burning brand to its holding place. The flickering light danced off an opaque black orb that Kestus had not noticed before. Set by itself on a shelf along the back wall, it rested on what appeared to be braces made from withered tree branches.
'You have an interesting collection,' Kestus remarked, 'but I'm 'not sure we can help you. If these are divine artifacts, they will not be attuned to the Weave, generally speaking, but will draw their energy from the patron deity of whoever crafted them. Our magic would have little effect on them. And without the proper tools or our spellbooks, I doubt we'll even be able to identify the items' properties. I'm surprised Kohtakah hasn't already explained this to you. Perhaps if you had approached us more openly, before our hand was forced by the Karanoks, we could have worked something out.
'As it is, we need to be on our way. There is much that needs to be done if we are to have any chance of freeing Luthcheq.'
'You are not going anywhere!' Mulkammu's face darkened for a moment, his mouth tightening as his brow furrowed. A touch from Kohtakah seemed to relax him 'I can understand your hesitancy. Let me provide a little incentive, then, to motivate you. If there is nothing you can do with the artifacts, then your special skills are useless to us. You become ordinary humans.
'We eat ordinary humans,' he said with a devilish smile.
Kestus didn't back down. He had nothing to lose. 'And if you did, you would be right back where you started. Didn't you hear what Kohtakah said? There are no more wizards in Luthcheq. No one will be coming near this place. You'll all rot here, caught up in your little war!'
Mulkammu was seething, and Kestus was sure the werecrocodile would hit him, or worse.
'My lord, please.' Kohtakah stepped between them, his back to Kestus. He steered Mulkammu out of the vault, where the two spoke in hushed voices. After a few moments of heated discussion, Mulkammu approached, Kohtakah in tow.
'It seems my Royal Sorcerer has spent too much time amongst you,' Mulkammu sneered with disgust 'He feels some sort of loyalty toward you and has prevailed upon me to consider an.. alternate form of persuasion.
'If you succeed in discovering the secrets of our artifacts, I will let each of you choose one of them, though I can veto any choice. Would that be satisfactory?'
Kestus could tell it was struggle for Mulkammu to speak those words. 'Those terms are agreeable.' In fact, the situation was more than Kestus could hope for.
'I'll leave you to get started, then. Kohtakah will aid you. Someone will come down to check on your progress every few hours. Should you fail, however, know that I will kill you and eat you myself.
'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a raid to plan. Good night.' With a flourish of his cape, Mulkammu spun around and strode back up the stairs, leaving the three alone.
'How do we get out of this?' Muctos finally asked after moments of stunned silence.
'We do what he says,' Kestus replied. He moved around the table to stand in front of the black orb.
'What? You said it yourself. We don't have any means of researching, by magic or tome. Our spells are exhausted, and without spellbooks, we're not going to get very far.'
'I may be able to help with that,' Kohtakah said.
The two mages looked at their former brother. Kestus had almost forgotten about him.
'Why should we trust you?'
'You have no reason. But know this, if you fail, if we fail, Mulkammu will kill me as well.'
Kestus let the revelation hang in the air. The hurt of Kohtakah's betrayal ran deep, and he was not ready to let go of it so quickly. He would be a fool, however, to refuse any aid.
'How can you help?' he asked finally.
'I have some old tomes, passed down by my predecessors. Their knowledge of the Art is written within those pages. There are many spells recorded in them, some of which may be of use to us. Unfortunately, because of the innate nature of my abilities, I have not been able to learn all of them. I imagine the same would not hold true for you.'
'Where are these books?' Kestus could not keep the excitement from his voice.
'They are in my quarters. I will go fetch them.' Kohtakah turned to leave but paused. He must have seen the look of doubt on Kestus's face because he said, 'Trust me, Brother Hawk. I will return.' Kestus nodded, and Kohtakah bounded up the stairs then disappeared.
Ythnel sat in the hovel she had been escorted to by the wererats after her meal with Torgyn, their leader. Night had fallen, the half-moon obscured by building clouds, but Ythnel could still see the silhouette of her 'escort' through the gaps in the walls. For all the smiles and reassurances Torgyn offered, Ythnel knew she was more prisoner than guest in the wererats' camp.
She performed her evening prayers with a leather strap acquired from her guard, finding comfort in the familiar chants and the slaps on her skin. It was the only stability she had left, a last link to her former life now buried by the chaos of these past few days. The memories of the events that had swallowed her up since arriving in Luthcheq tried to break through her mediation and shatter the peace she had surrounded herself with, but her focus was too great, her connection with her goddess too strong, and they were forced back to the shadowy corners of her mind.
When her prayers were finished, Ythnel rocked back on her heels and brushed the mud off her knees. She stood and stretched, her cramped and aching muscles protesting the activity with painful reminders that they were still quite sore and bruised. Restless, Ythnel paced the small interior but had to stop as the constant turning threatened to dizzy her. She leaned against the one corner of the hovel's walls that wasn't missing any bricks and stared out into the darkening night.
The memories crowded their way to the front of her mind.
Ythnel let them come but on her terms, channeling them like the waters of a rushing river, controlling the speed and direction by which they traveled as she sifted through them. She held no anger toward Prisus or Iuna, and she felt no guilt over what had happened to them. Nor did she wallow in self-pity as she remembered the betrayal and abuse she had suffered. She had gone through those fires and come out tempered steel, a finely honed weapon. Those images, those experiences, now served to strengthen her resolve. It was time to wield her sharpened edges in retribution.
Perhaps that was why she had really been sent to Luthcheq. Ythnel recalled the dream she had just the other night in the swamp. If nothing else, she knew it was a portent of revenge against the Karanoks. There was more to it, though, but what that was, was unclear to Ythnel.
She continued to muse over the idea of paying back the Karanoks for all that had been done to her.
However, she kept coming back to the reasons she had come to Luthcheq. If she were meant to take down the ruling family, why have her placed as a governess to a middle-class merchant? Why not have her inserted into the palace or some other noble house? Why not have her make contact immediately with the Mage Society? The only reason that made any sense was because she was meant to meet Prisus Saelis.
Or she was meant to meet Iuna.
Ythnel nearly gasped as the thought occurred to her. Why hadn't she made the connection before? Even though it had been Yenael standing next to Naeros in her dream, handing her the scourge, it had been Iuna's voice that asked her to show her. It had been Iuna who she was originally sent to teach. Iuna was the young girl who had lost her mothera mother who had once been a Loviatan.
The impact of the revelation jolted Ythnel and threatened to overwhelm her. She was meant not just to help raise Iuna, but to bring the girl into the faith. She had been put in the perfect position to do so but had failed. The fact that Iuna was ultimately the source of all the troubles Ythnel now found herself in did little to console her. After all, she was an adult and a handmaiden. She should have had more control of the situation.
Ythnel nearly fell to her knees to beg for forgiveness, but she realized that was not what Loviatar wanted, nor was it what she expected. No, what was needed was for Ythnel to figure out some way to fix what had happened, to find Iuna again and fulfill the purpose for which she had been sent.
That meant her first order of business was to get away from the wererats. Ythnel peered outside again. The wind was picking up, and the stars and moon were almost completely hidden by a roiling blackness that Ythnel guessed were storm clouds. Movement in the shadows across from her hut revealed the location of her keeper. She wasn't sure if wererats could see in the dark better than normal humans, but that really didn't matter. She had another plan for escaping.
