There was no sign of Tayend—no sign of anyone at all.
“What shall we do now?” Farand asked.
“I don’t know,” Dannyl admitted. “I don’t want to leave, in case he comes back. But he may have been forced to flee the city.”
Or he might be lying dead somewhere. Every time Dannyl thought about the possibility, his blood turned cold and he felt ill with dread. First Rothen, then Tayend...
No, he told himself. Don’t even consider it. Not until you see it for yourself.
The thought that he might see Tayend’s body only made it harder to think clearly. He had to concentrate, to decide where they should go. They had three choices: stay at the mansion and hope Tayend would eventually return, search the city for him, or give up and leave the city.
I’m not leaving the city until I know.
So that left the mansion or the search. Neither were very fair to Farand.
“I’m going to look for Tayend,” Dannyl said. “I’ll try the surrounding streets, and come back to check the house from time to time. You should leave the city. There’s no point in us both risking our lives.”
“No,” Farand replied. “I’ll stay here in case he comes back.”
Dannyl regarded Farand in surprise. “Are you sure?”
The young magician nodded. “I don’t know Imardin, Dannyl. I don’t know if I’d find my way out. And you need someone to stay here in case Tayend comes back.” He shrugged, then took a few steps backward. “I’ll see you when you return.”
Dannyl watched Farand until he had entered the house, then moved back to the end of the alley and scanned the street beyond. All was still. He stepped out and hurried to the next alley.
At first Dannyl found only a few wooden crates in the alleys and streets. Then he began to encounter the bodies of magicians. Fear for Tayend’s safety grew stronger.
He took a circular route, and had almost made his way back to the mansion again when a man stepped out in front of him. His heart jumped and began to pound, but it was only a rough-looking servant or crafter.
“In here,” the man said, pointing to an open garbage hatch in the wall. “Safer for you magicians down there.”
Dannyl shook his head. “No, thank you.” As he walked past, the man caught his arm.
“Sachakan was close, not long ago. You be safer out of sight.”
Dannyl pulled away. “I’m looking for someone.”
The man shrugged and stepped back.
Continuing on, Dannyl reached the end of the alley. The street beyond was empty. He stepped out and hurried across the road toward the alley on the other side.
When he had nearly reached it, he heard a door close behind him. He turned, and felt his blood turn to ice.
“Ah, now that’s better.” The woman striding toward him smiled slyly. “I was beginning to think there were no other pretty magicians in Kyralia.”
He bolted for the alley, but slammed into an invisible barrier. Stunned, he staggered backward, heart pounding.
“Not that way,” the woman said. “Come here. I won’t kill you.”
Dannyl took several deep breaths and turned to face her. As she drew closer he backed down the street. There was a malicious gleam in her eyes. He realized he had seen it before. She was the Ichani who had wanted to “keep” Lord Fergun for herself.
“Kariko won’t let you keep me alive,” he said.
She tossed her head. “He might, now that we’re here and most of your Guild is dead.”
“Why would you want to keep me, anyway?” he said, still backing away.
She shrugged. “My slaves are dead. I need new ones.”
He must be getting close to the next alley. Perhaps, if he kept talking, she would not remember to block it.
“It could be very pleasant for you.” She smiled slyly, her eyes roaming from his neck to his feet. “I like to reward my favorite slaves.”
He felt a mad urge to laugh. What does she think she is? he thought. Some sort of irresistible seductress? She sounds ridiculous.
“You’re not my type,” he told her.
Her eyebrows rose. “No? Well, it doesn’t matter. You will do as I say, or—” She stopped and glanced around the street in surprise.
From doors and alleys on all sides, Guild magicians had emerged. Dannyl stared at them. He did not recognize any of the faces. Then a hand grabbed his arm and hauled him sideways.
He stumbled through a door. It closed behind him. Dannyl turned to stare at his rescuer, and felt his heart leap.
“Tayend!”
The scholar grinned up at him. Dannyl gasped with relief, pulled Tayend close and held him tightly.
“You left the house. Why did you leave the house?”
“That woman came in. I thought I’d wait in the alley until she left, but she came out that way. The Thieves saved me. I told them you would come looking for me, but they didn’t reach the house in time.”
Dannyl heard a muffled cough, and froze as he realized they weren’t alone. He turned to find a tall Lonmar regarding him curiously. His face went cold, then hot.
“I see you’re good friends,” the man said. “Now that you’ve caught up, we should—”
The door shuddered from a heavy blow. The man beckoned frantically.
“Quickly! Follow me.”
Tayend grabbed Dannyl’s wrist and dragged him after the stranger. From behind them came a crash. The Lonmar began to run. Taking them down a staircase, he led them into a cellar and bolted the door behind them.
“That won’t stop her,” Dannyl said.
“No,” the stranger replied. “But it’ll slow her down.”
He hurried between racks of wine bottles to a cupboard at the far wall. Opening the door, he tugged at shelves containing jars of preserves. The shelves swivelled forward, revealing another door. The stranger opened the door and stepped aside. Tayend and Dannyl squeezed through into a passage. A boy stood nearby, holding a small lamp.
The Lonmar followed and began pulling the shelves back in place. There was a faint sound beyond the cellar door, then an explosion.
“No time,” the Lonmar muttered. He left the cupboard half assembled and closed the inner door. Taking the lamp from the boy, he started to jog down the passage. Dannyl and Tayend hurried after.
“Not good,” the stranger said to himself. “Let’s hope she—”
From behind came another explosion. Dannyl glanced behind to see a globe light flare into existence where the secret door had been. The Lonmar drew in a sharp breath.
“Run!”
37
A Glimpse of the Enemy
The servant’s dress Sonea had found to replace her bloodied shirt and trousers must have belonged to a taller woman. It covered her robes well, but the sleeves were so long she’d had to roll them up, and the hem kept getting under her feet. She was just catching her balance after stepping on it again when a messenger appeared in the passage before them. He saw them, and quickened his pace.
“I have... bad news,” he panted. “One of... Sachakans... found passages.”
“Where?” Akkarin asked.
“Not far.”
“Take us there.”
The messenger hesitated, then nodded. He started back down the passage, his lamp throwing distorted shadows onto the walls.
— We’ll try the same deception, Akkarin told Sonea. This time, Heal yourself when the Ichani cuts you. Once he begins drawing strength, you will not be able to use your powers.
— Oh, I won’t be making that mistake again, she replied. Not now that I know what it feels like.
The guide continued through passages, stopping briefly now and then to question helpers posted by the exits. They encountered people fleeing, then a dark-skinned figure appeared. Faren.
“You’re here,” he panted. “Good. She’s coming this way.”
So it’s the woman, Sonea thought. Avala.