Rogan slammed his fist on the table with a cry. Tagata gave an anguished roar and kicked her chair away. It struck the wall, one of its legs snapping off. She went to the wall and seized her greatsword, smashing it into a cabinet without bothering to unsheathe it. The cabinet shattered to kindling, scattering books and scrolls across the room.
For her part, Kaita felt as though the stone floor beneath her had become as shifting and unstable as water. Who could kill a Shadeborn? How was it even possible? The Lord had made them invincible. He had all but promised that his favored children would live on forever.
Slowly, Rogan sank back into his chair. He sagged into it, covering his face with one hand. Tears streamed from beneath his fingers, running into his thick black beard. Tagata stood facing away from them all, her shoulders heaving, and Kaita suspected she was weeping as well. She fell abruptly to her knees, head bowed over her sword hilt as its tip rested on the stone floor.
“Death as my witness,” whispered Tagata, “I will kill the ones who did this.”
That seemed to bring Rogan back to himself. He uncovered his face and looked upon her, his eyes still brimming with tears. “We will, sister,” he said. “I swear to you, we will do it together.”
They seemed to have entirely forgotten Nian and Kaita in their grief. The messenger looked terrified, quaking in her seat, and her fair skin had gone even paler. Rogan noticed, and he forced a bitter smile.
“I am sorry for our lack of restraint, Nian. Trisken was …” His voice thickened, and he paused for a moment. “Trisken was with me almost since the beginning. He trained Tagata. This is an evil day.”
“It is, my lord,” whispered Nian.
Rogan shook his head slowly. “I told you. None of that. There is but one Lord, and he is your father as well as mine. We are all equal before his kindness.”
Tagata turned back towards the rest of them, hastily scrubbing at her face with the back of her hand. She strode over beside Nian’s chair and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. Nian jumped with fright. But Tagata pulled her gently to her feet and wrapped her in an embrace.
“You have ridden hard to bring us ill news. It could not have been easy. Thank you.”
Slowly, Nian returned the embrace. She began to quiver, as if she, too, was finally relinquishing her grip on emotions she had long kept within—as though Tagata’s massive frame gave her the strength she needed to let go.
“I could have done no differently,” said Nian. “It was my duty.”
“And doing one’s duty is worthy of the highest honor,” said Rogan. “Fetch yourself another chair, Tagata. Let us all be seated and discuss what is to be done.”
Tagata gently held Nian’s cheek for a moment before finally pulling away. She took another chair from further down the table and brought it next to Nian’s before sitting down. Rogan shifted his chair closer to the table and leaned forwards, his shoulders hunched.
“What more do we know, Nian? Can you tell us anything about these Mystics?”
“We did not recognize all of them. But we know the party was led by Jordel of the family Adair.”
Another shock went through the room, though far less explosive than the last. There was not a Shade alive who did not know that name.
“Jordel?” said Rogan. “That is ill news.”
Kaita slapped the arm of her chair. “Why did you not mention Jordel from the beginning?”
Nian quailed, but Rogan raised a palm towards Kaita to pacify her. “We hardly gave her the chance, after she told us of Trisken’s fall.”
Kaita looked grudgingly away, tugging at her braid again.
“How could Jordel have found us?” Tagata asked Rogan. “Our agents have worked tirelessly to keep him and Kal off our trail. Hewal sent no word of this whatsoever.”
“Jordel has been away from Hewal for some time, and our ability to guide him has lessened the longer he has pursued Xain,” said Rogan. “But as for your question, there are two possible answers. The first and far more troubling possibility is that they have been aware of us for some time, and somehow they have kept that knowledge from us. But I do not think that is the case. If they had meant to assault us—or even to investigate and gather more information—they would have come here, and not to Trisken’s stronghold. The other possibility is that they knew nothing of us at all, and that pure happenstance brought Jordel’s party to our doorstep.”
“That seems so unlikely as to be impossible,” said Tagata.
“Yet it may be true,” said Nian. “For I have still more to say. Jordel died in battle with Trisken.”
“Ha!” barked Tagata. “And good riddance. Darkness take him.”
But Rogan did not seem to share her elation. “That is good, I suppose,” he said slowly. “But what else, Nian? For I sense that you still have more to tell us.”
“We did not recognize all of Jordel’s party, but we recognized some of them,” said Nian. “The Nightblade was with him, as was the wizard Xain, and the children who have been with the Nightblade as long as we have known of her. But they had with them someone new—a guide from the town of Strapa. He is a Calentin archer, unknown to us. It is he who led them into Northwood.”
Kaita went rigid in her chair.
“A Calentin archer?” she blurted out, interrupting Rogan’s next question.
The rest of them paused. Nian and Tagata frowned, but Rogan looked searchingly at her.
“What is it, Kaita?”
She did not answer him at once, but kept her attention on Nian. “Where did he take them when they reached Northwood?”
Nian looked confused. “We … have not learned that yet.”
“But how do you know?” asked Sun.
Albern paused and cocked his head. “What?”
“How do you know all this?” said Sun. “You were not there. Yet you are telling me the tale as
