Evan didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. “You mentioned that the busker was in Chalk Cliffs. Where is he now?”
“We don’t know,” sul’Han said. “He was in the city when it fell. We believe that he might be among the prisoners the empress took back to her capital.” Again, it seemed like he had more to say, but didn’t.
Evan tried not to surrender to despair. Despite everything he’d done, all the plans he’d laid with Destin, another of the magemarked was in the empress’s hands.
So, now what? Maybe Brody was right. These wetlanders might decide to trade him to the empress in an effort to make her go away. They might believe they had no other skin in the game. Evan had to convince them otherwise.
“Once Celestine realizes that Jenna is still alive, she will conquer the wetlands, realm by realm, until she finds her. If you want to defeat the empress, you are going to have to join together. If you don’t, she will win. Ask the survivors of Chalk Cliffs.” He paused. “Do you think there’s any chance of that—joining together?”
“It won’t be easy,” the healer said. “There’s too much blood on the ground already.”
“And there will be more—you can count on that,” Evan said. “What about you? Why are we having this meeting? What are you hoping for?”
The healer held his gaze for a long moment. And then, somehow, chose to trust him. “You’ve heard people speak of a Captain Gray,” he said.
Evan nodded. “He was at Chalk Cliffs,” he said. “Everyone seemed to be worried about him.”
“She was at Chalk Cliffs,” the healer corrected him. “Captain Gray is my sister Alyssa, the heir to the Gray Wolf throne. We believe that the empress took her captive, and that she is now somewhere in Carthis. I intend to go after her, and I’m going to need your help.”
27SETTING THE TRAP
When it came to political intrigue, Hal Matelon had one thing going for him: by now he had a network of men he could trust with his life—men he’d fought alongside on multiple battlegrounds in this never-ending war. He was counting on that now to help him find his brother.
On the downside, his was a well-known face in Ardenscourt, even after a year away, since he’d spent most of his winters at court. So he sat in the corner of the tavern, collar turned up, face turned away from the lamp, hoping that he wouldn’t be recognized. The last thing they needed was another Matelon held hostage by the boy king.
He was all but positive that Robert would have come here to Ardenscourt to hunt for their mother and sister before the thanes marched on the capital.
Hal heard the door bang open and shut as someone new came into the tavern. The newcomer, dressed in military garb, stopped at the bar to make inquiries. Now he walked purposefully toward Hal’s table, bringing with him the scent of the spring evening. Hal tensed momentarily, then relaxed when he recognized him.
It was Eric Bellamy, the son of the master of horse at Ardenscourt. Though Bellamy was a year or two older than Hal, he’d served under him for several years in the field. Only now, Hal noted, he wore a captain’s braid on his shoulders.
“Sir? I’m told you have a message for— Saints and martyrs!” Bellamy stared at Hal as if he’d been raised from the dead, then made the sign of Malthus.
“Shhh. Sit down,” Hal said, waving him to a seat.
Bellamy sat, nearly stumbling over the table leg. He seemed to be afraid to take his eyes off Hal, as if he might lunge at him and suck out his soul if he did.
“But . . . Captain . . . I heard you were dead—that you died at Delphi!” Bellamy hissed.
“No, not dead yet,” Hal said.
Bellamy looked around, to see if anyone was close enough to have heard. “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered. “What if someone sees you?”
“I’m hoping it will help that nobody will be looking for a dead man,” Hal said. He signaled for the server. “What’ll you have?”
“Small beer,” Bellamy said. “I’m on duty in a little while.” He paused. “On second thought, I’ll have bingo. A double.”
Hal put in the order and turned back to Bellamy, who was studying him with narrowed eyes. “You look like you’ve put on some hard miles since I saw you last, sir,” he said. “When’s the last time you had a good meal?”
“I just ate an entire lamb pie,” Hal said, pushing his empty plate back, “and I’m seriously considering having another. I’ve been in a northern prison, where food is hard to come by.”
“How’d you get away?”
“The guards got tired of losing to me at nicks and bones,” Hal said. “So they let me go.”
“Right,” Bellamy said skeptically. He paused, as if groping for something to say. “I’ve never seen you with a beard before.”
Hal fingered his chin, still thickly forested with a black stubble. “Enjoy it while you can. What are you up to these days?”
Bellamy rolled his eyes. “I’ve been working with my da over the winter, trying to teach new recruits from the down-realms which end of a horse is the front. When I’m not doing that, my mother is trotting me around to parties, hoping I’ll meet some rich widow. There’s a shortage of dance partners at court, since so many of the thanes have taken the field against the king. Those that haven’t are staying away, for fear of being here when the thanes sack the city.”
“Could be your golden ticket,” Hal said drily.
“Ha,” Bellamy said. “The widows I fall for are always penniless.”
“To penniless widows,” Hal said, raising his glass in a toast.
Bellamy laughed, but quickly sobered. “If fortune finds me, it’ll be because I’ve
