The Shadow's heir

terrible voice. Who? Rannagon betrayed me, his griffin cursed me to die! They killed me! Who will avenge me?

“I did,” Arenadd whispered.

You? Who are you? The ghost’s eyes had gone wide in sudden fear. Who are you? Why do you look like me? WHO ARE YOU?

Arenadd backed away. “Leave me alone. I don’t know you, I don’t know. .”

The ghost stopped dead, holding his hands upward as if to tear a hole in the sky. I am Arren Cardockson, curse you! I am Arren Cardockson, and I was murdered!

When Laela stepped through the outer gate in the wall surrounding the Eyrie and back into the city, she knew exactly where she had to go. Even if it came to nothing, she had to be certain, at the very least for the King’s sake. He’d been so kind to her, done so much for her-he deserved her help.

She was taking no chances this time. Keeping her sword at her side and her hand on the hilt, she approached the nearest person. “Oi, you. Yeah, you.”

The man looked vaguely annoyed at first, but became wary when he saw the sword. “What can I do for ye, girl?”

“I’m lookin’ for the tavern called the Blue Moon,” said Laela.

“Oh, is that all? Well, it’s easy enough t’find. It’s on this street-just follow it westward until ye see it. It’s a bit shorter’n the ones around it, an’ there’s a nice big sign over the door.”

“Thanks.” Laela nodded and went on her way.

She had already noticed how different the city was now. For one thing, guards were stationed on nearly every street-corner, heavily armed and looking tense and watchful. The people around and about had a nervous look to them, too, and avoided the guards as much as they could. Laela avoided them as well. She’d become somewhat disenchanted with guards.

A shadow passed over her, and she looked up sharply and gasped.

The sky was full of griffins. She’d seen them before, of course-they seemed content to spend most of their time flying aimlessly over the city-but now they had an intent look about them. This wasn’t the lazy circling of griffins who had nothing better to do; this was the deliberate motion of a group of hunters. And they were hunting for something they were desperate to find.

But not as desperate as Skandar.

Laela saw him, too-massive compared to the others, even at that height. He circled close to the Eyrie, his huge wings beating slowly. As Laela watched him, she heard his cry echo over the city.

She had heard him call before, but not like this. It was a plaintive cry-almost a wail. It made her think of a lost child calling for his mother. She had never imagined that an animal so huge and powerful could sound so forlorn.

Laela tore her eyes away and walked on, shoulders hunched in determination.

The street was a long one, but she followed it doggedly, pausing to examine every sign. Finally, she came across one that made her heart leap. It hung over the door of a building that looked squat despite its two storeys, and featured a faded picture of a blue moon.

She examined it, and her eyes narrowed. This was the place he’d taken her on the night they had met. This was the place he went when he snuck out of the Eyrie. They know me there.

Laela gripped her sword more tightly and went in.

The tavern was almost deserted today-there were only one or two drinkers in it, one of whom was asleep in a pool of vomit. Laela ignored them and strode up to the counter, where she thumped the solid wood until a man appeared on the other side.

“What d’ye want?”

Laela reached for her belt and opened her money-bag. “I’m lookin’ for someone.”

“Anyone in particular?” the bartender said cautiously.

She reached up to the bartop again, and slowly placed a silver oblong on it. “I’m lookin’ for a man who comes here a lot,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “Yeh probably remember him pretty well.”

“I’ve got plenty of regulars here,” said the bartender, not taking his eyes off the money.

“This one’s different,” said Laela. “He keeps his face covered an’ never shows it to anyone.”

The man’s expression changed. “Look, I don’t mess with him, all right? No-one does. He minds his own business, an’ so do I.”

“But he was here two nights ago,” said Laela. She pushed the oblong toward him. “Wasn’t he?”

The bartender took it. “I ain’t interested in helpin’ ye, understand? What he does is his own business, an’ it’s more than my life’s worth t’go talkin’ about it to anyone who just walks in here.”

“I ain’t just anyone,” said Laela. “An’ I don’t want t’know where he goes or anythin’ like that, see?”

“Well then, go away an’ stop botherin’ me,” said the man. “I’ve got enough troubles of my own as it is, what with the serving girl disappearin’. The Lone Wolf’s brought enough bad luck here already without bringin’ any more.”

Laela dug out another oblong. “Just tell me one thing. Just one thing, all right? That’s all I want t’know. An’ I’ll make it worth yer while.”

“What do ye want to know?” he asked cautiously.

She put the oblong on the table, keeping it trapped under her fingers. “Was the Lone Wolf in here two nights ago?”

“I dunno, we had a lot of people in then. .”

Laela lifted the oblong between her finger and thumb, holding it up where he could see it. “Was he in here?” she repeated. “Did yeh see him?”

“I might’ve,” said the bartender, staring at the oblong. “Memory’s not what it used t’be.”

She sighed and tossed it to him. “Now is it what it used t’be?”

He frowned, scrunching up his eyes. “Two nights ago. . he hadn’t been here in a while. . sorta got used to him not being here. But I ain’t sure. .”

Laela reached into her bag one last time. This time, the oblong she brought out was gold. “Was-he-in here?” she said, very slowly and deliberately.

The bartender reached over the counter and snatched it from her. He backed away before she could take it back. “Yeah, he was in here,” he said, stuffing it into his pocket. “Didn’t stay long. Had one drink, an’ then left. He was took funny-must’ve been to another tavern, ’cause he looked pretty out of it to me.”

“That was two nights ago?” said Laela.

“Yeah. Now push off an’ don’t come back.”

She left the tavern, her heart pounding. He was here. I was right. But then where. .?

It was a start.

She sat down with her back to the tavern wall, deep in thought. If the King was drunk, where would he go? A whorehouse, maybe? Or maybe back to the Eyrie to sleep it off?

The second possibility felt more likely to her. She couldn’t see him as the sort to visit whores. Not when he could choose any one of the women in the Eyrie.

She stood up and began to walk back along the street toward the Eyrie-maybe he’d decided to go home. She moved slowly, still thinking-this time, recalling the night he’d taken her to the Blue Moon.

She stopped abruptly. Of course! He wouldn’t use the street-he’d want t’stay hidden an’ all that. He’d have used the roofs like he did with me-must’ve done!

Excited now, she hurried back to the Blue Moon and walked around the outside, looking for the window they’d climbed out of. She found it-there was a broken brick just above it that had provided a handhold.

The tavern backed onto the canal that ran through the city, and she walked along it, hoping to find a clue. She couldn’t help but wonder whether the King would be capable of running along those blasted rooftops while he was drunk. Then again, if he’d been doing it for years, maybe he could. He must have done it before while he was drunk.

As she walked along, keeping her eyes on the rooftops, her boot caught on something and she pitched forward and fell flat on her face.