He got dressed in a long-sleeved undershirt, then a pale, long-sleeved tunic with a high buttoned collar. On top of that, a protective brown leather jerkin, and then, finally, a short-sleeved red coat that fell to mid-thigh. He fastened a heavy brown belt around his waist, then pulled on a long coat he had liberated from one of the crewmen, a fine garment with a deep hood, crafted for the climate of Tyvia.
Then he turned and looked in the mirror again, and he didn’t seem himself. He saw a man he thought was dead. A man exiled from Dunwall fifteen years ago, never to return to the life of violence and darkness he’d left behind.
When the Bear of Tamarak docked in Karnaca, Daud,former leader of the Whalers, master assassin, the Knife of Dunwall—and puppet of the Outsider—slipped from the vessel silently and vanished into the city.
23
CAMPO SETA DOCKYARDS, KARNACA
22nd Day, Month of Harvest, 1852
“Hush-a-bye, and don’t be affright,
Mama will sing through all the night,
Many an hour before morning sun,
Don’t dream of horror yet to come.”
—TRADITIONAL SERKONAN SONGS
Extract from a popular melody
The two witches watched the Bear of Tamarak as it sat out in the harbor, the hulk dominating the view, larger than most of the buildings that crowded this part of Karnaca’s shoreline. The pair sat high up on top of a billboard, their legs dangling in the air, the advertisement beneath them having long since faded to a shadowy palimpsest of indistinct images.
Lucinda cocked her head, her eyes on the horizon. “He has returned. As our mistress foresaw.”
Her companion, Caitlin, frowned. The warm evening breeze ruffled her shorn black hair, and she ran a hand over her scalp.
“We can’t expect the plan to continue, can we?”
Lucinda smiled. “And why not, oh sister of mine?” Sheshrugged. “All is prepared. We need but the last items from the Royal Conservatory. Then the trap will be set. All we need is for our quarry to walk into it.”
“But Breanna is powerless, she—”
Lucinda pushed Caitlin’s shoulder, forcing the witch to grab hold of the top of the billboard to stop herself from losing her balance. “Breanna has no magic, but she is far from powerless.”
Caitlin shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Lucinda leaned in toward her companion, and as Caitlin watched, her eyes turned black, becoming two deep pools. Caitlin gasped.
“You still have power? But how?”
Lucinda’s eyes returned to normal. “Our mistress was cut off from the Void, but some of her magic remained in the world. Her black bonecharms still sing. And some of that power remained in me, and a few of the others. See?” She slipped her shirt down to reveal an ink-covered shoulder. The lines of the tattoo swam as Caitlin studied it. “This, one of her last special undertakings, a final experiment, persists, though even now I can feel it fading. But there is enough. The plan proceeds as before. Breanna needs us now more than ever.”
Caitlin turned back to watch the Bear of Tamarak. She felt breathless, excited—exhilarated. So it was not over, not yet. The grand plan, the one Lucinda had hatched as soon as she had learned that Daud still walked the world, would go ahead. Originally, they had planned to present Daud to their mistress, Breanna, to curry favor—Breanna was powerful, untouchable, and Lucinda had wanted to share more of her power, using the gift to demonstrate their worthiness to her.
And then something had gone wrong, something with the Oraculum. It had stripped Breanna of her powers,leaving her helpless as a babe. Now she was hiding somewhere in the city—maybe Lucinda knew where, although if she did, she hadn’t said yet.
But… was she speaking the truth? Was there hope yet? Did some vestige of Breanna’s power still exist—and had some of it entered Lucinda? And was she able to wield it?
If so…
Caitlin turned to Lucinda, who nodded.
“It makes the mind reel with the possibilities, doesn’t it, sister?”
Lucinda laughed, and Caitlin laughed with her, their voices echoing over the dockyard.
Then Lucinda stood and held her hand out to Caitlin. She took it and the two witches balanced on the top edge of the billboard.
“The final pieces?” asked Caitlin.
Lucinda nodded. “They are still in the Royal Conservatory. Come, let us go back to the hideout. I have called the others to join us. It is only a matter of time.”
Hand in hand, the two witches of Karnaca tiptoed along the billboard, before jumping down to the roof of the building behind.
And as they headed for their hideout, Caitlin’s mind sang with anticipation. The plan was going ahead. The plan was going to work. Daud would be theirs, along with the secrets of his magic.
And with him in their grasp—and his powers now theirs—the coven would rise once more.
24
THE ROYAL CONSERVATORY, KARNACA
23rd Day, Month of Harvest, 1852
“Investigations continue into the ongoing closure of the Royal Conservatory, which had already been shut to the public for some time before the Grand Serkonan Guard closed off the area last week. Although the Office of Grand Guard Command has stated repeatedly that an official statement is forthcoming, no such proclamation has yet been received by this publication.
Meanwhile, rumors continue to circulate that the closure of Karnaca’s premier cultural and natural philosophy establishments—the Royal Conservatory and the Addermire Institute—are connected with the actions of a masked criminal, reports of whom have reached this reporter despite attempts by the Grand Guard to issue a classified notice. Speaking on a condition of anonymity, one inside source
