all.”
“Then where?”
“You would do well to learn patience.”
The next few streets passed in silence. Ebon knew only that they were somewhere in the southwest end of the city. Little construction had made its way there, and many buildings were burned or fallen to ruin. This was where the Shades had brought the full strength of their assault, and few who lived here had survived the attack. It seemed the High King did not see fit to rebuild where no one would live afterward.
At last they came to a wrought iron fence that surrounded a wide house of nobility—wide, but not so tall as the Drayden family’s manor, nor as resplendent in its design. Here and there the fence had been bent and broken, so that there were many gaps to slip through. Mako paused, fixing Ebon with a look.
“One more thing before we enter. With Isra about, you may have need of me, and your lover’s messages cannot reach me quickly enough. Do you remember when I snuck you out of the Academy?”
Ebon frowned. “Of course.”
“There is a piece of alabaster on the ground near that place. You cannot miss it. If ever you must tell me something, or need my help, write a note and leave it beneath the alabaster. I will come as quickly as I may.”
“Very well,” said Ebon. “But do you think I am in danger?”
Mako spread his hands and grinned. “A rogue mindmage is on the loose, and she has the strength of magestones within her. Do you think anyone in the Academy is safe?”
That seemed a fair point. Ebon looked up at the manor before them. “What is this place?”
“It once belonged to the family Skard.” Mako looked the place over, his lip curling slightly. “They are one of—”
“A merchant family from Dulmun,” said Ebon. “I know the name.”
“They left the Seat just before it was attacked—and now it may be guessed that they knew of Dulmun’s treachery before it happened. They have not returned since.”
The sky was already darkening above them. Ebon gave a weary sigh. “What is this all about, Mako? Curfew is not far off, and I cannot be out this late.”
“This will not be a long engagement,” said Mako. “And besides, if you are late in returning, you will not be the only one.”
He ducked in through a gap in the fence, crossed the courtyard, and entered the manor through its front door. Ebon swallowed hard, wondering what the bodyguard had meant by that comment, before he finally mustered the courage to follow.
MAKO [2]
From the street, the manor looked nowhere near as impressive as the home of Ebon’s family. But when he crossed the threshold, the sight of the main hall froze him in place and robbed his breath. Far it stretched, thirty paces at least, and lined with hearths to either side. At its head was the greatest fireplace of all, where a fine mantel of marble was likely meant to hold treasures and goblets of silver and gold. The shelf lay bare now—what the invaders had not taken, looters would have stolen since. That is, if the family Skard had not taken their valuables with them when they fled.
Running the hall’s length was a mammoth wooden table, wider than Ebon was tall, and a long bench to either side of it. Where the Drayden manor had little dining rooms in which the family could take their meals in privacy and comfort, this was a place for feasts, banquets for an entire clan at once, where merchants and servants alike could be seated by station, while their children and the dogs played and tussled on the rugs in the corners. Some of these still remained: those too grease-stained or ratty to be stolen. Though all the hearths lay cold, and the place was lit only by the fading daylight coming through the door, Ebon could imagine the hall filled with proud Dulmun warriors, the air ringing with their ululating songs.
Then he caught a motion at the other end of the hall, and his breath caught in his throat. But peering deeper, he saw it was Mako—and beside the bodyguard, to Ebon’s
“Then where?”
“You would do well to learn patience.”
The next few streets passed in silence. Ebon knew only that they were somewhere in the southwest end of the city. Little construction had made its way there, and many buildings were burned or fallen to ruin. This was where the Shades had brought the full strength of their assault, and few who lived here had survived the attack. It seemed the High King did not see fit to rebuild where no one would live afterward.
At last they came to a wrought iron fence that surrounded a wide house of nobility—wide, but not so tall as the Drayden family’s manor, nor as resplendent in its design. Here and there the fence had been bent and broken, so that there were many gaps to slip through. Mako paused, fixing Ebon with a look.
“One more thing before we enter. With Isra about, you may have need of me, and your lover’s messages cannot reach me quickly enough. Do you remember when I snuck you out of the Academy?”
Ebon frowned. “Of course.”
“There is a piece of alabaster on the ground near that place. You cannot miss it. If ever you must tell me something, or need my help, write a note and leave it beneath the alabaster. I will come as quickly as I may.”
“Very well,” said Ebon. “But do you think I am in danger?”
Mako spread his hands and grinned. “A rogue mindmage is on the loose, and she has the strength of magestones within her. Do you think anyone in the Academy is safe?”
That seemed a fair point. Ebon looked up at the manor before them. “What is this place?”
“It once belonged to the family Skard.” Mako looked the place over, his lip curling slightly. “They are one of—”
“A merchant family from Dulmun,” said Ebon. “I know the name.”
“They left the Seat just before it was attacked—and now it may be guessed that they knew of Dulmun’s treachery before it happened. They have not returned since.”
The sky was already darkening above them. Ebon gave a weary sigh. “What is this all about, Mako? Curfew is not far off, and I cannot be out this late.”
“This will not be a long engagement,” said Mako. “And besides, if you are late in returning, you will not be the only one.”
He ducked in through a gap in the fence, crossed the courtyard, and entered the manor through its front door. Ebon swallowed hard, wondering what the bodyguard had meant by that comment, before he finally mustered the courage to follow.
MAKO [2]
From the street, the manor looked nowhere near as impressive as the home of Ebon’s family. But when he crossed the threshold, the sight of the main hall froze him in place and robbed his breath. Far it stretched, thirty paces at least, and lined with hearths to either side. At its head was the greatest fireplace of all, where a fine mantel of marble was likely meant to hold treasures and goblets of silver and gold. The shelf lay bare now—what the invaders had not taken, looters would have stolen since. That is, if the family Skard had not taken their valuables with them when they fled.
Running the hall’s length was a mammoth wooden table, wider than Ebon was tall, and a long bench to either side of it. Where the Drayden manor had little dining rooms in which the family could take their meals in privacy and comfort, this was a place for feasts, banquets for an entire clan at once, where merchants and servants alike could be seated by station, while their children and the dogs played and tussled on the rugs in the corners. Some of these still remained: those too grease-stained or ratty to be stolen. Though all the hearths lay cold, and the place was lit only by the fading daylight coming through the door, Ebon could imagine the hall filled with proud Dulmun warriors, the air ringing with their ululating songs.
Then he caught a motion at the other end of the hall, and his breath caught in his throat. But peering deeper, he saw it was Mako—and beside the bodyguard, to Ebon’s
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