Weapon of Mercy: Weapon of Flesh Series, #6

Dedication

This story is dedicated to our dearest friends, Joe and Kim, without whose love and support we never would have made it. We have shared so much and laughed so hard, and love both you dearly. You are, indeed, our safe harbor.

Acknowledgement

Thanks again to Noah, for the wonderful cover art, patience and inspiration. We owe you so much.

Weapon of Mercy

Weapon of Flesh Trilogy II

Book 3

Chris A. Jackson and Anne L. McMillen-Jackson

Epub edition

ISBN 978-1-939837-18-9

8.17

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Exciting finale of the award-winning Weapon of Flesh series.

Mercy or vengeance?

There are limits to human endurance, and Mya’s been pushed beyond them. Survival comes at a dreadful cost, shattering her confidence as well as her body. Consumed by revenge, she transforms her guild war into a personal vendetta.

But she’s not alone.

Lad arrives from Twailin to help, but finds Mya’s thirst for vengeance disturbing. He knows that poison, how it destroys the soul. He reaches out, but nothing can pierce the armor of her hatred.

With the city in chaos and war looming, they set out together to take back the Assassins Guild. But each also has their own agenda. Will Mya give up her pursuit of vengeance, or will Lad be forced to destroy her?

Copyright Notice

Copyright 2017 Chris A. Jackson

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, except for brief quotations in printed reviews—without prior permission from the author.

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Cover Image Copyright 2017 Jaxbooks

All rights reserved

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Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgement

Copyright Notice

Prelude

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXII

Chapter XXIII

Chapter XIV

Epilogue

About the Authors

Novels by Chris A. Jackson

Prelude

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What in the Nine Hells am I doin’?

Sergeant Benjamin peered around a corner, spied his quarry, and eased out onto the darkening street. He’d exchanged his constable’s uniform and iron cap for a longshoreman’s jacket and broad-brimmed hat. At a glance, he’d pass for just another laborer; the last thing he wanted was the man he was following to recognize him. Especially since he’s my boss!

Chief Constable Dreyfus turned into The Brass Hat, a mid-scale pub popular with merchants and shopkeepers. Benj didn’t frequent the place, preferring homey pubs where the ladies were friendly and the ale cheap. He licked his lips at the thought of a cool pint, but suppressed the craving.

He paused for a moment, wondering again if he was barking up the wrong tree. It might have been a coincidence that Miss Moirin went missing the day after Benj met with Dee, but Benj had been a cap too long to believe in coincidence. Something about Dreyfus’ manner had rubbed him the wrong way, and there were too many rumors on the street of money being offered for information about Miss Moirin, and too many caps on the take. Someone must have followed Benj to the meeting with Dee, then followed Dee to Miss Moirin.

Problem is, only Dreyfus knew I was meetin’ with Dee. He recalled that morning’s conversation with the chief constable, trying to determine what had piqued his suspicion.

Miss Moirin’s been taken, Dreyfus had told Benj flatly. Word came down from the palace that she fell for a trap.

Taken? The news had shaken Benj to the soles of his boots. The Hero of the Coronation, the woman who saved the emperor’s life—saved Benj’s life, in fact—taken? I’ll gather my people together and—

You’ll do nothing, Sergeant. Dreyfus’ rebuttal had taken Benj aback. "Our orders were to coordinate with her in our search for Baroness Monjhi’s murderer, though she gave us nothing, and insisted we communicate through her lackey. We’ve not been ordered to try to find her. I’m telling you so you can redirect your efforts where we need you."

"But she has given us—"

Drop it, Sergeant! We’ve more pressing issues. The emperor’s appearing in public in a few days, and we’ve got security to deal with. Forget Miss Moirin and get on with your other duties!

But Benj couldn’t forget, and couldn’t help but wonder why Dreyfus was so dead set against a few inquiries. What could he have against Miss Moirin? The chief might be a crotchety bastard, but he’d been upright and honest for all the years Benj had known him. He wouldn’t...couldn’t be on the take.

So what the hell am I doin’? Benj had no answer to that question other than his persistent gut feeling. I should probably just go home and get details from Dee later.

As was often his habit, Benj ignored what he should have done and strolled past the pub for a look inside. He glanced sidelong through the windows; lamplight gleamed on polished brass fixtures and glossy mirrors. The place was busy, folks tipping a glass before heading home for dinner, but the sergeant’s professional eye spotted Dreyfus easily. He was talking to another man, accepting a glass from him. As they both settled into stools at the bar, the chief constable’s companion turned, and Benj instantly recognized him.

Otar? Benj walked on past the window, stopped, waited a long moment, then walked back the other direction for another look. As sure as carts followed horses, the former captain of the Imperial Guard sat next to Dreyfus, a jovial grin stretching his face as he waved to the pretty bartender for a second round of drinks. "Why in the Nine Hells is Dreyfus talkin’ to him?"

As far as Benj knew, Dreyfus and Otar had only consulted professionally. He’d never known them to be drinking buddies, and since Otar’s public dismissal for refusing a direct order from the crown prince, he’d been shunned by anyone of consequence.

But now he’s chattin’ with Chief Constable Dreyfus... The sergeant’s gut roiled again, and not just because it was dinnertime.

Benj took a position in a doorway half a block away and settled in to wait. If he’d learned anything in more than two decades as a constable, it was patience and to trust his gut. After an hour or so, Dreyfus emerged, smiling and well lubricated, if his gait and the flush of his face were any indications. Benj pulled his hat lower, turned as if to examine the nearby posterboard, and watched sidelong. The chief tottered off, and moments later Otar emerged and set off in the opposite direction, his gait somewhat steadier. Benj followed.

Halfway across Midtown, the former imperial guard captain entered Lucky Gem’s, a gambling hall-tavern-brothel. Benj knew the place well. He didn’t gamble, but enjoyed watching others lose their hard-earned money, and had once favored a lady who worked there.

Benj doffed his hat and longshoreman’s jacket, tossed them into an alley, and walked in. He didn’t know what might be going on here, but he sure as hell was going to find out.

Chapter I

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Heat infused Lad’s flesh as he confronted the three men in the common room of the Tap and Kettle. The magic of his runes primed him—Move! Attack! Kill!—exactly what he had been made to do.

The huge mastiff at Norwood’s side growled deep in its chest, drawing the attention of the few guests still lingering over their ale. Dogs didn’t like magic, and Lad undoubtedly reeked of it.

The dog first, then Sereth, then— No! Lad drew a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly, suppressing the violent urges. That’s not who I am anymore. Besides, slaughtering three men and a dog in the common room with guests looking on wasn’t likely to improve the inn’s business.

But why would the captain of the Royal Guard, the guildmaster of Twailin’s assassins, and Dee—who should be in Tsing with Mya—be here? Even be together? His mind leapt to the only likely conclusion.

What kind of trouble is Mya in now?

Mya? Norwood blinked and looked from Lad to Dee. Who’s Mya?

Moirin, Dee corrected, his voice tense. Some of her friends call her Mya. Just a nickname. Then he turned to Lad. How did you know she was in trouble?

It’s the only thing that makes sense. Because the Assassins Guild in league with the captain of the Royal Guard certainly doesn’t. He didn’t know what they wanted of him, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like it. The magic tingled along his skin again, eliciting another low growl from the dog. He motioned them toward one of the private rooms in the back of the inn. Gentlemen, if you’d follow me, we can relax in—

"We aren’t here to socialize! Annoyance edged Dee’s voice, uncharacteristic in Lad’s experience. Fatigue and stress etched his face. Miss Moirin’s been—"

"Dee, calm down. A hint of the harsh guildmaster he’d once been honed Lad’s words. He cast a glance to the lingering guests, then fixed his eyes on his former assistant. This isn’t the place."

The muscles in Dee’s neck bunched and twitched. The dog wasn’t the only one wound as tight as a watch spring.

Finally, Dee nodded. Fine.

Lad ushered them into the private room and closed the door. Norwood moved a chair into the far corner and sat with his cane across his lap and his massive dog at his side. Sereth leaned against the cold fireplace mantle and crossed his arms, his face unreadable. Dee stood with fists clenched.

Now, what’s this all about?

Miss Moirin’s been kidnapped! Dee eyes shone as hard as flint.

Kidnapped? Lad’s brow furrowed. Mya’s magical enhancements matched his own, exceeding them in some respects, and she was as paranoid as hell. Who could possibly have gotten past her guard?

"Yes, kidnapped! Abducted! Taken! Dee glared at him. What about that don’t you understand?

"I understand kidnapped, Dee. Just relax and tell me how anyone managed to abduct Moirin, and why."

Dee ran a hand through his dark hair, took a deep breath, and nodded. Miss Moirin was...recovering something for the emperor, something that was stolen by Hoseph.

Hoseph? Lad’s gaze darted to Norwood. The captain was only alive because Lad had saved him from that murderous priest. Is that why he’s involved in this?

"Yes. There are...people working with him. They set a trap for her. Maybe for me, too. We don’t know."

We? Who is ‘we’?

Dee spoke deliberately. The people who work for Moirin. We don’t know for sure why they took her instead of just killing her, but we think they might want to interrogate her about...her associates.

Captain Norwood cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "Gentlemen, please. It would save us all a lot of time if you’d stop beating around the godsdamned bush and speak plainly. He pointed to Lad, but looked at Dee and Sereth. I know what Loren is—or was—and by association, can guess what you two are as well. So, let’s just get it out in the open: Assassins Guild."

Dee’s eyes widened, and Sereth’s fingers twitched to his sleeves.

Lad pictured Lissa asleep in her bed just down the hall and fought against the instinct to kill the three men. He stepped between the assassins and the captain, his eyes narrowed at Sereth. "You will do no violence in my home. I don’t know why you’re all here together, but you’ll all have your say. Captain, please continue."

Norwood cleared his throat again. "Despite what I know about Loren, I also know that he’s saved my life at least once, perhaps twice. What’s more, I suspect that he’s responsible for saving the empire itself. For those reasons, I’ll never tell a soul what else I suspect he’s done. Miss Moirin has saved the life of our new emperor. That she is somehow associated with you all only reaffirms my theory that there’s a clandestine war going on, and you three are on the right side of it."

The captain shrugged his broad shoulders and sighed. "Let me assure you all that I’m also on that side. I’ve been commanded by my emperor to aid Master Dee in any way I can. That’s my only concern here."

You have a keen mind, Captain. Thank you for being frank. Lad cocked an eyebrow at Dee. What I still don’t know is what all this has to do with me?

"What does it have to do with you? Dee stared in disbelief, his face flushing. You’ve got to help us get her back!"

Lad shook his head. I can’t help you. This isn’t my war, Dee.

Dee’s face flushed an even deeper crimson. "You have to help! You’re the one who put her in this position in the first place!"

"I know that, Dee. Putting the Grandmaster’s ring on Mya’s finger had seemed the obvious choice to Lad. Not only would she make the perfect Grandmaster—an assassin with a good heart—but the position and ring would grant her the power and safety she’d sought her entire life. How could they capture her while she wore the ring?"

Hoseph burned the contracts.

Ahhh. Lad had never signed a contract, which was the only reason he’d been able to kill the previous Grandmaster.

But why me? What about the Tsing guild? You implied that she controlled at least some of the factions. What about the Hunters?

"They traced her to a dead end. They’re good, but not like you. They don’t have your skills. She saved your life. Dee’s tone was beseeching now. You told me that yourself."

And I saved her life during five years as her bodyguard more times than I can count. I may have put the ring on her finger, but I didn’t force her to take a job retrieving some stolen bauble for the emperor.

"It’s not a bauble, it’s a boy!"

A boy? That surprised Lad. Mya wasn’t the sentimental type.

"Yes. Hoseph kidnapped three boys to use as leverage against their father. Does that sound familiar to you? Do you remember how it felt when that little girl of yours was held captive?"

Lad moved faster than Dee could blink. Face to face, he stared into Dee’s eyes, holding the reflexive violence at bay, dashing the heat of the magic with cold will. "Don’t bring my daughter into this," he growled between clenched teeth.

Dee looked him straight in the eye. "Do you remember that it was Moirin who helped you rescue her?"

Lad reined in his temper. The two most painful moments in his life were Lissa’s abduction and Wiggen dying in his arms. He had lost his wife to guild business; he wasn’t about to risk the rest of his family. Even for Mya.

"No, Dee, I can’t help you. Lissa is exactly why I’m staying right here. I need to protect my family."

Bullshit.

Lad’s eyes snapped to Sereth. What?

The Twailin guildmaster still leaned against the mantle, his expression inscrutable. Your reasoning is bullshit. I told Dee I wouldn’t argue his case here, but I have my own case to make. You wanted out of the guild, so you’re out. But do you really think that hiding out here makes your family safer?

"I’m not hiding from anything! And I’m not going to Tsing. I’m staying here, Sereth." Lad’s tone brooked no argument, but he got one.

"Oh, I don’t doubt you’ll do exactly what you want to do, Loren. None of us can force you to help. You know it, and we know it. But this goes way beyond Moirin. The entire Twailin guild is at risk, hundreds of people who are my responsibility. Sereth abandoned his relaxed stance, standing stiff in front of the fireplace, his hands deliberately open and away from his weapons. Moirin has been taken and is likely being tortured for information. How long until she spills everything she knows about the guild here? Hoseph has already threatened to destroy us because we backed you. If he’s interrogating Moirin, he’ll get what he wants from her eventually. But consider what else she knows: You, the Tap and Kettle, your family..."

Lad’s blood ran like ice water. Think like an assassin was Mya’s axiom, and he’d been thinking with his heart, not his head. Mya knew Lad was alive, where he lived. Once Hoseph had pried that information out of her, the priest wouldn’t stop hunting him until... Forbish and Josie, Tika and Ponce, Lissa...

No! Lad closed his eyes and willed his pounding heart to calm.

"We need you! Dee pleaded. You know what they’ll do to her. You told me what they did to Kiesha."

Kiesha? Norwood’s eyes snapped to Dee’s, then to Lad’s. The woman in the emperor’s dungeon... He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.

Lad’s gut roiled as he recalled the mangled flesh that had been Kiesha. She had murdered Wiggen, but not even that justified what the emperor had done to her. Death had been a mercy. How long would Mya last before her immunity to pain failed and the screaming began?

I have to protect my family, he said, but his vehemence had faded.

But you can’t be everywhere at once, Sereth said. "If we go to war with Hoseph and the Tsing guild, no place will be safe. The only thing that will protect the people you love is to prevent Hoseph from winning. That means saving Moirin. I owe you more than I can ever repay, Loren, and I give you my word that I’ll protect your family while you’re gone."

I’ll second that, Norwood affirmed. If Master VonBruce is willing, the Royal Guard will work with his...private security people to cover all possible threats.

Sereth looked sidelong at the captain, then nodded. Agreed.

So you don’t have to worry about your family, Dee insisted. "You have to help. Morin needs you. You can’t just let her be tortured to death and still call yourself a human being."

Maybe I’m not. Lad sighed. "I was wrought of flesh and magic into a thing made to kill for others. I swore I’d never go back to that. I’m not a killer."

"I’m not asking you to kill, Dee said, his tone calmer now. Just help us save Miss Moirin."

Lad gave Dee a sour look. And you think that’s possible without killing, Dee? Really?

No, probably not.

I’ll tell you one thing, Loren, Norwood said. If you chanced upon that motherless bastard Hoseph and happened to remove his head from his shoulders, I’d not call it murder. I’d call it a service to the empire.

Moirin’s already got a writ of immunity from the emperor in that regard, Dee said. Hoseph is fair game.

Imperial permission to kill... Lad snorted a sardonic laugh. "How convenient."

Though none of the three men said another word, Lad bowed beneath the unrelenting weight of their silence and offered up one last weak argument. We’ll never get there in time. How do you know she’s not already dead?

She was only taken night before last, Dee explained. Duke Mir’s wizard brought me here with magic. We’ll return the same way in the morning.

Lad sighed in defeat. I can’t believe I’m even considering this.

You’ll help? Dee’s face flushed with relief.

Lad fixed him with a level stare and finally nodded. I’ll do my best. Lad forestalled Dee’s outburst of gratitude with a raised hand and a glare. "Now get the hell out of my home so I can spend one last night with my family. Come back in the morning with your wizard, and I’ll go with you."

Yes. Dee nodded to the others. Yes, of course. Thank you.

Norwood stood and stuck out a beefy hand. Rest assured, Loren, I’ll do everything I can to keep your family safe.

I’ll hold you to that, Captain. Lad shook his hand, then Sereth’s. And you, Sereth.

Sereth flashed him a rare smile. You have my word.

Lad ushered them out and closed the door firmly. He dreaded breaking the news to Forbish, but the thought of saying goodbye to Lissa was worse. He’d sworn to never leave her again.

If I’m ever to keep her safe, I have to go. He knew it was the truth, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Shink-Shink-Shink...

The quick, repetitive sound of metal on metal dragged her up from the depths of blessed unconsciousness. The stench of blood—My blood...—wrinkled Mya’s nose, and dull pain sang like distant screams along her nerves.

Shink-Shink-Shink...

Cold stone beneath her back, hard restraints encircling her limbs, the bitter taste of opium on her tongue, blood, pain, and that incessant sound...

Where...what’s happening?

Her mind drifted through a haze as thick and impenetrable as an early morning fog on the Twailin waterfront. Recognition came slowly, chilling—she was lying on the Grandfather’s table, submitting to his knives as part of the trap to capture Lad.

I can’t do that to Lad, she thought. He’s my...what? Friend? Lover? He kissed me, and put a ring on my finger. She clenched her hand and felt a void where that finger had been. Gone... Lad’s gone... When she tried to recall his face, she saw another’s: dark hair, smooth skin, and gentle eyes. Dee...

Shink-Shink-Shink...

That sound...familiar and strangely nauseating. Why... She felt something tugging, like someone pulling at her clothes. The pain wasn’t a dream. It should have been. No pain...

Mya heaved open her eyes and reality crashed in. Instead of the Grandfather standing over her, Kittal, Master Alchemist of the Tsing Assassins Guild, turned the crank on his vile machine, peeling away her skin, and with it, her magic. A low, inarticulate moan escaped her throat, a plea to sink back into the fog of oblivion.

Shink-Shink-Shink...

The incessant sound stopped. Without a word, an assistant proffered a fluid-filled jar; they had the routine down pat now. As Kittal lowered a bloody strip of wriggling flesh—My flesh...—into the liquid, the runes tattooed upon the skin flared as if lit by an internal flame.

My skin, my runes, my magic. How long until I have none left?

Okay, that’s enough. No more tonight. Metal clattered on metal and Kittal sighed. What’s her condition?

Alive and semi-conscious. Berta, one of Kittal’s assisting Alchemists, put cool fingers to Mya’s throat. Her breathing and heartbeat are fast, but strong.

Good. Clean her up and give her a restorative. We’ve harvested about all we can here. Tomorrow we’ll start on her back. Tieg and Kelsey, turn her over in the morning. Do it early. I want everything ready by the time I arrive.

Turn her over... Mya fought to think though the drug-induced haze, to parse out what that meant. She was strapped down on her back, restrained by padded metal bands. To turn her, they’d have to remove those restraints. They’ll have to release me!

Mya swallowed the restorative that Berta held to her lips, then gagged at the bitter taste of opium. Berta must have laced the elixir with the narcotic—Kindness, mercy, or orders?—but oblivion was the last thing Mya wanted right now. Immediately she felt just a little better, perhaps a little stronger, certainly much more relaxed as the pain ebbed. She longed to just close her eyes and drift away, let the drugs ease her into a painless sleep.

No! Mya struggled against the drug, as if swimming against a current that swept her out to sea. Hate them! Focus! Stay awake... She had a chance, if only she could stay awake, control her mind, and devise a plan. She had one slim hope. Three small words.

Turn her over...

Chapter II

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Dee stifled a yawn as he stared dully out the carriage window. He’d stayed the night at Sereth’s, but hadn’t slept much. Instead, he’d spent half the night filling the guildmaster in on the events in Tsing, enemies and allies, plots and plans.

Sereth had given nothing back but a flat apology. Sorry, Dee, but I can’t tell you what kind of precautions I’m taking. If you were captured...

Dee couldn’t blame him. If he was taken, Master Inquisitor Lakshmi would extract from him any information she wanted. Just like she’s trying to do to Mya right now... His morbid imagination had kept him awake for the rest of the night.

His thoughts turned to the present as the Royal Guard carriage rumbled into the courtyard of the Tap and Kettle. Two young men stood there, their faces falling into hostile frowns as the carriage jerked to a stop. They looked so alike that it gave Dee pause. Twins... He remembered reports from security details sent to watch the inn. Tika and Ponce, Lad’s nephews.

Norwood opened the door and stepped down, his huge dog on his heels. Dee followed. Master Woefler came out last and slipped on a cobble.

A cringe wrinkled the wizard’s youthful features as he scraped dog slobber from his shoe. "Dogs are such revolting creatures."

Loren’s inside, one of the young men said with a scowl.

Dee ignored their animosity and followed Norwood up the steps. Let them be angry. Mya’s more important than their feelings.

Only one table in the common room was occupied this early, a pair of merchants eating a hasty breakfast. The serving woman glanced up from pouring blackbrew, her amiable countenance transforming into a glare.

From near the kitchen door, Forbish, the Tap and Kettle’s innkeeper and Lad’s father-in-law, frowned, doubling his already numerous chins. One moment, Captain Norwood. He turned and pushed open the door, leaned in, and said, They’re here.

A moment later, Lad emerged, a cherubic toddler perched on his hip.

Lissa. Dee had never seen the girl. Fine brown hair curled softly against a plump cheek, pink lips smiling up at her father. How ironic it seemed, such a picture of innocence in the arms of the most lethal assassin the world had ever known.

Dee felt a pang of guilt for asking Lad to leave her again. Not until now—with Mya gone—did he truly understand the depths to which one’s soul sank when a loved one was in peril. But guilt wasn’t about to make him change his mind about needing Lad’s help.

Lad kissed his daughter and handed her over to Forbish. The baby immediately started to fuss, quieting only when Lad brushed her gossamer hair and whispered to her. Straightening abruptly, the muscles of his neck and jaw rigid, as if leaving her took every fiber of his strength, he whirled toward the back room and strode off without a word. Dee exchanged a worried glance with Norwood, and they followed. Only when the door to the private room closed behind them did Lad face them and speak.

I’m ready.

Dee exhaled silently. He’d been afraid Lad would balk. Master Woefler, if you please.

Certainly, but might I suggest, Captain Norwood, that you take your drooling beast out of the room. Woefler’s nose wrinkled. I’m not sure how it might respond to my use of magic.

"I am sure, and I’d rather not clean up the mess. The guard captain held out a hand to Lad. So long, Loren. Rest assured; I’ll protect your family until you return."

Lad shook his hand. Thank you, Captain.

Norwood left, his massive dog on his heels.

I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. Woefler smiled and nodded politely to Lad. I’m Master Woefler, wizard to Duke Mir and your transportation to Tsing today.

Lad just stared at Woefler, his face blank.

Dee broke the tense silence. Please, Master Woefler? Time is of the essence.

Very well, then. Unperturbed by the affront, eyes twinkling with intrigue, Woefler pulled up his sleeves and worked his spell. The familiar oval of darkness appeared in the middle of the room. All right, Master...Loren, is it? Please take hold of Master Dee’s hand, and move only forward, not back. Bad things might happen if you try to back out of the portal once engaged.

"You didn’t tell me that the last time we did this," Dee said, already nervous about repeating the magical journey through the ether.

I didn’t? Woefler looked nonplused. Well, it must have slipped my mind. He waved a hand dismissively. No matter. Just take my hand, and Master Loren’s, and we’ll be off.

Dee grasped Woefler’s hand and held his other out to Lad. He tried not flinch at the awkward feel of Lad’s mutilated hand. Only the thumb and forefinger remained fully intact, but the grip was firm, and the injury didn’t seem to bother Lad.

Gentlemen, follow me. Woefler stepped into the darkness.

Dee followed, concentrating on moving only forward, closing his eyes in an attempt to avoid the disconcerting feeling of being in two places at once. The aromas of food and blackbrew told him they’d arrived, and he opened his eyes to the Blue Room of The Hyacinth café.

Welcome back, Master Dee, Master Woefler. The emperor’s archmage, Master Keyfur, stood from the table, his rainbow-hued robes swirling in a riot of color. Lifting a strip of crispy bacon, he waved it like a magic wand toward the food-laden table. Breakfast is served!

I’m sorry, Master Keyfur, but we’ve already eaten. Dee released Lad’s hand and tried to ignore the amazing spread of dishes. All he’d had this morning was dry toast, but his nervous stomach rebelled at the thought of food. And we’ve got to hurry if we want any hope of recovering Miss Moirin alive. He started for the door. Thankfully, Lad followed without argument.

"Well, I’m not in a hurry, and I’m positively famished! Woefler waved amiably. Good luck to you both."

"I arranged a carriage for you. Call on me any time if you