Chapter 28
SINAN
A few hours later, Sinan stood chest-deep in the river across from the caves and prayed Gallmau’s plan would work.
The sun had long set, and scattered lanterns and a campfire lit up a small area outside the bluffs.
More of the oversized soldiers he had spotted during his scouting trip were grouped around them.
The water he stood in was shrouded in darkness except for some starlight reflecting off the rippling surface. He would have been hard to spot even without the kaftan, but with it he was confident no one could see him until he left the water.
An unearthly howl resounded through the night, and the camp exploded into activity.
Guards who had been idly chatting or playing dice rushed to grab their weapons—swords and bayonets, but not the muskets that would be useless against a magical attack—and then plunged prepared torches into the campfire.
They scanned the darkness, holding in a tight formation outlined in the light of their flames.
Sinan had hoped he was assumed to be dead, but the guards were prepared for a necromancer to attack them and had their defenses ready. He felt his heartbeat quicken and sweat break out over his skin. Baashir’s cloak absorbed that as well, drawing power from his fear and anticipation.
Another howl went up, and two ghost lanterns flickered on, their greenish light illuminating a hooded shape that floated over the surface of the river downstream from Sinan’s position.
The overall effect was ominous, and made more so by a pair of glowing blue eyes hovering near the spectral figure’s shoulder.
Between the ghost lanterns and the undead rat, Gallmau did a damn solid impression of the Prince of Shadows.
The prince had Cliona’s relics, and right now the minor necromancy he could do with them was more than Sinan was capable of.
The shroud cloak barely came down below Gallmau’s knees, but standing in water up to the waist disguised the prince’s tell-tale size.
The impersonation should be good enough to provoke a counterattack from at least one of the mages and tell them who they were dealing with. Whether their opponents were from the Order of Katil or not, they had to send out someone who could fight shadow powers.
A man strode out from the highest cave, his arms raised in the air.
Sinan couldn’t make out the man’s features in the limited light, but he didn’t need to. The posture, the walk—he would never forget watching as the man on the ledge above him had taken the same steps and rained down death on so many people he knew and loved.
Odart of Dol was here. At least one member of the Noviodunam was involved in Rixende’s abduction, and that revelation would rock the foundations of the alliance between the government of Soissons and the mages who wanted to destroy his city.
None of this would mean much if he, Meri, and Gallmau died at the hands of the former head of the benandanti.
Odart would blame Sinan and Karakoncolos for the deaths of three Noviodunam mages and both children of King Syagrius.
He would use that narrative as a cudgel to force Queen Xiaolian into another war with Karakoncolos and restore his position in both the court and the Noviodunam.
This explained so much and so little. Odart was a mirror mage and could do any magic except necromancy—but only when he took that power, by force or consent, from another living sorcerer.
If fury at his political exile had led him to partner with assassins from the Order of Katil, he couldn’t use them as a source.
Where would he get his magic now, when he faced a prince pretending to be one of the Blessed?
The answer came as the benandanti sorcerer sent a roaring ball of flame toward Gallmau.
There was only one incensor who had entered Terra Amata—Jacques.
Odart’s son must still be alive and helping his father.
Sinan hated Jacques, but even he wouldn’t have thought the incensor would help in the abduction of Rixende, a woman he had wanted to marry, as well as the attempted murder of his former fiancée.
The blinding light from the fire blocked out any view of what had happened to Gallmau. Sinan could only hope the prince was safe as he dashed out of the water and ran toward the bluffs, keeping his profile low and hoping the guards’ attention would be on the river and not him.
As he approached the base of the rocky elevation that housed the caves, the second distraction came, in the form of Meri and her double blades.
Even without her speed, she was a frightening opponent to face in the darkness that lay beyond the circle of light from the campfire.
Two of the guards lay bleeding on the ground before Sinan had advanced halfway up the narrow steps cut into the rock.
The remaining guards milled in confusion, uncertain where the attack had come from.
Meri melted back into the darkness, and a new threat came charging toward them.
Gallmau barreled into the men, his shield held high.
Odart sent another blast of fire down, and Sinan cursed silently as he crept up the final steps to the cave entrance. He couldn’t not look, even though he needed all the precious time Gallmau and Meri were trying to give him.
The fireball hung in the air, then exploded backward, setting two of the guards on fire.
Gallmau got in a few solid blows with his sword and shield, and chaos broke out among his opponents.
Sinan exhaled in relief and kept going. As bad as it was to face Odart again, it was excellent fortune it had been the mirror mage falling for Gallmau’s ruse and not the other sorcerers they were facing.
Odart had undergone the loyalty ceremony Jacques had avoided before the quest started.
Gallmau’s blood protected him from Odart’s attacks, but it wouldn’t help him against an assassin from the Order.
Sinan reached the final step and pressed himself against the rocky outcropping on the side of the cave’s entrance.
A lacquered wooden screen comprised of multiple panels with mother-of-pearl and gold accents had been set up to cover the entrance, and it stood framed in electric light from within.
An odd choice for a military encampment, even if it had been looted from the chateau.
It featured a pastoral scene with elegantly dressed ladies in a garden reading scrolls alongside gamboling foxes.
At least there were no signs of the Azhdarchids.
“I’m going out there.” It was a woman’s voice, sounding young but quite self-assured. “If the Prince of Shadows and my brother want a fight, I’ll give it to them.”
Sinan leaned over to peer through the gap between the screen and the cave wall.
A woman stood with her back to him, short and slender and enveloped in a hooded cloak of green velvet. The interior of the cave had been transformed into a palatial space, with an enormous carpet covering the floor and ornate furniture pieces scattered around the room.
Fulgari lanterns provided light, and a brazier burned in one corner.
A cave fit for a princess. The woman in the velvet hood must be Rixende.
She didn’t sound liked a cowed captive, and the luxurious surroundings were oddly considerate of her captors—unless she wasn’t a prisoner at all, but part of this entire scheme.
Sinan shifted to get a better view of the room and was relieved to catch a glimpse of Valentina. The medica was seated on a chair with fanciful curved legs, a grim expression on her face.
“Gallmau came here to help you.” Valentina’s voice held a tired resignation, as if she had said the same thing many times and to no effect.
“You see, Mademoiselle la Reine, how your dear friend’s mind is still afflicted by the wiles of the necromancer.
” This was a man’s voice, and it came from a corner Sinan couldn’t see from his position, until the speaker leaned forward.
He was an older man with Qingian features, wearing robes Sinan recognized as indicating the highest rank a mage could achieve in the Kingdom of Soissons.
Zhang Jue, the Sorcier du Roi, wasn’t dead at all.
Sinan gritted his teeth. All this time, they had been battling the most renowned weather mage in either the Continent or Qing and an expert on Artifacts.
The royal sorcerer of Soissons continued, his voice smooth and persuasive. “That’s why Gallmau has joined forces with the Prince of Shadows—to turn even your closest friends against you and steal your throne.”
Sinan wondered who the headless body the Noviodunam had cremated and laid to rest with full honors had been. A trick like that would be child’s play for any of his people to uncover, but since the Noviodunam didn’t even allow their medici to study the anatomy of dead bodies, they had been taken in.
That knowledge now clicked.
Sinan shoved aside the wooden panel and stepped into the cave with his sword drawn. Zhang Jue’s talents were vast but not suited for personal combat in a closed space. Most meteorological effects he could stir up in the cave would harm him as well.
The Sorcier du Roi let out a warning shout, and Rixende spun around to face him. Sinan had a moment of shock as he saw her face.
Then he was knocked backward into the hard stone of the cave wall and pinned there.
He flailed, unable to move his arms or legs, and realized he was being held fast by bones. They had flown from the back of the cave, arranging themselves into a glistening white cage of ribs and interlocked vertebrae, with a few femurs compressing his chest and legs.
An inhuman cry resounded through the room, and the mother Azhdarchid came stomping up from the same direction as the bones. The Archaic opened her toothed beak and hissed in his direction.
A mirror mage, a weather mage—and a necromancer, working together.
The Order of Katil hadn’t abducted Rixende after all.
The beast master was the princess.