blame?”
“The eye,” Zusa said, slowly sitting up. “And your yelling is bad for headaches.”
Haern felt her words pierce his heart with ice. Of course, his symbol. Knowledge of it wasn’t common, and he himself hadn’t used it since ending the thief war years before, but at least one person knew. The man who had used that same symbol before.
“The Wraith,” he said. “It has to be. He wants this whole mess brought to a head, and now he’s found a way.”
Alyssa fussed over Zusa a moment, who pushed her away.
“He’s attacked the elves before,” Zusa said. “You must find him, Haern. Give him to the elves, and let them take all the years they need to drag out a confession. If we clear Alyssa’s name, we might stop all of this.”
She made it sound so simple, but Haern knew it wasn’t. Finding him would be close to impossible, and as for defeating him…
“And what about you?” he asked her, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him.
“The merchants have overstepped their bounds,” Zusa said. “We must make them fear us, fear the fate awaiting them if they force Angelport to war.”
She stood on unsteady feet. Alyssa pulled her back down to the bench, and the faceless woman could not resist.
“You’re still weak,” she said. “Rest another day. We’re safe here.”
“Can the city spare another day?”
Haern frowned, and he swung his arm in a circles. Nole had done well healing his shoulder, and he finally felt like he might fight at full strength. Perhaps the city could wait, as well the merchants, but the Wraith…
“I’ll find him,” he said. “Even if I have to tear Angelport apart until I do.”
It was a hollow promise, for the city was an enormous place, but he had a feeling the Wraith would be looking for him. Looking to see if he’d join him. Part of him still wanted to. But if they were to have peace, and clear his name, he’d have to take him down.
Haern reached into Alyssa’s pocket, pulling out a handful of gold coins.
“Where are you going?” she asked as he headed for the door.
“To buy new swords.”
Ambassador Graeven waited outside the city, in the same spot where Eravon had been killed. It only seemed appropriate. No tents this time, just a small fire to show his position. The rain had stopped, but thick clouds remained, convincing the elf it was a brief, but welcome, respite. Hour after hour came and went, and patient as ever, he let them pass until at last his guest joined him at the fire.
“Greetings, Scoutmaster,” Graeven said, bowing. “Where is your magnificent horse?”
“I feared Sonowin would attract too much attention,” the other elf said, and he bowed low to show his respect. His hair was brown and long, carefully cut and braided so it would not disrupt his vision. His clothes were a camouflaged mix of greens and browns. When he walked, he made not a sound, and it seemed even the grass hardly noticed his passing. He was Dieredon, Scoutmaster of the Quellan elves, and one of their greatest trackers. Hanging from his back was an enormous bow, with which his skill was legendary.
“I’m glad you’ve come,” Graeven said. “The city has grown violent as of late, and I have need of your skills.”
“So I have heard. Where is Laryssa now?”
“We’ve smuggled her out of the city for her own safety. Ceredon’s ordered her to return to Quellassar, as is best. I will remain in charge of our negotiations, which brings me to why I need you.”
They both sat opposite each other by the fire, on beds of grass Graeven had carefully dried out with a burning branch during the lengthy wait. He offered Dieredon a buttered piece of bread, but the other elf rejected it.
“I am not much for human food,” he said.
“It’s grown on me.”
Dieredon looked to the city in the distance, his sharp eyes easily seeing a hundred details even Graeven could not.
“I am not alone in my arrival,” he said. “Many more have come, and it takes little to guess their intentions. Already we infiltrate the city. By week’s end, we’ll have two hundred elves in disguise among their ranks, if not twice that. The response has been overwhelming.”
“Which is why I summoned you,” Graeven said, setting aside his food without taking a bite, despite what he’d said about human food. “My position is to speak for our kind, who are united in their desire for war. I fear to utter even a word of peace lest I find myself reprimanded. Since Laryssa’s attack, it has only gotten worse.”
“Then why summon me?”
“Because you aren’t like the rest of our kin. You have spent a century in the wild, amid orcs, wolves, and humans. If there is anyone I feel I can rely on in this matter, it is you.”
Dieredon crossed his arms.
“I am no friend of man, despite my efforts. But a war against Angelport is folly. We should be above revenge and pride, yet that drives so many of our kind here. If I can help prevent such madness, tell me, and I will do what I can.”
Graeven smiled.
“Despite his bluster, I don’t think Lord Ingram actually seeks war. He’s a coward, and his fear and ignorance of us is truly impressive. It is our own kind we must appease, and I know of only one way. If you hunted down the ones responsible for the attack on Laryssa, and prove they acted on their own, we might have a chance. I’ll still need to deal with the Merchant Lords, but I think Ingram has begun to fear them as much as us. Perhaps a solution will present itself, but for now, we must worry about one thing at a time.”
“Do we know who is responsible?” Dieredon asked. “I’ve heard rumors…”
“I feel certain Alyssa Gemcroft gave the order. I heard her fury when we cast her out, reneging on my earlier offer of safety.” He handed Dieredon a small square piece of parchment, with a drawing of Alyssa he’d made with a thin stick of charcoal. “She is in hiding, and must be found. But I do not believe she was the one who acted out the attack.”
“Who was it, then?”
“I have looked deep into the matter, so trust my word in this. He is known as the Watcher, a killer from Veldaren who came south with Alyssa. The open eye is his symbol, which he drew using Laryssa’s own blood. Not only did he attack our princess, but he was arrogant enough to ensure we knew why it was done.”
“What does this…Watcher…look like?”
Graeven handed over a second square of parchment.
“It’s crude, I know, but the best I could manage. He is skilled, far more than humans are usually capable of. Do not treat him lightly. I wonder how great a match he would be against you.”
“How will I find him?” Dieredon asked, tucking both drawings into a pouch at his belt.
“If you find Alyssa, you will find him. He seems protective of her, perhaps because she has hired him, perhaps because they are lovers. It is little matter. With Alyssa found, he will come for her, if he is not with her already.”
“I will do what I can, though I must travel in disguise, and that will slow things down.”
“Make haste,” Graeven said, standing. “Remember, everything I do, I do for Quellassar. We must not relinquish the slightest scrap of land to the humans, I understand that now, but neither can we let a war begin that we are not prepared to win.”
“It might not be within our power to stop.”
Graeven’s eyes twinkled, and he smiled in the absence of starlight.
“Within the land of humans, Dieredon, everything is possible. These events are ours to control. Bring me Alyssa and the Watcher, and I will do the rest.”
Dieredon nodded, and he turned once more to the city.
“I may have to kill to succeed,” he said.
“Our cause is just. Celestia will understand, and give you her blessing. The few you kill outnumber the thousands you save. Remember, if you see our brethren in disguise, keep your task to yourself. Their minds are set, and they will not appreciate any attempt toward peace.”
