An hour after Tomas’s unexpected visit, Lorelei, Creed, and three of their fellow inquisitors were west of Ancris, heading through a forest on horseback toward the mine entrance. A chill wind howled through the trees. Nox shone down from the heavens, dark and angry. The forest’s sugar maples and basswoods slowly gave way to pine and birch as they climbed the rough terrain.
Lorelei and Creed led the way on coursers. Ordren came next. Bringing up the rear were Vashtok and Nanda. Lorelei had been trying to talk to the latter two in private when Ordren had returned from the privy and barged into the conversation like a mad bull. She should be happy to have him, but she detested the man—he was crude and cruel, even to those he should count as friends.
“Let me get this straight,” Ordren said, bumping along the trail. “This bloke, the fucking chandler you’ve been watching for three weeks, just traipses into the Tulip, sits down in your booth, and tells you godsdamned Aarik is in Ancris, and he does it for free?”
“Not for free,” Lorelei said. “He seems convinced Llorn wants to kill him. He’s asking for protection and a bit of money to help him get out of Ancris.”
“And I’m hoping Damika will polish my knob, but that’s not very likely either, is it? This smells like a fucking trap.”
Creed called over his shoulder, “You’re free to go any time you want.”
“What, and miss all the fun, you big dumb auroch? Not a chance.” He paused to guide his horse around a patch of mud. “Just for the sake of argument, let’s say it’s not a trap. Why meet in a bloody old mine?”
“Why not in a bloody old mine?” Vashtok said in his thick Sapphire Coast accent. “It’s been abandoned for years. For men like them, it’s a convenient place to meet away from prying eyes.”
“Pfft! What are they going talk about?”
Nanda laughed. She was a dark-skinned woman who’s blade was nearly as sharp as her wit. “This is just a fact-finding mission. So why don’t you do us all a favor and shut that gob of yours?”
“Fact-finding . . .” Ordren snorted. “We’re a pack of straw-brained idiots. How’s that for a fact?”
Ahead, the forest ended. Not wanting to risk being spotted, they headed into the trees and tied their horses to a sapling; then they crept toward the mine and hid behind a clutch of midnight dogwood, which had leaves that dulled a nightglass’s magically enhanced sight. From there they could see Faedryn’s Widow, a mountain shaped like a hooded crone bent with age. A weed-ridden cart path wended between two of the mountain’s arms, leading to the boarded-up mine entrance, barely visible beneath Nox’s violet light.
“Two guards,” Nanda said, unstrapping her bow from the saddle. Then she pointed with it. “There and there.”
Lorelei saw nothing in the darkness, so she pulled out her nightglass and spotted the two men hunkered in the scrub brush above the mine entrance.
A dragonsong warbled like an underwater trumpet, breaking the silence. It came from beyond the ridge above the mine entrance.
“Somebody’s not happy,” Lorelei said. “Sounds like a cobalt. Might be Llorn’s.”
Nanda’s perfect teeth shone in the unlight. “Maybe the chandler wasn’t so full of shit after all, hey, Ordren?”
Just then, a man emerged from the mine. He appeared to have a short conversation with the sentries. As he headed back inside, a golden light flashed three times from above the entrance.
“A signal,” Lorelei said.
“Yes,” replied Vashtok, “but to whom?”
A horse whinnied to their left. The clop of hooves followed, then a horse and rider broke from the trees beyond the cart path. Lorelei raised her nightglass. The rider wore a hooded black habit.
“Alra’s bright smile,” Nanda whispered, “the Hissing Man.”
She was right, Lorelei realized, spotting what looked to be bandages over the man’s eyes. But why, by Alra’s sweet grace, would the Hissing Man be coming to parley with the leader of the Red Knives, a group the Chosen had deemed unholy and had been trying to eradicate for generations? It could only spell trouble for Ancris and the empire as a whole.
“We should get backup,” Creed said.
Ordren blinked at Creed, his mouth agape. “The pit bull with the perpetual scowl is ready to turn tail and run?”
Lorelei ignored him. “If we go for backup now, we’ll miss our chance.” Trying to capture the Hissing Man and the highest ranking members of the Red Knives with only five inquisitors was definitely risky, but they had to know why the Chosen and the Red Knives had thrown in together.
Creed stared hard at her. “The whelp rushes in where the wolf treads carefully. We could have a century of soldiers and a cohort of dragons here within the hour.”
“No way. We’d be lucky to get a single legionary to step foot outside their barracks before morning, much less an imperial mount,” Lorelei countered. “Aarik will be gone by then. They all will.”
“They could have a small army in there,” Creed said, stabbing a finger at the mine entrance.
“With only two guards posted? No, they’re keeping this meeting small for a reason. The fewer who know, the better, right? Worst case, things get too hot and we retreat. But maybe we can learn something.”
Vashtok said, “Lorelei has a point. Surely, Alra herself has delivered this opportunity to us. She’d be displeased if we walk away from it.”
“Nanda?” Creed said.
“Name one thing we do that doesn’t have risks,” she replied.
“Risk is one thing,” Creed said. “A meat grinder is another. Plus, how would we even get in?”
“Easy,” Lorelei said, “we use the mine’s layout to our advantage.”
“And how do we do that?”
“Vashtok,” Lorelei said, “your father was a miner for forty years, yes? A foreman for half that?”
Vashtok’s wide brow furrowed. “How did you know?”
“You mentioned it.”
“I did?”
“Five years ago, after we chased those bandits into the Wayward Oxen.”
“You remember that?”
“I do,” Lorelei said evenly. “You said he took you there several times. Do you remember anything about it?”
“Now I do,” Vashtok said sheepishly. “There are three entrances. Or there were. They might all be boarded up now, or caved in. The two ventilation shafts are our best bet. They were meant to double as escape routes during cave-ins. They had iron rungs spiked into them. We could use them to climb down.”
The Hissing Man reached end of the cart path, dismounted, and headed toward the mine’s entrance. Lorelei turned to Creed. “We go to the ventilation shafts, we climb down, and we see what’s what.”
Lorelei could tell he was afraid. It wasn’t from lack of courage—Creed was one of the bravest men she knew—but during their stay at Olga’s he’d told her that when he was young, his brothers had dug a hole in the sand beside the sea, thrown him into it, and buried him as a joke. Even after all these years, he still had nightmares about it.
“We’d better bloody hurry,” he said, with a long sigh. “Whatever’s about to happen will happen soon.”
Nanda strung her bow in one fluid motion. “I’ll keep an eye on the guards at the entrance.”
Lorelei nodded. “Good hunting.”
The expression meant good luck, but Nanda only laughed. “Good hunting yourself. Trust me, if they take a single step toward the entrance, they’ll regret it.”
Vashtok led Lorelei, Creed, and Ordren through the forest. When they were far enough to not be seen by the guards, they left the trees and climbed the slope toward a ridge. By the time they reached it, they were all breathing hard. Vashtok scanned the area while tapping his lips with one forefinger, then headed to their right and eventually came to a square hole in the ground that led into darkness.
Vashtok descended the iron rungs first. Ordren followed. Creed lingered near the hole in front of Lorelei, his hands clenched.
Lorelei grasped his hand and squeezed. “One rung at a time, yes?”
After a deep breath, he squeezed back. “One rung at a time.”
Lorelei clambered down into darkness. Creed, breathing heavily, followed behind her. Lorelei leaned left, peered down, past Ordren, and saw Vashtok standing in a tunnel, holding a wisplight. The wisp itself, obviously quite old, shed only a faint blue light, perfect for sneaking about.
Ordren dropped beside Vashtok, dusted his hands off, and drew his old, nicked gladius. Lorelei and Creed joined them and drew their rapiers. They heard faint voices in the tunnel as they started ahead. After a few bends, they spotted a golden light. Vashtok stuffed the wisplight in his coat, and they continued toward the light until they saw the Hissing Man, Llorn, and Aarik standing in a carved-out chamber around a brass lantern. Another man, a druin, judging by his bald head, blue tattoo, and robe, was kneeling on the gouged stone floor with a canvas rucksack, a small leather bag, and two vials. He dropped a pinch of white powder into a vial, and stirred the solution with a glass rod.
“Well, Brother Mayhew?” said Aarik.
“The reaction should begin shortly,” the druin said.
Slowly, the solution began to glow. It started as dark blue, but soon it was such a bright white it was painful to look at.
“Bough and branch,” Brother Mayhew said, “can you feel it?”
Neither Aarik nor Llorn said a word. They simply gaped at the vial with their mouths hanging open. The Hissing Man’s eyes were hidden, but his face was twisted in a grim smile.
Lorelei felt an energy, a giddiness, but it grew into an ache of sorts, like raw power churning inside her desperate for release.
Aarik held a hand up. “Extinguish it.”
“No.” Brother Mayhew took a green woolen scarf from the rucksack. “Better to let it go out on its own.” He laid the scarf over the vial. The light dimmed, and everything in the chamber tinted green.
Lorelei’s chest and hands continued to pulse.
“Now,” the Hissing Man rasped, “there’s the matter of my sample.”
“I didn’t bring one,” Aarik said. “First, I must understand the full extent of our agreement.”
The Hissing Man’s jaw worked. “I need that sample.”
“And you’ll have it,” Aarik said with a quick shrug, “should I decide to move forward.”
The light beneath the scarf finally faded, and with it Lorelei’s pulsing giddiness. Brother Mayhew folded the scarf and stuffed it, the small leather bag, and the alchemycal equipment in his rucksack.
“We have an arrangement,” the Hissing Man sneered.
“You made an agreement with my brother,” Aarik told him, “but he doesn’t speak for the Red Knives. I do.”
The Hissing Man laughed like a jackal. “All you’ve ever wanted is being handed to you. Llorn saw to it. Tell him, Llorn.”
“I have told him,” Llorn said, “but the king wishes to discuss it with his council. We’ve called for one—”
“Silence!” Aarik roared.
A long silence followed, until the Hissing Man said, “Convene your council if you must. I expect an answer in one week’s time.”
Ordren leaned to Creed and whispered, “We should take them now.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth when Llorn swung his head toward them. “Inquisitors!” He snatched up Brother Mayhew’s rucksack and sprinted down the tunnel behind him.
“Ordren, you bloody idiot,” Creed said.
Aarik backed away, drawing his sword, then raced after Llorn. Brother Mayhew picked up the lantern and ran after them.
The Hissing Man turned and peered down the tunnel toward Lorelei and the others. He held his hands out, and a darkness swept toward Lorelei and her companions. Lorelei lost sight of the Hissing Man, the cavern ahead. She felt dizzy and hot, feverish. “I-into the chamber,” she stammered.
With her rapier in front of her, she stumbled past the darkness into the chamber. The light of the druin’s lantern swung wildly in the far tunnel and then disappeared. From the dark passageway to her left she heard the thud-and-scrape of the Hissing Man retreating. “You two,” she said pointing at Vashtok and Ordren, “head after the Knives. Aarik’s most important, but grab any of them if you can.”
Ordren scowled, though whether it was from annoyance at Lorelei giving him orders or him screwing up his courage, she couldn’t say.
Vashtok pulled out his wisplight and offered it to Lorelei. “We have their lamp to follow.”
Lorelei nodded and took it; then she and Creed rushed down the tunnel after the Hissing Man. The rutted tunnel floor slowed them, but it had to slow the Hissing Man too. They passed through a small cavern with a mining skip shaft and barreled toward the tunnel on the far side of the room. Eventually they stopped when another tunnel cut across it. Lorelei spotted a patch of indigo light coming from the mine’s entrance to her right. To the left was pure darkness. She listened for footfalls, but heard nothing.
“He can’t have escaped so quickly,” Lorelei said, panting.
Creed, breathing nearly as hard, said, “He could if he had umbra.”
He was right, of course, but she wasn’t willing to give up so soon. With a deep breath, she forced her mind’s eye to return to the moment she’d entered the room with the mining skip. She saw the darkened room, the skip’s dusty, cobweb-ridden frame. She saw the waving shadows, caused by her own movement, but this time she spotted a smudged area on the wood, perhaps by someone brushing up against it, or holding on to it in order to reach the rope. Slowing the scene further, she saw a cloud of dust above the shaft, the barest swaying of the rope.
“He’s in the mine shaft,” she said, and bolted back down the tunnel.
Creed followed without argument. As they neared the cavern, they slowed and entered in near silence. Lorelei peered down at the skip cable leading into the darkness below. Creed pulled out a tripflash, a small glass globe with black and white powder inside, and whipped it at the far wall next to the skip. The globe smashed and powder splashed and sizzled on the wall, lighting up the far side of the cavern. Even across the cavern, Lorelei felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. It would be much worse near the shaft, yet the Hissing Man climbed up from it steadily, stepped away from the skip, and held a palm out toward the sparking powder. The sizzling and the wild light quickly faded.
The Hissing Man grimaced and raised his other hand, sent a wave of darkness toward Lorelei and Creed. Lorelei felt like her flesh was being torn from within.
Creed moaned, crumpled to his knees, and fell against the stone wall.
Lorelei clenched her fists and howled, then fell to her knees.
The darkness suddenly ceased, and the pain faded. The Hissing Man lurched toward her, knife in one hand, clutching his chest with the other. “You inquisitors,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “really are a menace.”
“The Red Knives,” Lorelei grunted, “why?”
He started coughing, bent over, and hawked up something, then he staggered closer and placed one booted foot on the blade of Lorelei’s rapier. “Give the goddess a kiss from me, won’t you?”
He crouched, gripped Lorelei’s shoulder, and raised his dagger over her. Then an arrow whistled through the air, clattered against the wall to Lorelei’s left and rolled onto the floor.
“Stay where you are!” Nanda called from the tunnel.
The Hissing Man turned, and Lorelei kicked him hard in the side of the knee. He stumbled and fell, clambered to his feet, and ran into the tunnel toward the chamber he’d met with Aarik.
Nanda darted into the skip chamber. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Lorelei moaned. The ache in her chest and limbs had ebbed. She scrabbled over to Creed and shook him.
He opened his eyes and looked around. “Did I get him?”
Lorelei laughed even though it hurt. “Almost, Creed.” She stood and pulled him to his feet. “Almost.”
“Fuck me three ways.” Nanda glared along the dark tunnel the Hissing Man had run down. “Want me to go after him?”
“No.” Lorelei slipped one of Creed’s arms around her shoulders and helped him limp toward the mine’s entrance. “He’d slit your throat in the darkness. Let’s just go find the others.”
Outside the mine, the two sentries were lying on the stony ground with arrows sticking out of their chests. The Hissing Man’s horse was nowhere to be seen. Reckoning they might catch Llorn, Aarik, or Brother Mayhew should they try to escape from the mine’s rear entrance, Lorelei, Creed, and Nanda headed toward the far side of the peak. They’d not gone twenty paces when they heard a dragon trumpet beyond the ridge. Lorelei spotted the cobalt beating its wings and rising far to the north.
Nanda scowled up at it. “There’s only one rider.”
Lorelei couldn’t see that far in the dark, but when they reached the ridge ahead, they saw Aarik and Brother Mayhew, wrists tied behind them, being pushed along by Vashtok and Ordren.
Nanda, still fuming, flung a hand toward them. “At least we got those two bastards.”