Knight of Shadows, page 16
“For who? Who do you think?” Azeria watched as the woman leaned in and whispered, “The Raven.”
The man laughed. “You? What message could you possibly have for him?”
“Shhh,” hissed the woman. “Keep your voice down. This is important. He’ll want to know about it.”
The man sobered and leaned through the window to get closer to Maisey. “What message?”
“There’s a woman looking for him.”
“And?”
“And she wants to meet with him.”
The man leaned back in surprise. “Why would she want to meet with him? That’s suicide.”
“I don’t know, but she said she’ll meet him by the old general’s statue tomorrow night.”
The man reached up to stroke his whiskered chin. “I don’t know. It’s strange, but I’m not sure this is newsworthy of his attention.”
“Of course it is,” snapped Maisey. “If anyone comes looking for him, he’ll want to know about it.”
“I doubt he’ll meet with her.”
“Maybe not. Maybe he’ll just take off her head. But that’s not for you or me to decide.”
“I see your point,” said the man. “Very well. I’ll send the message, but there’s no telling if he’ll get it in time. He only checks in when he wants to.”
“And we don’t even know if he’s still in Serret,” said Maisey.
“He was as of last night. He made an appearance at one of the guildhouses. Apparently, he wasn’t happy with the way things were going, so he made an example out of half a dozen men.”
Even from where she was hidden, Azeria could see Maisey’s face pale.
“Right then,” said Maisey. “You have the message now. I wash my hands of this.” She gave the man a firm nod then turned back the way she came.
Azeria let her go. She now had someone more important to follow—someone who knew how to contact the Raven. Only a few minutes later, the man shuttered the window and locked the door behind him as he left. Azeria followed the man back through the warehouse district, skirting a crowd gathered outside one of the buildings. They passed through two more districts, and Azeria was only forced to use her amulet once as she passed through the checkpoints. Luckily, she did not need any special documents to enter the adjacent districts, which confused her even more about the purpose of the checkpoints.
The shipyard worker she was following headed for a large circular building with a domed roof. The windows of the building were made of ornate stained glass, and there was gilding around the doorframe. Azeria followed the man into the large space beyond to find an open room with plentiful seating and a long counter separating the seating area from the device on the other side. Azeria recognized the device right away even though she had never seen one like it. It was a mage relay. She had seen the one designed by Rezkin on Cael, and it was similar but also different in many respects. For one, this relay was much larger than the one Rezkin built, and she did not think it was due to any extra functionality. As she peered past the counter to get a better look at it, she decided the one Rezkin built was simply more efficient at a smaller scale.
A pang of sorrow struck Azeria’s center. She would not have admitted it while he was alive, but now that Rezkin was gone, she recognized how brilliant he had been. For someone raised as a human mundane, he had adapted to his power quickly. Of course, he had not come anywhere close to his true potential. If he had been, perhaps he would not have died, she thought. She regretted, now, opposing Entris’s attempts to train Rezkin in the use of his power. At the time, she had thought only of the madness that would likely consume him should he begin using his power in earnest. She had not believed he could overcome the curse as he believed he would. In fact, she had encouraged Entris on several occasions to kill Rezkin and be done with it. Entris had seen through her, though. She had never truly wanted Rezkin dead. She had merely been scared by the connection they shared. Dreams of him had plagued her from even before they had met, and afterward, those dreams felt awkward and disconcerting. Now that he was dead, those dreams only reminded her of what she had lost—or what she had never truly had.
Azeria shook herself from her memories and musings as she returned her attention to the man she had followed. He was standing at the counter writing something on a small slip of paper. After he was finished, he waited his turn then handed the slip to the human mage who was operating the relay.
He said, “Bellingham.”
The mage nodded and scrawled the name across the top of the paper before turning toward the relay. Once the message had been sent, the slip of paper was incinerated, and the man left the relay building. Azeria remained. A moment later, several of the runes of the relay lit up. The mage cast a few spells onto the device. Azeria watched the constructs carefully in case she needed to replicate them. Although the Eihelvanan did not use spells as the human mages did, they were still capable of doing so. The spell forms simply allowed human mages to control their power in a way that came naturally to the Eihelvanan. As such, Azeria did not know what the spells did, but she could recreate them.
The mage slipped a sheet of paper onto the flat pinnacle of the relay, and a new message began to appear there. When it was finished, the mage scrawled Bellingham on the edge of the paper then rolled it up, sealed it, and stuffed it into one of the many boxes that lined the wall behind the relay.
Azeria was confused at first. But after a few minutes of careful consideration, she thought she knew what had happened. The shipyard worker had sent a message to a Bellingham, and a minute later, the same message appeared on the relay for Bellingham. He had sent the message to the same relay so that it would be available for Bellingham when he came to collect it. It seemed a strange way to deliver a message, but humans were strange in many ways. One thing Azeria knew for certain was that Bellingham was the next man sought.
Chapter 12
The sky was dark as Rezkin traversed the streets of Serret, despite the fact that sundown would not be for a few more hours. Seena scurried along beside him appearing very catlike to all but him. She had been cooped up in the satchel or hiding in the house he had commandeered, and she needed the exercise. He could not help the smile that spread across his own face as he watched her joyfully skip along the roadway dodging between passersby and stopping to sniff at every food stall they passed. One kindly old woman even gave her a nibble of fish, and Seena celebrated happily with a roll and a purr. The old woman laughed at Seena’s antics and waved goodbye to her as they moved down the lane. The woman even had a coy wink for Rezkin, which he promptly returned causing her to blush and fan herself with her hand.
Rezkin, of course, did not appear as himself. He maintained the illusion of an old man with greying hair, a long white beard, and deep brown eyes. He walked briskly as he made his way toward the gate that led into the adjoining district. Once he and Seena had passed beyond the gate, it did not take long to reach his destination. The circular building with the domed roof stood by itself in the center of the square. He surveyed the surroundings before entering but found no spies watching.
The mage relay building was busy at this time of day, and people were lined up in a long queue waiting for their chance to send or receive a message. Just as Rezkin entered the line, he was suddenly struck with an alarming sight that made his heart nearly leap from his chest. There, standing against the wall not far from the counter, was a hooded woman. She was taller than most women, nearly as tall as he. She wore a soft grey tunic that went to mid-thigh and darker breeches as well as dark blue knee-high boots made of supple hide that laced up the front. The curved sword at her hip likewise marked her as unusual, and Rezkin would have noted her presence even if he had not immediately recognized her.
He was stunned. He could not move his eyes from her, and he completely lost track of his surroundings. When she turned her silver gaze on him, his will crumbled, and he nearly lost the illusion he was maintaining. In that moment, he was ready to give up his entire charade and go to her. When her gaze moved away from him and he could once again breathe, all his reasons for remaining dead in the eyes of the world crashed over him. Azeria and everyone else he knew were safer if Caydean thought he was dead. That and the freedom his death allotted him were enough to keep his feet from closing the distance between them.
Seena rubbed against his legs, shaking him from his thoughts, and he realized the line had moved ahead of him. As he moved up, he searched the grand space for anyone else he might recognize, hoping that Entris was not present. The Spirétua-lyé would be able to sense his use of power and see through his illusion. But Rezkin did not see Entris nor any of his other friends and associates. It seemed Azeria was there alone, which piqued his curiosity all the more.
What was she doing there? Was it pure coincidence that they happened to be in the same place at the same time, or was she looking for him? Perhaps she did not believe him truly dead after all. For some reason that thought pleased him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he wanted her to know he was alive and well. But he could not yet reveal himself. If Azeria knew he was truly alive, she would feel obligated to tell Entris, and then Entris would insist on following him around again to watch for signs of madness. Rezkin still had many things to do that he would not be able to do with an entourage.
When Rezkin finally got to the front of the line, he spoke quietly, “Are there any messages for Bellingham?”
Azeria’s gaze fell on him once again, and he suppressed a shiver. He had never reacted to anyone the way he reacted to Azeria. The fact that she could make him forget everything else with just her gaze made him want to retreat far from her, and yet the greater part of him desired her nearness. For a moment, he even wondered if she was using her power to muddle his thoughts, but he felt no vimara directed his way.
The relay operator handed Rezkin a message then called upon the next person in line. Ever cognizant of the steady gaze upon him, Rezkin stepped aside and quickly read the coded message. Azeria was looking for him. She just did not know it. For reasons he could not surmise, she was seeking the Raven, and she had even managed to find him. But, again, she did not know it.
Rezkin slipped the small missive into his pocket, then strode quickly toward the exit with Seena on his heels. It was not surprising when Azeria followed him from the building. Rezkin did not let on that he had noticed her, but when he turned a corner, he scooped Seena up and settled her in his satchel, then quickly changed his illusion to that of a much younger man wearing the livery of one of the noble houses. When Azeria rounded the corner, her gaze passed right over him. Despite her stoic demeanor, Rezkin noticed the moment she deflated having lost her quarry. Rezkin was again thankful that he had learned to cast illusions. Azeria was fast and cunning, and he did not think he could have evaded her otherwise.
With a pang of regret, Rezkin turned toward the docks. He had other things to take care of for now.
The following night, Rezkin slipped out of the window of his room so as not to disturb the home’s other occupants. He wore a black tunic and pants beneath his newly acquired blackened armor. He left the black blade and Bladesunder in his quarters and chose instead to arm himself with the Sheyalin he had claimed from the felled Swordbearer. If he was to meet with Azeria, he would give her no cause to recognize him. He would use illusion to disguise himself to an extent, but he wanted all his power and focus available in case Azeria attacked. He could have ignored the summons altogether, but he found that he could not deny her. A part of him dearly wanted to speak with her, even if she did not know who he was.
Serret had no curfew, but Rezkin avoided the city patrols regardless. In fact, he tried to avoid as many people as possible. The fewer witnesses to his movements, the better. Rezkin slowed when he neared the statue of the long-deceased General Pickeny. Azeria stood in the moonlight beside the statue with a remarkable confidence that dared anyone to attempt to deter her. Rezkin searched the shadows around the intersection almost hoping to find more of his friends secluded there, but there were none.
When he was sure they were alone, Rezkin withdrew his crossbow. He notched the bolt he had prepared then took aim. He pulled the trigger, releasing the bolt at the same time he turned and dashed into the alley. He did not look back as he rushed through the streets. He had perhaps a minute or two for Azeria to read the note he had attached to the crossbow bolt before she would be after him. Luckily, he knew where he was going, whereas she would need to search for the location.
Rezkin made his way into the abandoned playhouse, checking his traps as he went. Then he ascended to the rafters to lie in wait. When the Eihelvanan lady finally appeared, she approached cautiously with her sword drawn. He could see the shimmer of a ward about her. He was glad to see her taking precautions. When she reached the stage, he called down to her using illusion to cast his face in shadow and to change his voice as he spoke. “You summoned me, my lady.”
Azeria gave nothing of her thoughts away as she stared into the dark rafters. She said, “You are the Raven?”
The man in question tilted his head and tapped the hilt of his sword with impatience. The relief she felt for having finally found the elusive criminal overlord was palpable. She had not been sure about how he would receive her. She was taking a great chance in coming here. She did not like that he had taken control of the meeting place. She thought about attacking him with the force of her power but instead said, “I need to know why you stole his body.”
With a grunt, he said, “There have been many bodies. You will have to be more specific.” His voice was gruff and sent a shiver down her spine.
“Rezkin,” she hissed as a sudden burst of anger surged through her. There was only one body of importance. How could he not know to whom she referred? “The Emperor of the Souelian. You stole his body from his tomb. Why?”
The Raven was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice grated against her nerves. “The emperor cannot die. He is yet needed.”
She knew he was needed. Of course he was needed, but need did not negate death. She doubted the reasons she needed him and the reasons the Raven needed him were one and the same, though. “Needed for what? How does his death affect your criminal empire?”
“No, not that empire,” said the Raven. “The Cimmerian Empire.”
Azeria stiffened. “Why do you call it that?”
“That is its name, is it not?”
“No one calls it that but Rezkin. How do you know the name?”
“I know many things,” he said cryptically.
“So you are perpetuating the myth that he lives in order to prevent the empire from falling?”
“One man’s myth is another man’s truth. Without a body, who is to say for certain whether he is dead or alive?”
Azeria grew suspicious. “I saw his body. I helped entomb him. I know he is dead.”
“And yet I hear a question in your voice.”
Azeria did not want to think too much about that question. Thinking about it gave her hope, and she knew that hope to be in vain. Choosing to ignore the comment, she said, “I want him back.”
“Why?” He sounded genuinely curious, and Azeria was once again incensed.
“He deserves a proper burial.”
“He had one,” said the Raven. “I saw the tomb.”
She felt her stoic visage crack for the first time. Her anguish overcame her. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she added, “You cannot keep him from me.”
His voice softened, and he almost sounded sympathetic. “Rezkin will be returned to you in due time, Azeria.”
Azeria did not move, but a cold lump formed in her stomach. “How do you know my name?”
“As I said, I know many things. You cannot hide from me. You need not cower beneath your hood.”
Azeria was alarmed. How much did he know about her, and where had he gotten his information. Could it be that Rezkin told him? “Me, cower? You wear a hood as well. Why do you hide yourself?”
“I have many enemies.”
About that Azeria had no doubt. She was not sure if she was among them. “You will return him? When?”
“When his present purpose is fulfilled.”
“But he is dead, is he not?” Against her better judgment, hope filled her as she awaited his response.
He gave a deep bow then started to back away through the rafters. “I bid you adieu, my lady. But first, a warning. There is a spy in a position of influence in Cael—a woman.”
“Who?”
He said nothing more, and Azeria acted on impulse. She shot a burst of wind into the rafters. The Raven was taken by surprise and fell from his lofty perch. He landed gracefully in a crouch facing her. “You will come with me as my prisoner,” she said as she raised her sword.
The Raven drew his own sword as she advanced. She had no intention of killing the Raven, but she would not let him get away while she still had questions and Rezkin’s body was still missing. She struck quickly so it was a surprise when he deflected her blade. Luck had been on his side. She knew no human could match her in speed. Her blade met steel on her next strike and again he was not deterred. She proceeded to issue a flurry of slashes and thrusts, each one causing him to retreat. Although he was backing away, and she could tell that he was pressed for speed, he was still meeting her strike for strike. He faltered, and she swept her sword at him from the right, drawing a line of blood from his arm as he dashed to the side toward the center stage. As she followed him, she wondered what enchantments he had about his person that would make him so unnaturally fast for a human. It was no matter. It was obvious he was being pressed to his limits to match her speed. He would tire long before she did, and then she would capture him and bring him to Cael. It was inevitable.
The Raven dodged and ducked and parried as her sword danced through the air. He suddenly dashed away from her, putting distance between them. He launched a throwing dagger, but not at her. It sailed past her. She heard a snap and then something dropped over her. As she struggled to free herself from the net, she heard a thunk, and then her feet were dropping out from under her. She tumbled down some steps and was suddenly enveloped in darkness beneath the stage. After a tense moment of yanking and twisting, she was finally free of the net. With her sword raised, she bounded back up the steps. Back on stage, she searched the shadows and recesses only to find that the Raven had disappeared.
The man laughed. “You? What message could you possibly have for him?”
“Shhh,” hissed the woman. “Keep your voice down. This is important. He’ll want to know about it.”
The man sobered and leaned through the window to get closer to Maisey. “What message?”
“There’s a woman looking for him.”
“And?”
“And she wants to meet with him.”
The man leaned back in surprise. “Why would she want to meet with him? That’s suicide.”
“I don’t know, but she said she’ll meet him by the old general’s statue tomorrow night.”
The man reached up to stroke his whiskered chin. “I don’t know. It’s strange, but I’m not sure this is newsworthy of his attention.”
“Of course it is,” snapped Maisey. “If anyone comes looking for him, he’ll want to know about it.”
“I doubt he’ll meet with her.”
“Maybe not. Maybe he’ll just take off her head. But that’s not for you or me to decide.”
“I see your point,” said the man. “Very well. I’ll send the message, but there’s no telling if he’ll get it in time. He only checks in when he wants to.”
“And we don’t even know if he’s still in Serret,” said Maisey.
“He was as of last night. He made an appearance at one of the guildhouses. Apparently, he wasn’t happy with the way things were going, so he made an example out of half a dozen men.”
Even from where she was hidden, Azeria could see Maisey’s face pale.
“Right then,” said Maisey. “You have the message now. I wash my hands of this.” She gave the man a firm nod then turned back the way she came.
Azeria let her go. She now had someone more important to follow—someone who knew how to contact the Raven. Only a few minutes later, the man shuttered the window and locked the door behind him as he left. Azeria followed the man back through the warehouse district, skirting a crowd gathered outside one of the buildings. They passed through two more districts, and Azeria was only forced to use her amulet once as she passed through the checkpoints. Luckily, she did not need any special documents to enter the adjacent districts, which confused her even more about the purpose of the checkpoints.
The shipyard worker she was following headed for a large circular building with a domed roof. The windows of the building were made of ornate stained glass, and there was gilding around the doorframe. Azeria followed the man into the large space beyond to find an open room with plentiful seating and a long counter separating the seating area from the device on the other side. Azeria recognized the device right away even though she had never seen one like it. It was a mage relay. She had seen the one designed by Rezkin on Cael, and it was similar but also different in many respects. For one, this relay was much larger than the one Rezkin built, and she did not think it was due to any extra functionality. As she peered past the counter to get a better look at it, she decided the one Rezkin built was simply more efficient at a smaller scale.
A pang of sorrow struck Azeria’s center. She would not have admitted it while he was alive, but now that Rezkin was gone, she recognized how brilliant he had been. For someone raised as a human mundane, he had adapted to his power quickly. Of course, he had not come anywhere close to his true potential. If he had been, perhaps he would not have died, she thought. She regretted, now, opposing Entris’s attempts to train Rezkin in the use of his power. At the time, she had thought only of the madness that would likely consume him should he begin using his power in earnest. She had not believed he could overcome the curse as he believed he would. In fact, she had encouraged Entris on several occasions to kill Rezkin and be done with it. Entris had seen through her, though. She had never truly wanted Rezkin dead. She had merely been scared by the connection they shared. Dreams of him had plagued her from even before they had met, and afterward, those dreams felt awkward and disconcerting. Now that he was dead, those dreams only reminded her of what she had lost—or what she had never truly had.
Azeria shook herself from her memories and musings as she returned her attention to the man she had followed. He was standing at the counter writing something on a small slip of paper. After he was finished, he waited his turn then handed the slip to the human mage who was operating the relay.
He said, “Bellingham.”
The mage nodded and scrawled the name across the top of the paper before turning toward the relay. Once the message had been sent, the slip of paper was incinerated, and the man left the relay building. Azeria remained. A moment later, several of the runes of the relay lit up. The mage cast a few spells onto the device. Azeria watched the constructs carefully in case she needed to replicate them. Although the Eihelvanan did not use spells as the human mages did, they were still capable of doing so. The spell forms simply allowed human mages to control their power in a way that came naturally to the Eihelvanan. As such, Azeria did not know what the spells did, but she could recreate them.
The mage slipped a sheet of paper onto the flat pinnacle of the relay, and a new message began to appear there. When it was finished, the mage scrawled Bellingham on the edge of the paper then rolled it up, sealed it, and stuffed it into one of the many boxes that lined the wall behind the relay.
Azeria was confused at first. But after a few minutes of careful consideration, she thought she knew what had happened. The shipyard worker had sent a message to a Bellingham, and a minute later, the same message appeared on the relay for Bellingham. He had sent the message to the same relay so that it would be available for Bellingham when he came to collect it. It seemed a strange way to deliver a message, but humans were strange in many ways. One thing Azeria knew for certain was that Bellingham was the next man sought.
Chapter 12
The sky was dark as Rezkin traversed the streets of Serret, despite the fact that sundown would not be for a few more hours. Seena scurried along beside him appearing very catlike to all but him. She had been cooped up in the satchel or hiding in the house he had commandeered, and she needed the exercise. He could not help the smile that spread across his own face as he watched her joyfully skip along the roadway dodging between passersby and stopping to sniff at every food stall they passed. One kindly old woman even gave her a nibble of fish, and Seena celebrated happily with a roll and a purr. The old woman laughed at Seena’s antics and waved goodbye to her as they moved down the lane. The woman even had a coy wink for Rezkin, which he promptly returned causing her to blush and fan herself with her hand.
Rezkin, of course, did not appear as himself. He maintained the illusion of an old man with greying hair, a long white beard, and deep brown eyes. He walked briskly as he made his way toward the gate that led into the adjoining district. Once he and Seena had passed beyond the gate, it did not take long to reach his destination. The circular building with the domed roof stood by itself in the center of the square. He surveyed the surroundings before entering but found no spies watching.
The mage relay building was busy at this time of day, and people were lined up in a long queue waiting for their chance to send or receive a message. Just as Rezkin entered the line, he was suddenly struck with an alarming sight that made his heart nearly leap from his chest. There, standing against the wall not far from the counter, was a hooded woman. She was taller than most women, nearly as tall as he. She wore a soft grey tunic that went to mid-thigh and darker breeches as well as dark blue knee-high boots made of supple hide that laced up the front. The curved sword at her hip likewise marked her as unusual, and Rezkin would have noted her presence even if he had not immediately recognized her.
He was stunned. He could not move his eyes from her, and he completely lost track of his surroundings. When she turned her silver gaze on him, his will crumbled, and he nearly lost the illusion he was maintaining. In that moment, he was ready to give up his entire charade and go to her. When her gaze moved away from him and he could once again breathe, all his reasons for remaining dead in the eyes of the world crashed over him. Azeria and everyone else he knew were safer if Caydean thought he was dead. That and the freedom his death allotted him were enough to keep his feet from closing the distance between them.
Seena rubbed against his legs, shaking him from his thoughts, and he realized the line had moved ahead of him. As he moved up, he searched the grand space for anyone else he might recognize, hoping that Entris was not present. The Spirétua-lyé would be able to sense his use of power and see through his illusion. But Rezkin did not see Entris nor any of his other friends and associates. It seemed Azeria was there alone, which piqued his curiosity all the more.
What was she doing there? Was it pure coincidence that they happened to be in the same place at the same time, or was she looking for him? Perhaps she did not believe him truly dead after all. For some reason that thought pleased him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he wanted her to know he was alive and well. But he could not yet reveal himself. If Azeria knew he was truly alive, she would feel obligated to tell Entris, and then Entris would insist on following him around again to watch for signs of madness. Rezkin still had many things to do that he would not be able to do with an entourage.
When Rezkin finally got to the front of the line, he spoke quietly, “Are there any messages for Bellingham?”
Azeria’s gaze fell on him once again, and he suppressed a shiver. He had never reacted to anyone the way he reacted to Azeria. The fact that she could make him forget everything else with just her gaze made him want to retreat far from her, and yet the greater part of him desired her nearness. For a moment, he even wondered if she was using her power to muddle his thoughts, but he felt no vimara directed his way.
The relay operator handed Rezkin a message then called upon the next person in line. Ever cognizant of the steady gaze upon him, Rezkin stepped aside and quickly read the coded message. Azeria was looking for him. She just did not know it. For reasons he could not surmise, she was seeking the Raven, and she had even managed to find him. But, again, she did not know it.
Rezkin slipped the small missive into his pocket, then strode quickly toward the exit with Seena on his heels. It was not surprising when Azeria followed him from the building. Rezkin did not let on that he had noticed her, but when he turned a corner, he scooped Seena up and settled her in his satchel, then quickly changed his illusion to that of a much younger man wearing the livery of one of the noble houses. When Azeria rounded the corner, her gaze passed right over him. Despite her stoic demeanor, Rezkin noticed the moment she deflated having lost her quarry. Rezkin was again thankful that he had learned to cast illusions. Azeria was fast and cunning, and he did not think he could have evaded her otherwise.
With a pang of regret, Rezkin turned toward the docks. He had other things to take care of for now.
The following night, Rezkin slipped out of the window of his room so as not to disturb the home’s other occupants. He wore a black tunic and pants beneath his newly acquired blackened armor. He left the black blade and Bladesunder in his quarters and chose instead to arm himself with the Sheyalin he had claimed from the felled Swordbearer. If he was to meet with Azeria, he would give her no cause to recognize him. He would use illusion to disguise himself to an extent, but he wanted all his power and focus available in case Azeria attacked. He could have ignored the summons altogether, but he found that he could not deny her. A part of him dearly wanted to speak with her, even if she did not know who he was.
Serret had no curfew, but Rezkin avoided the city patrols regardless. In fact, he tried to avoid as many people as possible. The fewer witnesses to his movements, the better. Rezkin slowed when he neared the statue of the long-deceased General Pickeny. Azeria stood in the moonlight beside the statue with a remarkable confidence that dared anyone to attempt to deter her. Rezkin searched the shadows around the intersection almost hoping to find more of his friends secluded there, but there were none.
When he was sure they were alone, Rezkin withdrew his crossbow. He notched the bolt he had prepared then took aim. He pulled the trigger, releasing the bolt at the same time he turned and dashed into the alley. He did not look back as he rushed through the streets. He had perhaps a minute or two for Azeria to read the note he had attached to the crossbow bolt before she would be after him. Luckily, he knew where he was going, whereas she would need to search for the location.
Rezkin made his way into the abandoned playhouse, checking his traps as he went. Then he ascended to the rafters to lie in wait. When the Eihelvanan lady finally appeared, she approached cautiously with her sword drawn. He could see the shimmer of a ward about her. He was glad to see her taking precautions. When she reached the stage, he called down to her using illusion to cast his face in shadow and to change his voice as he spoke. “You summoned me, my lady.”
Azeria gave nothing of her thoughts away as she stared into the dark rafters. She said, “You are the Raven?”
The man in question tilted his head and tapped the hilt of his sword with impatience. The relief she felt for having finally found the elusive criminal overlord was palpable. She had not been sure about how he would receive her. She was taking a great chance in coming here. She did not like that he had taken control of the meeting place. She thought about attacking him with the force of her power but instead said, “I need to know why you stole his body.”
With a grunt, he said, “There have been many bodies. You will have to be more specific.” His voice was gruff and sent a shiver down her spine.
“Rezkin,” she hissed as a sudden burst of anger surged through her. There was only one body of importance. How could he not know to whom she referred? “The Emperor of the Souelian. You stole his body from his tomb. Why?”
The Raven was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice grated against her nerves. “The emperor cannot die. He is yet needed.”
She knew he was needed. Of course he was needed, but need did not negate death. She doubted the reasons she needed him and the reasons the Raven needed him were one and the same, though. “Needed for what? How does his death affect your criminal empire?”
“No, not that empire,” said the Raven. “The Cimmerian Empire.”
Azeria stiffened. “Why do you call it that?”
“That is its name, is it not?”
“No one calls it that but Rezkin. How do you know the name?”
“I know many things,” he said cryptically.
“So you are perpetuating the myth that he lives in order to prevent the empire from falling?”
“One man’s myth is another man’s truth. Without a body, who is to say for certain whether he is dead or alive?”
Azeria grew suspicious. “I saw his body. I helped entomb him. I know he is dead.”
“And yet I hear a question in your voice.”
Azeria did not want to think too much about that question. Thinking about it gave her hope, and she knew that hope to be in vain. Choosing to ignore the comment, she said, “I want him back.”
“Why?” He sounded genuinely curious, and Azeria was once again incensed.
“He deserves a proper burial.”
“He had one,” said the Raven. “I saw the tomb.”
She felt her stoic visage crack for the first time. Her anguish overcame her. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she added, “You cannot keep him from me.”
His voice softened, and he almost sounded sympathetic. “Rezkin will be returned to you in due time, Azeria.”
Azeria did not move, but a cold lump formed in her stomach. “How do you know my name?”
“As I said, I know many things. You cannot hide from me. You need not cower beneath your hood.”
Azeria was alarmed. How much did he know about her, and where had he gotten his information. Could it be that Rezkin told him? “Me, cower? You wear a hood as well. Why do you hide yourself?”
“I have many enemies.”
About that Azeria had no doubt. She was not sure if she was among them. “You will return him? When?”
“When his present purpose is fulfilled.”
“But he is dead, is he not?” Against her better judgment, hope filled her as she awaited his response.
He gave a deep bow then started to back away through the rafters. “I bid you adieu, my lady. But first, a warning. There is a spy in a position of influence in Cael—a woman.”
“Who?”
He said nothing more, and Azeria acted on impulse. She shot a burst of wind into the rafters. The Raven was taken by surprise and fell from his lofty perch. He landed gracefully in a crouch facing her. “You will come with me as my prisoner,” she said as she raised her sword.
The Raven drew his own sword as she advanced. She had no intention of killing the Raven, but she would not let him get away while she still had questions and Rezkin’s body was still missing. She struck quickly so it was a surprise when he deflected her blade. Luck had been on his side. She knew no human could match her in speed. Her blade met steel on her next strike and again he was not deterred. She proceeded to issue a flurry of slashes and thrusts, each one causing him to retreat. Although he was backing away, and she could tell that he was pressed for speed, he was still meeting her strike for strike. He faltered, and she swept her sword at him from the right, drawing a line of blood from his arm as he dashed to the side toward the center stage. As she followed him, she wondered what enchantments he had about his person that would make him so unnaturally fast for a human. It was no matter. It was obvious he was being pressed to his limits to match her speed. He would tire long before she did, and then she would capture him and bring him to Cael. It was inevitable.
The Raven dodged and ducked and parried as her sword danced through the air. He suddenly dashed away from her, putting distance between them. He launched a throwing dagger, but not at her. It sailed past her. She heard a snap and then something dropped over her. As she struggled to free herself from the net, she heard a thunk, and then her feet were dropping out from under her. She tumbled down some steps and was suddenly enveloped in darkness beneath the stage. After a tense moment of yanking and twisting, she was finally free of the net. With her sword raised, she bounded back up the steps. Back on stage, she searched the shadows and recesses only to find that the Raven had disappeared.
