“Always.”
Mage had helped Tsyrke’s grandfather establish the League of Ilvaren. A famous man, his grandfather – Kiran Phollen. His grandfather’s red cape had survived the ferocity of the Purge Wars. It had outlived the man who had worn it. Now, after so many years, skirmishes, and petulant seas, Tsyrke found himself commanding one of Ballinaire’s regiments. Ballinaire – the hero of the Purge Wars turned traitor and rebel himself. Ballinaire – the man who had persuaded him to join the Rebellion. And hate every banned day of it. Tsyrke was tired and quickly moving past the fire of his youth, but he still had the stubbornness of a galleon shoving its way through a tempest. Becoming Lord of the entire Shoreland region was tempting. But it was just not worth it anymore.
He swore under his breath, realizing he had ignored Mage’s question. “I’m sorry. Lost in my thoughts. Yes, you know I bought the homestead for her, Mage. Not quite the same as making her a queen, but that probably wouldn’t have happened anyway. I’m stunned that she’s not here. But she can’t be at Landmoor. Not this soon. Did she go with the Sleepwalker?”
“I don’t know.”
Tsyrke snorted as if Mage were joking. “What do you mean you don’t know? I doubt there is anything on this banned world you don’t know.”
The Sorian gazed at him and smiled. “We’ve known each other too long for flattery, Tsyrke. Let us just say I am not totally certain of his whereabouts. He is certainly more than an average Sleepwalker because I wasn’t able to read his past.”
“He’s warded then. Pretty good ward, too, if a Sorian can’t break it.”
“I didn’t bother,” Mage replied. “I’m familiar with the wretches of Pitan and all the mutations that Firekin can create from it. Like the Drugaen. If the Sleepwalker used Firekin, he would have been under my dominion. He kept himself hidden in Silvan magic, which is why I hesitate to label him anything.”
“Shae magic? Not stronger than a Sorian?” Tsyrke pointed out.
Mage shrugged. “I’d rather not have to find out, Commander. In the old days, the Shae held dominion. But this man wasn’t a Shae.”
Something cold went down Tsyrke’s spine. He let out a low whistle. “For all our sakes, I hope not. Show me what happened that night? Did my brother truly come barging in like an oaf?”
Mage nodded, his eyes glinting with anger. He withdrew an orb of orange fire from his robes. “The Firekin will show you everything. Look into the flames and see the past.”
Tsyrke did. He watched the flickering pattern of light reveal the Kiran Thall, his brother’s company, disturb the Foxtale. He had come early, responding to Tsyrke’s orders, but had chosen to bring the entire company instead of leaving them outside the city. A knight from Owen Draw was there also – not the Knight General, but one sent by him. Even a few Crimson Wolfsmen had joined the fighting.
Tsyrke seethed with disbelief when the light winked out. “Ban it, the knight probably thought he was baited into a trap. There is no way he’s going to trust me now. Ban it!” He rubbed his eyes. “A bloody quaere too. Why were they here?”
“For a young Shae who came in before your brother. He’s warded too, so I don’t know who he is, but he went with the Sleepwalker and Ticastasy. The Sleepwalker said very little – but he did say they were going to Landmoor.” His eyes glittered with amusement. “And when he said it, he looked right at me, as if he knew I would be watching him from the Firekin later.”
“Then the Sleepwalker is a fool for baiting a Sorian,” Tsyrke snapped. “He can die just as the others have. But somehow he found out about Ticastasy.” He shook his head angrily. “He’s kidnapped her. But who hired him? I’ve heard Folkes is using the Gray Legion.”
“I don’t think Folkes could afford this one. Come, let’s return to your ship. We need to return to the army as quickly as we can.”
They started walking again.
“Who hired the Sleepwalker? Dairron?”
“It’s difficult to say,” Mage replied. “But that was my first thought.”
“Why?”
The Sorian gave him an arch look. “Because the Sleepwalker gave the Shae a bag of Everoot.”
Tsyrke stopped and gripped Mage’s arm. “Everoot?” he said in a strangled whisper. “How in Hate’s name did he get a bag of Everoot? There isn’t any Everoot any more. It was all destroyed when Sol don Orai burned! That was five hundred years ago. You told me it would never return.”