Annon of Wayland was only eighteen. He stared out the smooth glass window into the sculpted gardens. He was despairing, wondering how it would ever be possible that he, a young Druidecht, would be able to outthink and outmaneuver the Arch-Rike of Kenatos. His uncle, Tyrus of Kenatos, had vanished with the man the Arch-Rike sent to kill him. Logic insisted that he consider Tyrus dead.
In a bizarre twist in his life, the man who had pretended for years to be his uncle, who had abandoned him as a baby to be raised by Druidecht, had endowed Annon with a quest to destroy the Plagues that threatened the kingdoms. It was a quest Tyrus had failed to fulfill. How could Annon be expected to succeed?
He sighed deeply, trying to contain his conflicted feelings. In the days since Tyrus’s disappearance with the Kishion, his confidence had begun to wane. The task he had been given felt beyond daunting. Yet he was not alone in the struggle. He had powerful allies now. He thought about them, one by one.
Prince Aransetis was the greatest ally. He was a Vaettir prince from Silvandom. He had the wealth and connections to assist. He was like no prince that Annon could imagine. He wore the black cassock of a Rike of Seithrall in order to better understand the thinking of his enemy. Annon glanced down at his own clothing, taken from a dead Rike of Seithrall just days ago. It was a peculiar feeling, but Aransetis was wise. Just wearing the robes and the ring made him feel different. It changed, however subtly, his way of thinking. Clothing was a symbol and a powerful one.
Another ally was the Prince’s cousin, a girl named Khiara Shaliah. In Silvandom she was a healer with a notable reputation. She was a meek girl, with long black hair and fine Vaettir features, sloping eyes and dark skin. There was some unspoken angst between her and her cousin. Annon felt it in the way she looked at him. It had never been spoken of, though, and Annon knew too little about customs in Silvandom to risk prying.
Then there was Erasmus. Annon glanced at the Preachán and nearly chuckled. He was the smartest man Annon had ever met, his memory and ability to calculate were freakish. He was from Havenrook, a detestable land that Annon hoped he would never need to trespass again. Erasmus looked like a common man of his race, except his eyes were not exactly aligned and it was not easy to determine what he was looking at. He also had the annoying habit of pronouncing predictions. Still, his skills would be invaluable.
Annon turned back to the window, thinking next of others who were far away. His sister Hettie, for example. He missed her already. They were twins at birth, she the firstborn. The midwife was a Romani and had stolen her. Hettie had been raised by the Romani and had been sold at the age of eight to a Finder with a single earring to mark her. Ten years had passed and it was time for her to be sold again. But an elaborate ploy had been used by the Romani to bargain her freedom for a weapon of deadly magic that Tyrus had cleverly hidden. In the end, Tyrus had offered her freedom to live in Silvandom, the only Romani to be granted that privilege. Annon did not doubt for a moment that her freedom would be contested.
His thoughts turned darkly to Kiranrao. If a black widow spider could also be a man, he would exist as Kiranrao. Both were deadly and silent. Kiranrao was a little of everything. He was Vaettir-born, like Khiara and Aransetis. But he was the secret master of Havenrook and controlled the caravans and goods transferring between kingdoms. It was said his wealth rivaled the Arch-Rike’s. Years before, Tyrus had tricked him into stealing the blade Iddawc from the Arch-Rike, a deadly weapon that caged an evil spirit for a thousand years. Tyrus had finally given Kiranrao the blade in the final encounter with the Arch-Rike’s minions and the man had simply vanished away with it, a gleeful look in his eye, realizing that the rest would probably die without him. Had Tyrus done it deliberately? Had he set loose a monster to distract the Arch-Rike? Or had the panic of the moment caused him to misjudge Kiranrao’s motives? Annon did not know.