not care who noticed his departure.
...
Chames Marks, known also as Chames Felt, Ghaiman Felt, Marcus Michaels, and a half-dozen others, had returned to his apothecary shop after a brief hiatus. The castle folk were not interested in him by any name despite his known connection to Haida Heltkler.
He did not trust that indifference despite assurances that Nathan Wolf and the sorcerer had given him only the briefest look. They seemed confident that he had no interests outside his apothecary business.
Chames thought those people might be smart enough to see that his business made a good cover for traffic generated by espionage. Maybe they based their thinking on the fact that he had a broad, solid business, not just a storefront. Maybe his best character witness, Dr. Wachtel, had been found out and was being played. He decided to go about his business as though every breath was scrutinized.
He replaced Haida Heltkler with Seline Shalot, a younger, more flamboyant girl the castle folks ought to be able to suborn. She could deliver regular reports on how boring he was.
He grinned. The game was getting dangerous. He savored the heady risk.
...
Summer was on the wane. Early crops were being harvested. Across Kavelin anyone not committed otherwise became involved in the harvest; reaping, winnowing, slaughtering, preserving, storing. A thousand tasks had to be managed. Crops were good everywhere. Piglets grown into hogs and lambs grown into sheep were spared the kil ing knife because their sacrifice would not be needed.
There was forage enough to bring them through the winter so they could be bred to expand the herds and flocks.
Prosperity threatened not just Kavelin but al of the Lesser Kingdoms. There was but one evil omen.
That monster harbinger, that angel of evil, the Unborn, had become a fixture of the nighttime sky, haunting Kavelin, its presence blatant.
Wicked old Varthlokkur wanted it known that he was watching. That hideous lich caused a hundred schemes to miscarry. Even those who thought Varthlokkur ought to see them favorably tried to avoid being noticed by the Unborn.
...
Dahl Haas said, “I don’t understand why you feel so negative, love. It’s al going good. Even the Estates are coming around.”
“But they don’t mean it in their hearts. Bragi looks like the coming thing so they’re covering their asses.”
“Yeah. But you’re thinking too much. Most people don’t look past the end of next week. Have faith in the stupidity of your friends and of your enemies.”
“Dahl, I’d rather not think at al .”
They were alone. The soldier leaned in and planted an ardent kiss on the king’s mother. The king’s mother responded enthusiastical y.
Haas pul ed back. “Ozora is bril iant. It’s going exactly how she predicted. Time is our champion now. Inger won’t last much longer.”
“Aral says she’s trying hard to find the missing treasury money. If she does…”
“She’l be disappointed. Assuming Aral told the truth.”
“Uhm?”
“He claimed Michael said there wasn’t much treasury left.”
“It grows in the tel ing?”
“Because of wishful thinking.”
“Does Varthlokkur know? There have been so many Unborn sightings. That makes me nervous.”
“Which would be the point. Varthlokkur and Bragi had a fal ing out but that didn’t end the wizard’s interest in Kavelin.”
Kristen was sure Kavelin would hear directly from the wizard soon.
...
Babeltausque slipped into the abandoned house, quivering with anticipation. He paused in the darkness, looked back into the moonlight. Eager though he was, he did not move for minutes. He dared not be tracked by Inger’s enemies.
He sensed watchers every time he left the castle. He did nothing to confound them by day but for these nocturnal ventures he used every trick available.
Satisfied that he had arrived unnoticed, he drifted into the interior. Ghost fire revealed the damage done by treasure hunters.
For a long time every hunter started with the house, but no longer. A hundred visitations had produced only a few random copper coins from beneath furniture or, in one case, wedged between floorboards.
There was an intimidation factor, too. The owner had left numerous booby traps. Men had died. No trap had yet been found actual y guarding anything. They were not based on western magic so they antedated the night the treasury disappeared.
Once he became the Queen’s own sorcerer Babeltausque spawned rumors that bigger and more deadly traps had yet to be sprung. He then instal ed a few of those himself.
At first he wanted the house shunned because he suspected the treasury might actual y be there, despite repeated failures to find it. Then he had come to appreciate the place for its more arcane possibilities.
He had yet to explore it al . There were areas where the residual sorcery was so brawny it frightened him, left him feeling like he was sliding through a canebrake of spel s.
He never stopped turning up new facets of the most magical y active site in Kavelin. Stil , he had yet to make an effort to chart its defenses or uncover what it was hiding.
Because it was shunned it was now the place he went when he wanted to be alone, to relax, to enjoy.
He had been conquered by his need. He had begun to indulge it. Here.
He could wait no longer. He must run to his beloved.
Chapter Sixteen:
Mist took every precaution testing the portals into Kavelin. Tang Shan’s skil s had been sufficient to establish connections with each, but there was no way to know what lay beyond without
going to look.
She chose to go herself, despite the protests of her lifeguards. She did indulge in one old-time, non-magical safety technique. She tied a rope around her waist before she stepped through. Her bodyguards could drag her back.
They could have overruled her. They had that right. But to do so could mean loss of place or even exile should the Empress be sufficiently irked.
Her first crossing took her into the caverns behind Maisak. She stepped into utter darkness. The air was stil , dry, and carried a taint of old death. She withdrew immediately. “I need a lantern.”
The lantern helped only a little.
She was in a large, empty space once used to receive transferring troops. Dead portals stretched away to either hand.
Lifting her lantern overhead, Mist could just make out a sprawled skeleton.
Those bones were not human.
Something moved behind her. She gave up a startled squeak. A lifeguard joined her, bringing another lantern. He said nothing. He fol owed when she moved toward the bones.
The Captal of Savernake, once master of Maisak, had enjoyed the friendship of many nonhuman creatures,
