The Firemage's Vengeance (25 page)

Though the troubles that burdened him seemed crushing in their weight, he still felt a wash of relief the moment he stepped across Adara’s threshold. Before Ebon reached the top of the stairs, she was there, and he heaved a great sigh as she took him into her arms. The last of his anxiety washed away like soot stains in a downpour.

“My love,” she murmured. “I was overjoyed at your message, but now I wonder at its purpose, for I can see that a great many things weigh heavily upon you.”

“You do not know the half of it,” said Ebon, “but I can fix that. Come. There is much to tell.”

As quickly as he could, he informed her of all that had transpired since last he had seen her. She listened attentively, stopping him sharply when he left out a detail and threw the tale into confusion. And when he reached the end, and told her what Mako had said, he saw her olive skin go a shade lighter.

“He used those words, did he?” she muttered softly. “Darkness take that man.”

“What did he mean?” said Ebon. “I hear no special truth in the words, but he seemed to think they held one, and now it seems you feel the same.”

“Oh, he does not speak in some code,” she said. “Yet he knew that I would know what he meant. How did he learn …” She shook her head and stood, going to the cabinet where she kept her wine and her mead. “Never mind that. I need something to wet my throat.”

“Do not—that is …” Ebon paused, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Might I try some of your mead, instead of wine?”

She arched an eyebrow and gave him a little smirk. “Are you certain? It is an acquired taste. I doubt you will like it.”

He raised his hands. “How will I ever acquire it if I do not try?”

Adara studied him for a moment, and then shrugged before bringing the bottle of mead over to the table. First she poured into his cup, but only a little splash, and then nudged it towards him. “Try it. I would not waste a whole cup on you if you do not enjoy it.”

Ebon lifted it to his lips and took a sniff. It did not smell … bad, exactly. But neither did it make his mouth water. He tilted the cup back.

The taste that slid down his tongue and into his throat was both familiar and foreign—like honey without the sweet. Too, there were herbs and spices aplenty; as a Drayden, he could not help but pick some of them out. It was not entirely unpleasant, but neither did it set him at ease, the way the first good swig of wine often did.

“Acquired, perhaps,” he said. “But not awful at first blush, either.”

Adara seemed impressed despite herself. “Indeed? Mayhap I should have expected as much, from a man whose tastes are as cultured as yours.” She smirked to let him know the words were playful, and then filled his cup nearly to the brim before doing the same with her own. Ebon’s second sip was better than the first, and made the more pleasant when Adara settled herself sideways across his lap, draping an arm about his shoulders as she met his gaze.

“Now, tell me what hidden meaning I have brought from Mako’s lips to your ears,” said Ebon. “I do not like that my family’s man knows something of you that I do not.”

“Oh, but there are so many things you do not know about me, Ebon—and so many more things I look forwards to teaching you.” Though her words were light, and her tone more so, he could see the concern lurking in her dark eyes. It soon came out in a sigh. “Your man has learned—though I know not how—of a certain … friend I have. A friend who owes me a favor.”

Ebon’s jaw clenched, though he tried to hide it. He inspected his cup carefully, feigning nonchalance. “Is your friend a client?”

She let out a slow breath through her nose, and he could hear her trying to hide her annoyance just as hard as he had tried to hide his interest. “They are not. They are … well, I did them a favor once, long before I came to this life. I have waited many years for the call to return that favor. But I wonder that I did not think of it before, for certainly I think they could be of help.”

“I would not have you waste your one chance on me,” said Ebon. “After all, I hardly think they could be more useful in finding Isra than Mako has been.”

“You do not know my friend,” said Adara, giving him a grim little smile. “You have said before that if anyone can find the girl, Mako can. That is not true. The truth is that, if anyone can find the girl, my friend can.”

“But that is all the more reason you should not waste such a chance on me,” said Ebon. “I may not even need such help.”

“Yet you may,” said Adara. “And if things go ill for you without such a favor, it could mean your life. That is something I cannot allow.”

She rose, leaving Ebon’s lap suddenly cool. From a cupboard she drew parchment and a quill, and when she had scribbled a message, she sealed it with wax using a seal Ebon had never seen before. But he could not catch a glimpse of its design before she whisked it away and down the steps. He heard her sharp whistle as she flagged down a messenger, and then in a moment she reappeared in the room.

“I must get dressed for a walk,” she said. “And so must you.”

“Now?” said Ebon. “Surely you cannot mean to see your friend tonight. How can you know your message will find them?”

“It will,” she said. “And they will come at once. Have no fear of that. You must not be dressed in Academy robes when we see them. I have some other garments that will do.”

She undressed quickly and made Ebon do the same. When his hands wandered towards her, she smirked and slapped them away. She then bundled herself up in winter clothes, and gave Ebon an outfit of his own that was elegant without drawing much attention. As soon as they had laced up their boots, she went to him and took his hand, and pulled him down for a quick peck on the cheek.

“You must promise that you will not stare overmuch, nor act out of turn,” she said. “And you
must not
ask me any questions. Do you understand? Mayhap one day I can explain. But not now.”

“Very well,” he said.

She caught his cheek, and turned him to face her. She stared at him for a long moment. “Promise me.”

He frowned. “I promise. Why? What is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” she said. “But … well, things are about to become very different. For both of us.”

With one more kiss, she drew him out and into the snowy night.

ADARA [16]

The afternoon now wore on, and the days were shorter besides, so Adara hurried as she led him along winding streets and alleys, for it would soon be dusk. Every so often he would take her hand—not out of the need for guidance, or the fear of losing her in the crowd, but simply so that he could feel the warmth of her skin on his own.

They were making east now, in nearly the same direction where lay the Drayden manor. But after a time they turned, on the main road that ran from the western gates to the east. They had long passed the Academy to the south, and the High King’s palace loomed close above them, when Adara turned aside and led him north a ways, through streets and alleys that grew narrower with every step. Soon they reached a little shop with a large red door, where Adara paused. From its chimney wafted the smell of coals and the sharp, bitter tang of molten metal. But this was no ironsmith—in the windows of the shop were set little trinkets and dishes of silver.

“Around back,” Adara murmured. “It would not do for us to be seen entering the front door—and my friend would prefer it that way as well, I think.”

To the shop’s rear was a small door of plain, unadorned wood. Upon this Adara tapped thrice, and then twice more after a pause. In a moment Ebon heard scuttling footsteps within, and then the door creaked open. Into view came a thin little man, wild grey hair sticking out in all directions, and though the day’s light waned, still he blinked at them as though a bright torch had been thrust into his eyes.

“Little Adara,” he breathed. “Sky above, girl, but it is good to see you.”

“And you, Aurel,” said Adara. She bent to give the wizened man a kiss upon the cheek. “Are we expected?”

“I should say so,” said Aurel, shaking his head. He stepped inside, waving them after him. “Between this and all the goings-on before the attack, I will be amazed if my heart does not give out before its time.”

Adara took Ebon’s hand and drew him inside. It took Ebon’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dim. When they did, he saw a small sitting room with a stone floor, warmed by a hearth with a metal grate for a screen. A few feet from the hearth was a low, modest table with three stools. One of the stools was occupied. Aurel glanced at the figure who sat there, and then at Adara and Ebon, and then withdrew from the room, closing the door behind him with a soft
click.

The figure rose. He wore a cloak of plain brown, but its unremarkable color could not hide the fine weave of its cloth, nor the work of the expert hands that had sewn its hem. The cloak covered no armor, but there was a sword at his waist—a fine thing, not the plain blade of a soldier. He lifted his hands to throw back his hood. Well-tousled, sandy hair showed a few strands of grey, and his eyes were keen as they took in Adara and Ebon. There was something intensely familiar about him, but at first Ebon could not place it. Then he saw the brooch that pinned the cloak together. It bore the royal seal.
A palace guard,
he thought—but then the truth came to him, and his knees went weak. He let them collapse, falling to one knee and bowing his head.

“Your … Your Grace,” he gasped, his throat a desert.

Lord Prince Eamin, son of the High King and presumptive heir to the throne, took a step forwards and inclined his head. But Adara did not kneel, only gave a deep curtsey, and to Ebon’s shock, Eamin did not seem surprised in the least.

“Well met, son. But come, and treat me no different than you would your friend Adara. Kneeling is all good for the ceremony of a throne room, but it seems a little grandiose for Aurel’s little parlor, would you not say?”

Bright teeth flashed in a grin, and Ebon matched it without thinking. His heart stopped when Eamin held forth a hand. They clasped wrists, and the Lord Prince pulled him to his feet. Then, to Ebon’s growing wonder, Adara stepped forwards. She kissed one of Eamin’s cheeks, and then the other, the way an Idrisian greeted their close friend, or perhaps lover—though she had said that was not the case, he reminded himself.

“Your Grace,” she said. “My heart is glad to see you again.”

“My own mood is as I said it would be the last time I beheld you,” said Eamin. “Though I am pleased to be in your company, my thoughts are solemn, knowing you would not have called except at the utmost end of need. What troubles you, Adara?”

“The same thing that troubles my friend here,” said Adara, inclining her head towards Ebon. On instinct, Ebon ducked his head. The Lord Prince could not have gotten a very good look at him beneath his hood, and if Adara did not wish to speak his name, he would not speak it either. He knew nothing of the Lord Prince’s politics, but would not be surprised to find that Eamin, like most of Underrealm, held no high opinion of the family Drayden.

“Well? Speak on, son,” said Eamin. “We have all three of us wasted enough of a night that might be spent in merriment.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” said Ebon, bowing still further. His mind raced, wondering where to begin. “I … I imagine you know something of the Academy murders?”

Eamin’s countenance darkened at once. “I do,” he said softly. “Though Her Grace was quick to send her guards to the citadel, I wish we could have done more, and done it more quickly as well. But the killer is dead now, or so they say.”

“They say wrong,” said Ebon. “She is alive. I do not know how. But she is alive, and plotting further evil upon the Seat.”

“A corpse was found in the Great Bay,” said Eamin, his frown deepening. “How can she be alive if we know where her body lies?”

Ebon quailed, for he could hear impatience in the Lord Prince’s voice. But then Eamin put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Do not quiver so, son. You have not raised my ire—only if what you say is true, it is very troubling, and it has darkened my thoughts.”

“It is true,” Ebon insisted. “I saw her—I, and some others. It was not long ago. And when the corpse was found, they said it had been dead for months. That cannot be. She is out there, somewhere, and has found a way to deceive us all. But no one will believe us, and so we can find no help to prove it. I only want to ferret her out of hiding before she attacks the Academy again.”

Again Eamin paused, and then turned to stare into the fire. After a time he met Adara’s gaze.

“Please, Your Grace,” she said quietly. “Trust him in this.”

Eamin looked to Ebon, and Ebon understood at once: Adara was in fact asking him to trust
her.
He thought the weight of her faith in him might press him into the stone floor. Slowly the Lord Prince nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “I have some agents who may be trusted. I will have them search for Isra. If she is upon the Seat, they will find her—wherever she may be.”

Hope quailed in Ebon’s breast. Mako had been saying much the same thing for weeks. But then he realized that this was not another promise from Mako—this was the Lord Prince.