“You left the rest of the group on your own mission,” Celine pointed out. “Just the other day.”
“I told everyone I was going,” Styke said. “I didn’t just off and …” He squeezed his fists tightly until he could feel his ring biting into the skin of his finger. “This isn’t the same thing at all.”
Celine stood up straighter, fixing Styke with a scowl. “You’re her bodyguard,” she insisted. “She anointed you. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds important. She just went to get information. We can find her and keep going.” She folded her arms. “Or you can leave me behind, too. I’ll go find her myself.”
Styke would have laughed at the image of a child telling off a crippled giant if he wasn’t already so angry. He forced himself to calm down, breathing evenly, trying to make himself think. After a few moments he strode off into the darkness.
“Ben, where are you going?” Ibana called after him.
Styke found Ferlisia playing cards with several of her scouts around a small campfire. He came up behind them, picking Ferlisia up by the back of her shirt and holding her at eye level. She blinked at him, licking her lips, while the others watched in silence. “Can I help you, boss?” she squeaked.
“No rest for the wicked,” he told her. “Find me those dragoons—find me where the survivors are camping, and do it before daybreak.”
CHAPTER 45
Vlora spent another day watching the Vale, only to see the guard double and the shipments become more frequent and more thoroughly watched. The next afternoon, she visited one of the local hardware stores for rope, and waited till dusk before setting out.
She took a long route, climbing the base of the mountain just as darkness fully claimed the valley and positioning herself about a hundred yards from the entrance to the Vale on a steep, but not completely impassable, part of the cliff that led up and over to Jezzy’s territory.
She had two problems, the way she saw it: The first was that she had to climb in the dark, risking her neck on an untried route. Her second problem was that she had no idea what to expect on the other side: a steep scree that would be impossible to descend quietly, a gentle hill, or just a straight drop down into the Vale.
A strong powder trance heightened her vision enough that climbing in the dark was, while still risky, not as perilous as it might be to another person. She began her ascent quickly, visualizing the path she had laid out and climbing more by feel than by sight. She had just enough experience climbing to know that her route would be easy for someone carrying the right gear, and dangerous for an amateur. She used her sorcerous strength to bridge the gap by keeping impossible holds with two fingers, climbing over shelves, and in one case leaping straight up the side of the cliff for the next handhold.
She made it to the top of the cliff without incident, where she secured her two ropes. The first she dropped back the way she’d come, so the descent would be easier. The second, she carried with her to the other side of the cliff and looked down into the Vale.
Once again, Flerring’s description was spot on. Nighttime Vale was a wide, secluded valley with a creek running through the center. At one point it might have been picturesque. But the trees had been ripped up, the creek diverted into gold-panning sluices, and the ground covered in debris and a forest of dirty tents belonging to miners. It was a whole different town up here, and it extended on for a good mile before winding its way up into the mountains.
Vlora picked out the guards easily. They wandered the tents in regular intervals, carrying torches and blunderbusses. Others perched up on the mountainside, guarding the entrances to the mines with rifles lest some enterprising miner slip down in to recover a lucky gold nugget. Security was tight, and once again Vlora couldn’t tell if it was because Jezzy wanted to keep her most profitable mine safe or if she was hiding the excavation of the godstone.
The way down was steep, but not impassable. Vlora played out the rope as she went, giving herself a guide for getting back up, and proceeded as quietly as possible. She reached the bottom and then began to make a wide circuit around the miners’ camp, keeping eyes peeled for anything that would have looked out of place in the other valleys.
Her first target was an open pit at the very opposite end of the valley. Creeping slowly, she slipped past a guard stand and down to the creek, then made her way uphill past the panning sluices and across what had probably once been a field of wildflowers. It was a muddy cesspool now, and she grimaced with each squelch her boots made.
She was able to reach the edge of the pit without raising an alarm, and knelt beside it as she peered downward, searching the depths for anything of question.
Nothing stood out, no sharp angles, no special equipment. She opened her third eye to look into the Else, and had no better luck. No color of sorcery. When she turned and swept the Vale with her vision, it came up with the same story. If there was sorcery at work here, it must be well hidden.
A previous fear crept into her thoughts as she studied the Vale: What if Prime Lektor was working for Lindet? Never mind the why or the how. The implications were terrible. He had the knowledge of thousands of years in his head, and Lindet had the ambition to use that knowledge. If they were working together for some reason, Lindet suddenly became a more dangerous threat than even the Dynize.
Vlora attempted to ignore the worrisome niggle and continued her circuit of the valley. She reached out with her sorcerous senses, each moment accompanied by the feeling that something was out there. Pinpointing the source of that feeling was like nailing down a shadow, and she was forced to attribute it to her imagination and keep walking. Stones shifted beneath her feet, and on one occasion a guard called into the darkness. But she managed to finish her search without raising an alarm, finding herself back up on the cliff with her ropes several hours after she’d crossed the cliffs.
Frustration gripped her. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was just a damned gold mine, without any secrets, and she had risked her neck and wasted her entire week on a gamble that the stone was up here. She wanted to kill something, errantly wishing that an alarm would be raised so she could fight her way through. She silenced the foolish thought and returned the way she had come, climbing her rope down into the next valley.
She returned to her hotel room, where she examined a number of cuts on her hands and forearms earned from climbing a cliff in the dark. She cleaned up and wrapped the cuts on her forearms. It was almost three in the morning when she finally rolled into bed, unable to think about anything except how mad she was.
In the morning, she would have to go to Taniel and tell him her gamble had failed. He would soon be released, and they’d have to hunt down Prime together, and if that failed? She would have no choice but to bring in the Riflejacks.
An army would bring Prime out of hiding, for certain. But would he slaughter them all before she and Taniel could kill him?
She was just drifting off to sleep when a sound brought her bolt-upright in bed. She looked around, trying to find the source of it. Nearly a minute passed before the sound happened again, and several seconds later she heard something different: the distant, familiar noise of a rifle shot.