"Don't let my age fool you," he said sternly. "If you do anything to try to cheat me, I'll find you again and you'll be forever sorry."

Worth nodded. Walking the rest of the way to the door, Marcus unlocked it and let himself out.

Back on the street, night had fallen in earnest. Blessedly, he saw no sign of the man he had robbed, so he walked into the nearest alley, pulled off his boot, and counted the coins. Ten kisa. Easily enough to keep them in food until the day he sold the scroll. Happily putting his boot back on, he placed the coins into his pocket and made straight for the farmers' market. There might even be enough left over to buy one of the sweet cakes his sister loved so much. He smiled. 'Becca would be pleased.

F rom behind a curtain in the back of the shop, two figures came forward. The one painted like a harlequin pulled his dagger from its scabbard and casually placed its razor-sharp tip up against one of Worth's rosy, plump cheeks. The old woman stood next to him, clearly enjoying the anguish that the artifacts dealer was experiencing.

"Well done," Janus said. "You have him completely fooled. Keep doing as I tell you, and you just might live through this."

"Why don't you just follow him and take the scroll?" Worth asked nervously. "Why do you still need me?"

Janus pointed his dagger toward the door Marcus had just gone through. "Despite his early years, that one is exceedingly clever," he answered. "He has probably lived his entire life on the street, and would surely realize he was being followed. I should know, for I was once just like him. Should he suddenly understand that he is being pursued he would run, and we might lose him forever. No, better to let him come to us willingly. I am agreeable to letting you take your three days to raise the money. That adds a sense of well-needed reality to our little game, don't you think? Besides, the boy is smart enough to want to check the contents of your moneybags, so you'd best have them full when the time comes. And then I will keep your kisa for myself when this is all over. I'm sure my master will not mind, since he is well beyond such mundane desires. He may well even compliment me on my ingenuity."

Janus smiled menacingly. As he did the red mask crinkled up at the corners. "And then, once I have both the scroll and the money, those troublesome children shall die."

"How-how did you find me?" Worth asked, his voice trembling. The bizarre man and woman had walked into his shop yesterday and threatened to kill him on the spot. Since then Worth had lived in fear of his life, hoping desperately that Marcus would return.

Janus smiled. "With the craft, of course. You need not know the details."

Terrified, all Worth could do was nod.

Janus ordered Worth and Grizelda back toward the curtain, and let it close silently behind them.

CHAPTER

Forty-seven

G eldon felt the sharp sea wind running through his hair as he stood at the bow of the Savage Scar, the flagship of the Minion fleet. More than two hundred other such ships sailed with her through the restless Sea of Whispers. The sky was darkening, and the three rose-colored moons had just risen, bathing the froth-tipped waves in their glow.

As the hunchbacked dwarf swayed back and forth with the rhythmic rocking of the vessel, he looked out across the sea and was again reminded of how much had changed since the Chosen One and the lead wizard had first come to his home nation of Parthalon. There were still so many troubles that would have to be surmounted if Eutracia, Parthalon, and the people he cared so much about were ever to find true peace.

Reaching up to his throat, he touched the place where he had been forced to wear the jeweled, iron collar of Succiu, second mistress of the Coven of sorceresses. Then a short smile passed his lips. He owed not only his freedom, but his very life to Wigg and Tristan; and he would do anything they asked of him. Right now, that meant seeing the Minion fleet safely to Eutracia.

Nearly three weeks had gone by since the wizards had sent him through Faegan's portal to Parthalon. Their orders had been explicit: The fleet was to leave their moorings at Eyrie Point immediately, carrying as many of the Minion warriors as they could hold. On the way back, they were to fan out and search for any sign of Tristan.

With so many ships and warriors at his disposal, Geldon could scour large sections of the ocean at a time. Even so, he was enough of a realist to know that they had in fact searched only a small fraction of the Sea of Whispers, and it troubled his heart to think that he might never see the prince again.

The trip so far had been horrific. Several days earlier they had been forced to sail through the area of the sea controlled by the Necrophagians, the beings also known as the Eaters of the Dead. Knowing that there was no choice, Wigg and Faegan had reluctantly granted permission for the Minions to engage in a shipboard battle to the death, an activity guaranteed to provide the forty fresh corpses required to appease the Necrophagians and gain permission to cross these waters.

After the battle, in place of the usual Minion tradition of the burning of the dead, Traax had ordered a short period of respectful mourning. Then the corpses had been lowered over the side to be consumed by the horrible faces that came rising hungrily to the surface of the waves.

The noise and gore that followed had been terrible. Geldon had been unable to watch the once-magnificent warriors consumed by the ever-ravenous, circling maws that prowled the surface of the sea. But at last the Necrophagians, sated for the time being, had disappeared beneath the waves, and the ship had been allowed to proceed with its voyage.

Geldon wondered whether they would ever know just who the Necrophagians were, or why they existed here in the midst of this harsh, cold ocean.

Sighing, he shifted his weight on the barrel he was standing upon, placed his hands on the gunwale, and gazed out again at the ever-changing sea. He felt as much as saw Traax quietly come to stand by his side. For a time neither of them spoke.

From the corner of his eye, Geldon suddenly saw a fleeting shadow cross the deck. Then came another, and yet another. Glancing up, he saw the returning squadron of Minion warriors carefully circle the Savage Scar, then land lightly on the ship's decks. They looked forlorn, their wings drooping down tiredly. Seeing this, he frowned. Another unsuccessful search, he surmised.

He watched as the warrior leading this particular group gathered himself up, snapping his wings into place behind his back before he approached. When he reached them the warrior bowed, the heels of his black boots coming together with a crisp, automatic snap.

"Your report?" Traax asked.

"Two more ships were boarded and searched, sir," the warrior answered tiredly. "I am sorry to report that they revealed nothing. And neither of them were slavers."

"Very well," Traax answered.

It was clear by the look on the Minion commander's face that he was disappointed. Traax had fought bravely beside Tristan in the skies over Eutracia just before the collapse of the Gates of Dawn, and the two men now respected each other greatly. Added to this was the fact that Tristan was his sworn liege, and so it was Traax's duty to do everything within his power to find him.

"How many more groups still search the sky tonight?" he asked the warrior.

"Just one, sir," the officer replied. "But I respectfully suggest that no more be sent out until dawn. Heavy clouds are rolling in from the west, making the surface of the sea difficult to observe. It was only by luck that we were able to find the fleet again."

Traax nodded his understanding, his face darkening a bit more. "You are dismissed," he said simply. With another click of his heels, the warrior walked away to take advantage of some well-deserved rest. Traax turned back to look at Geldon.