Lucel-Lor?” the man asked. His tone was neither friendly nor threatening.
“Do I know you?”
“Not yet,” said the man. “But I know you, Alazrian Leth.”
“You’re one of the Inquisitor’s men,” Alazrian deduced. “Have you been following me?”
The man pulled up one of the chairs, sitting down backward on it and folding his arms over its back. “I wasn’t really following you. I was looking out for you, that’s all.” He picked up the book and frowned. “Why are you reading this?”
“Who are you?” asked Alazrian, perturbed. “What’s your name?”
“Donhedris is my name.” He flipped through the pages curiously.
“And?”
“What?”
“What do you do, Donhedris? Why are you following me? What do you want?”
“I don’t know this book,” said Donhedris. He seemed more interested in the text than in the boy. “It’s big.”
Alazrian sat back. “Why are you looking out for me?”
Donhedris closed the book and shoved it back across the desk, then smiled at Alazrian. “I’m just here to check on you. It’s a big city. Lots of things go wrong.”
More nonsense. Alazrian felt a nervous sweat break out on his brow. He tried to calm himself, guessing that it wasall part of Dakel’s game. His mother had warned him about Biagio and the Inquisitor.
“I don’t need a bodyguard, Donhedris. Please tell your master that for me. You do work for Minister Dakel, yes?”
Donhedris shrugged. “Tomorrow is the Protectorate,” he remarked. “You going?”
“I have to,” said Alazrian.
“Is Dakel going to make you testify?”
“Shouldn’t you know that already?”
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes,” Alazrian confessed. He fidgeted in his chair looking for a quick way to end the conversation. “I should go now,” he said, getting to his feet. Donhedris remained seated.
“I’m guessing it’s your father the Inquisitor is after. You may not have to testify at all. That would be good, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose. Really, I should go …”
“I have a friend who can help you,” said Donhedris. “He could get you out of facing Dakel if you’re interested.”
It was bait, and Alazrian was afraid to rise to it. But he was also curious. “What friend?”
“Someone with influence,” Donhedris replied evasively. “You’d have to cooperate, of course. But I think my friend can help you.”
“You keep saying friend. What are you talking about?”
“It’s late,” observed Donhedris. He yawned theatrically, putting his hand over his mouth and getting out of his chair. “You just be there tomorrow when your father testifies. I’ll find you.”
“What? Wait …” blurted Alazrian, but it was too late. Donhedris had vanished around a corner.
Alazrian stood in the library, blinking in confusion. He didn’t know what had just happened. He didn’t know who Donhedris was or who he worked for or what strange friends he had. But Alazrian knew one thing—he was in over his head, and the water was rising.
THREE
A bloodred moon hung above the harbor and a mournful fog crawled across the docks. Somewhere over the sea a gull cried through the moonlight, and the distant din of boat winches whined from the water as the fishermen worked through the night dropping their nets onto the decks of shrimp boats. A welcome breeze swept through the harbor tempering the stink of fish and salt, and along the boardwalks and dingy avenues staggered sailors and fishermen, drunk from southern rum, their arms looped around willing whores. The clouds above threatened rain, but to the men and women from this side of Nar, any storm was a small inconvenience. The outskirts of the Black City grew hearty men and rats as big as dogs, and no one ran from a rainstorm.
Blair Kasrin, captain of the Naren vessel
Dread Sovereign
, meandered down the street with a flower in his hand, his head awash with cheap liquor. He was on his way to see a lady named Meleda, and the state of his rum-soaked
“Do I know you?”
“Not yet,” said the man. “But I know you, Alazrian Leth.”
“You’re one of the Inquisitor’s men,” Alazrian deduced. “Have you been following me?”
The man pulled up one of the chairs, sitting down backward on it and folding his arms over its back. “I wasn’t really following you. I was looking out for you, that’s all.” He picked up the book and frowned. “Why are you reading this?”
“Who are you?” asked Alazrian, perturbed. “What’s your name?”
“Donhedris is my name.” He flipped through the pages curiously.
“And?”
“What?”
“What do you do, Donhedris? Why are you following me? What do you want?”
“I don’t know this book,” said Donhedris. He seemed more interested in the text than in the boy. “It’s big.”
Alazrian sat back. “Why are you looking out for me?”
Donhedris closed the book and shoved it back across the desk, then smiled at Alazrian. “I’m just here to check on you. It’s a big city. Lots of things go wrong.”
More nonsense. Alazrian felt a nervous sweat break out on his brow. He tried to calm himself, guessing that it wasall part of Dakel’s game. His mother had warned him about Biagio and the Inquisitor.
“I don’t need a bodyguard, Donhedris. Please tell your master that for me. You do work for Minister Dakel, yes?”
Donhedris shrugged. “Tomorrow is the Protectorate,” he remarked. “You going?”
“I have to,” said Alazrian.
“Is Dakel going to make you testify?”
“Shouldn’t you know that already?”
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes,” Alazrian confessed. He fidgeted in his chair looking for a quick way to end the conversation. “I should go now,” he said, getting to his feet. Donhedris remained seated.
“I’m guessing it’s your father the Inquisitor is after. You may not have to testify at all. That would be good, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose. Really, I should go …”
“I have a friend who can help you,” said Donhedris. “He could get you out of facing Dakel if you’re interested.”
It was bait, and Alazrian was afraid to rise to it. But he was also curious. “What friend?”
“Someone with influence,” Donhedris replied evasively. “You’d have to cooperate, of course. But I think my friend can help you.”
“You keep saying friend. What are you talking about?”
“It’s late,” observed Donhedris. He yawned theatrically, putting his hand over his mouth and getting out of his chair. “You just be there tomorrow when your father testifies. I’ll find you.”
“What? Wait …” blurted Alazrian, but it was too late. Donhedris had vanished around a corner.
Alazrian stood in the library, blinking in confusion. He didn’t know what had just happened. He didn’t know who Donhedris was or who he worked for or what strange friends he had. But Alazrian knew one thing—he was in over his head, and the water was rising.
THREE
A bloodred moon hung above the harbor and a mournful fog crawled across the docks. Somewhere over the sea a gull cried through the moonlight, and the distant din of boat winches whined from the water as the fishermen worked through the night dropping their nets onto the decks of shrimp boats. A welcome breeze swept through the harbor tempering the stink of fish and salt, and along the boardwalks and dingy avenues staggered sailors and fishermen, drunk from southern rum, their arms looped around willing whores. The clouds above threatened rain, but to the men and women from this side of Nar, any storm was a small inconvenience. The outskirts of the Black City grew hearty men and rats as big as dogs, and no one ran from a rainstorm.
Blair Kasrin, captain of the Naren vessel
Dread Sovereign
, meandered down the street with a flower in his hand, his head awash with cheap liquor. He was on his way to see a lady named Meleda, and the state of his rum-soaked
Similar Books
