed to control ordestroythe guilds. It also told whythose adept in Far’an Senjinwere held in high esteem.People ruled by power. One

way to maintain such astranglehold was throughsuppressing any threat. Whatbetter way than to steal fromthose who might be able tooverthrow you? The conceptwasn’tnew.Variouskingdomsemployed similar tacticsthroughouthistory,rapingandtaking the women of thosetheyconqueredastheirown.Itmade it harder to fight backwhen allegiances to family or

racewereintertwined.Winslow shook his head.

“How did they get away withthis?”

“Easily,” Keedar said.“Before I saved you severaltimes, you saw us as nothingbut dregs, lower than dogs.Every noble thinks the sameway. Why would they carewhat happens to us if itbenefits them? In their eyes,it’s no different to having

peasantsorslaves.”Winslow nodded with

each point made. Certainly atime existed when thosesentiments were his. He wasglad Keedar said ‘they’ at theend. “Can anyone manage tostopthem?”

“Elysseworkedforoveracentury of her life toundermine much of what’sbeendone.”Keshkamadehisway around a white ash that

dwarfed all the others, themoss and vines from itsbranchestouchingtheground.“If Delisar had been a bitmore patient, we would havereaped the fruits of yourmother’s labors. Now, thingswill be a lot harder, if notimpossible.”

“You are speaking ofoverthrowingKingJemareandthe Hills.” Winslow eyed thetree. Not being able to see

what its mass hid andmemories of the derin attackshouldhavemadehimfearful.Instead, he experienced astrange calmness. “I sawwhathappenedlastnight,howmanythey have on their side. Itwouldtakeacomparablearmytoaccomplishsuchafeat.”

“Battles aren’t alwaysdecided by numbers. Tacticsandstrengthmattermore.Notstrength in military might

either,butthebelief,theneed,the determination to win out,knowingthatdefeatmeanstheend of everything you know,the end of your people.” Theconfidence in Keshka’s voiceresonatedwithWinslow.

“How many melders doyouhave?”

Keshkastoppedandfacedthem. His eyes glinted, and asmilehungatthecornerofhislips. “Not simplymelders but

thoselikeyourselfwhohaveaDracodar’spurebloodflowingthrough their veins. It’s whyCardiff latched onto you. Hesaw it within you, and hesuspected the same fromothers in the Smear. It mighthavebeenwhyheallowedyouinto the Smear in the firstplace: to see what you woulddrawout.”Heglanced towardKeedar who stood in silencebut whose expression said he

knew what the old man wassaying.“Andyoubroughthimanother.Hewillnotstopnow.That’sforsure.”

‘A Dracodar’s pureblood flowing through theirveins.’Thewords replayed inWinslow’sheadasheheldhisarms out and turned thempalm upward, analyzinghimself.CountCardiff’sbooksand notes made sense now,and so did the transfusions.

For the first time,hebelievedthe stories about ingestingDracodarbloodandflesh.

Count Cardiff had usedhim on more than oneoccasion to increase his ownpowerinsoulmagic.

PowerInChains

“Have you located

them?” King Ainslen Cardifflounged on the Soul Throne,regarding Shaz who was onone knee before him.Althoughthethroneroomhadbeen cleaned, he still caughtthe faint whiff of blood. Thescent of ginger spice fromincense around the room

overrodeitforthemostpart.Shazkepthisheaddown.

“No,sire.”Ainslen leaned forward,

tapping into his stored soul.“Donotlietome.”

“I—” Shaz began, headsnapping up, defiance in hiseyes. He frowned a momentlater. “Sorry, sire. I did findthem,buttheyescaped.”

Ainslen ground his teeth.It was a good thing he’d

decided to hold this audienceinprivate.Otherwisehemighthave needed to kill Shaz. Itwas not yet time to be rid ofsuchausefultool.“How?”

After a brief pause, Shazmuttered, “They leaped fromthe Cliffs of a ThousandSorrows.”

“What?”Shaz cleared his throat.

“They leaped from the CliffsofaThousandSorrows.”

Squinting, Ainslen peeredatShaz.Heopenedhismouthto speak and then stopped.Shaz’s words made no sense,but they held truth. Such anactmeant… “They are dead,then? I thought you said theyescaped?”

“Someone saved them.Aman.”

“Who?”“Idon’tknow.”Ainslen contemplated the

considerablepowerrequiredtosavesomeonewhomadesuchajump.Notsomeonebuttwopeople. His heart sped up atthe prospect. “We shall leavethem be for now. Before Itackle the issue they and theKheridisians pose, I mustsecuremystrengthhere.”

“Asyousay,sire.”“What news of my

enemies?”“Cardinton, Melinden,

andAdelfriedescaped.Rostlin,Doran,andPoronilaredead.”

“And Queen—I mean,and Terestere?” He inhaledslowlywiththememoryofthewoman, a longing for hereasingthroughhim.

“Nosignofher.”“Tellmewehave at least

captured themajority of whatremains of the guilds andsecured the folk capable offightingintheSmear.”

Shaz stared athimwith astraightface.“Wehaveatleast—”

With a release of soul torival a massive hammerslamming against a wall,Ainslen smashed Shaz in thechest, sending him tumblingacross the floor. A barelyaudiblegruntlefttheassassin’slips.

“This isn’t the time forfoolish jests,”Ainslenwarned,

“unless you would rather bedead.”

Groaning, Shaz crawledontohisknees.“Sorry,sire.”

“See yourself to awiseman once we’re finishedhere.Now, the guilds and thedregs,tellmeagain.”

Shaztookafewmoments,breaths coming in wheezinggasps before he answered.“Theguildshavebeenbroughtunder control, their leaders

dead or captured.”He took alongpause.

“Goon.”“Themajorityofthedregs

are gone. They disappearedinto the sewers near Pauper’sCircle.Wehavesoldierstryingto root them out, but it hasbeen costly. We lose men bythehundreds.”

Ainslengrowledunderhisbreath. “Pull ourmen out fornow. I shall send for some

Marish trackers and aFarlander complement to dealwiththem.”Heconsideredtheissue of the counts. “Disbandwhatever is left of the housesthat stood against me. Killtheir kin who show theslightest opposition. Anyyoung enough, begin theirtrainingasBlades.”Thatwasastart. “On yourway out, haveLestere, Shenen, and Fiorentaattendme.”

“Yes, sire. Should I sendfor Sorinya and a squad ofBlades?” Shaz still wincedwheneverhespoke.

“No, no need. This, Ineedtodoonmyown.”

When Shaz left, Ainslenallowed his mind to drift towhom might have savedWinslow and the Giorin boy.Again, that sense ofexcitement thrummedthroughhim. The thought made him

regard the three metalliccontainers to his left. He’dmadesuretoopenthemforashort time when Seliguladeparted.

The three counts enteredsoon after. Lestere of HouseKeneshinwasabearofaman,pale as a corpse. He stayedindoors or dressed in layeredclothing as he was now in anattempt to make hiscomplexionmatchthoseofthe

most ancient royal lines. Healso kept his hair and beardlongandneatlybraidedforthesame reason. Fiorenta, thebrains behind the secretiveHouse Humel, was Lestere’sopposite: a waif of a man,balding, face pockmarked.Built like a man half his age,Shenen was his usualresplendentself,hisexpressionbetraying little. The other twomen’s gazes constantly shifted

to the containers. The threegotdownononekneebeforeAinslen,declaringtheirserviceinonevoice.

“Rise,myfriends.”They graced him with

smiles, not allowing their eyestowaver.Lesteredabbedathisforehead with a silkhandkerchief.

“Towhat dowe owe thehonor, sire?” asked CountShenen.

Ainslen gestured aroundhim. “I owe this to you threeas much as I owe it to myallies. Without you, it wouldnothavebeenpossible.”

Theynodded.“In return, as promised,

these are your rewards.” Hepointedtothecontainers.

Fiorenta and Lestereglanced over. One dabbed athis forehead while the otherlicked his thin lips. Shenen’s

gazeremainedontheking.“You must have many

questions and doubts when itcomes to the Farlanders andmyself.Ialsoknowwhatmustrunthroughyourmindsasyouconsider the soul you areabouttogain.”Ainslensmiledbut did not allow it to reachhis eyes. “In respect to thecurious nature men likeourselves tend to have, I willgrant each of you a duelwith

me after you have taken yourgifts. Not to the death, mindyou. To show that even withyour newly acquired power,I’m still beyond eachof you.”He regarded Count Shenenthen, keeping his gazeexpressionless.“Leroi,weshallbegin with you. Fiorenta andLestere, you may leave now.Afteryouareoutside,youcanchoosewhichofyoufacesmenext.”

The two counts bowedand hurried away. KingAinslendidnot spare themasmuchasaglance.

Leroi approached thecontainers, running his handslongingly on the exterior ofone. “I havebeen anticipatingthis day. When I heard anassassin of mine had attackedyour son, I had wondered ifoneofthemhadtakenmatterswith my daughter into their

own hands. Until I gave itsome thought as to how youmight keep Kesta Rostlin offbalance. It was a brilliantmove, making it look as if Iwere your enemy, and thengiving him a reason why Iwouldneed to join you at thesame time. But this … thismight be the first mistakeyou’vemade.”

“I think not,” Ainslensaid.“Goahead,pickone,any

one.Ishallevengiveyoutimeto get used to your newstrength.”

Mouth forming a curvedslit, Leroi glanced at Ainslenfrom the corner of his eyes.He flipped open the lid. Soulburstforth.

WhenLeroibenttogorgehimselfanddon theDracodarscales, excited tingles shot upthrough the king. He woulddisabuse the counts, and

banish any notion that any ofthemcould stand against him.Thenhewouldvisithisprize.

Great kings ruled bystrength,fear,andrespect.Fornow, the first two would do.The rest would come withtime.

The fetid stench of oldblood and dead flesh madeAinslen wrinkle his nose.Bootedfootstepsdrownedout

the noise from an occasionalmoan,cry,ordesperateprayer.Accompanied by severalBlades, he strode along thewalkway that spanned fromonesideofthedungeontothenext. Cells extended to eitherside of him, atop impossiblemetal spires. Blackness gapedathim fromeither sideof thewalkway. At the door to eachcellstoodaBlade.

Threeguardedtheonehe

wanted. Four moresurrounded the squarestructure, each at a corner,handson large chains that ledthroughaholeintothecell.Sixmoremenwouldbeinside.

He stopped before theiron door. Even standingoutside he could feel the soulemanating from within. Itcrawled across his skin like atiny insect. “How has theprisonerbeen?”

“On his best behavior,sire. Not once has heattempted anything,” said araven-haired Darshanese whorubbed at his thick, beak of anose.

“Good.Openit.”The guard’s eyes

narrowed in concentration. Asubtle shift came from themagic in the room. Momentslater, the Darshanese steppedforward, slid back four bolts,

and pulled open the creakingdoor.

“Wait here,” Ainslen saidtohismen.Hesteppedinside,thedoorclosingbehindhim.

Delisar sat with his legscrossed in the middle of thestone-flagged floor. Manaclesof a black metal enclosed hisankles, wrist, and neck. Thechainfromtheonearoundhisneckconnectedtoalargespikein the ceiling. The Blades

outside held the ends of theother four chains. Bloodencrusted his face, arms, andarmor. His hair was mattedwith it. Where his skin wasflayed open, golden scalesflecked with red peeked out.His eyes opened slowly. Thepupilswereconvex,snake-like.

Surroundinghimatevenlyspaced intervals were the sixBlades. Sintu spilled fromthem, so thick Ainslen saw it

withoutengaginghismagic.Aportion of their essencescaressed Delisar at majorpressurepoints, inhibitinghimfromtouchinghisownsoul.

“Come to gloat?”Delisar’s voice was hoarse, afraction of the deep,commanding person who hadcalledoutduringtheauction.

“No.”Ainslencircledhimslowly.“I’vecometoinspectamyth, a legend, a dream of

mine. Do you realize I havesearched for your kind myentire life?My quest to proveyou existed consumed me.Then came the Night ofBlades,andIknew,Iknewforcertain that I had beencorrect.”Thekingstoppedandreached a tentative hand out.When he touched Delisar’sscales,Ainslenshuddered.

“Well, here youhaveoneofusintheflesh.Dowithme

asyoudidmywife.”Ainslen threw back his

head and laughed. When hemanagedtobringhisjoyundercontrol, the king peered atDelisar’sface.“Notyet.First,Iwill show you what is to bedonetoyourboys.”

The Consortium leaderbecame deathly still. Ainslencouldmakeoutwherehissoulstrainedagainstthebarrierandfailed.Thekingchortled.

“Laugh all you like, youdon’t have them.” CertaintyroseinwavesfromDelisar.

“Oh?Whatmakesyousosure?”

“I don’t smell them onyou.” Delisar tilted his head,for the first time his deepamber eyes staring intoAinslen’s own. “Whichmeansthey escaped. Go after themnow,andyoudie.”

King Ainslen shrugged.

“You, sir, are correct.Luckily,I won’t have to chase afterthem.Ihaveyou.”HestrokedDelisar’shairbeforegrippingittight and pulling. “I will milkyouforallyou’reworth.”

As he spun and left thecell, King Ainslen’s mindreeled. Delisar had confirmedhis suspicions. The mess ofscales and blood he’dconsumed at the man’s homethatnightafterJemarelefthad

belonged to Elysse theTemptress. The king hadstumbled out, overwroughtwith power after gorginghimself. But they had neverfoundTharkensen.

The ideaof capturing theLightning Blade made himgrin. The grin grew intochuckle that became a cackleechoing through the halls.Hehadtheperfectbait.

.

ReturnofaBlade

Tharkensen felt when

theravenbrokethebarrier.Itscaw sent a shiver down hisspine. Moments later, twopeople also crossed his ward.One was massive, his soulleaving an impression as if itwould swallow the night. Theotherwaslithe,faster,runningwith an animal’s precision

among the trees.He drew hisbrows together as hecontemplated the first one.After glancing over to makesure his charges were asleep,hesteppedoutsidethecabin.

The night air was alivewith the sounds and odors ofthe forest. Each told its ownstory, somemore thanothers.More people were travelingthrough the woods. Hecouldn’t see them or tell their

exact location, but the subtledifference in the calls of thehuntersandhuntedwithinthenightgavehimageneralidea.

Wings flapped and thebird alighted on his shoulder,smelling of carrion. Heremoved the paper wrappedarounditsleg.Thebirdpeckedlovinglyathisfinger,thenflewoff, melting into the shadowsasifitwereoneofthem.

Using the illumination

from the lone lamp, he readthe paper’s contents thenpursed his lips. Part of themessage was no surprise. Theother bit made him exhaleslowly.

With his sintu alreadystretched, he called on seraand lumni to project it evenfarther. The other two werewithin the treeline some thirtyfeet away. He smiled tohimself. They so liked to test

anoldman.Theinterlopersstoppedat

whattheythoughtmustbehismaximum range. Heconsideredusing the last cycleto send them a jolt.He couldsee them now, leaping andhollering like two schoolboys.Theimagemadehimgrin.

His mind drifted back tothe message and immediately,he sobered.Sighing,he strodedown the steps and headed

towardthem.Ashecrestedthefirstshadowscastbythetrees,he cut off his soul, duplicatedan absence of light, and hidhimself.

Whenhewaswithinrangeof their senses, he whispered,“Why did you bring himhere?”

A guttural voice, moregrowl than speech, answeredfrom the smaller man. “Hehelped me in a fight. If he

hadn’t turnedagainsthisown,Imightbedead.”

Thatsaidalot.Tharfocusedontheother

man whose shadowencompassed everythingaroundhim.“Why?”

“One Ionceheld inhighesteembetrayedmypeople.”

Thar assessed the man’ssoul as he spoke. All he sawwas truth and steadfastdetermination. They would

have to do. “Is it true thatCardiffisnowking?”

“Yes,” the big manreplied.

“He brought Farlanderswithhim,”theothersaid.

Thelargermanhissed.Tingles shot up Thar’s

body. He let them roveunabated. “I also receivedword that he plans to executeDelisar on the Day ofAccolades.”

Twogaspssounded.“It’s an obvious trap,”

saidthegiant.“Yes,” Thar replied, “but

it also tells me he knows I’malive. Why else would he notkill a Dracodar and ingest itssoul?”

“Maybehe’s alreadydoneso with another. It’s the onlyway I could seehimdefeatingsomeone who held the SoulThrone.”

“Possibly,”Tharsaid.“So,what’stheplan?”“You two return and

continue as you are. Ainslenwishesformetocometohim,then that’s what I will do.”With those words, Tharallowed his scales to hardenunder his skin. Theythreatened to burst through.He was going to fulfillAinslen’sdreams.

MusingsonSoul

ExcerptfromEtien’s

Compendium

Trying to quantify all

the aspects of soul is animpossible undertaking.Mysteries abound that cannotberesolved,andwouldrequirethe original creatures that wecalltheGodstoexplainexactly

how our magic works. Eventhen, I’m not sure we woulddiscoveralltheanswers.Why?ItappearsthatwhentheGodscrossed the Great Beyond,they did so because of somecataclysmic event among theirkind. As with any suchcatastrophe, there’s sure tobelost knowledge. There’sevidence in the archaeologicaldigs in the far west, past theFringes that support my

theories. Drawings, glyphs,paintings, ancient bits ofarchitecture, as well asunexplored ruins that wouldhave taken abilities beyondwhatwe possess to create.Attimes I’m tempted to visitthemand thencontinueon tothe Pillars of Dissolution insearchofawaypastitsbarrier.There’s a wealth ofinformation and power to begained on the other side. I’m

sureofit.Whatwedoknowofsoul

magic is limited by what hasbeen passed down from theDracodar and our owndiscoveries throughexperimentation. I willchroniclewhatIcanhere.AndfillinmoreasIlearn.

Soul or spirit as theHeleganesecall it, isenergyoressences stored within everyliving being. It flows around

thebodyindefinitivepatterns,much like blood. Much thesame as the heart and veinscontrol the flow of blood toour body, so does a man’sthirty-two vital points for hissoul. Controlling those pointsandmanipulatingthatenergyiswhat we call melding.However, there are certaincriteriathatmustbemettobeconsideredamelder.

Like many things, the

ability to touch your soul andmelding can be learned. Theycan also be induced by amaster,butthatcomeswithitsown set of risks and a price,the least of which is lesserpower, the worst: death. Aperson’s ability is like anyother physical or mental gift,spanning from those whocannot sense their soul tothose who have a talent andthus can achieve extraordinary

feats. While everyonepossesses soul, not everyonecan open their vital pointsenough to activate the cycles,which are effects that governwhatyoucanaccomplishwithsoul.

The detriments tomelding are numerous as itaffects the internal organs,often in adverse ways. Themore violent and active themelder, the shorter their life

span.Theyessentiallyburnoutor destroy their insides. Sometearaparttheirbrainsandtheirability for coherent thought.It’s not uncommon for amelder to become an invalidbeforeeventuallydying.

As of now, there are tenknown cycles. The first threeareoutercycles,thenextthreearemediancycles,andthe lastfour are the inner cycles. Aperson must master the first

sixcyclestobecomeamelder.Peoplecaninfluenceothersorhave a basic skill, but thathappens naturally withoutactually being a melder.Attaining the title of meldermeanstheabilitytocontrolallthatyoudowithsoul.Here iswhat we know of the cyclesthusfar.

1. Sintu – The ability toholdone’ssoulsteady,makingit flow evenly. It stops soul

fromleaking,createsanimbus.The nimbus is sort of acontainer and a shield andhelps protect against mentalattacks,butnotphysical.Onlythose strong in soul can seeanother person’s nimbus orsintu. It appears in a wavy,whitehazelikemist.

2.Koren –The ability tostop one’s soul energy, thushidingit.Helpswithagingandfatigue.

3. Tern – The ability totakesoulenergyfromonepartand apply it to another,creating less or more soul.When combinedwith sintu, itcan help protect againstphysical attacks but notmental.

4. Sera – The ability tomentally project one’s soulenergy onto another person.Caninfluenceaperson’smindif the user’s will is strong

enough.5.Hyzen–Theabilityto

move all of the soul to aspecificbodypart.

6. Shi – The ability tocreate a physical or mentaleffect by distributing one’ssoul outwardly. This gives aperson a unique skill or amelding. Can also be used todetermine if what anotherperson is doing is a meld orsimplyaneffectofacycle.

7.Lumni–Theabilitytoexpel the majority of one’ssoulfromone’sbody.

8.Entope–Theabilitytosteal someone else’s soulenergy.

9.Baltus–Theability totake soul energy fromsomethingdead.

10. Jin – A combinationof sintu, sera, and lumni thatallowsapersontostretchsintutoincredibledistances.

Manyofthecyclescanbecombinedindifferentformstobring about unique skills. Thefull extent of this is unknownand relies on a person’sindividual emotional state,persona,andbloodline.

To go along with thecyclesarethetypesofmelders.Often a person’s type isdiscovered through a plethoraof vigorous and at timesdangerousexercises.Sincesoul

becomes active for a normalperson only when faced withan extreme situation, suchexercises are used to bringabout a faster reaction. Aperson’s strongest cyclesdictatestheirtype.

In essence, there are fivemaintypesofmelders:

Casters – They canproject their soul and expel itfrom their bodies over shortdistances. They often carry

minor Alchemist abilities,which allow them to apply aproperty to their essence, likefire, ice, lightning, or almostanythingelsethatexists.

Magnifiers – As thename might suggest,magnifiers have the ability tochange the substance of theirsoulsandapplyitphysicallytotheirbodiesor to increase thenatural state of an item,depending on what the

situationrequires.Manifestor–Manifestors

can recreate any physical itemthey have ever possessed,giving it similar or betterproperties. They are able tochange their soul into theactual item. However themanifesteditemisrestrictedbya life span of anywhere fromtwodaystoaweek.

Mesmer – These are tobe feared. They are adept at

mindcontrol.Everthoughttodo something and suddenlydecideotherwise?TheremightbeaMesmer inyourmidst.AMesmer usually has to havesome type of physical contactwiththeirvictim.Rumorhasitthat some can project theirthoughts for communicationor even influence anothermindwithouttouch.

Alchemist – Alchemistsare the most diverse among

normal melders. They cancopy properties of anythingandapplyittotheirsoul.Theygenerally have incrediblecontrolovertern,totheextentthat they can take a piece oftheir soul and attach it toinanimate or animate objectsandstillhavecontroloveritatshort distances. Alchemistsusuallymakethebesttrackers.

Having the use of twotypes is a common trait.

Restrictions apply dependingonstrengthandweaknesses inthe corresponding cycles.Having three types at once israre. This brings us to thespecial half-breeds and theactual original melders. Theirability to combine variouscycles and possibly use cyclesnotknown tous,makes themthe most dangerous andcovetedofcreatures.

Philodar – They possess

three types at once, and havemastered7cycles.

Aladar–Thesehavefourtypesandeightcycles.

Finally, we have theDracodar, a race untothemselves. They possess alltypes, and known cycles. Theeffectof this isreportedtobea shortened life span andstunted reproduction. Someremain in a perpetualcombination of sintu and

koren, which can extend theirlives. During the ThousandYear War, it was discoveredthat ingesting anything fromaDracodar increased a humanmelder’s powers by incredibleamounts.Sincethen,Dracodarhave been hunted almost intoextinction.

I believe some originalDracodar still live, hiddenbehind the Pillars ofDissolution and the magical

barrier that protects thelegendsoftheTenPurgatories.I have made up my mind tofind away beyond the Pillars.My answers to bypassing thebarrier lies with the Dracodarremnants enslaved in theFarlands.Ileaveintwoweeks.

******The story continues in

Soulbreaker.Andnowawordfromme

toyou.

First,letmesaythankyouforreadingandforgettingthisfar.Ifyou’reherethenperhapsyouenjoyedthebook.

Writing Game of Soulswas different and an amazingexperience. I started it inNovember 2012, and it justflowed. It kept coming tomeand coming to me. I reallyenjoyedwriting this book andI think it’s my best one yet.But then, we authors often

think that. It’s up to you todecide and let me know.Please. I look forward tomakingmyreaders’experiencebetter each time out, and Isincerelyhope Ihavedone sowiththisbook.

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