“What if I can’t?”
“I rely on your ingenuity, Rik. You have demonstrated it before.”
“If you will forgive me for saying so, it’s not much of a plan.”
“No, it’s not. But it’s the best I can do.” She gave him a look full of sorrow and pity and desperation. The mask had slipped and he suddenly saw exactly how desperate she was that she should contemplate this. She had helped break an empire and now she was forced to rely on a half-breed boy to save everything she had helped build. If they failed here she would lose more than her life’s work. She would lose her life.
Then again, at this moment, she was not risking very much, only his life. He had already been furnished with ample proof that the Terrarch Lords of the world did not consider it worth a great deal.
Once more, his thoughts turned to escape. If what she said about his bloodline was true, he would be very difficult for them to find, if he could get out of their sight. Then again, he would be a stranger in a war torn land, an enemy to both sides, with no friends and no resources. He told himself that was a position he had been in before but that did not make things look any better.
“Tell me more of these Shadowblood, were they truly undetectable? Was there no way to find them by sorcery?” She smiled almost as if she was reading his thoughts.
“There are always ways, if you have the tools.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I had a lock of your hair, or a sample of your blood or anything else intimately connected with you, I could find you.”
“How?”
“There are creatures of the aether, demons if you will, who have senses of what- for want of a better word — we will call smell, a thousand times keener than a bloodhound. With something to trace, they can find anything.”
“Why did you not use them on Al’Terra?”
“We did. And sometimes they worked. And sometimes they were baffled by more powerful sorcery. We were not the only ones who used magic, Rik. Rest assured, wherever you go I can find you.”
He thought back to the lock of hair she had taken back in the tent. “You lied to me,” he said.
“No, Rik, I just did not tell you the entire truth. I will destroy the lock when it is no longer needed.” He felt angry and foolish, but realised that anger would do him no good in this place at this time. He needed to get himself under control if he was going to survive. “What can you do to help me on this mission?”
“I can provide you with maps of the Tower’s interior. I can even provide you with a guard’s uniform. I can provide you with some unusual weapons as well.”
That sounded more promising. “What can you give me? Magical weapons?”
“No. Those would be noticed by the guardians. Such weapons have auras just like any living things. They are imbued with magical energy. I can give you poisons…”
“What do you want me to do — poison the water supply?”
“No, I will give you magebane, which is extremely painful to anyone using magic, and I will give you drugs that will heighten your speed and strength.”
“I will need those.”
“There is one thing, Rik. If the opportunity should arise to acquire the glowing necklace that Ilmarec wears on his neck, take it. All the sorcerous defences of the Tower are tied to it. Given time, I could make good use of it.”
“I’m sure he will notice if I take his amulet.”
“Not if he is dead. That would solve a number of our problems.”
“You are saying that if the opportunity should arise, I am to kill Ilmarec.”
“You are a soldier. He is the enemy.”
“He is a Terrarch Lord. I am a human. Burning at the stake is the penalty for such a killing.”
“Not under the circumstances. This is war.”
“His retainers might, if they catch me.”
“Then best see that you are not caught.”
Rik glared at her. He could not help but feel that he was being bundled off on a suicide mission. If he succeeded Asea would grab most of the glory, for it would be her spells that protected him, or so she would claim, and he was in no position to contest that. If he failed, she would still be safe in this mansion, a rich wealthy Terrarch lady. As he had always been his whole life, he was trapped and in the power of the world’s rulers. He did not really have a say in what was going on. The best he could hope to do was sneak away, and even then he knew that, if ever they caught up with him, the penalties would be grave.
“You are looking very thoughtful,” she said.
“I am merely contemplating my chances of success,” he said. “They are not good are they?”
“No,” she agreed. “They are not.”
“Is there anything I can do to improve them?”
“You could try prayer.”
He looked at her, not sure if she was entirely serious.
“How are we to acquire a cart?” he said.
“There is a man who will help you. He is a power among the thieves in this city. I believe you have already made his acquaintance. His name is Black Tomar.”
Rik kept his face impassive. What was the connection between Asea and the local gang boss? “Why should he help us?”
“Because he will, believe me,” she said. Rik suppressed a shiver. He wondered how much contact Asea had with Tomar, whether he knew of what had happened- what had been said- with Tamara the other night.
Asea smiled almost as if she were reading his thoughts. “Give him this coin. He will know you are my messenger.”
She placed an ancient gold coin on the table. Rik picked it up and inspected it. It was a very old one, its face almost worn away; someone had indented a strange pattern on its edge, he could feel it with his finger. Rik slipped it into his pocket.
“Anything else?”
“You should be very careful, Rik, about who you talk to and what you say,” Asea said. There was a strange edge to her smile. How much did she know, he wondered?
Rik stamped the mud from his boots, wiped the rain from his forehead and followed Weasel and the Barbarian into the Snake’s Head. He cursed the weather, and he cursed the strange light from the Tower even though it lit the gloomy streets. There was something about that hellish glow that made the space between his shoulder blades crawl.
The tavern was full of worried-looking men and the kind of swift coming and going common in thieves’ haunts in times of unrest. There were a lot of opportunities out there right now. The knowledge made Rik’s fingers tingle and he felt almost tempted to go out and join in the looting.
Instead he worked his way up to the bar, behind Weasel and the Barbarian. A big, craggy-looking man greeted them with a raised finger to the barman. Three drinks were swiftly poured and placed in front of them. From this Rik deduced the man was Black Tomar, the owner, who Weasel had come to do business with the other night. He glanced around half-hoping to see Tamara, but there was absolutely no sign of her. He wondered if he would ever see her again. He pushed the thought aside; now was the time to be about Lady Asea’s business.
“Good evening,” Tomar said by way of greeting. His eyes flickered over Rik with more than casual interest. It was swiftly done but he was aware of the scrutiny nonetheless.
“Greetings, matey,” said Weasel in his most open, peasant manner, always a sign that he was most on guard.
“I am surprised to see you on a night like tonight,” said Tomar. “I thought you would be inside the House of Three Swans or maybe even still up at the Tower with Lord Ilmarec.”
“So you know about that then?” said Weasel.
“Hard not to notice when you see a company of foreign soldiers go up Snake Road.”
“I suppose so,” said Weasel. “You thought any about what we talked about last night?”
“Yes. You can tell the Quartermaster his reputation precedes him, and I’ll be happy to do business with
