Maveryck walked toward us. He’d washed up and now wore a simple, beige-colored cloak, dark leather pants, and a golden-stitched doublet. He wore his long, dark hair loose down his back, and his piercing, gray eyes were focused intently on us. Despite having crossed the desert and having been swept away in a sandstorm, he had cleaned up so well that he now looked ready to greet royalty.
“Olive, Kull,” he said with a formal nod to us both. “I’m glad you’ve come.”
“I’m not sure we had much of a choice,” I said.
Jahr’ad walked toward us. “Our guests have arrived,” he said with a leering grin as he outstretched his arms. “I am pleased you decided to join us for our evening meal. Maveryck tells me we have the pleasure of dining with Wult royalty. Please, sit and eat, and then we shall discuss why you’ve come.”
Kull and I both sat at one of the long tables. Heidel joined us but sat a few chairs down from her brother and didn’t make eye contact with him. Above us, I noticed that the dragons no longer flew overhead but were perched on the balconies surrounding us. Jahr’ad, Zariah, and Maveryck sat across from Kull and me. They made small talk for several minutes, and then Jahr’ad turned to Kull.
“Tell us,” Jahr’ad said, “what news do you bring from the Wult lands? Is the kingdom still unstable without your father as ruler?”
“Who says it’s unstable?” Kull asked.
“I do. The trading at Wult outposts has grown increasingly scarce. I can only assume this is because the Wult kingdom is not supporting its outlying villages the same way it did in the past.”
“Our borders are safe and our people are free. Nothing has changed.”
“Of course you would say that since you’re the king.” Jahr’ad laughed. “But what does it matter to me? I have no interest in Wults. We separated from that society long ago.” His eyes met mine. “Trading is what I’m interested in.”
The look of cold calculation in his eyes made a shiver run down my spine, but I met his gaze with equal contempt.
“What is it you wish to barter?” Jahr’ad asked.
Maveryck spoke up. “Knowledge,” he said, and then pulled the lotus cube from his cloak and placed it on the table. “This symbol was sent to us as a message from the dragon lady, Silvestra. Should we fail to respond, it could mean the death of someone very powerful. We need to know what this symbol means.”
Jahr’ad picked up the cube and studied the facet with the golden oval. “This is a lotus cube, made of a black onyx only found in the mines near the western coast in the pixie lands. It’s a rare mineral, and with the magic infused inside, it could fetch a hefty price—that is, if one is able to find a buyer willing to pay it.
“The symbol is odd. At first, the swirls look random, but I suspect there’s more to it.” He glanced at Maveryck. “Do I have your permission to perform a simple test?”
“For what purpose?”
“A spell to divine the meaning of these patterns. I assure you, the stone will remain intact.”
“Very well, as long as you do not disturb the spell’s meaning.”
Jahr’ad handed the stone to Zariah. “Use a sun spell and focus it in the center-most pattern. That should do the trick.”
She took the stone from him and focused on the gold pattern. Her eyes clouded with a red-tinted magic, and then she whispered a word in a low, guttural voice. Her magic repulsed me, making my skin crawl. I’d never felt magic so primitive and vulgar. The emotion it elicited was hard to describe, except the feeling was akin to experiencing violence—a sensation that set my teeth on edge.
The red magic left her lips and entered the stone. As soon the enchantment connected with the swirling patterns, the golden light coming from the pattern grew brighter and then re-formed, creating words instead of the swirls. But as I glanced at the stone, I found the words written in symbols I’d never seen before. I didn’t know how much good the spell had actually done if we still couldn’t read it.
She handed the stone back to Jahr’ad.
“What sort of magic is that?” I asked her.
“I’m not sure of the proper name, but I call it blood magic,” she answered.
“How did you discover it?”
She cocked her head. “I came upon the power many years ago by sapping the energy from a dying magic user. I use a… creative process to obtain it.” She leaned forward. “Would you like me to show you how it works?”
Snickering came from the men surrounding us.
“Zariah, leave her alone,” Jahr’ad snapped.
“I was only jesting.”
“But our merchant is in no mood for your games,” he said as he turned back to the stone. “This is as I suspected. It’s written in an ancient language known as rhenuroc, some also call it high dragon. Of course, it’s a dead language, so no one reads it anymore, but it’s not uncommon to find it written on stones such as these.”
“Do you know how to interpret it?” Maveryck asked.
“Yes, I know what it says.”
“Will you tell us?” I asked.
“That depends, doesn’t it? What have you brought to trade?”
“Trade?” I asked.
“You are a merchant, aren’t you? Haven’t you brought something to trade?”
I glanced at Maveryck. “Well, I…”
“Come now,” Jahr’ad said. “I look forward to seeing the latest trinkets from Delestria. Surely you’ve brought something of value?”
“I… I haven’t brought much. That is to say…”
“You’ve come all the way from Delestria and brought nothing to trade? Surely you cannot expect me to believe that. You are a merchant, aren’t you?” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “Or are you?”
His shrewd gaze made it hard for me to make any kind of answer.
“Jahr’ad,” Maveryck said, “we are not here to bargain over trinkets.”
“Then why are you here?” he asked.
“We seek to challenge you in
