“Give him to me.”
A musty smell intruded on the stench of urine and rot—a smell like charcoal and woodshed smoke. Exeres stared down at the Sorian and saw the old man’s eyes penetrating his. He waited for the sickening tendril of intrusion to creep into the back of his neck. He readied himself for the fight. It didn’t come.
“You may go,” Mage said, dismissing them with a wave. “Enjoy the kitchens.”
The soldiers peeled away from Exeres and disappeared back through the upper doors, leaving the two alone at the stairwell. The chains binding Exeres’ wrists were heavy, thick iron clasps with a heavy chain binding them close.
“Come, boy.”
Exeres staggered down the rest of the steps and followed Mage into the tunnels, heading away from the prison cells. Then turning down a side corridor marked with Shae lettering, Mage beckoned Exeres to follow him to a non-descript wooden door bound with ordinary iron brackets and hinges.
He took a deep breath and entered.
The room was not what he was expecting.
Miestri’s chambers were heavily scented and laden with trinkets—twisted sculptures dangling from lengths of leather rope, sashes and velvets and softness. But Mage’s chambers were sparse, simple—a crooked table against one wall, a stuffed wicker chair dangling from a cord hung from a rung riveted in the ceiling stones. A small obelisk stood in the center of the room and perched on it was a polished sphere the size of an egg. Its color was so deep it was almost black but a twirling spiral of green and blue flame lifted up from it and danced into a tight circle on the ceiling.
The door closed and Mage stretched his hand, spreading his fingers, and the irons uncoiled at Exeres’ feet.
“What are the terms?” the old man asked. His voice had a raspy quality, a strain to it that he had not noticed before.
“But I thought…Tsyrke said there would be no truce…he told me…”
“Boy, I don’t have much time to waste on you right now. I’m not going to burrow into your mind and shake loose the information I need. I could crush your memories like a fist full of grapes and you’d be as mute as a lizard the rest of your days.” He turned, the cowl shifting to reveal his wrinkled skin. Older—he was getting older. “You presumed that the soldiers at the gate were privy to our plans. They are not. Tsyrke did what he did because your lips spun too many webs. So I ask you again—what are the terms?”
Relief.
Exeres folded his arms, drawing into himself, still not daring to fully trust the old man. “The Shae will parlay with you on their terms. I don’t…I’m not sure they will approach once they’ve felt the warding surrounding the city. I’m not sure why I came all the way myself.”
Mage smirked. “Go on.”
“They think that you’re waiting to kill them. But they’re willing to discuss a truce with Tsyrke. Not you. If he agrees, he must hobble the south portcullis and open the gates. That is the sign they will be watching for.”
“A clever decoy,” Mage said, nodding, his lips pursing. “One that I’ve used myself.”
Exeres was baffled. “I don’t under...”
“Of course not, Exeres. I wouldn’t expect you to. Your thinking still isn’t subtle enough. But the Sleepwalker’s is. They have the girl with them, hmm? She is well? Good. They will bring her with them for safekeeping. Before the night is through, I imagine.”
“You imagine what? If you want me to carry a message, I’ll need to leave quickly.”
Mage stooped and lifted the dark glass sphere and stared into it. “You were duped, my young friend. The message they gave you is a diversion. Even now, they approach from a different direction and will seek to infiltrate the city. Your message was intended to lead our attention to the south gates. It’s an old trick. I’ve been expecting it.”
A pit of dread opened up in Exeres’ stomach. “What will you do to them?”
Mage turned the sphere in his hand, eyeing the surface of it and then glanced up at Exeres. “Nothing too harsh. I’ll have the Wolfsmen’s weapons taken and locked in chests in a cell in the dungeons. I will give you the key to free them all and to release the warding over the city.” He twisted the sphere with a quick thrust of his wrist. “This is not the orb you have seen Miestri carry. It is a different power altogether—a tame power. One that even the Shae do not mind. It’s called a Bloodstone.”
Exeres had heard the name before. He looked at it with interest. “Only the most powerful Druid priests have them.”
“Naturally. Achrolese was fond of their powers. He only made seven.”