36

Alec's teeth rotted and fell loose in his mouth.

Hot bile rose in the back of his throat, made doubly foul by the feel of the snakes squirming in his belly. He wanted desperately to curl up, writhe away from the interminable agony, but the iron spikes driven through his hands and feet held him spread-eagled. Blind and helpless, he lay waiting for release back into the dark dreams where there was only the sighing of wind and water—

Occasionally faces would intrude on his darkness, swimming out of the murk only long enough to leer, fading back out of sight before he could put names to them.

Fevers rose, flaming across his skin to burn out every memory until nothing remained but the rush of the sea—

Alec felt the chill of a salt-laden breeze against his bare skin, but no pain. His limbs felt heavy, too heavy to move just yet, but he ran his tongue over his teeth and found them sound. How could a nightmare feel so real, he wondered, or leave him so drained and confused?

The cold breeze helped clear his mind, but the world was still rolling under him in a vaguely familiar fashion. Opening his eyes, he blinked up at broad, square-rigged sails bellied out against a noonday sky.

And two Plenimaran marines.

Scrambling up to his knees, Alec reached instinctively for his dagger, but someone had stripped him to his breechclout, leaving him helpless. The marines laughed, and he recognized them as two of the men who'd pushed him around in Wolde.

"Don't be frightened, Alec."

Alec rose slowly to his feet, too stunned to speak. Less than ten feet away, Duke Mardus leaned at his ease against the ship's rail.

He'd been seated the one time Alec had seen him.

He hadn't guessed how tall Mardus was. But the man's handsome, aesthetic face, closely trimmed black beard, and scarred left cheek-Alec remembered those well enough. And the smile that never quite reached his eyes.

"I trust you slept well." Impeccably dressed in leather and velvet, Mardus regarded him with all the solicitude of an attentive host.

How did I get here? Alec wondered, still at a loss for words. A few details trickled back to him: the frantic ride to Watermead, a snarling dog, unlit lanterns, hoping to find Seregil home. Beyond that, however, there was only a blank greyness tinged with dread.

"But you're cold," Mardus observed, unpinning the gold broach that secured the neck of his cloak.

He motioned to the guards, who pulled Alec roughly forward and held him while Mardus swung the heavy folds around his bare shoulders.

Holding the brooch in place with one gloved hand,

Mardus slid the long pin through one of the holes until its blunt point pressed against Alec's windpipe.

Terrified, Alec fixed his gaze in the buttons of Mardus' velvet surcoat and waited. The pin pressed harder against his throat, but not quite hard enough to break the skin.

"Look at me, Alec of Kerry. Come now, you mustn't be shy."

Mardus' voice was disarmingly gentle. Without wanting to, Alec found himself looking up into the man's black eyes.

"That's better." Still smiling, Mardus fixed the brooch in place. You must not fear me. You're quite safe under my care. In fact, I shall guard you like a lion."

Alec felt someone come up behind him.

"Perhaps he does not understand his situation well enough to be properly grateful," a heavily accented voice hissed near his ear.

The speaker moved to stand by Mardus, and Alec recognized him as the silent «diplomat» who'd been with Mardus at Wolde.

"Perhaps not," Mardus said agreeably. "You must understand, Alec, that Vargul Ashnazai was all for gutting you like a fish the moment he laid hands on you. Not an unjustified reaction, considering the trouble you and your friend have put us to over the past few months. It was I who prevented him from doing so. "Why, he's nothing but an impressionable boy," I said many times as we stalked the two of you through the streets of Rhiminee."

"Many times," the necromancer said with a poisonous smile. "Sometimes I fear that the softness of my Lord Mardus' heart will lead him into harm."

"And yet how else am I to feel when I see such an intelligent and enterprising young man fallen in with such company." Mardus shook his head sadly. "A renegade Aurenfaie spy, outcast from his own people to whore for the queen of a decadent land, and a wizard admitted even by his own kind to be a mad fool?

"No, Vargul Ashnazai," I said, "we must first see if this poor lad can be saved.""

Mardus grasped Alec by the shoulders, slowly pulling him close enough for Alec to feel the man's breath on his face. His eyes seemed to go an impossible shade darker as he asked, "What do you think, Alec? Can you be saved?"

Trapped in the intensity of Mardus' gaze, Alec kept silent. Despite the implicit threat behind those honeyed words, there was something dangerously compelling in the man's manner, a force of personality that left Alec feeling powerless.

"This one has a stubborn nature," the one called Vargul Ashnazai muttered. "I fear he will disappoint you."

"Let's not be hasty in our opinion," said Mardus. "This Seregil of Rhiminee may have some claim upon his loyalty. You did say, after all, that you believe young Alec here has Aurenfaie blood in his veins."

"I am certain of it, my lord."

"Perhaps that's the impediment. There were so many conflicting rumors around the city. Tell me, Alec, is he by chance your father? Or a half brother? Age is so difficult to gauge with these Aurenfaie and they are by nature deceitful."

"No," Alec managed at last, his voice sounding faint and childish in his ears.

Mardus raised an eyebrow. "No? But friend, certainly. He may have called you his apprentice during that unfortunate masquerade in Wolde, but your circumstances in Rhiminee belie it. So then, friend. Perhaps even lover?"

Alec felt his face go hot as the soldiers snickered.

"I recognize loyalty when I see it," Mardus said. "I admit I am impressed to find it in one so young, even if it is blind loyalty to a man who abandoned you."

"He didn't!" Alec snarled.

Mardus gestured around them at the ship, the empty sea stretching away on all sides. "Didn't he? Ah, well. I suppose it's of little consequence to me what you choose to believe. Still, you might wonder why this trusted friend of yours chose to leave you to your fate when he might have saved you."

"You lie!" Alec was trembling now. He still couldn't remember anything that had happened after his arrival at the Cockerel.

"Are you so certain?" Mardus' smile was tinged with pity. "Well, we'll speak again when you're less overwrought. Vargul Ashnazai, would you be so kind as to assist Alec with some calming meditations?"

"Of course, my lord."

Alec tried to flinch away, but the guards held him still as the other man pressed cold, dry fingers against his cheekbone and jaw. For an instant Alec was overwhelmed by a thick, rotten odor, then a terrible blackness engulfed him, plunging him back into a morass of illness and pain where he couldn't escape the mocking echo of Seregil's long-forgotten warning, Fall behind and I'll leave you, leave you, leave you—

Alec awoke in the dim confines of a tiny cabin.

Still panting from the residual terror of the necromancer's trance, he sat up in the narrow bunk and tried to make out his surroundings. There was no lantern, but the weak light filtering in through a grate in the cabin door was enough to illuminate the foot of another bunk against the opposite wall.

Above the rush of water against the hull, he heard the distant, muffled sound of someone weeping loudly. The smell of rich broth wafted in from somewhere nearby, and he realized that he was hungry in spite of the lingering effects of the necromancer's magic.