Rage of a Demon King (Serpentwar Book 3)

Erik shrugged. ‘I don’t think she’ll lie to her husband, not for you or me, but I think she’s not going to volunteer anything either.’ Erik was thoughtful for a moment, then said, ‘There is something very sad about her.’

 

 

Roo shrugged. ‘If you say.’ He glanced into the reception room and said, ‘I’d better see what Duncan is up to.’

 

‘Right,’ said Erik with a heavy dose of sarcasm. He knew full well it was Sylvia to whom Roo wished to attend. ‘I’ve got a few things to do around here before I can see Kitty.’ Whispering in his friend’s ear he said, ‘Thank you. I’ll tell her to go to your estate tomorrow.’

 

Roo whispered back, ‘I’ll dress her up as a maid when we travel east, in a month’s time.’

 

‘That’s cutting it close.’

 

‘Any earlier and the Duke will find an excuse to arrest me, you can be certain.’ He squeezed Erik’s arm and went back into the room.

 

Erik walked to his quarters, where he planned on changing out of his black tunic with the crimson eagle on it, preferring to wear common garb on Banapis. He reached his small quarters, and stripped off his tunic. As he folded it, he regarded the red bird sewn on the chest.

 

What was Calis doing this Banapis, he wondered.

 

 

 

 

 

Cabs pointed. ‘There!’

 

Anthony closed his eyes and muttered a series of soft syllables under his breath, and the air before them shimmered. It seemed to bend and contract and suddenly a lens appeared before them, upon which they could clearly see the fleet of the Emerald Queen as it progressed through the Straits of Darkness.

 

The old magician gasped a bit for breath. ‘That is perhaps the most useful thing I have ever learned to do. It bends the air into a spherical lens to magnify light. Very passive, and we should not be detected at this distance unless the Pantathians are being supremely suspicious.’

 

The two men stood high atop a peak overlooking the Straits, the southernmost spire of the Grey Towers. ‘Sit down,’ said Calis. ‘You’re short of breath.’

 

‘It’s the altitude,’ said Anthony. As he sat, he added, ‘And the age.’ He glanced at the morning sun. ‘And being forced out at such a foul hour to climb mountains. Transporting us here was more strain than I thought.’

 

Anthony was a slender man in his late fifties, his hair faded from pale yellow to grey-white, though his skin was still relatively unwrinkled. He let out a long breath and drew a deeper one. ‘I used to be able to climb around up here without passing out.’

 

Calis turned and smiled at his old friend. ‘Perhaps you exaggerate? The South Pass is a full three thousand feet lower in elevation than this spire. I doubt you’ve ever been close to any elevation greater than that.’

 

‘Well, all right, so I exaggerate.’ The brother-in-law of the Duke of Crydee lay back on the rocks, attempting to get as comfortable as conditions permitted. ‘I’m too tired to look. What do you see?’

 

‘The vanguard is through the Straits and has fanned out in an attack formation. How do I turn this thing?’

 

Despite the season, the wind was chilled, for they sat atop a peak eight thousand feet in the air. Anthony said, ‘I have to turn it. Which way?’

 

‘First to the right. I want to see what the bulk of her fleet’s deployment is.’

 

Anthony held up his hand until it was parallel to the air lens, then he slowly turned his hand in a half-arc. The lens moved in a similar arc.

 

The two men had been companions on Calis’s first trip to Novindus. Anthony had been the court magician to Duke Martin, and had been in love with Martin’s daughter, Margaret. He had voyaged with Nicholas, Calis, and others in an attempt to recover the kidnapped Margaret and other hostages, and they had sailed halfway around the world.

 

Anthony said, ‘Have I mentioned that whenever you show up, things seem to get very bad for me?’

 

‘Coincidence,’ said Calis with a smile. ‘I’m almost certain.’ He glanced at the lens. ‘Hold it there a moment.’ He studied the deployment of the fleet and said, ‘Damn.’

 

‘What?’ asked Anthony.

 

‘They’re being very cautious.’

 

‘How?’

 

‘They’ve sent skirmishers farther up the coast than Nicky thought.’

 

‘That’s bad.’

 

‘It means Nicky’s going to have to fight warships and will do little damage to the fleet even if he wins.’

 

‘That is bad.’ Anthony sniffed at the air. ‘Do you smell something?’

 

‘No. Why?’

 

‘Just asking,’ said Anthony as he sniffed again.

 

‘Swing this back a little.’ Anthony did as Calis bade, and when Calis again said, ‘Hold it here,’ he stopped. Calis said, ‘The Queen’s got a circle of warships around her craft, and . . .’ He paused a moment. ‘That’s odd?’

 

‘What?’

 

‘Take a look.’

 

Anthony got up with some theatrical groaning and moved to look over Calis’s shoulder. ‘Gods and fishes!’

 

‘What do you see?’

 

‘I see a demon sitting on a throne.’

 

Calis said, ‘Looks like Lady Clovis to me.’

 

‘Well, you’re not a magician,’ said Anthony. He took out a bag of powder and said, ‘Sniff this.’

 

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