Ward Against Darkness (Chronicles of a Reluctant Necromancer) by Melanie Card Page B

Tracker could arrest Ward in a heartbeat for anything, but Nazarius was a special agent for the Seer of the Prince of Brawenal. The Seer who also lived a secret life as the Master of Brawenal’s Assassins’ Guild—affectionately called the Master. Not that Nazarius was aware of the Seer’s secret identity. It seemed only Ward was allow to live with that particularly dangerous honor.
    “No, it wouldn’t burn down the mansion, and besides, that would interfere with your assignment.” Nazarius tossed Ward’s worn canvas rucksack onto the bed. “You left this outside. Not to mention a sword that should be better taken care of, and some old clothes. Those are still in the rosebush.”
    “An assignment?” Ward bit back his instinctual refusal. It might be easier if he could make Nazarius think he agreed to whatever the Master wanted so he could escape. “What assignment?”
    “And don’t think about refusing.” Nazarius sat in the chair and leaned back. All too comfortable with the fact he’d crept into Ward’s bedchamber and was in the process of threatening him.
    Ward opened his mouth.
    “Or thinking of agreeing and then not following through. The Seer has already foreseen how it will turn out if you don’t do what he asks.”
    Nazarius didn’t need to spell out the consequences. The Seer likely knew every move Ward might make to avoid this so-called assignment. He’d already proven his capabilities by predicting the direction Ward needed to take when he’d fled the prince’s dungeon and that he’d require a dagger to rescue Celia. Both times Ward had doubted, and both times he had gotten into deeper trouble. If he refused, who knew what would happen this time?
    Damn cursed Seers. “I’m a little busy right now, but my schedule opens up next week.” If he was still alive.
    “Next week doesn’t work.”
    “Of course.” There was a special place in the Dark Son’s Abyss for men like Nazarius and the Seer.
    “The Seer needs you to acquire a locket.”
    “And by ‘acquire’ you mean steal since there aren’t any shops in the immediate vicinity.”
    “The Seer has foreseen its need, and therefore the acquisition is sanctioned by the Goddess.”
    “So a very fancy way of saying ‘stealing.’”
    Nazarius sighed and rubbed a hand over his face and into his short-cropped dark hair. “Call it what you will, the Seer needs it done.”
    “I hate to argue semantics with you—”
    “And yet you do.”
    “But wouldn’t you be better off acquiring this locket?”
    “Of that I have no doubt. But the Seer has given you the task and only you. Your companion, Carlyle’s girl, isn’t to get involved.”
    “Fantastic,” Ward said, unable to keep his frustration from coloring his tone. He didn’t want to argue with a Tracker, or a Seer—or the Master of the Assassins’ Guild for that matter—but he was exhausted and hungry and sore, and people, many people, wanted him dead. And he already needed to acquire a grimoire from an Innecroestri who could kill with a touch.
    “Fine. If I’m the only one who can get this locket then I need you to get a message to the Necromantic Council of Elders.” He doubted Nazarius would agree. The man probably had no idea how to contact the Council in the first place. Necromancers and Quayestri didn’t keep the same social circles. But hey, at some point the Goddess would have to take pity on him and change his luck.
    “The closest village is days away. I’m not in a position to leave.”
    So much for hoping for pity. “You sure?” Maybe they could trade thefts. Ward could take the locket, Nazarius the grimoire. “How about—?”
    Nazarius stood and rested his hands on the hilts of his matching sword and long dagger at his hips. It could have been an unconscious action, typical of a man trained to fight, but Ward betted it was really a subtle warning… All right, a not-so-subtle warning. They might have the same master, but they were not friends. In