“Zed sighed. “Even back when Ash was alive, Dalan suspected that his uncle was onto some sort of big research. He was always sniffing around, trying to figure out what it was. After Ashrem disappeared, Dalan redoubled his efforts. He figured Ashrem’s lost research would be his ticket to the respect he always deserved. Of course, the old man didn’t trust his nephew enough to leave him any of his journals. Dalan was a war profiteer, after all, and Ashrem was a pacifist. So Dalan turned to me for help. I owed Dalan a few big favors from back in the war, so I agreed.”
“You knew Dalan during the war?” Tristam asked. “Does that have something to do with you being a knight?”
“That happens to be none of your business,” Zed said. “Anyway, he hired me to find out who had inherited Ashrem’s journals. Seemed a pretty straightforward job. Then some of the journals started disappearing. Then people who owned them started disappearing. I looked into it, and found out that Dalan had been meeting with displaced Cyran soldiers in some of Wroat’s shadier inns. I followed them one night after they left; the soldiers boarded Moon in the wilderness outside Wroat.”
Tristam’s frown deepened. “Dalan was working with Marth?” he asked.
Zed nodded. “For a while. I could tell that he didn’t like it, though. I think he needed Marth’s knowledge of artifice-and that’s why he brought you on, Tristam. He needed a skilled, trustworthy artificer so that he could eventually sever his association with Marth.”
Tristam absorbed the information.
“When Bishop Grove was murdered, that was the last straw,” Zed said. “Dalan stopped meeting with Marth’s agents, but by that time they didn’t really need him anymore. Marth knew much more about the Legacy than Dalan did. I was disgusted by the entire affair, but I couldn’t’ expose Dalan. I owe him too much. So I made up a lame excuse to leave and went to live in Black Pit. I didn’t want to be involved anymore.”
Tristam frowned. “All this time I thought you just abandoned us,” he said. “I’m sorry, Zed.”
“Eh, you didn’t trust me,” Zed said with a shrug. “Nothing new to me. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t really care what people think of me. No offense.”
“So why did you come back to help us?” Tristam asked.
“Because now Dalan’s trying to fix what he did,” Zed said. “He knows how dangerous the Legacy is. I believe he really does want to stop Marth from unlocking its secrets and see that it’s used responsibly. I didn’t buy it at first, and that’s why I warned you away from him, but I think he’s sincere. I’d like to help him, if I can. I’m a big admirer of redemption. The only parts that still confuse me are how Dalan ever came into contact with Marth in the first place and how Marth commandeered Kenshi Zhann. Oh, and what in Khyber he’s planning to do, of course.”
“It worries me more that Marth keeps finding us everywhere we go,” Tristam said. “Could Dalan still be working with him?”
“Doubtful,” Zed said. “Marth was trying to kill us when he shot us down. My theory is that he has some other way of finding us that has nothing to do with Dalan … or anyone else that’s been on board Karia Naille.”
A shrill whistle came from the ship’s deck above. Captain Pherris stood at the rail, pointing at the eastern sky with a grim expression. Tristam followed the gesture. At first he saw nothing, so he removed his spectacles. There was a subtle blur of movement in the sky. As it flew closer, it became more recognizable as a familiar glidewing bearing a tiny rider.
“The halfling came back alone?” Zed said, sounding worried. “Best see what’s going on, Xain. I’ll stay down here and make sure our hosts don’t become too curious.”
Tristam was already climbing back aboard the ship to wait by Blizzard’s perch. With a swoop of leathery wings, the glidewing landed on the ship. The creature’s rounded chest heaved with exhaustion. Gerith was nearly unconscious from his frenzied flight. He fell out of the saddle and stumbled toward Tristam. He dropped a heavy bag at the artificer’s feet and then collapsed on the deck.
“From Seren,” Gerith said, struggling to catch his breath. “Hide it before the Ghost Talons see.”
“Where are the others?” Pherris asked.
Gerith explained as much as he could about how the others found Kiris and then were tracked by Rossa’s hunters. Tristam felt a wild surge of emotions. He exulted that the clues he had sought for so long might be contained in the books and scrolls Gerith had brought, but he was terrified that Seren and Omax might be in danger.
“What do we do?” Gerith said, looking to Pherris.
“You get to your cabin and get some rest,” Pherris ordered. “You’re even more useless than normal when you’re half dead.”
“Aye, captain,” Gerith said with a tired laugh.
“Meantime, we wait,” Pherris continued. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Seren and the others escape before Rossa’s hunters can get them back to his village. If they do, we’ll need Seren’s help to sneak in and rescue Dalan.”
Gerith gave a lazy salute and limped away to fall below decks and crawl to his cabin.
“Who says we need to rescue Dalan?” Tristam asked once the halfling was gone.
Pherris’s fluffy brows lifted in surprise. “Where in Khyber did that come from?” he asked. “Pherris Gerriman does not leave his crew behind.”
“Never mind,” Tristam said. “I just learned some unsettling truths about Dalan.”
“I see,” Pherris said. “So I suppose the next time you’re trapped on the roof of a building that you and your metal cohort have set aflame, I should pause to weigh the worth of your eternal soul before I come and rescue you?”
Tristam said nothing.
“Right, then,” Pherris snapped. “I’ll just pretend that you never said what you just said and we shall leave it at that, Master Xain.” The captain turned smartly and marched off across the deck.
Aeven knelt nearby, hands folded demurely in her lap. She looked at Tristam with wide green eyes. “The ship is confused,” she said. “Karia Naille is glad to see her sister again, but wants to know why the Kenshi Zhann wounded her so badly.”
“I wish I knew, Aeven,” Tristam said, shrugging helplessly at the dryad. He picked up the heavy sack of books in one hand and returned to his cabin.
For the next several hours he pored through Kiris Overwood’s writings. They were notes on the Boneyard, quotes from the Draconic Prophecy, and copious sketches of magical constructions that Tristam could only assume were part of the Legacy. Unlike Ashrem’s own journals, these weren’t ciphered. It made little difference. Tristam retained none of it. The words were clear enough, but his mind was too distracted. Each time he sought to understand, his thoughts would trail inevitably to Marth, wondering at his connection to Ashrem, or to Dalan. He wondered how much the guildmaster had lied to him. He thought of Seren, worrying that she might have come to harm.
The sounds of the halfling laborers shouting at one another outside finally gave him the excuse to put aside the books and climb above deck.
“Master Xain, I need a word with you!” Pherris shouted just as Tristam emerged above deck.
He immediately noticed that the Ghost Talon halflings were in a hurry to leave. Some were rapidly packing their remaining supplies onto their mounts. Others were already running in the direction of their village on foot, holding weapons. Gerith and Zed stood at the edge of the deck, watching the halflings silently. Pherris was calibrating the ship’s controls, ignoring the spectacle. Aeven sat cross-legged atop her figurehead, watching them all attentively.
“Master Xain, I need your expertise,” Pherris said, not looking up from his work.
“What’s going on?” Tristam asked.
“A scout just arrived,” Gerith said, looking at Tristam bleakly. “The Kenshi Zhann is attacking Ghost Talon village.”
“Khyber,” Tristam swore.
“Dalan is still there,” Zed said, “and possibly the others as well.”