"You know what I am and still you desire to sit with me?"
"Milady, I sailed every sea and all over the Great Ocean. I've seen many a magic, but the most trustworthy of mages were always the faithful of Rathma…"
She rewarded him with a slight smile that proved enough to redden his already ruddy cheeks. "Then perhaps you are the man with whom I can trust my questions."
The captain leaned back. "Only when you've first tasted my specialty and given me your fine opinion."
Kara cut into the fish, tasting a small bite. Immediately she cut a second, downing it as quickly as the first.
Jeronnan beamed. "'Tis to your liking, then?"
Indeed, it was. The jungles of the east contained a varietyof marvelous spices, but the necromancer had never eaten anything like this fish. In less time than she could have imagined, Kara had devoured a good portion of her meal, so much so that she finally felt like herself again.
Captain Jeronnan had excused himself now and then to deal with his other customers, but by the time she had finished, there remained only two others, a pair of dourlooking sailors clearly too weary to do anything but nurse their ales and food. The innkeeper settled in across from her and waited.
"My name is Kara Nightshadow," she began. "You know what I am."
"Aye, but I've never seen one that looked like you, lass."
Kara pushed on, unwilling at this point to be detoured by niceties. "Captain, have you noticed anyone out of the ordinary here?"
He chuckled. "In Gea Kul? It'd be more extraordinary to see someone ordinary!"
"What about… what about a man traveling with armor probably strapped to the back of an animal?" The necromancer paused to consider the implications further. "Or a man wearing armor?"
"We get some soldiers here. Not uncommon."
"In crimson plate?"
Jeronnan's brow wrinkled. "I'd recall that-but, no. No one."
It had been a desperate hope. Kara wanted to ask another, very particular question, but feared that if she did, the captain's easy manner would change. He might be familiar with her kind, but some subjects could be too dark even for him to accept. Walking corpses would certainly be one of those subjects.
Kara opened her mouth with the intention of trying a different track, yet what escaped from her lips proved not to be words but rather a long yawn.
Her companion looked her over. "Pardon me for being blunt, milady, but you look even more pale than you likely usually are. I think you need some good rest."
She sought to dissuade him, only to yawn again. "Perhaps you are right."
"I've got a couple of rooms available, lass. For you, no charge-and nothing expected, if you're worried about it."
"I'll pay you." Kara managed to retrieve some coins from the purse on her belt. "Is this enough?"
He shoved most of it back. "That is… and don't go showing all that money around. Not everyone's a kind soul like me!"
The necromancer could barely move. Her legs felt like lead. The spellwork she had utilized to quicker get her to her destination had taken too much from the dark mage. "I think I will go to it immediately, if you will forgive my leaving."
"Best give me a few minutes, lass. I fear that with the help I hire here, it might not be ready for you. Just remain here and I'll be back shortly!"
He hurried off before she could protest. Kara straightened, trying to keep awake. Both the spellwork and her own physical efforts naturally had drained her much, but this exhaustion seemed far more oppressive than it should have been, even taking those matters into account. It almost made her believe-
She pushed herself to her feet, turning to the door at the same time. Perhaps Kara had misjudged Captain Hanos Jeronnan. Perhaps his congenial manner hid a darker side.
Aware that her thinking might well be too muddled, the necromancer stumbled her way toward the entrance, not at all caring what the two sailors in the corner might think. If she made it outside, then perhaps she could clear her mind enough to reconsider. Yes, for all the odioussmells of the port itself, the sea air would still no doubt help her regain her balance.
Kara nearly fell through the doorway, so weak had her legs become. Immediately she inhaled. Some of the heaviness in her head evaporated, enough at least for her to get some general sense of her surroundings, but the raven-haired enchantress needed more. She could not decide what to do about the innkeeper until she could think clearly again.
Once more she inhaled, but as her head cleared a bit more, a sense of immediate unease struck Kara.
She looked up into the dark fog and saw a figure in a worn travel cloak standing just a few feet from her. His face remained obscured by the hood of his cloak, but lower Kara could make out one pale hand emerging. In that hand, the figure held a dagger that gleamed even in the mist-enshrouded night.
An ivory dagger.
Kara's dagger.
Another pale hand reached up and pulled back the hood slightly, revealing a face the necromancer had seen but once before. The Vizjerei from Bartuc's tomb.
The Vizjerei who had had his throat torn out.
"Your spell… should've worked… better on her," a voice croaked from behind her.
Kara tried to turn, her body still moving far too slowly. At the same time, it occurred to her that all her training, all her spellwork, had failed to enable her to notice not one attacker, but two.
A second pale face smiled grimly at her, the man's head tipped slightly to one side as if not entirely connected to his body.
The second corpse from the tomb. The wiry man whose neck had been snapped.
"You leave us… no choice."
His hand had been raised, in it another dagger heldhilt up. Even as this fact reached her sluggish brain, the hand of the ghoul came down, swinging hard.
The blow caught Kara Nightshadow on the temple. She spun around once and would have surely cracked her head on the stone path save that the undead creature who had hit her now caught her in his arms. With astonishing tenderness, he lowered the stunned woman to the ground.
"You… really… leave us… no choice."
And with that, she blacked out.
Six
Norrec did not leave his cabin again until time came to retrieve his morning meal. No one spoke to him, especially Captain Casco, who had not forgiven his passenger for leaving the mess near the rail. Norrec actually appreciated the lack of conversation, wanting nothing to slow his return to the safety of his room.
He had slept fitfully during the night, not only haunted by dreams of Bartuc's glory, but now also dread images of Fauztin's vengeful spirit come to claim him. Not until the Hawksfire finally set sail did the veteran fighter calm at all. Out on the sea, troubled spirits could certainly not pursue him. In fact, as the ship pushed out onto the stormy waters, it finally began to sound reasonable to Norrec that he had imagined the dreadful vision, that what he had taken for Fauztin had either been but another Vizjerei-for certainly the port lay near enough to their eastern lands-or the complete figment of his own troubled mind.
The latter seemed more and more likely. After all, Norrec had been both physically and mentally torn apart by the demands of the cursed armor. The memories of not only the tomb but the slaughter at the inn remained with him. In addition, the warlord's suit had pushed his endurance to the limits and beyond, forcing the soldier to traverse a rough landscape without hardly any rest and at a pace that would have killed many men. If not for the fact that only part of the effort had been his own,Norrec suspected that he would definitely have died along the way.
The waves grew choppier as the Hawksfire entered deep waters. With each groan of the hull, Norrec became more and more convinced that at some point the sea would crush the worn ship like tinder. Yet, somehow, the Hawksfire continued on, riding one wave to the next. In addition, for all their motley outer appearance, Captain Casco and his crew proved quite adept at managing the vessel. They scurried up the ropes, raced across the decks, ever keeping their ship ready to meet the elements.