of Gerrod’s brethren still holed up in their domiciles and alchemical labs, they would discover the true depths of darkness that lurked beneath their feet.
But who had birthed such a dark legion, these black ghawls?
Rogger squeezed up to Tylar on the stairs. He held forth something in his hand. “Lorr dropped this. He had been clutching it all along, burnt to the skin of his palm.”
Tylar took the strap of black cloth, weighted down with a heavy stone. He held the jewel up to the next lamp. The diamond’s facets trapped the light and reflected it back a thousandfold. It was a rare and handsome stone.
And one he recognized.
His blood chilled. Kathryn wore the same stone-though hers was only paste and artifice. Here was the true diadem that marked the castellan’s station, granted and passed from one to the next, over countless centuries. Only the chain was broken last year. The castellan before Kathryn had vanished as surely and completely as Perryl, taking this diadem with her.
“Castellan Mirra…” he mumbled.
He clutched the stone in his palm, picturing the stern face of the old woman, the longtime counselor to good Ser Henri, former warden to Tashijan. Henri had trusted no one more. Now here was the stone again, ripped away by Lorr at the risk of his own flesh.
What did it mean?
Kathryn kept her post, guarding Dart. Brant and Laurelle stood behind her shoulders.
“Take the girl!” Argent said from behind the high bench.
Shadowknights stalked toward her from both sides. Kathryn eyed the rear door to the chamber. It stood unguarded and led back to the adjudicators’ private rooms of contemplation. It would prove their best chance to escape. From there, Kathryn could reach those loyal to her, get Dart into hiding. After that, she would force Argent to face the true threat against Tashijan.
But first she had to get Dart to safety, beyond Argent’s reach.
She began to draw her sword-then a door on the far side slammed open with a resounding bang. All eyes turned. A knight swept into the chamber, flanked by a cadre of men in gray cloaks, a match to the cut of the first, except the men had blackened their faces with ash.
The lead knight ripped away his masklin and tossed back his hood to reveal a knotted braid of white hair. “Back from the girl!” Krevan commanded.
He led his men into the chamber, eyes defiant, staring all down.
The bloodnullers retreated toward their alcoves. The warden’s men paused in their approach.
Argent, plainly shaken by the interruption, collected himself. “You and your men have no bearing on this matter, Raven ser Kay,” he said, using the knight’s old name. “You have served Myrillia in the recent past. That will buy you and your men your freedom to leave Tashijan, but don’t expect further leniency. The Black Flaggers are still considered brigands and pirates.”
Krevan approached the bench and stood between Kathryn and Argent. His men spread out in a threatening stance.
“I have no bearing here?” he said, his voice lowering in threat. He shrugged back his cloak to free an arm and pointed back to Kathryn and the others while keeping his focus on Argent. “I have no bearing on what’s done to my own daughter?”
Silence struck the room.
Dart jerked to her feet in surprise.
Argent also could not hide his shock. “What?” He held up a hand and shook his head. “Page Hothbrin-you claim she is your daughter?”
Kathryn didn’t understand Krevan’s ruse, but she knew it best to follow suit. She stepped forward. “It is the reason I defend her now,” she said. “None were to know she was Krevan’s daughter. The regent and I granted his request to allow her to enter training here. I was sworn to secrecy.”
Krevan cut in. “I was exiled, rightly or not, from these walls because of my history with the Wyr. But my daughter bears no such taint. She was born free from the Wyr, birthed of a tryst in Drush Mire. I wished her to continue where I could not. To be a knight.”
Argent struggled to absorb all this information. “I could not tell you,” Kathryn said. “Even the girl did not know her heritage. She thought her father had died shortly after her birth. Why burden her with the truth? We owed Krevan a debt. Here it was paid in full.”
“Wait!” Argent yelled. “What of the Dark Graces we’ve seen here? Of the daemon witnessed by the squires?”
“That would be my fault,” Krevan said. “I feared someone would discover her secret here. I have many enemies. Her life would be forfeit for my crimes. So I cast a dark alchemy upon her, one crafted by the Wyr. If she were threatened, it would awaken and defend her. Likewise, to keep her secret, I could not have her soothed, lest some truth be exposed. She was ignorant of all this.”
“To bring dark alchemies within the walls of Tashijan, you break our edicts here.”
Krevan stared down Argent. “It seems if matters are dire enough, such actions are warranted. Are they not, Warden Fields?”
Argent’s face flushed, reminded of his own use of dark arts.
Kathryn stepped forward, dropping her voice to a placating tone. “Such matters can be sorted at another time,” she said. “I must remind everyone of the danger that presently looms-from without and within. Tashijan must ready itself before all is lost.”
Argent’s brow furrowed. He looked little resolved.
Kathryn waved Dart to her feet. “I will keep the girl confined to my rooms. Upon my sworn word, I must keep her safe. Once we-”
A clatter of boots interrupted her. Again all eyes turned to the door as a knight burst into the chambers. He drew to a winded stop. “Word from the main guard!”
Argent brusquely motioned to him to speak.
“The Masterlevels…are being emptied. Upon the orders of the regent.”
Behind the man, a squawk of surprise arose from the doorway.
“What?” Master Hesharian pushed from where he had been hiding at the threshold, mopping his shining brow with a folded scrap of cloth, plainly just arrived himself. “Why was I not informed? What is the meaning of all this?”
The messenger ignored him, his full attention on the warden.
Kathryn noted Master Hesharian’s companion, lurking in his larger shadow. Clouded eyes ignored everyone in the room and settled on Dart. She sensed that Krevan’s ruse would be peeled away under such a gaze. She stepped back to Dart, hiding the girl behind her cloak again.
Before anyone could speak, a resounding strike of a gong reverberated from below and traveled up the throat of Stormwatch Tower. As its echoes died away, all gazes turned to the warden. All knew its meaning. Traditionally it was rung only once a year, during a formal ceremony, reminding all of their duty to Myrillia. Otherwise, it was struck for only one reason.
“We’re too late,” Kathryn mumbled to no one and to everyone.
They were under attack.
THIRD
WYR AND WRAITH
Spiderboard for Skulls, played with brass pinches, a contest of luck, wit, and a fair scrape of deception. Better played with enemies than friends. More blood has been spilled over this game than all the wars of Myrillia. Origin: unknown, though attributed to the witchlords of Bly.
