Lector smiled wickedly. “The Glasyans have obviously not learned their lesson.”
“Perhaps if there were fewer,” Yvon said, “it would be a simpler lesson to retain.”
“One moment,” Sekata said. “Are you suggesting we go up against the Glasyans again? You’re clutching at a creek here. All we know is that Glasya-or someone in her service-claimed his soul. That doesn’t mean he’s been acting on Glasyan orders.” She wrinkled her nose at the orc. “Besides, I’ve never seen such an ugly Glasyan.”
The female tiefling scoffed. “You would do anything to avoid your duty.”
“Well, have you seen such an ugly Glasyan, Imarella?” She turned on Lector. “Mordai Vell told you not to go starting trouble with the rest of her cult without having good purpose. Said we were drawing too much attention.”
“We were establishing the proper order,” Yvon corrected.
“Both of you, quiet!” Lector said. “Sekata is right. We shall simply have to determine by usual means whether or not this signifies a return to the Glasyans’ … obstinacy.”
The portal at the edge of the grove opened with a gust of heat, hot enough to brown the needles of one of the nearest branches. A cambion leaped out. He took in the scene with a look of mixed disgust and confusion. His eyes fell on the robed adepts gathered beside the gutted orc and widened as he seemed to recognize the situation.
“Oh damn you twice over, you stupid orc,” he said. Then he vanished.
But not before five pairs of eyes registered the pendant hanging boldly from his neck: the scourge of Glasya.
“Well,” Yvon said after the portal had closed. “I think we can all agree that’s a tidy enough sign?”
“Where exactly are we heading?” Sairche asked, her voice dripping sweetness.
“The chandler,” Farideh replied. “I hope you’ll forgive me. I haven’t been before.”
Sairche gave the ruined buildings around them a skeptical eye, and Farideh flushed. When Sairche had told her about Bryseis Kakistos, one thought overtook Farideh’s mind and steered her feet: keep Sairche away from Havilar.
If Farideh was so valuable for being this Bryseis Kakistos’s descendent, then so was Havilar-more so, because there was no Lorcan in the way of claiming Havilar. Farideh had only been thinking about avoiding the House of Knowledge when she crossed the Dolphin Bridge and entered the Blacklake District.
The buildings of Blacklake had once been much larger and much grander than anything on the other side of the river. They made for spectacular ruins and vast piles of rubble. Here and there, reconstruction efforts shored up an ancient mansion, and reclaimed lumber crisscrossed the proud facades of villas overrun by the opportunistic. There were no shops, as far as Farideh had seen. This would be the next bit of Neverwinter to rise from the ashes, but not for some time. She was running out of options.
Sairche didn’t know about Havilar, Farideh felt sure. Most of the time they walked, Sairche had kept up a nearly constant stream of chatter about all the ways she could improve Farideh’s situation. There was a smugness to the way she described powers Farideh didn’t have, devils Farideh didn’t know. Sairche thought she’d won already. She didn’t know there was another piece in the game, one that no one had played.
And why had no one played her? Lorcan had chosen Farideh instead, but he knew about Havilar. Was he, like Sairche, searching for a devil to pay the right price for his reserve Kakistos heir? Or was he keeping her for himself, ready for Farideh to snap or break or even just threaten to leave?
Havilar, who was reckless enough to summon a devil or run out into a strange caravansary or coax strange boys back to their room-what would a devil be able to convince her to do with careful words and subtle pressures? She thought of Lorcan’s barely suppressed impatience-what would another devil do when Havilar refused to do what they wanted? She might be lost. She might be corrupted. She might be killed.
Farideh couldn’t let Sairche find out.
“Your tour of the city is terribly droll,” Sairche said as they threaded their way down another street littered with broken lava rock and slipped pillars, “but don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
Farideh stopped walking. She didn’t know. She couldn’t. “Oh?”
“There is no chandler. You’re stalling until my brother finds us.” Sairche let go of Farideh’s arm. “If you don’t want my help yet, you only had to say so.”
“Thank you,” Farideh said, trying to keep her true gratitude out of her voice. “I’ll consider it.”
“Of course you will. Just remember: You will come back eventually. You will accept my offer. It’s just best if you decide to do so on your own.”
“Is that a threat?”
Sairche smiled. “Well, it’s not an invitation to take tea. Now I’m sure Lorcan will have plenty to say when he swoops in to rescue you.”
Farideh narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need rescuing from you.”
“Precisely,” Sairche said. “I don’t make messes like Lorcan does.”
The portal opened between two fallen pillars, and Lorcan bounded out, looking fierce and frazzled. He spotted Sairche, and without a pause, pulled his wand from his belt and let a burst of flame loose at her. Sairche ducked away from it and behind Farideh.
“Fool,” she said. “Fire’s not going to-”
The second bolt struck the ruins behind her, and Sairche leaped out of the way as a rain of stones clattered down where she’d stood. Farideh scrambled out of the way. When Lorcan reached out to catch her, Sairche sprinted behind him and through the lingering portal. With a nearly noiseless pop, it closed.
“Shit and ashes!” he snarled.
“Where have you been?” The words came out without Farideh wanting them to-a demand, a supplication, a plea for him to take control of this unbearable situation.
Lorcan said nothing, scowling at the space where Sairche had been, tense and angry and thinking of something else, someone else. Of course, Farideh thought. I’m just a piece in his collection. I don’t matter.
“Where have you been?” In the braver corners of her thoughts, she didn’t want to say any such thing. She didn’t want him to save her, not even this time. But she couldn’t forget that he had barged into her life nearly every day for the last half year on the merest of pretenses, and this time he’d left her with his wicked sister, who could take everything away. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking now that Sairche was gone. Sairche couldn’t take Havilar.
“Solving larger problems,” he said. He grabbed hold of her arm and led her to a more open part of the street. “We need to go.”
“Where? Why?”
“Neverwinter’s not safe. Not anymore.”
“Because of Sairche?”
“No, because you’re toying around with …” He bit off the words. “Stop asking questions and come along, darling.”
She pulled away. “If it’s dangerous, then I need to get Havilar and Mehen. And Brin.”
“We don’t,” he said snatching at her, “have time for that. I’ll get them later.”
“If it’s safe enough to leave them, then I can leave the normal way.”
His anger made sharp pains lace her scar. You’ve given over the reins already, they seemed to say. There is nothing you can say to change that.
“I know about Bryseis Kakistos,” she said.
“Bloody Sairche,” he all but growled. Lorcan’s mouth curled into a sneer.
“Well then, darling, you must know everything. You must know how to stop the Hellish civil war we seem to have set off, and how to crush the nest of vipers you’ve blundered into?” He grabbed her arm again, yanking her close. “Ashmadai and Glasyans, and goddamned Rohini, the biggest viper of them all-for such a wide-eyed girl you stumble on a lot of villains. You must know how to lock Sairche in the Hells away from my warlocks and turn back time to keep that orc from being sacrificed to the king of the Hells, since you know bloody everything now.”