Annev wasn’t sure what the significance of that would be, yet he guessed its value and carefully slid the incense lamp into his tunic before sprinting out of Janak’s burning study, leaving the dead merchant and his treasures behind … along with Duvarek’s bronze-encased body, Sraon’s axe, and the prosthetic arm he had worn since birth. His old life was literally in flames behind him.
But Annev was a phoenix. He would find a way to rise from the ashes.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Annev sprinted down the long hallway outside Janak’s study, his mind in a whirl. He needed time to think, to work out what he was going to do, one thing uppermost in his mind: if he returned to Chaenbalu with only one arm, he would be killed. Perhaps as bad: if Kenton reached the village first, the vengeful avatar would tell others how Annev had died during their mission. If Annev showed up after that – and with one arm – then he and Kenton would likely both be executed. Once Annev accepted those two truths, other things fell into place.
He must beat Kenton back to Chaenbalu, ideally before dawn.
He needed to hide his exposed deformity.
He had to find a new arm.
If he could achieve those three objectives, and confront Kenton before the boy said something stupid and outed them both as magic-users, then perhaps he could salvage his life. And if he couldn’t convince Kenton of their mutual need to stay alive, he would have to kill the boy. It wasn’t a prospect he relished, but Annev was becoming more pragmatic about the notion, particularly since Kenton had just tried to kill him.
He decided his best option on reaching Chaenbalu was to seek Sodar out. If the priest hadn’t left the village, the man could help him infiltrate the Vault of Damnation and find a replacement prosthetic – assuming such a thing existed. Sodar had once mentioned the Vault contained other prostheses, but he hadn’t said whether they replaced arms or legs. If he had seen a compatible limb, though, the old man might offer to go in Annev’s stead and fetch it.
Then again, if Sodar hadn’t already fled, he would undoubtedly use Annev’s plight as a second chance to persuade the boy to leave Chaenbalu. If he couldn’t beat Kenton back to the village, Annev might even accept the priest’s offer. As long as he had a chance to reclaim his future, though, he was willing to risk it. He just hoped Sodar had been bluffing about running away without him – and that he would help his wayward apprentice.
Annev stopped beside the body of a guard who had been stabbed in the neck.
Not by us, Annev mused. Must have been that woman Sodja Rocas. He tore off the dead man’s cape and draped the blue-black cloth over his shoulder, then he sprinted the rest of the way to the balcony window and pulled back the curtain. The naked glass reflected the firelight flickering behind Annev, reminding him of the immediate danger he had not yet escaped. At the same time, the flames outlined his own dark silhouette with its stub of a left arm.
That won’t do, Annev thought, tugging the cape over his stunted arm and then stepping towards the window. He stopped again.
Idiot! You can’t climb with one arm.
Annev cursed and ran for the stairwell instead, following it down to the ground floor where he found a dead manservant leaning against the wall, a thin hole punched in the base of his skull. He ventured further into the palace, sticking to the shadows and listening for approaching footsteps, yet every corner he turned and every room he encountered was empty save for the few bodies that must have been left behind by Sodja. Each of the dead had been pierced through the heart, head or throat by a thin, needle-like instrument.
Annev tried not to think about what kind of person could kill so callously – so needlessly – in order to steal the Rod of Compulsion. The woman had to be an assassin, an emotionless killer who had somehow penetrated the heart of Janak’s home without raising an alarm. After seeing her grisly artistry, Annev was suddenly grateful his tangle with the thief had only ended in chains and spared a fleeting worry for Fyn if he had caught up with her.
As Annev searched for the exit, he entered a long hall filled with portraits of Lord Harth as a younger man. The merchant, it seemed, had been truthful about his exploits: in the first picture, Janak stood on the edge of a black lake with his boot resting atop the body of a slain water serpent – a draquan, if Sodar’s lessons were correct. The second picture showed Janak surveying the ruins of a large city shrouded in mist and moss. Several others depicted the merchant in his bronze suit of armour, yet the final portrait showed the man in plain clothes standing next to a woman with an infant in her arms.
Annev hurried past them all and through the empty corridors, abandoning stealth in the confidence that any still alive had fled Janak’s keep when the merchant perished and the Rod of Compulsion lost its influence. Not long after, he discovered Janak’s kitchen larder and spied a crack in the back-pantry wall, which proved to be a half-closed door that swung out on heavy metal hinges, revealing a dark tunnel with a faint light at the far end.
This must be how Sodja entered. Following his hunch, Annev crept into the secret passage and found there was enough light to see his way. He raced down the path, appreciating the flat walls and arched ceiling, constructed from sharp blocks of granite.
A dozen feet from the tunnel exit, Annev spied the source of the dim light: a polished black lantern hanging from a naked torch sconce. He reached up to take it then stopped, wondering why it had been left behind. Remembering his training, he spent a few moments checking the surrounding area for traps and was surprised to find not one, but three different mechanisms protecting the lantern: a razor tripwire, a spring-loaded dart, and a contact poison.
Annev felt he could have disarmed the first trap, but the dart required two hands, and the contact poison was dangerous stuff. In the end, he left the black lantern where it hung; he’d use the night sky to find his way home. He stepped over the tripwire and crept out of the tunnel, moving into the starlight … and found himself surrounded by a thick hedge of iron-thorn bushes, a corrupt subspecies of the rarer Alltaran ironwood.
Dammit! Annev wanted to race away from Janak’s keep, desperate to get home and find a replacement for his arm, but he knew he had to tread carefully here: the iron-thorns were a favourite among Darite fletchers, who cultivated the wood to make devastating arrowheads. Fortunately for Annev, a winding path had been carved through the den of bushes, and, using a little caution, he emerged mostly unscathed.
He found himself looking out over a wide plain speckled with clumps of trees and modest hills. Beyond, a massive forest lay shadowed in darkness.