“A quarter hour is a lot of time,” he said. “Might be your paladin’s found something else to do. Someone else to visit.”
Farideh pushed past him, coming out into the street. “I think he knows about the massacre. So he’s looking for me too.” She started a little ways down the road. “A quarter hour is enough to get to where he’s keeping his weapons and prepare, then leave again.” She looked back at the fortress, looming over the camp. There was an awful lot of it to fall. “He ought to come back along this path, and-”
“Farideh?” Dahl’s voice called. Farideh smiled as she turned to see the Harper sprinting up the road, dressed in a stolen Shadovar uniform and wearing a sword. “Gods books, Farideh?”
“I see he’s still a quick one,” Lorcan muttered.
“What happened?” Dahl cried as he reached them. “They’re saying you murdered a dozen people and sent ten times that to the wizard’s workshop.” He looked her over once. “I was going to rescue you.”
“I didn’t kill them,” she started.
“Well, I figured that,” Dahl said irritably. He looked at Lorcan, but said to Farideh, “You’re not hurt?”
Farideh rubbed her left hand, the healed finger. “Not much,” she said gamely. She gestured at Lorcan. “I found us more allies. And a plan.”
“A plan?” Dahl repeated. He shook his head and cursed softly. “Of course.”
Farideh scowled at him. “You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“No, I-” Dahl stopped himself. “I haven’t,” he said diplomatically. “And it’s probably better than the nonsense I’d cobbled together.” He spread his hands. “Tell me what to do.”
Farideh rolled her eyes. “Hear the plan first. And tell me yours. Likely they both need refining.” She turned to Lorcan. “You’re going to make sure the Harpers find Havilar and Brin, and point them here. Sairché’s going to put Rhand off the scent.”
“And we’ll sort Magros,” Lorcan added. “You handle the agent and. .” He sighed. “Don’t attempt this mad plan without telling me what exactly you’re doing first.”
“If it’s too late-”
“I’ll make sure it’s not too late.”
“Fine,” Farideh said. “I’ll see you then.” She could only hope there were enough Chosen, enough powerful Chosen willing to attempt something so likely to end their lives-gods, she almost wished Lorcan were staying. It would take a devil to convince someone of something so dangerous.
She had so lost herself in puzzling out what came next that she didn’t expect Lorcan to say another word.
She didn’t expect Lorcan to grab her around the waist, to pull her right up against him. She didn’t expect that when she started to tell him to leave off and stop acting out, that his mouth would close over hers and steal her breath.
Farideh’s mind went blank as a fresh sheet, not even certain of what was happening. And then Lorcan’s hands pulled her hips against his. His tongue slipped past her lips to brush against the roof of her mouth, and a branch of lust shot through her, as electric as a lightning storm.
I ought to kiss him back, she managed to think.
And then he released her, dark eyes dancing.
“Do be careful, darling,” Lorcan murmured, and before Farideh could sort out what to say or even how to form the words, he plucked up the ring that made the whirlwind portal and was gone.
Farideh drew a sharp breath. Reflexively she pulled her cloak closer around her.
“Gods books,” Dahl said. Then, “I thought you said he wasn’t coming to save you.”
That’s why he did it, Farideh thought. He only kissed you because Dahl was standing there. He only did it to mark his territory, just like before. She touched her mouth without meaning to.
“He isn’t saving me,” she said firmly. “I think I’m saving him. I brought components. I found a way to take the wall down. Can we get inside?”
Dahl hesitated. “Yes.” He looked up the road, toward the fortress. “But it may take some explaining. Come on.”
It would have been too simple, Dahl thought grimly, if they’d been allowed to just see Oota like any other petitioner. He had meant to make Farideh hang back, out of sight, while he slipped back in and got them a little space. But as discreet as Lorcan might have thought he was being, someone had seen them flying out of the fortress, and Dahl ended up leading her straight to the mob of prisoners coming to see what had fallen among them.
After that, it was all he could do to hang onto her and keep the angry prisoners back.
“I told you already,” Dahl all but shouted over the noise of the crowd. “She didn’t kill them, and she’s here to help us.” But the prisoners recognized Farideh the moment they’d come close to the makeshift fortress, and no amount of Dahl’s shouting or shoving prevented them from hauling Farideh up to stand before one-eyed Oota.
“Tharra has her doubts,” Oota said. “As do I. Better to be sure of her.”
“Better not to risk it at all,” Tharra said. “Put her down or lock her up. If she’s not with the wizard, he’s going to come looking for her soon enough.”
“I have three days,” Farideh said. “We have an agreement.” At that, Tharra shot Oota a knowing glance. Farideh flushed and wispy shadows edged her frame. “He thinks I’m. . elsewhere. Serving another.”
“Which of them are you murdering my people for?” Oota asked.
Farideh looked down at the piled bodies. “That was an accident. I told him I wouldn’t identify the Chosen. I didn’t know he would kill them,” she said. “But I should have. I’m sorry. I will be sorry every day of my life.”
“Might be able to shorten that for you,” Tharra said, and Farideh’s jaw tightened.
Oota glowered at Tharra. “Are you taking my place, friend? Making my orders?” To Farideh she asked, “Pretty clear you’re no ardent follower. So why are you here?”
“Are you going to turn down a freed caster?” Dahl asked. He looked around the room, spotted Armas in the back and beckoned him closer. “You can still cast that spell?” he murmured to Farideh. “The one that shatters things?”
Armas held up his shackled hands. Farideh pointed her flat palm at the half-elf. “Assulam.”
The magic raced dark and virulent up her arms, shot across the room, and turned the cruel gauntlets into a burst of rust. Armas leaped back, surprised. He flexed his hands stiffly, and gave a nervous chuckle. “I’ll be damned.” He murmured a soft, sibilant word. A cloud of colored lights appeared at his fingertips, and he laughed again and looked over at Tharra, who kept her stern expression.
“Get Cereon and the elves,” Dahl said.
Oota held up a hand. “Hold.”
“I can tell which of you are Chosen, too,” Farideh said. “I’ll do it for you instead of him. You can separate those who are likely to gain powers, try and trigger them, and make an army of sorts. Or just keep them away from the wizard.”
“Or get them all in one place?” Tharra said, still unconvinced. “Easy for your guards to scoop up?”
Farideh turned to her. “You’d be ready for that. You’d never let them stand around where they could be gathered up, and neither would I-not if I could help it.” She looked to Oota. “Move me around the camp, if you’d rather.”
Tharra pursed her lips. “We can’t risk it. She could easily be a spy.”
“Why would I bring you a spy?” Dahl demanded. “I vouch for her.”
“How long have you known each other?” Tharra demanded.
Dahl hesitated. That wasn’t a simple question. “Long enough.”
Tharra reached over and yanked Farideh’s sleeve up, showing her brand. “You two see the same skinscrivener?”
Farideh pulled her arm away. “Do you want my help or not?”