Chapter 17

The following night, Wynn crouched in the side street near the Upright Quill, the one that led to the same alley where Elias and Jeremy had died. She was waiting for a signal from Domin il'Sänke.

"We should not have agreed to this," Chane whispered.

Shade whined as if seconding that opinion.

"I don't like it either," Wynn answered, "but I can't think of anything better. Can you?"

The light of street lanterns didn't quite reach them, but Wynn still saw Chane frown. More disturbing, the burns on his hands and face had nearly faded. She didn't want to think about how. Even if the salve she'd applied had worked on him, it couldn't have worked so quickly.

"We have to follow the plan," she stated flatly, "and keep our wits."

"Can the Suman do what he claims?"

Wynn hesitated, watching the empty street. "I can't believe he would risk our lives, or the guild, by exaggerating. We may be its only hope for real protection."

This answer didn't sound convincing, even to her.

"But if the Premin Council learns what we did here, I'll certainly be dismissed. And Domin il'Sänke will be sent back to his branch in disgrace, at the very least. He's risking more than his life, so we must trust each other, or we'll fail."

The day's preparations for il'Sänke's trap had been exhausting. The Upright Quill was the only scriptorium to which the wraith had come more than once. After too much speculation concerning how it was tracking folios, this one scriptorium seemed the only choice.

Wynn had gone over and over the details with il'Sänke and spent half the day in further tutelage with the sun crystal. She was more than thankful for the spectacles he'd made. But throughout the preparations her thoughts kept turning over those brief cryptic phrases she'd read in the scroll. More than once il'Sänke had snapped at her, sensing that her attention wandered.

"I do not like him using you—or the scroll—as bait!" Chane rasped.

Wynn didn't care for that either. "It's the best chance for this to work."

For Chane to be effective, he had to keep his ring on. With it, he could mask Shade's presence as well, though it had taken great fuss to get Shade to let him touch her. The dog disliked contact with anyone but Wynn. Il'Sänke assured Wynn that he had his own way to «befuddle» the wraith's awareness of him—whatever that meant.

Wynn was the only one left without protection. And she was the only one who could carry the scroll and be recognized by the wraith. She slipped a hand inside her cloak, checking on the scroll case tucked into her tunic's belt.

"I won't be hurt, or lose the scroll, if you wait long enough," she said. "Stay focused. You and Shade have to come at the right moment."

The plan was straightforward but depended on dangerously close timing.

For now, il'Sänke carried the sun crystal staff. Once he was in place across the street, he would whistle softly from whatever vantage point he found. Then Wynn would head up the street past the Upright Quill. With everyone else's presence masked, she would appear to be alone and defenseless. They still didn't know if this shadow creature was after her or the scroll, but it wouldn't matter if she was carrying it. If the wraith sought both, so much the better to attract its attention.

The main catch in their plan was Shade.

For the last part of the day, Wynn had tried to teach the young majay-hì the most basic words in Numanese. She passed memory after memory of Chap waiting on command during any fight when Leesil had shouted, "Hold!" Chap had known not to close on an opponent if either Leesil or Magiere was engaged with a weapon that required room to wield.

Each time Wynn passed a memory, she'd held out her palm and spoke words like «hold» or «come» or "attack." She had cautiously passed Shade a memory of Chane fighting the wraith the night before, keeping her thoughts locked only on that moment. Hopefully Shade would understand when the time came. By dusk Shade simply lay down and ignored her, either bored or annoyed with all Wynn's nonsense. But Wynn believed—hoped—that Shade understood.

"Don't close too quickly," Wynn whispered to Chane, "or il'Sänke won't have time to pull the wraith's—"

"Yes, you said this before," he rasped. "As has the Suman."

"Sorry."

"But if you are in trouble," he said flatly, "the Suman can fend for himself."

"Stop calling him that! He has a name."

"There is something wrong about him," Chane hissed. "I can nearly smell it!"

Wynn was too anxious to argue anymore.

When—if—the wraith took the bait, she was to run in the direction from which il'Sänke had whistled. Chane and Shade would wait as long as possible, until il'Sänke appeared to engage the wraith. Shade would charge out next, suddenly filling the wraith's awareness, as she slipped from the protection of Chane's ring. Then Chane, still shielded by the ring, could surprise the wraith. Hopefully this would give il'Sänke time to take advantage—and get the staff to Wynn as well.

But Wynn was still worried about what harm that thing might inflict on Chane or Shade in a prolonged fight. They would have to end this encounter quickly. Il'Sänke claimed he could hold the wraith in place, keeping it from escaping. Chane would dive for cover, and Wynn would ignite the staff's sun crystal.

Step by step, the plan was straightforward… in theory.

"It will work," she repeated.

Chane sighed.

"How did you and Shade and this domin leave the guild after dark?"

"Out the front gates," she said. "The city guards weren't there… or maybe they were late."

A long, low whistle pierced the air, cutting off any more questions. It took Wynn by surprise, and she couldn't tell where it came from.

"He is ready," Chane whispered, and pointed toward a small shop half a block beyond the Upright Quill and on the street's far side.

Wynn crept around Chane. Holding her palm before Shade's nose and pointing to Chane, she whispered, "Hold… Attack with him."

Shade merely rumbled and pushed Wynn's hand away with her nose. Wynn pushed on Shade's snout, and the dog held her place.

Chane gazed across the night street over Wynn's shoulder. "No matter what happens, do not trust everything il'Sänke says. I do not think… feel… that he speaks the full truth."

Wynn glanced back. "What do you mean?"

Chane's expression appeared to change, though it was hard to be certain in the dark. Whatever faint color remained in his eyes suddenly drained away. Only the crystalline irises of an undead stared out into the night… toward the place from which il'Sänke had whistled.

Wynn shivered, but not from the chill air.

In that instant Chane looked like the mad feral monks who had come with him and Welstiel to Li'kän's ice-bound castle.

"Omission can hide the truth… or a lie," Chane added.

Rodian took supper alone in his office, not caring for even Garrogh's company. He wanted solitude and time to think.

The pieces of this tangled intrigue were disintegrating, and he saw no way to keep them whole. Il'Sänke was the murderer—of that much he felt certain. The domin was the only one who fit all the criteria of ability and inside knowledge. But Rodian had no proof.

What was that man after in the translated pages? What was his motive?

Suddenly Rodian regretted his poor treatment of Wynn, regardless of her naïve outburst. Clearly that had been brought on by Nikolas's delusional account of events.

Rodian looked down at his half-eaten beef, potatoes, onions, and carrots, then lifted his gaze to the growing pile of reports on his desk. Petty thefts, one other yet-to-be-solved murder, and a handful of social disputes required his attention. He'd let everything sit while trying to solve these guild murders and thefts. And with royals and sages standing in his way at every turn, all he had left were his other poorly attended duties—and his failure. Still, he couldn't let it go.