Immerez calmed and nodded, and Sarge let out a breath of relief.

Karigan’s own thoughts were awhirl. They kidnapped Estora just to distract the king? To empty the tombs? What were they up to?

“Who are you?” she asked the woman.

The woman did not answer, but withdrew a pendant from beneath her chemise. It was crudely made of iron, but shaped into a design Karigan knew well: a dead tree.

“Second Empire,” she whispered. She glanced at the onlookers. “You’re all Second Empire?”

Some drew out pendants like the woman’s, and others raised their hands, palms outward, to show the tattoo of the dead tree.

The old woman smiled kindly to her as she would to a child. “Just a few of us. There are more, many more out in the world, my dear.”

“And you?” Karigan demanded of Immerez.

But it was the woman who answered. “There have always been those not of the blood who serve the empire. Arcosia, after all, was a land of many lands, and such cooperation was common.” Then more brusquely she added, “And now it is time for us to disperse. No doubt the king’s men will find this place in good time. Go on now,” she said to her people, shooing them away. “Finish packing and leave as soon as you are able.”

Many bowed and murmured, “Yes, Grandmother,” and wandered away.

The woman said to Immerez, “You may do with the prisoners as you like. They are no concern of mine.” She then walked away, among her people.

Memory of Fergal on his knees next to the Fountain Inn came to Karigan. He’d been sickened by the sight of an old woman. He’d seen in her, or around her, “all the worst things.” Was this her? It had to be.

Immerez addressed his men, “Get to work. We leave in the morning.”

When Sarge started to peel away, Immerez grabbed his cloak with his hook. “Not you.” Sarge blanched. “Did you send anyone looking for the lady?”

“Yes, sir. Clay and three others. If anyone can find her, Clay can.”

Immerez released him. “Good. If he catches her, we may stand to profit after all.”

When Sarge strode off, it was just Karigan and Immerez facing one another. He rubbed his cheek with the curve of his hook.

“Well, well,” he said. “After all this time. How often I imagined what revenge I’d take if the opportunity arose. Sarge doesn’t realize just what a gift he’s brought me.”

BLADES IN THE DARK

The road became uncommonly busy with travelers walking and riding. They looked commonplace enough to Amberhill, ordinary citizens alone and in groups, chatting and laughing among themselves, children skipping alongside carts loaded with belongings. It was just the sheer numbers of them on what should be a quiet road that made it so odd, like some exodus was occurring.

He grew even more suspicious when he discovered they were descending a winding path from one of the small mountains down to the road. It was too much of a coincidence to assume the travelers had nothing to do with the plainshield and his band of cutthroats, so Amberhill decided on a course of caution and hid from sight.

He watched from the shadows of the woods for a time, but did not see the plainshield or any of his men among the travelers. He decided he’d best climb the mountain if he wished to find them and concluded it wise to hide Goss and ascend on foot. It was difficult to remain stealthy with a horse in tow. Unfortunately it would cost him time and the sun was descending.

Amberhill secured Goss in a deep thicket hard against the rocky foundation of the mountain. There was even a trickle of a stream for the stallion to drink from. Once he settled Goss he returned to the trail. The travelers thinned out, but he kept to the shadows of the woods all the same, clambering among boulders and outcrops and the trunks of trees, the trail always just in sight. Whenever he detected someone coming down, he paused and watched. Still no sign of the plainshield or the one who posed as Lady Estora.

Up and up he climbed, scrambling straight up the slope, sometimes on hands and knees, instead of following each switchback. By the time the pitch leveled out, he found himself near the summit, the vegetation shrinking. He crouched low, watching for guards, and was not disappointed. He sank into some stunted trees and shrubs as the guard passed just a few paces from him. The deepening of dusk helped conceal him. Clouds had moved in through the afternoon, forming a halo around the low sun and obscuring rising stars.

When the guard was well off, he crept closer to view the summit, hiding among some boulders. An encampment spread out before him—a small encampment with tents. From the mixed stenches of animal and human waste, and after witnessing the exodus of the civilians, he could only conclude the encampment once sprawled across the whole of the summit. The ground cover was well-trampled and littered with refuse. There were numerous blackened fire rings left unlit like the remnants of some ancient civilization.

A few campfires popped up closer to the middle of the encampment. It was there, Amberhill surmised, he would find the brave soul who took Lady Estora’s place.

“Keep her close to the light,” Immerez ordered.

A pair of soldiers threw Karigan down beside a campfire, jarring her injuries. A cry escaped her lips and Immerez smiled.

Up until now, he’d spent his time organizing the followers of Second Empire in their departure and chivvying his own men to be prepared to leave in the morning. Throughout it all he stole glances at her like a hungry catamount anxious for dinner to begin. Finally, as the last stragglers departed and the gloom of dusk blanketed what remained of the encampment, he turned his full attention to her. A cold wind spread across the summit, blowing her hair into her eyes.