Turning, Alden saw the tall man with many eyes. He felt as if he had been trapped in a sudden, unexpected downpour, with no place to go that would offer shelter from the storm. He could tell from the man's expression that Lord Sixx knew the truth. There was nothing he could say in his defense. With a speed that neither member of the Night Parade had anticipated, Alden leapt at Pieraccinni, snatched the dagger from his scabbard, and threw the weapon at where he had seen Lord Sixx instants before.
The blade cut through the red curtains of Pieraccinni's four-poster bed, then struck the soft mattress, its flight arrested and cushioned by the comfortable bed. Before Alden could turn, he felt an incredibly strong hand grip his shoulder from behind. His flesh was squeezed so tightly that he was not surprised to feel the sharp tips of Sixx's fingers bite through his clothing and enter his flesh. Alden howled in pain as he was forced to his knees. His scream was cut short as Lord Sixx slammed the boy's head into the edge of Pieraccinni's desk with enough force to knock him out, but not enough to kill him. Alden fell in a heap at Lord Sixx's feet.
"What do you plan to do with him?" Pieraccinni asked. The bald merchant knew that he could not defend the boy, as much as he would have liked to, despite Alden's crimes.
"I wish to make him dream," Lord Sixx said as he unlaced the leathers at his neck and exposed the twin sets of jade green eyes, the Eyes of Domination. Lord Shoe touched Al-den's face and closed all but one of his many sets of eyes; that pair trained its wary gaze on the bald man.
Several minutes passed as Pieraccinni anxiously watched Lord Sixx's face. The black-haired man frowned occasionally, smiled, and laughed more than once. Finally his eyes came half open and he whispered, "Glorious."
"Then you have learned all you need to know," Pieraccinni said, still trying to absorb the awful shock of learning that Al-den, the one he had trusted the most, had been the one who had betrayed him.
"I have," Lord Sixx said, running his hand along his mouth unconsciously, as if he had just partaken of a feast. The answers were so simple that he felt ashamed he had not guessed them sooner.
"What are you going to do with him now?"
Lord Sixx smiled enigmatically. "What I should have done a long time ago," he said as he once again reached down and touched Alden's face. Alden began to twist uncomfortably, mumbling words of denial and a final scream of agony before his body went limp and his breathing became shallow. "Have him cleaned and tended. I want him alive and healthy. If we are to recover the apparatus and punish the Slayer, this must be done."
"Yes, milord. So it shall be."
"When Alden wakes, he'll know what he has to do. Give him anything he asks for. His words are mine."
As Lord Sixx merged with the shadows and disappeared, Pieraccinni looked down at the pale, blond youth and fell to his knees. He took Alden's head in his lap and caressed it gently as he began to weep.
The journey to Heaven's Lathe, the largest outdoor eatery in Calimport, had taken two hours. Myrmeen and her companions had put up their mounts at a nearby stable and walked the rest of the way as the sun began to sink in the sky, casting a reddish hue on the travelers. Krystin walked beside Ord, the only member of the party who would speak to her. She brazenly wore the emerald locket around her neck.
Reisz had taken Krystin's place at Myrmeen's side. The swarthy-skinned warrior was severely distressed by the growing rift between mother and daughter; the two women now regarded each other as strangers, their familial pretenses no longer worth the effort for either of them. Erin Shandower had taken the point and Lucius had used his magic to become invisible.
The Lathe was nothing more than a series of tents that would be blown down if struck by a severe storm. Under the flaps of canvas lay, as the owners were fond of saying, "a little piece of heaven for the weary traveler." The eatery specialized in exotic dishes, and the clientele was always a vast mixture. Those who ate at the Lathe ranged from the poor, who found the prices for simple dishes within their means, to the rich, who expected and always found some new and delectable meal with an irresistibly exorbitant price. The Lathe also catered to traders from other cities, even other nations, whose faces lit up in delight when they found even the most obscure dishes from their homelands served routinely. On the rare occasion when a dish could not be found at the Lathe, the cooks would listen patiently to the requests of their patrons and create the meal to the customer's satisfaction.
Alden supped here regularly and so it had been chosen as the evening rendezvous four times a week. As they were afraid he would attract too much attention if he came there every night, alternate locations were in place for the other evenings. Lucius had the task of making contact with the lad, who regularly flirted with a particular serving maid. Alden had not, by his own admission, had any luck in persuading her that he was different from the hordes of randy men who propositioned her every night, though she had admitted that he was younger and a bit more handsome than most.
Myrmeen and her companions split into separate groups, with Shandower dining alone, Reisz joining Myrmeen, and Ord staying close to Krystin. Myrmeen was the first to spot Alden. Once again he was speaking to the serving maid with honey-blond hair and soft gray eyes. This time, though, his manner seemed a bit less gentlemanly. The slap he received confirmed that he apparently had grown tired of waiting and had asked directly for what he desired. He laughed as she stalked off.
At a nearby table, several mercenaries from the eastern nations, many of whom could not even speak Common, had understood the boy's plight and had raised their tankards in a friendly salute. Smiling, he approached their table and suddenly stopped, his head snapping back as if someone had taken a handful of his shirt from behind and given his entire body a firm yank. Turning he stumbled away from the table and soon was deposited in a chair a dozen yards away.
Myrmeen lost interest in the sight. She had seen it too many times. Lucius would find out if Alden had learned anything of value, then join her when the conference was at an end. The serving maid who had slapped Alden arrived at her table, and Reisz gestured for Myrmeen to order first.
Within shouting distance of Myrmeen and Reisz, Shandower sat at his solitary table and watched the Lhal woman's light, easy manner. Despite the horrors she had witnessed in recent days, including the deaths of two of her oldest and closest friends, she was able to laugh and smile as if she were back in Arabel, with servants tending to her needs. He did not understand how she could feel so at ease in a city that was infested with nightmares given flesh and form. Shandower wondered if her demeanor was nothing more than a carefully created sham put in place to hide the terror she continued to battle when she tried to sleep.
They all had heard her moans and pleas in the night. By tacit agreement, no one had mentioned this to Myrmeen. She would have been embarrassed and may have lost several nights' sleep worrying about what she might whisper when the nightmares came. He glanced at her again, and for the first time realized what a beautiful woman she was. Gazing at Myrmeen, he suddenly became uncomfortably aware of the great void in his life.
With that thought, he drained the sweet ambrosia that had been delivered to his table in one swift gulp and immediately regretted his rashness. The alcohol shot to his brain and he felt as if he were being lifted out of his chair, his toes and tongue tingling with the touch of a thousand needles. His skin turned cold suddenly, and his heart raced in his chest.