"Where are they?" Bartolo said.
Hermen's face turned red from the pressure Bartolo was applying to his throat. Bartolo relaxed slightly to allow the man to speak.
"They've gone," Hermen gasped. "Left in a ship. You missed them."
"Scratch you," Bartolo cursed. "I don't believe you."
Bartolo spoke some words and the runes at the end of his zenblade suddenly lit up with red, like glowing coals. The colour travelled infinitely slowly down the blade, as if each symbol was lending its fire to the next. "Are you ready to die?"
"You didn't search all the wagons," Hermen said, "did you? My men left something for you in the forest. A fire. The Petryan's belt. Those you are looking for were with the wagons you never searched."
Bartolo swore. "Are they both unhurt?"
"Yes, they're unharmed. Jehral is a good man."
"Put him down, bladesinger," Bartolo heard a voice speak with quavering authority behind him.
Bartolo turned. Perhaps fifty soldiers of the city watch circled him with swords drawn. Their officer was brave, Bartolo had to give him that; the officer's sword wasn't the only one shaking in the bunch but he stood firm.
Bartolo spoke some more words and the runes on the zenblade sparked with colours of topaz and emerald. Several of the watchmen walked slowly backwards. "I'm not done here," Bartolo said.
He once again regarded Hermen Tosch; the trader stared back at him defiantly. "Where was the ship headed?"
"The Hazara Desert. To the hidden city."
"Where?" Bartolo demanded.
"They don't call it the hidden city for no reason." Hermen smiled.
Bartolo moved the tip of the zenblade until it hovered in front of Hermen's eye. "Why are they being taken there?"
"To meet with Jehral's leader, the prince."
"You're going to help me find this hidden city, trader," Bartolo said.
"Bladesinger, I might as well tell you," Hermen said in his thick, guttural voice.
"Tell me what?"
"The prince… I've only just found out," Hermen took a strained breath. "Jehral doesn't know, but the prince is no longer at the hidden city. Jehral is going to have to travel further and take the women to where the prince is now. You don't need to go into the desert; you'll be able to catch up with them there."
"Where?"
"Prince Ilathor is with his men in Petrya, at the town of Torlac. The Hazarans have invaded Petrya."
Bartolo let the trader go and Hermen crumpled, putting both hands to his neck as he recovered. The bladesinger turned and levelled his eyes at the men of the city watch, their swords still held in front of them. "You," he said to their leader, "has Petrya been invaded?"
The officer glanced at Hermen before looking back at the bladesinger. "Yes. The news is fresh, and not many know, but yes."
Bartolo turned back to Hermen. "If anything happens to them, I'm coming back for you."
Bartolo turned and walked away, ignoring the watchmen. He needed to get a message to Miro, to tell him what he knew, before he prepared for the coming journey.
Bartolo was going to Petrya.
20
PRIMATE Melovar smiled to himself, gazing out from the tallest balcony of the Imperial Palace as the Akari were paraded through the streets of Seranthia.
Dain Barden Mensk walked at the head of the vast host, his gaze stern and unyielding. Behind him were a dozen necromancers and a single company of living Akari warriors, tall and beautiful, their blue eyes exotic and fearsome against their pale skin.
Behind the living came rank after rank of the dead. Eerily silent, the revenants walked like normal men, but there was something about their stilted gait that wasn't quite right. There were so many of them that even the Grand Boulevard, the great avenue that led to the Imperial Palace, was filled from side to side and the column of grey-clad warriors stretched to the end of the longest street in Seranthia and around the corner.