No, she thought, I wouldn’t be able to cast the burn spell if that were the case. For that matter, my Saldur guise would have failed the moment I entered.
Looking down, she saw that there was only one hair left. She considered moving to a different room, and then the answer dawned on her. Reciting the spell once more, she picked up the last hair, held it between her fingers, and lit it.
There it is!
The smoke was pure white now and spilled straight down between her fingers like a trickle of water. It continued to fall until it met the floor, where it immediately disappeared.
She stood in the cell, trying to figure out what it meant. According to the smoke, Gaunt was very close and directly below her, but there was nothing down there. She considered that perhaps there might be a door in the fireplace, but concluded the opening was too small. There simply was nothing else below her except—the guard!
Arista gasped.
She checked her hands, reassured to see the wrinkled skin and ugly rings, and went back down the stairs to the base of the tower. The guard remained standing statue-like with his helm covering every trace of his features.
“Remove your helm,” she ordered.
The knight hesitated only briefly, then complied.
She knew exactly what Degan Gaunt looked like from his image in Avempartha. The moment he removed his helm, her hopes disappeared. This was not the man she had seen in the elven tower.
She forgot herself for a moment and sighed in a most un-Saldur-like way.
“Is there something wrong, Your Grace?”
“Ah—no, no,” she replied quickly, and started to leave.
“I assure you, sir, I told her nothing of the prisoner. I refused to speak a single word.”
Arista halted. She pivoted abruptly, causing her robes to sweep around her majestically. The dramatic motion had a visible impact on the guard and she finally understood why Saldur always did that.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes!” he declared, but doubt crossed his face. “Did she say differently? If she did, she’s lying.”
Arista said nothing but merely continued to stare at him. This was not an intentional act. She was simply trying to determine what to say next. She was not sure how to form her statement to get the knight to talk without being obvious. As she stood there, formulating her next words, the knight broke under her stare.
“Okay, I did threaten to unsheathe my sword, but I didn’t. I was very careful about that. I only pulled it partway out. The tip never cleared the sheath, I swear. I just wanted to scare her off. She did not see anything. Watch.” The knight pulled his sword and gestured toward the floor. “See? Nothing.”
Arista’s eye immediately focused on the large emerald in the pommel, and she bit her tongue to restrain herself. It all made sense. There was only one thing still to learn. To inquire was a gamble, but a good one, she thought. Arista asked, “Did Gaunt like his soup?”
She held her breath as she waited for his answer.
“He ate it, but none of them ever like it.”
“Very good,” she said, and left.
When Arista returned, Modina did not speak a word. After admitting her, the empress stood watching cautiously. Arista started to laugh, then rushed forward and gave her an unexpected hug. “We’ve found him!”
CHAPTER 21
DRUMINDOR
Led by a fast-walking Tenkin warrior, the few remaining members of the Emerald Storm’s crew made their way down from the Palace of the Four Winds through a series of damp caves to the base of the blackened cliffs where the surf attacked the rock. In a tiny cove, a little sloop waited for them. Smaller and narrower than the Dacca vessel, the ship sported two decks but only a single mast. Wyatt rapidly looked the ship over, declaring it sound, and Poe checked for provisions, finding it fully stocked for a monthlong trip.
They quickly climbed aboard. Poe and Hadrian cast off while Wyatt grabbed the wheel. Derning and Royce ran up the mast and loosed the headsail, which billowed out handsomely. The power of the wind just off the point was so strong that the little sloop lurched forward, knocking Poe off his feet. He got up and wandered to the bow.
“Look at them. They’re everywhere,” he said, motioning at the hundreds of black sails filling the harbor like a hive of bees.
“Let’s just hope they let us through,” Derning said.
“We’ll get through,” Hadrian told them. He was seated on a barrel, holding Wesley’s hat, turning it over and over. Hadrian had refused to leave Wesley and Grady in Erandabon’s hands. Their bodies had been brought aboard for a proper burial at sea. He kept Wesley’s hat. He was not sure why.
“He was a good man,” Royce said.
“Yes, he was.”
“They both were,” Derning added.