The Dreaming Hunt (30 page)

Endellian froze, appalled. The creature whose essence was stored in the carving had nearly destroyed Tarses. She would not lose her grandson to the Hand of Winter, also. Intellectually, she knew Broccar to be gifted with more than merely his jann race's talent for elemental energy. Like his grandsire, he was able to absorb echoes and shards of essences left by elemental beings long departed. However, she also knew that the greater powers of Kothites diluted from one generation to the next. Case in point: her own lesser powers compared to her sire's.

She knew the markings upon Broccar's skin to be unusual. He held elemental energy in his striations and discharged it at will, losing the markings in the process. It did not hurt that he also had a portion of her extraordinary will, inherited from Maximillian. Perhaps the combination of his powerful grandparents' traits would be enough to do what Maximillian asked of him.

Broccar intoned, “It would be my honor to transfer this energy.”

Maximillian nodded. “Proceed.”

Endellian could not help tensing as Broccar laid his hands upon the ice helm. The blue glow within the piece raced to where his hands touched the ice, drawn to his flesh like iron filings to lodestone.

Lovak gasped as pale blue markings, as iridescent as the helm itself, appeared on Broccar's hands and forearms, swirling across his skin in the way of jann elemental marks. The glow within the carving diminished as the markings grew.

Broccar lifted his hands away from the helm, giving them a little shake. But as she knew would be the case, no moisture flew from his fingers. He murmured, “Into that crystal bottle, you say?”

“Just so,” Maximillian confirmed.

Broccar picked up the small, beautifully carved bottle. It cradled nicely in her grandson's big, callused palm. He unstoppered it, concentrating intently. The blue markings gradually disappeared from her grandson's flesh, and a faint blue glow filled the bottle. Broccar stoppered it and passed it to Lovak.

“Let your hounds get the scent of that,” the Emperor ordered. “The jann I seek contains the rest of this spirit inside himself.”

“And when the hounds find him?”

“Bring him to me.”

Her heart leaped at the prospect of seeing Tarses. Never had she thought to do so again.

Lovak went through the usual bowing and scraping, murmuring about what an honor it was to serve and vowing to succeed or die. But Endellian ignored most of it. Rather, she gauged her father's mood as this audience concluded. He seemed well pleased with Lovak's assurances that his hounds would have no trouble tracking any of the prey Maximillian had set them upon.

When the door had closed behind Lovak, she asked her father a question that had been bothering her for some time. “A number of years ago, you created a magic item of great power—a staff topped with a green rose. I believe its purpose was to cleanse General Tarses of the ice elemental's spirit and restore him to his original self. Whatever happened to that?”

Maximillian's exquisitely embroidered robe billowed as he whirled to face her. He looked intensely irritated, and she recoiled, startled at the strong reaction her question elicited.

“The staff has been discharged recently. But not into my falcon, else the spirit shard in yon helm would have dissipated. Indeed, I dearly desire to know who was the recipient of its magic. Instruct Kodo to investigate the matter upon his return to Dupree and report back to me.”

She nodded and turned to escort her grandson from the room.

But Maximillian surprised her by saying, “You did well today, Broccar. Stay. We have much to discuss. You may be just the man to complete your grandfather's work in Pan Orda.”

Her father thought to send Broccar to reassert Imperial rule there? His original plan had been to install her as queen of Pan Orda with Tarses as her consort. But Tarses had put an end to all of that with his impulsive stunt.

Broccar in charge of Pan Orda? Well, well, well. That was quite a development. And not to her disliking in the least. She could count on Broccar's loyalty to her. With him in control of Pan Orda, that would put an entire continent effectively in her pocket. Maximillian's pocket, she corrected hastily. It was not as if anything would ever remove her father from the Golden Throne and place her upon it.

Still. Satisfaction coursed through her as she went in search of Kodo.

*   *   *

Eben chafed as he sat through a mind-numbing meeting of the Merchant's Guild. Today's thrilling topic was how to get outlying villages to pay for repairs on potholes in the major trade roads passing through their settlements. It was enough to make a fellow wish for an orc attack or a good chase through the woods fleeing Imperial soldiers.

As if that were not bad enough, a series of minor Merchant's Guild functionaries had come in from remote parts of the colony to report on trade opportunities in their various regions. He listlessly made note of which village was in short supply of ore for its smithy, which one had a surplus of grain to sell, and the like.

Yet another nervous, rotund merchant cleared his throat to speak. Eben was going to fall off his chair from the boredom before too much longer.

“—new trade opportunity this autumn and winter with groups sheltering in the forest nearby, which is itself a magnificent natural resource—”

The Merchant's Guildmaster must have been as bored as Eben, for he interrupted, droning, “What kind of groups? And what supplies will they need? Give us specific examples.”

The fellow hemmed and hawed for a moment, and then his face lit up. “On my way here, I ran into a curious crew led by a rather strange forester. I would say he spoke to the animals if'n my eyes did not deceive—”

Eben sat up sharply. “Where? Was there a young human fellow with him? Maybe twenty summers in age? Handsome? Strong?”

“Well, umm. Err, yes. As a matter of fact, there was a youth like that. And a weaselly looking pair of twins. Longest, most pointed noses you ever saw on humans. And a girl. An elf of some kind with brown designs drawn on her face.”

Eben was out of his chair like an arrow shot across the room and had the man by the shirtfront before he was aware himself of having moved. “Exactly where did you see this group? And when? What day was it?”

The man stammered, “Out p-past Southfield. W-west side of the Wylde Wold on the Unicorn's Run. Shepard's Rest it were.”

“How long ago?” Eben demanded. Belatedly, he realized he was choking the fellow, and he turned the merchant's shirt loose.

The fellow tugged his shirt down and smoothed it back into place as he took a nervous step back from Eben. “Well, now, lemme think. Woulda been two days before I left to come here, which was Saturday last, so that would make it two Thursdays past … and today being Monday, that would make it ten, no eleven, days past,” the merchant announced triumphantly.

Eben grimaced. A week and a half was a long time for a group on the move. They could be anywhere by now. He asked urgently, “You say they're planning to winter over in the Wylde Wold?”

“They was buying supplies like they's a-plannin' to. I don't see five people carrying all that gear and food very far on they's backs. I'd say as they has a camp close by and is squattin' there fer a spell.”

Eben turned and raced out of the room, heedless of the calls of consternation following him.
Finally
. A solid lead on Kendrick. And mayhap, even Tarryn.

He had to get out to Shepard's Rest before Kendrick and Tarryn disappeared yet again. Time was the enemy now.

*   *   *

Sha'Li was on Raina duty today. The Royal Order of the Sun had all its members running around the countryside chasing down greenskins and killing them. Which made the back of her neck crawl, truth be told. Although her coloration was black, her race skirted uncomfortably close to being lumped in with the goblins, ogres, orcs, and other nonhuman races the Royal Order of the Sun was currently slaughtering.

Lizardmen might think of themselves as an ancient and noble race with a rich culture and heritage, and their mythology might have them descending from dragons, but that did not mean the Empire or its lackeys saw them the same way.

The Tribe of the Moon did most of its work in the wild places, defending nature and the people who lived in harmony with it, so there was not much for her to do here in this city of stone that felt dead beneath her feet. To pass time, she'd been sparring with any lizardman in or around Glass Lake who would give her a fight, learning more about disarming traps, and honing her ability to move stealthily. And of course, Selea Rouge was teaching her the finer points of assassination. But she was so bored with training she was half-tempted to suggest to Raina that the two of them make a run for it and flee Dupree this very minute.

Today, Raina had been sent to the home of some important slave trader to heal the members of the house, several of whom had fallen ill. It had taken the human healer about ten minutes to cure everyone from the mistress of the manor to the lowest of the servants of some sort of fever and hacking cough that had put them all abed, looking even paler and more deathly than humans already did.

She snorted. The only reason it had taken Raina that long to heal them all was because they were sissies about getting their healing slowly enough so it didn't hurt. She shook her head. How such soft, weak creatures dominated all others on Urth, she could not understand.

They'd barely left the slaver's house when Raina asked, “What's that place?”

Sha'Li looked in the direction her friend did and spied a broad, open-walled barn large enough to house the entire combat floor of a small Diamond. “Slave market,” she spat in disgust.

“Do you mind if I stop in there? I'd lay odds the ailment I just healed in that house either comes from yon slave barn or has spread to it.”

“Not a good place for you, it is.” Sir Hrothgar would be deeply annoyed if he found out she'd let Raina venture into such a place. Which was almost reason enough to let her friend go there.

“I won't be long,” Raina said over her shoulder, hurrying toward the big shed. Scowling, Sha'Li strode after her.

“In front let me go, at least,” she demanded, tugging at Raina's elbow. Extending her claws, Sha'Li led the way into the shade of the slave market.

“I've been to one of these before, you know,” Raina declared. “The day Kendrick bought Eben from the slavers who took him and Marikeen. Kendrick didn't have enough gold to buy Eben's sister, too but said the slavers would not hurt her because she was so valuable as a slave.”

“To her what happened?” Sha'Li asked, curious.

“Rosana thought she escaped her slavers during the riots just before Anton was deposed. But Eben has had no word from her, and no one has seen her since.”

“Alive I hope she is.”

“Me, too.” Then, Raina mumbled, “I'd forgotten how awful these places are.”

Sha'Li looked around in deep distaste. No matter if most fell into slavery through actions of their own—crimes committed or taxes unpaid. The people chained like work animals to long hitching posts stretching the width of the building were a dispirited and bedraggled lot.

Supposedly this was a relatively clean, bright, and well-kept market where the slaves were fed, washed, and warm.
Still. Chains
. She commented tartly, “Heal them you should not. Only increase their value you do. More money into pockets of filthy slavers you put.”

“You may be right.” Raina sighed. “But I cannot bring myself to watch any human being suffer so and not take action to help them.”

“Soft are you.”

“Aye. Which is why I make a point of having a friend as strong in spirit as you.”

Sha'Li scowled out of general principles but was secretly pleased.

“All right, Sha'Li. Let's do this. I promise I'll be quick about it.”

Raina hurried down the rows as promised, spewing healing like a steam vent spitting mud in the swamps back home. But she stopped, and Sha'Li nearly plowed into her as they came upon a row of children. They were scared and dirty, and most of them had colds. Raina healed them gently, taking her time with casting healing into each one of them so it would not hurt. As they reached the end of the row, Raina lifted a written tag upon the ropes of the last child. She lifted it, frowning. “This says they're already sold. To whom?”

A slaver who happened to be walking past stopped. “They's likely Krugar's kids.”

“Captain Krugar? Of the colonial militia?” Raina blurted in surprise that mirrored Sha'Li's.

“Aye.”

“What use does he have for a bunch of children?”

“Oh, him. He buys all the kids he can lay hands on. Been doing it for fifteen years or more. Slavers know ta bring all the young'uns here. Pays top price fer 'em, Krugar do.”

“With children what does he?” Sha'Li demanded suspiciously.

“Puts 'em in the legion, 'e does. Raises 'em and trains 'em up. Far sight better life than most slaves end up gettin'.”

Sha'Li took a quick head count. There were eleven children in the row. If, say, ten children per week was about average, that meant he was putting on the order of five hundred youths into the militia annually. And he'd been doing so for
years
. A substantial percentage of the entire Haelan legion was likely to feel deep, personal gratitude to Krugar for saving them from a worse fate.

Raina looked thunderstruck.

“What think you to cause that expression?”

The slaver wandered off, and Raina muttered low, “Think about it. Krugar has turned the loyalty of a large chunk of the Haelan legion away from the Empire, away from the general in charge of the legion, and even away from the governor. It is loyal to
him
.”

“A rebel is he, or merely angling to take over the legion one day?”