with all those who were taken with her. To that end, we’re traveling to Dreadhold.”
Hinto’s eyes went wide. “Dreadhold? The prison island?”
“The same,” Diran confirmed.
Hinto jumped to his feet and ran to the guardrail. He climbed up and launched himself into the air, clearly attempting to abandon ship. He would have succeeded too, if Ghaji hadn’t managed to catch hold of him at the last instant.
“Let me go!” Hinto kicked and thrashed, trying to free himself from the half-orc’s grip without success. “They don’t kindly to resourceful sailors such as myself on Dreadhold!”
“You mean pirates like you,” Ghaji said. He tossed the half-ling onto the deck.
“Don’t worry,” Diran said in a soothing voice. “What you may have done in the past is no concern of ours. We have no intention of turning you over to the prison’s warders.”
Hinto didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t make another attempt to leap overboard. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his slender arms around them.
“Tell me more about this friend of yours,” he said.
CHAPTER
Makala awoke upon a soft mattress covered by a satin sheet that felt more luxurious than anything she’d ever known. The room was lit by the gentle glow of a lantern sitting on top of a dressing table of highly polished wood. A gold-framed mirror hung above the table next to a huge jewelry box with the lid raised. The box had to be kept open because of the massive mound of jewelry spilling over the sides: pearls, diamonds, rubies, opals, and shimmering crystals that Makala suspected might be miniature dragonshards. In the corner of the room was a tall wardrobe, its doors partially open to reveal the ornate gowns hanging inside. Other than these things, the room, hewn from the same smooth rock as the rest of Grimwall, was bare of furnishings and possessions.
This was Jarlain’s room, though it seemed the woman wasn’t here. After Erdis Cai had given Jarlain charge of Makala, the pale raven-haired beauty had escorted her though the corridors of Grimwall to her own quarters. She’d chatted along the way as if the two of them were old friends instead of captor and prisoner. When they’d reached Jarlain’s room, a meal was waiting for them-shark steaks and white wine on silver platters laid out upon Jarlain’s dresser. It had been so long since Makala had eaten that she couldn’t keep from salivating as soon as she smelled the freshly cooked fish. She’d eaten her own portion and then, at Jarlain’s insistence, the other woman’s as well. With a belly full of food and too much wine, Makala had found herself becoming increasingly drowsy. She barely remembered Jarlain helping her undress and get into bed.
Had she been drugged? Makala wondered. No, she decided. She felt no ill aftereffects. Most likely she’d simply been exhausted due to hunger and fatigue.
She sat up, the sheet slipping down to reveal her bare chest. She glanced around the room but didn’t see her clothes. Considering how filthy they’d become, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. What was a bad thing was that she also didn’t see any weapons. She supposed she could use the lantern if necessary, assuming it used fire and oil to produce light instead of magic, and if she rifled through the jewelry box she might find some brooches with sharp fastening pins. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
She started to get out of bed, then the door opened and Jarlain entered. Despite her wardrobe full of clothes and her box overflowing with obscenely expensive jewelry, the woman was dressed in the same red leather bustier and black skirt she’d been wearing when Makala had arrived.
Jarlain smiled, unaffected by Makala’s nakedness. “Good morning, or since the sun set a short time ago, perhaps I should say good evening.” The woman carried a pile of folded clothing.
She crossed over to the bed and set the clothes down next to Makala. “I had one of the new servants launder them for you. The woman was given explicit instructions to take extra care with your outfit, but the fool still managed to tear a hole in one of the knees of your leggings. She repaired it, of course, under my extremely strict supervision, but I’m afraid she did only an adequate job.”
“It’s fine,” Makala said without really looking at the leggings. “Fashion has never been one of my primary concerns, especially when I’m being held prisoner.”
Jarlain smiled. “You amuse me, Makala. You really do.”
“You can’t imagine how happy I am to hear that.” Makala threw off the rest of the sheet and began getting dressed.
“The wash-woman will be punished, naturally,” Jarlain said. “Perhaps I made a mistake assigning the old shifter to laundry duty, but then I can only choose from those Onkar and his crew bring me.”
Makala stopped dressing and turned to look at Jarlain. “This elderly shifter… was her name Zabeth?”
Jarlain gave Makala a quizzical look. “Perhaps. I don’t know any of the servants’ names. Once they come here, they no longer have any use for names.”
Makala had to quell a sudden urge to lash out with her fist and break Jarlain’s jaw, but as satisfying as giving into that impulse might be, she knew it wouldn’t improve her situation. If she were to have a chance to survive Grimwall, let alone escape, she needed to remain calm and learn as much about this place and those who ruled it as possible. If she did find a way to escape, she vowed that she’d find Zabeth and take the old woman with her.
Makala finished dressing then checked her hair in the mirror-not much she could do with it without taking a long, hot bath first. She noted the reflection of Jarlain sitting on the bed, giving one more bit of proof that the woman wasn’t a vampire.
Makala turned around to face Jarlain. “What now?”
“Erdis intends to give you a guided tour of our home a bit later, but he thought it might be nice if we had a chance to chat first.” She patted the bed beside her, indicating that she wanted Makala to sit.
Makala pulled the chair out from the dressing table, turned it around so it faced the bed, and sat on that instead. If Jarlain was upset by this small display of defiance, she didn’t show it.
“As you’ve no doubt ascertained by now, I am responsible for the day-to-day operation of Grimwall itself. Onkar commands the Black Fleet, and Erdis-”
“Commands both of you,” Makala said.
Jarlain smiled, but her eyes glittered like chips of ice. “Indeed. I also have the honor of serving my master in one additional capacity. You see, Onkar and his raiders sail the Principalities to procure much-needed supplies for Grimwall, and chief among those supplies are people.”
Jarlain said this so matter-of-factly that Makala felt a chill ripple down her spine. The woman might not be a vampire, but that didn’t make her any less dangerous than one.
“We need servants,” Jarlain continued, “and we also need a certain amount of nourishment for Erdis, Onkar, and the others.”
Others? What others? The only vampires Makala had seen in Grimwall thus far were Erdis Cai and Onkar, so who where these others of which Jarlain spoke?
“We also have need for… special individuals, ones who possess extremely strong spirits. It is my task to identify these people for Erdis.”
Makala wasn’t liking the sound of this. “And I’m one of these ‘special' people?”
Jarlain shrugged. “Onkar thinks you might be, and so does Erdis, but that’s for me to determine.”
“Say you find out that I am one of these people you’re looking for, one with a strong spirit, whatever that means. What then?”
Jarlain smiled. She rose from the bed and walked over to kneel next to Makala. Jarlain then reached out to take hold of her hands. “Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear.”
Jarlain’s grip tightened, and Makala tried to pull away, but she couldn’t. It was as if she were no longer in control of her own body. She felt a presence in her mind, an intruder, like a thief who had broken into a locked home and was moving stealthily at first but with increasing boldness and confidence as he began searching for something of value to take. Makala hadn’t felt anything like it since the day she had lain on the obsidian table in
