The Warrior’s frown changed to a scowl. “Someone should witness the fate of our home.”
Rothen nodded. “Then the three of us will stay until the end.”
“Sweet bloodweed,” Faren whispered, holding up a tiny bottle. “Almost undetectable in wine or sweet dishes. It works quickly, so be ready.”
Sonea glanced at the Thief and rolled her eyes.
“What?” he asked.
“Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that you know so much about poisons, Faren.”
He smiled. “I must admit, I started learning about them out of a fancy to mimic my namesake. The knowledge has been useful, at times, but not nearly as often as you’d think. Your novice friend seems particularly interested in the subject.”
“He’s not my friend.”
Sonea pressed her eye to the peephole again. Most of the room beyond was taken up by a large dining table. Silver cutlery glinted softly in the filtered light from two small windows. A half-eaten meal lay cold and congealed on the fine plates.
They were inside one of the large Inner Circle mansions. The dining room was a small, private one with two servant doors as well as the main entrance. Sonea and Faren stood behind one door; Akkarin was standing behind the other.
“Cery seemed to think you two had a special acquaintance,” Faren continued to prod.
She snorted softly. “He offered to kill Regin once. It was tempting.”
“Ah,” he replied.
Sonea looked at the glasses on the table. They were filled with varying levels of wine. Bottles, opened and unopened, were arranged at the center. All had been laced with poison.
“So what did our volunteer do that inspired such a generous offer from Cery?”
“None of your business.”
“Isn’t it? How interesting.”
Sonea jumped as the main door of the dining room burst open. Regin leapt inside, then pushed the door shut again. He dashed around the table and ran to the servants’ door that Akkarin was waiting behind. Grasping the handle, he paused.
The main door opened again. Regin pretended to struggle with the doorhandle. Sonea felt her heart begin to race as one of the Ichani men stepped into the room. He looked at Regin, then down at the table.
“So I guess you won’t be too eager to save him if the Ichani doesn’t fall for the bait,” Faren whispered.
“Of course I’ll save him,” Sonea muttered in reply. “Regin might be a... a... whatever, but he doesn’t deserve to die.”
As the Ichani looked at Regin again, the boy pressed his back to the door, his face deathly white. The Ichani moved around the table. Regin slid around the wall, keeping the table between him and the Sachakan.
The Ichani chuckled. Reaching out, he took one of the glasses and lifted it to his lips. He sipped and grimaced. Shrugging, he tossed the cup away. It shattered against the wall, leaving a splash of red.
“Is that enough?” Sonea murmured.
“I doubt it,” Faren replied. “But he’s got the idea, and might go for something fresher.”
The Ichani began to walk around the table. Regin edged away. Suddenly he leaped forward and grabbed a bottle of wine by its neck. The Ichani laughed as Regin brandished it threateningly. He made a quick gesture. Regin staggered forward as if struck a heavy blow from behind and sprawled face first on the table.
The Ichani grabbed Regin by the back of his neck and held him down. Sonea grasped the handle of the door, but Faren caught her wrist.
“Wait,” he whispered.
The Sachakan took the bottle from Regin’s hand and regarded it. The cork slowly wriggled out and fell to the floor. He lifted the bottle to his lips and gulped several mouthfuls. Beside her, Faren let out a sigh of relief.
“Is that enough?” Sonea breathed.
“Oh, yes.”
Regin writhed on the table, knocking plates and cutlery flying as he straggled against the Ichani’s grip. The Sachakan took another swig from the bottle, then smashed it against the table. He reached toward Regin with the broken end.
“That’s not good,” Faren said. “If he cuts Regin the poison will—”
The door behind the Ichani opened. Sonea’s heart skipped a beat, but Akkarin didn’t leap out. The corridor beyond was empty. Hearing the noise, the Ichani twisted around. He stared at the open door.
“Good. That’ll delay him a little longer,” Faren muttered.
Sonea held her breath. The door handle was slippery with sweat in her grasp. If she and Akkarin revealed themselves to the Ichani, he would call out to Kariko. It would be much better if the man succumbed to the drug instead.
“Here we go,” Faren said quietly.
The Ichani suddenly released Regin and staggered away from the table. As he clutched at his stomach, Regin hauled himself up and ran through the main doors.
— Kariko!
— Rikacha?
— I have... I have been poisoned!
Kariko did not reply. The Ichani dropped to his knees and doubled over. A long, low moan escaped his mouth, then he vomited up red liquid. Sonea shivered as she realized it was blood.
“How long until he’s dead?” she asked.
“Five, ten minutes.”
“You call that quick?”
“I could have used roin. It’s faster, but bitter.”
Akkarin appeared in the open doorway. He stared at the man, then pulled off his shirt.
“What is he doing?” Faren asked.
“I think...” Sonea nodded as Akkarin stepped forward and wrapped the shirt around the man’s head. The Ichani shouted in surprise and tried to pull it off.
— Sonea.
Akkarin’s mental voice sounded different—clearer—through the ring. She opened the door and hurried to his side.
— Hold this for me.
She took hold of the shirt and held it tightly. The man continued to struggle, but there was no strength in his movements. Akkarin drew out his knife, cut the man’s arm and pressed his hand to the wound.
Sonea felt the Ichani go limp. It did not take long before Akkarin released him. As she let go of the shirt, the dead man slumped to the floor. She felt a wave of nausea.
— That was horrible.
Akkarin looked at Sonea.
— Yes. But at least it was quick.
“It worked. Good.”
They both looked up as Regin entered the room. He regarded the dead Ichani with satisfaction.
“Yes,” Sonea agreed. “But we won’t be able to do it again. The other Ichani heard him say he was poisoned. They won’t fall for the same trick.”
“But your assistance is appreciated,” Akkarin added.
Regin shrugged. “It was worth it to see one of those bastards get it.” He put a hand to his throat and grimaced. “But I’m not sad to hear I won’t have to do that again. He nearly broke my neck.”
Every man ought to have an ambition, Cery told himself as he stepped between the broken gates. Mine is quite simple: I just want to get inside all the important places in Imardin. He was proud of the fact that, though he hadn’t quite turned twenty yet, he had managed to enter almost every major building in the city. The exclusive areas of the Racecourse had been easy enough to sneak into disguised as a servant, and his lock-picking skills had gained him entrance to some of the mansions within the Inner City. Thanks to Sonea, he had been inside the Guild, though he would have preferred to have succeeded because of his own skills rather than because he had been taken prisoner by a meddling, bigoted magician.
As he crossed the courtyard, he couldn’t help smiling. The Palace was the one important place left in Imardin he had never been able to sneak into. Now, with the Guard defeated and the heavy Palace gates hanging from their supports, nobody was going to prevent him exploring.
Not even the Ichani. According to the watchers posted by the Thieves, the Sachakans had left the Palace an hour ago. They had been inside the building for only an hour or two, and could not have destroyed everything in that time.