“The agent has summoned a pair of men, half-elves I think, which might mean your house.”
“Or House Medani, which could be worse.”
“And they’re coming after us now. Pretty quickly. Yes, they’re Medani. I see the basilisk emblem now.”
Gaven quickened his pace, seizing Senya’s hand as he hustled to the waiting coach. Senya showed their tickets to the coachman as Gaven looked back. They were close-two half-elf men, as Senya had said, with the basilisk emblem of House Medani on the lapels of their long coats. The coats billowed behind them as they walked, showing the long, slender blades both men wore at their belts. Medani’s Warning Guild provided a wide range of services, from tasters employed to detect poison to inquisitives trained to root out lies. Assuming these two were the latter, Gaven hoped to avoid any contact with them.
Making sure the Medanis were watching, Gaven boarded the lightning rail coach. He saw them start to run toward the coach, then he hurried in after Senya. “Quick. Get to the front of the coach.”
Senya obliged, pushing her way past a handful of other passengers who were waiting politely to get into their private compartments. Gaven followed her, peering into the compartments they passed. Each was like a small but elegant sitting room, with three lushly upholstered chairs, a small table, and walls paneled with matching mahogany.
At the far end, a door led into the next coach forward. Gaven checked over his shoulder again. One of the Medani agents caught his eye and held up a hand. Gaven nudged Senya forward, and they went through the door.
“Master Lyrandar!” Gaven heard the agent call.
“Off the coach,” Gaven told Senya. “Now.”
She pushed her way through more boarding passengers then paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking back at Gaven for more instructions.
“Stop them!” one of the agents shouted.
Gaven took off at a run. He moved toward the crew cart at the front of the lightning rail. Senya’s boots clomped on the marble tile behind him, and shouts arose farther behind them. Seeing Gaven’s size and bulk, the passengers and House Orien workers in his path stepped out of his way, rather than obeying the Medani agents’ orders to stop him. One man looked like he might try to stop Senya, but Gaven heard Senya’s sword slide from its sheath, and her footfalls didn’t falter behind him.
They reached the cart immediately behind the crew cart, and Gaven threw himself beneath it, hoping Senya would follow. He scurried forward on his hands and knees, crawling between two columns of sparking lightning that danced between the conductor stones, then Senya crashed into him. Lightning erupted around him, connecting the two conductor stones and arcing up around the cart. The force of Senya’s body sent him hurtling forward along the underside of the cart, propelling him between two more pairs of orbs, sending up three more bolts of lightning before he managed to roll free to the other side of the cart.
The lightning had knocked the wind out of him, and he lay on the hard floor for a moment trying to catch his breath. Senya ran and fell to her knees beside him.
“Ten Seas! Are you hurt?”
He still couldn’t speak, but he sat up in answer. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed his arm to help him stand.
“Now what?” Senya’s voice was frantic, and there was a commotion coming from the other side of the cart.
Gaven pointed weakly at the cart they’d come under. Senya seized his hand and dragged him to the door of the cart.
His nerves started to reawaken, and they screamed in protest.
They had climbed aboard the steerage cart, where dozens of people-gnomes, goblins, orcs, humans, and a very subdued-looking minotaur whose horns had been sawed off-squeezed onto narrow benches. These were people who couldn’t or didn’t want to pay standard fares, which would have entitled them to comfortable seats, sleeper bunks, and meals in the galley cart. Here they could get where they needed to at a fraction of the cost, but they had to endure close quarters-increasingly close as the lightning rail made its way through Zilargo and into Breland, picking up more passengers on the way-and sleep in their seats.
Gaven led Senya to the empty seats near the minotaur, and he felt the cart lurch forward as the lightning rail started its journey. He collapsed on a bench, while Senya crouched beside him.
“Well, they didn’t keep us in the station,” she whispered. “So did we leave them behind? Or did they come back aboard to search for us on the carts?”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Gaven said. Pain started to cloud his vision. He closed his eyes, feeling consciousness swirling and slipping away.
“Gaven?” Senya’s voice was close and urgent. Gaven fought to open his eyes. The pain had diminished, though one shard of it seemed to have traveled to between his eyes and taken up residence there. His dreams had been echoes of what his body had endured-lightning coursing through his body-though in the dream there had been a taste of exhilaration in the midst of the pain.
Senya had disguised herself as best she could-her leather coat was stowed somewhere, replaced by a more or less formless linen shift. She had pulled her hair back into a short ponytail that made her look almost like a young human girl-except for the shape of her ears and eyes. Her sword was nowhere to be seen, though Gaven couldn’t imagine that it was far from her reach.
“How are you feeling?” she said.
“Well enough. Head’s pounding a little.” He winced as he spoke. “A lot.”
She held a waterskin to his mouth and poured some water in. It was warm but clean, and it helped the pounding in his head.
“I’ve walked every cart,” she said. “I didn’t see the men who were chasing us. Vond says that a couple of Orien men came in here while I was gone, but he made sure they never laid eyes on you.”
“Vond?”
Senya pointed behind him, and Gaven turned slowly around. The minotaur was planted on the bench behind him, staring fixedly at the door that led to the next cart back.
“This is Vond,” Senya said. “Vond, this is Gaven.”
“Know that,” the minotaur growled, not shifting his eyes from the doorway.
“Nice to meet you,” Gaven said, feeling awkward. Vond didn’t respond in any way, so Gaven turned back to Senya, arching an eyebrow at her.
“Vond has been very helpful, keeping an eye on you while you slept,” Senya said. “Not to mention scaring the Oriens away.”
“I can imagine,” Gaven muttered.
“Anyway, I think we’re safe.”
“Safe? Maybe until we get to Zolanberg. Then they’ll send a team of inquisitives or Sentinel Marshals or gnome soldiers or something to search every cart until they find us. Seems to me we’re trapped. But at least we’re safe here in this cozy little cage.”
“How far to Zolanberg?” Senya asked.
CHAPTER 18
The only reason the village of Bluevine appeared on maps of Aundair was its wine: a fine vintage with a distinctive indigo color. That claim to fame made it perfect for Haldren’s purpose, Darraun reflected, which seemed to be getting all his old friends drunk enough to pledge their support to his cause.
Ten people gathered around a table in the back room of a Bluevine winery might not seem like much to a casual observer, Darraun thought. The guests Haldren had gathered, however, represented a significant concentration of power in Aundair. If he wanted to start another war, he could do worse.
Darraun sat at the foot of the table, trying to avoid drawing notice. That was easy enough, as Haldren commanded attention-preaching his vision of a new Galifar reunited under his rule as if it were a message of
