Two doors down, Raz burst from a room, the spike at the end of his arm buried in a soldier. Other soldiers mobbed the scarred warrior. With swift, lethal movements, Raz slashed open another soldier, and a third, before succumbing to multiple stab wounds. The soldiers brutally made sure that Raz would never rise again.

“Move,” the conscriptor growled at Jason, tugging him toward the stairs. Kerick lay on his side in the hall, body pierced by arrows, an empty socket gaping at the base of his skull. Jason stumbled along on numb feet, shocked to see other members of the delegation being escorted from their rooms, hands bound behind their backs. Nollin. Tark. Tiny Aram. Had the soldiers moved in before daybreak, they would have had a much different Aram to deal with. Perhaps they had known that.

The conscriptor manhandled Jason down the stairs to the huge common room, which stood empty now except for uniformed soldiers. Dozens of them. Too many.

Jason knelt between Nollin and Drake. He watched Corinne being led down the stairs, then Io, then Farfalee. Rachel entered the room gagged. Ferrin had to be carried because he had been bound inside of a sack that covered all but his head.

Jason tried to make sense of Nedwin’s absence. Why was his bedding gone? Had he slipped out much earlier? Did he get away, or had he been the traitor?

After the entire delegation—minus Kerick, Nedwin, and Raz—had been assembled on the common room floor, kneeling in two rows, Duke Conrad entered the room. Jason felt an instant jolt of recognition and surprise. He looked much like Jason remembered him from Harthenham, except his prominent nose had clearly been reset imperfectly after Jason had broken it, and he was perhaps a tad leaner. Otherwise his skin was deeply tanned, his posture erect, his hair slicked back, his princely uniform impeccable, boots polished, medals gleaming. He wore a controlled expression of bemused disdain, as if this moment had been inevitable, and he was quietly pleased to watch his enemies arriving at that realization.

“This did not prove half so troublesome as I had been led to believe,” he finally said, pacing before his prisoners. “You have led many others on a merry chase across the continent. While some asked where you were, and others wondered where you would be next, I stopped and asked myself where you would ultimately go. And I went there. And I waited.” He grinned, showing his teeth. “And here we are.”

“And you can release me at once,” Ferrin said.

“Can I?” Conrad asked politely. “I understood that you were wanted along with the rest.”

“It’s what I do,” Ferrin responded tiredly. “I infiltrate the enemy. You know that. This interrupts the operation for me. Ideally I would have prolonged the arrangement until after Mianamon, but perhaps this is for the best. They have been creating quite a stir.”

“You have been spying all along,” Conrad said, unconvinced. “The manhunt for you was a ruse.”

“Check with the emperor,” Ferrin replied coolly.

For the first time in a while, Jason doubted Ferrin. He suddenly examined the displacer through new eyes. Could Ferrin be trying to fool Conrad? Or had Ferrin expertly fooled the rest of them all along? A lie twice believed is self-deceived. The thought stirred a smoldering anger deep inside.

“That will not take long,” said a man in the corner, studiously picking at a fingernail with a small knife. He raised his head, wavy gray hair framing his pallid face. He wore a long coat of brown leather.

“Torvic!” Ferrin called, the exuberance hollow. “I hadn’t seen you over there. Still in touch directly with Felrook? You know, to come clean, I haven’t brought Maldor in on my plan yet, so it might be of little use to bother him at this juncture.”

“We’ll be in touch with the emperor soon enough,” Conrad assured him. “Keep talking, traitor, and every word will cost you.” Conrad swept his eyes over the group, then let his gaze linger on Jason.

“Want to go two out of three?” Jason asked, unable to resist. Conrad’s eyes and jaw hardened at the insolence. The posture of his body suggested he was about to lash out. It was fun to see the words elicit a reaction. “There has to be a billiard table somewhere in a place this big.”

“I am no longer a gentleman of rank and title,” Conrad murmured, the soft words laced with hatred. “We common soldiers have different methods for settling grievances.”

“You were stripped of your office?” Drake asked. “Well, I suppose you did botch the easiest job in the empire. I see the emperor let you keep your medals.”

Conrad turned slowly to face Drake. “I see a seedman without a seed. A pathetic laughingstock who will suffer enough for all his other lifetimes combined before his fading spark is finally extinguished. I am ecstatic that we have crossed paths again.”

“But not half so glad as you should be to see Lord Jason,” Drake insisted congenially. “You never got to thank him for sparing your life after he defeated you.”

Conrad bowed stiffly, a vein throbbing in his forehead, then turned to Jason. “You lured me into an absurd duel, bested me, and spared me. It was no kindness. I lost everything. Through the triumph of this day, I shall regain all I lost, and more. I expected no mercy from you, and you should expect none from me. You and your companions will promptly be delivered to Felrook.”

“You spared him?” Io blurted incredulously, looking to Jason.

Conrad regarded Io and Nia with a sneer. “Drinlings should not attract attention. You vermin should be summarily executed. It’s the only way to deal with inhuman pests. But the emperor requested that as many of this party be taken alive as possible, and I have no intention of tarnishing the glory of my victory.”

“The Amar Kabal will not stand for this,” Nollin warned, no confidence backing his words.

Conrad shifted his attention to Farfalee and Nollin. “It is the emperor who will not stand for your open involvement against him, in direct defiance of his treaty with your people. Have the two of you considered that you could be prisoners of Felrook forever, lifetime after lifetime, awakening after each death with a fresh body ready for new torments? I have.” He sneered, eyes roving. “Does anyone else wish to speak? The exiled princess of Trensicourt, perhaps? The diminutive giant? The ridiculous little musician?”

Rachel tried to mumble something through her gag.

Conrad grinned. “Ah, yes, the Beyonder witch. Do not fear, the emperor is most intrigued with you. He will have many questions.” He snapped his fingers. “But the Beyonder Jason will have the honor of the first private conversation. Torvic?”