Destin rested his forearms on the stern railing, squinting against the sunlight gilding the tops of the Guardians. “Do you recognize that ship?”
“No,” Evan said, “but she looks like a wetlander.”
Not many wetland ships came and went at Tarvos these days, since Carthian pirates made the journey perilous. This ship, however, looked like she could fend off most any challenge.
The harbor area was oddly deserted when they tied up at their mooring. Usually, the arrival of any ship brought a handful of people down to the wharf, some intent on commerce, others merely curious. Several jolly boats were tied up at Kadar’s public docks.
They quickly unloaded their few personal belongings, meaning to come back with the wagon for the rest. As they walked up the hill, away from the harbor, Evan looked back. He saw sailors swarming over the schooner’s decks, as if they were preparing to get under way.
When they rounded the point, the cottage came into view. It was dark—no lights in the windows.
“Frances should be home by now,” Evan said. “Right?”
“Before now,” Destin said, frowning. “Maybe she left a note inside.”
They walked to the porch, between the beds of flowers that Frances had planted, and found the door slightly ajar.
Breaker growled, hackles raised, but that was nothing unusual.
“Wait,” Destin said, raising his hand. He stood listening for a long moment, then shrugged, pushed the door open, and walked in, with Evan right behind him.
Before Evan’s eyes had adjusted to the dim interior, he heard the door slam shut behind them. All around the main room, lanterns were unhooded, flooding the room with light, practically blinding him.
“Where have you been, Corporal?” somebody said in a low, raspy voice. “Weren’t you afraid that your mother would be worried?”
Destin must have recognized the voice, because he turned deathly pale. He spun round, scanning the room. Frances wasn’t there, but red-brown stains that hadn’t been there before were spattered across the tile floor.
“Don’t waste your time, Corporal. The bitch is waiting for us aboard ship. I think she’ll live.”
The man speaking was thickset and barrel-chested, a wetland mage with a flattened nose and a bristle of hair. He was dressed in a brown uniform that carried no emblem of rank. His arms were so muscular that they hung out from his sides like thick branches on a spreading tree.
It was—it had to be—Destin’s father, General Karn. But it wasn’t just him. A dozen men lined the room’s perimeter, similarly dressed, their hands on their weapons, as if looking for a chance to use them.
Grabbing up the fire poker, Destin charged toward his father. But before he’d gone three steps, he was surrounded by soldiers, who pinioned his arms. The poker hit the wood floor with a thud.
Evan thrust out his hand, reaching for lightning, though unsure how that demand would be answered. Something smashed down on the back of his head and he ended up sprawled on his face on the floor, stunned. Karn gestured to his men, and two of them hauled Evan to his feet.
The general looked the pair of them up and down. “Too bad,” he said. “Two mages, and we only brought one collar.” He gestured toward Destin. While two soldiers fastened a wide silver collar around Destin’s neck, the general reached into Evan’s neckline, apparently searching for an amulet. He came up with the pendant. He ripped it away, breaking the chain, and tossed it into the corner.
If this keeps happening, Evan thought, I’ll need to find a stronger chain.
The general turned back to his collared, pinioned son. “You haven’t learned a thing while you’ve been gone, have you, boy?” Karn drew back and slammed his fist, hard, into Destin’s middle, folding him in half. Evan could hear ribs cracking. Then he punched him in the face, snapping Destin’s head back.
Breaker sprang forward, moving faster than he’d ever moved before. He sank his teeth into the general’s calf and hung on.
Karn swore, trying to shake off the growling dog. Finally, he drew his belt dagger and slashed, practically decapitating the dog. Breaker managed to yelp once, then landed in a heap on the floor. The general kicked him aside with his booted foot.
“Stupid butt-fart of a dog,” Karn said. He looked at Destin, who stood, collared, arms pinned, eye purpling, blood streaming down his face. Evan knew Destin had loved that dog, knew he must be in considerable pain, but he displayed no sign of it, no hint of emotion. It was as if he’d retreated to some long-standing shell of survival, where the general couldn’t get at him.
As if seeking easier prey, the general turned to Evan. “So,” he said. “Who are you, mageling?”
Evan said nothing.
Karn drew his knife. “Speak, boy, or I’ll cut out your tongue.”
“Mother hired him to do odd jobs around the place,” Destin said, in a bored voice. “He claimed to be a handyman, but I haven’t seen any sign of it.”
“Is that so?” Karn barked a laugh. “What sort of odd jobs do you do, boy?” The way he said it, it sounded filthy.
“He spends most of his time sleeping and eating and sneaking off to town.” Destin’s face was blank, his jaw tense, his glittering eyes sending a message to Evan. Play along.
“That’s a dirty lie,” Evan said. He turned to Karn. “I’m a hard worker, sir. I do whatever needs doing—farming, kitchen work, chopping wood.”
“You are a pretty boy,” Karn said. “You’re not his little sweetheart, are you?” He nodded at Destin.
Evan adopted a puzzled expression. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
Karn waved the knife beneath his nose. “If I cut off your nose and your ears, you wouldn’t be near so pretty, would you?” He shot a look at Destin, as if to see his reaction, but Destin displayed none.
“Or maybe we could just gut-stab you and leave you to die.” Again, he shot
