The Red Sea (42 page)

"One answer to both questions. After I grabbed the torc, he came at me. Looking to snatch it and run off. I put him down."

Gaits' jaw dropped. "He's dead?"

"It was him or me. Guess which I was inclined to choose?"

"Do you have any idea who he was?"

"A fool too greedy to do his job?"

"He's a Dallagor! Fedder Dallagor!"

Raxa cocked her head; pain shot up her neck as her wounded shoulder shifted. "He's a scion of the tea family? Why in hell was he slumming with us?"

"The same reason all scions do: they're mad at their parents."

"Well, he should have stuck with the family business."

Gait laced his fingers into his dark hair. "They'll come for us. I should throw you to the wolves. Offer you up on a platter."

Raxa straightened, wincing at the pain. "But you're not going to. Why not?"

The Arbiter of Tasks sighed through his teeth and sat in a chair against the wall. "Oh, how it pains me to admit this. I'm sparing you because I…need you."

She wanted badly to toy with him, but didn't think it was quite the right moment. "For what?"

"We have a little sparrow in the Sealed Citadel. They've kept an extremely tight lid on recent events. But it seems like Dante Galand himself has been gone for weeks. The Council priests have no idea when he'll be back—or if he ever will."

"If he's gone, he may have left some very interesting trinkets behind."

"Which, during this time of uncertainty, might go missing without being noticed. But that's small-time thinking. Not so long ago, we had the run of this city. That ended when Cally and Dante swept out the old order. But now that
they're
gone? I smell…" He leaned forward, sniffing like a dog. "Opportunity."

Raxa laughed lowly. "You know what they say: when the cat's away, the rats will take advantage of the ensuing anarchy to grab everything they can get their clever little paws on."

He grinned at her. "Indeed, my dear. So while I clean up the dreadful mess you've left me, are you ready for your next job?"

* * *

Gladdic placed the letter back upon his desk. The messenger stood across from him, very careful not to meet his gaze. Should he execute the wretch? He wanted to very badly.

But this was the false lure of emotion. Real justice—the justice handed down by Taim from the order of the heavens—wouldn't allow for punishing the one who'd carried the message. Killing him would only dilute focus from he who truly deserved it.

The subject
of
the letter.

Even so, wouldn't executing the man serve as a statement to the cosmos? That such news would not—
could
not—be tolerated by those who followed the holy path? He tapped his fingers on the desk. Tempting. As tempting as the shadows. However, Gladdic had just stepped in a great pile of shit. Killing the man might be mistaken for anger at his own mistakes. For evidence of his guilt.

With effort, Gladdic nodded at the messenger. "You may go."

The man turned, producing a squeaking noise—Gladdic wasn't sure if it was the sole of his boot or a fear-induced fart—and all but ran from the room. Gladdic closed his eyes. How could this have slipped past him? Children should be marked at birth with their names. Branded or scarred, perhaps. If they lived innocent lives, bearing their name on their skin would only honor them. And if they were guilty…then there would be no hiding from their crimes.

He was drifting away from the matter at hand. Whatever path he chose, he needed to do so quickly. A good liar might keep this to himself. To hide his incompetence until he'd had the chance to undo his errors.

But Gladdic wasn't a good liar. He was a great one. When you wanted to keep your darkest truth hidden, you had to be open with all others. Especially those truths that could hurt you. If you exposed mistakes so great they might cost you your station, who could ever suspect you of deceit?

He sent a letter ahead to the Eldor, then called for his carriage. It rattled through the sun-warmed streets, rocking to a stop at the Eldor's palace, which was too grand by half. Gladdic entered the cool marble building and allowed himself to be escorted upstairs by Albert Sorsen, Eldor's too-prying majordomo.

Outside the Eldor's door, Gladdic didn't favor the man with a glance. "That will be all."

Sorsen hesitated, then strode away. Gladdic knocked. The Eldor opened the door, as bald and wizened as ever.

"You're sweating like a dairymaid, Gladdic. Come inside."

Gladdic did so, closing the door behind him. "Your Righteousness." He fell to his knees. "Forgive me. I've failed you."

"Oh, streaming Celeset." The Eldor waved his gnarled hand. "Get up, would you? Whatever's happened, surely it doesn't require
prostration
."

Gladdic kept his head bowed a moment longer, hiding his contempt at the man's lack of seriousness. He stood. "I have received a letter from our spies. Do you remember the defiler we recently had in custody? The nethermancer?"

The old man tapped the side of his head. "I'm not so ancient to forget a thing like that."

"Righteousness, this man was no ordinary defiler. It was Dante Galand."

For once in his life, the Eldor was speechless, doddering about the room as if he'd lost the answers in one of the corners. "Galand? You're sure of this?"

"There is no doubt. Just as there can be no doubt that his presence here was no coincidence."

"He was wrapped up in the to-do with the smugglers, wasn't he? From the Plagued Islands? Maybe he's after the shaden for himself."

"Or maybe he's after us."

The Eldor seated himself in his striking red-lacquered throne. "Do we have any hard evidence of this? Or merely the circumstantial sort?"

"Given our position, I fear we must plan for the worst. We know he sailed south and we must assume he'll return in time—possibly at this very port. I ask full authority to search for him."

"Granted. If you find him, though, I will be present for the questioning."

"Naturally." Gladdic lowered his eyes. "Whatever his initial reasons for coming here, we must also assume he's learned which way the breeze blows in Mallon."

"Surely he doesn't know everything. There are times I think that
I
don't!"

"You know all there is to know, Righteousness. With Galand, however, any knowledge is too much. It threatens everything. We must move forward now."

"If we do this, we risk war with Narashtovik."

"And if we don't do this, we'll damn our people to live out their lives under the specter of Arawn's thrall."

The Eldor stroked the white bristles on his chin. He nodded. For the first time that day, Gladdic allowed himself to smile.

FROM THE AUTHOR

Thank you for getting this far with me. This is the first book in a trilogy. If you'd like to know when the next book is out, please
sign up for my mailing list
. If you'd like to read the earlier books in this world, the
previous trilogy is called
The Cycle of Arawn
.

MORE BY ME

My other books, including space opera, epic fantasy, and the post-apocalyptic
Breakers
series,
can be found on Amazon
.

WANT TO REACH ME?

I've got a Facebook page now! Please
visit it here
.