“Isn’t that something,” Arcannen said softly, aware of the girl moving away from him, distancing herself.

He kept his eyes on the creature. He hadn’t heard even the faintest sound of the wishsong over the wind and rain, hadn’t caught even a shadow of movement from the boy. He peered through the rain and the gloom, picking out the creature’s blunted, twisted features, noting the threatening glint in its eyes, measuring the nature of the threat it offered. He smelled its stench, raw and pungent; he could hear its shambling movements through the rain. It was only an image, he told himself. Yet it felt like something more. It moved as if it had substance. For all intents and purposes, it felt as if it could crush him with its massive arms if it got hold of him. He could hear it breathing now, could see puffs of breath on the cold air as it drew closer.

“That’s enough, Reyn,” he called out, eyes riveted on the creature.

But the boy did not respond. The creature continued to advance, close enough now that it was blocking out several of the fires behind it. Its clawed hands flexed and its maw widened to reveal huge canines.

“Reyn!” Arcannen snapped, angry now. “Dispatch it or I will!”

In the next instant the creature fragmented in a cluster of darkness and became bits and pieces floating in the wind. A moment later it was gone entirely. Arcannen found himself exhaling in relief.

The boy turned to him. “Good enough?” he asked.

It wasn’t a challenge exactly, wasn’t meant as an angry response, so the sorcerer didn’t take it that way. What it felt like instead was a sigh of relief, a sort of expression of satisfaction at having done what was expected and without giving way to anything that might have caused matters to go awry. But sending the creature directly toward him was a statement, too—a demonstration of the extent the boy could control the magic of his gift. Arcannen had ordered him to find a way to take charge of the wishsong rather than the other way around, and the boy had felt the need to show exactly how far he had come in managing to do this.

Lariana was at his elbow again. “What do you say to that?” she asked softly.

He smiled in spite of himself. “I say you have done your job well.”

But something still felt wrong, and he was determined to find out what it was.

NINETEEN

MIDNIGHT HAD COME AND GONE BY THE TIME THE HEAVILY armed dual-masted flare cruiser had crossed out of the coastal range and begun the slow sweep downward toward the shores of the Tiderace and the ruins of Arbrox. Mallich stood at the helm, maintaining a slow, steady pace through storm winds and heavy rains, his vision considerably lessened since leaving behind the clear skies on the western expanses they had flown through earlier. He wore his all-weather cloak with the hood raised to keep off as much of the rain as was possible, although after several hours of an unceasing downpour he was already soaked through. He peered ahead through the gloom and the emptiness toward the shores of the ocean, hoping his compass had kept him on track to find their destination.

Below him, seated on opposite sides of the ship’s main deck, were Bael Etris and The Hammer, huddled within their cloaks to ward off the damp and chill as best they could. The former, small and malleable, was barely visible, not much more than a motionless shadow pressed against the railing. The latter, huge and thick, was difficult to miss. They didn’t care much for each other, these two, and neither had done anything to try to change that since they had set sail. They were not airmen and of no help at all in the flying of the ship. They could fetch and carry, but tried their best to avoid doing so. Mallich took some comfort in knowing that their real use would come later when the search for Arcannen began. He had given thought to enlisting crewmen, which would have eased his workload, but in the end had decided that keeping this venture quiet was more important. He found himself questioning that decision now.

Still, he had gained unexpected support from another quarter.

On that very morning, only an hour before their departure, he had come to an emotional crossroads and gone to confront Dallen Usurient, warning him that unless he came with them, the search was off. The threat was simple enough to understand. Usurient had at least as much invested in finding the sorcerer as Mallich did, and ultimately the consequences were his to bear, for better or worse. Since that was so, shouldn’t he be a part of this quest? Shouldn’t he be involved to the same extent as Mallich? Shouldn’t he be there to lend a practiced hand should the need arise?

In spite of what he had claimed earlier, Mallich was uneasy with the idea of traveling alone with Etris and The Hammer at his back and only the oketar and the crince for protection. Usurient’s presence would even the odds, should things start to fall apart. It would help maintain a balance between those who possessed a moral code and those who did not. Looking back on it, Mallich believed he would have ended up going anyway, even if Usurient had turned him down flat. But he wasn’t sure, and now he didn’t need to be. Because after suggesting that being present personally was the only way to guarantee there would be no further sleepless nights worrying over Arcannen, imagine his surprise when Dallen not only agreed but did so almost as if he had already made up his mind.

“I think you have it right,” the other said. “This seems to me to be one of those times when direct involvement is necessary. I wouldn’t want to spend my days wondering how this turned out if the news did not get back to me.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Mallich had said.

“Besides, I will take a certain pleasure being there when the life goes out of Arcannen’s eyes and I can see he knows who brought it about.”

There might be something else at work here, Mallich knew. Usurient was nothing if not devious. But he had resolved the other should take the same risks and, however this turned out, should share the same fate. Besides, the two of them together would have a better chance against the sorcerer than either one of them acting alone.

Now, skimming the jagged surface of the flats running down to the coastline from the mountains, passing through mist and soaking rain, he watched Usurient leave his post at the bow and start back for the pilot box. When he reached it, the Commander of the Red Slash swung up the ladder and climbed inside to stand next to him.

“Where do you think to land?” he asked, raising his voice to carry over the howling of the wind.

“Just ahead. Another mile at most, well back of the ruins. I would leave the airship there and walk in to see if Arcannen is in residence.”

“How will you know if he’s there or not with this going on?” Usurient gestured at the weather, the rain running down his dark face as he bent close.

“The animals,” Mallich answered him. “They’ll sniff him out. Even if he’s hiding belowground within the ruins—which I think is likely—they’ll catch his scent. We can ferret him out after that anytime we choose. In fact, better we do our scouting in this weather, when he will not be expecting us, than when it’s clear and he can see us coming.”

Usurient shook his head. “It might seem so, but he will detect us anyway if we do what you suggest.”

Mallich scowled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he is smarter than you give him credit for. He is a sorcerer, Mallich. He won’t rely on his senses alone to keep watch. He will have set wards in place to alert him to our arrival. He will have strung them all across the flats leading to his safehold. They will tell him we are there the moment we pass through them.”

“What do you suggest then? We need to get close enough for the animals to do their work!”

“Indeed. But we need not come at him in the way he expects. Think on it a moment. Why did I choose this vessel for our journey? Why did I insist on leaving now when there was a storm approaching the coast and I knew we would have to fly right into its teeth?”