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  Jaswei glanced at him over the shoulder not occupied by the bag she carried. She wore the empty scabbard she used to focus her banes. The sword that belonged in it was long-gone, broken in a battle older than both of their years combined.

  "Nearly there," she said.

  "Stay alert," he muttered.

  "I always am."

  She’s too confident. Being the nervous one in any group never suited him. Tancuon was close. Possibly he and Jaswei could part ways on the other side. He admonished himself privately for the thought, thinking of how little of the language she spoke beyond the bay.

  They reached the docks. A creeping pale limb extended from the side of one boat. The haunt emerged from its hiding place, pallor of death and features bloated from a life lost by drowning. Jaswei shook her head.

  "He couldn't have traded you a daycaller. It had to be a nightcaller."

  "No use complaining now," said Saben. He shrugged off the bags onto the wooden boards of the first dock they reached. He unhooked his baldric, ready to hurl it aside and grab his sword at any moment.

  Jaswei set down her burden as well.

  "Let me see." She eyed the crawling corpse as it advanced on her. "One blade or two?"

  "Take care," said Saben.

  "I always—"

  The haunted corpse leapt at Jaswei. Her hand moved to the sheath at her side. Sparks of light formed a sword in her hand.

  She cleaved the haunted in two. As the drowned spirit fell, it did not evaporate like the dusty bane-springing haunts of the desert but splashed into a pool of saltwater.

  "See?" Jaswei grinned. She stood on guard, turning to face the other haunts creeping along the pier and over the decks of boats at restful anchor.

  Saben drew his sword and gripped the hilt in both hands. His seal magic would do him little good against spirits of the dead. Between animals and demons, he lacked nonviolent magic for settling matters. He held his guard, not wanting to use his other magical technique, the one he held not in either palm like his control seals, but etched on his tongue in a faded sigil.

  "Get to the end of this pier," he rumbled. "Then use the stone."

  "My thoughts exactly." Jaswei leapt forward, cutting down another haunt with her magical blade. The haunts swarmed around her as she darted along the pier.

  Saben followed at a meticulous pace, carving a path forward with every strike of his heavy blade. The haunts showed no fear but disappeared into sprays of seawater when slashed. Living human bodies wouldn't last much longer against Saben's attacks, he knew from much experience. If only he maintained such success cutting down demons.

  With a grimace and wrinkled brow, he hacked downward, slicing through two haunts at once. They burst into saltwater, falling like human tears upon the pier. He freed the blade from the wood. A broken board splashed into the shallows below. Skirting the new gap in the dock, he followed Jaswei.

  She stood at the end of the pier, holding the nightcaller stone in one hand and her ethereal-glowing mystic blade in the other.

  "It's not working," she said.

  "Can you hear the song?" he asked.

  "Can you?"

  "Barely could before," he said.

  "Well, neither can I now," said Jaswei.

  The stone lay dark and inert in her palm.

  The boards behind them skittered with movement. Dozens of haunts swarmed over the pier, blocking their path back to shore.

  "That man in the mask cheated us!" Jaswei said. "I don't know how, but he fooled my hearing."

  Saben gritted his teeth.

  "Stand back," he muttered, stepping between Jaswei and the hoard of haunts.

  "What are you going to do?"

  He grunted in reply, then inhaled sharply. Saben bellowed. His voice roared across the dock, a wave of sound directed in a blast of deafening force along the pier, just above the boards. Haunts exploded into a watery mist, then blew away on the echo. The boards of the pier trembled. Some of them broke into shards of rotted wood.

  Saben clenched his jaw shut as the aftershocks of his yell faded into silence. The pier shuddered. Pilings shifted. More haunts rose from the water.

  He inhaled again. Before he could give another shout, Jaswei touched his arm. He turned, letting his prepared roar loose in a low whistle. A shape floated at the end of the pier, huge reptilian wings, and a many-yards-long tail covered in sleek blue-black skin led to a humanoid body. Hair longer and paler than Jaswei's streamed about his shoulders.

  "You called?" asked the creature in Kanori.

  "I think we did," said Jaswei. "You're a fisher, aren't you?"

  "My kind rules the Bay of Charin," said the creature with a grin. "Now give me that stone and in trade, I will take you to the other side."

  "What are waiting for?" Saben muttered. Jaswei climbed onto the creature's tail near where it joined the fisher's human part. Saben followed, gripping Jaswei’s waist.

  "Hang on tight," said the fisher.

  Without waiting for a reply, the creature took to the air.

  Melissa

  A hot day wore on the caravan as it approached the orchards near the governor’s city of Soucot. Despite the mildness of the southern riverland, comparing the weather to the far-northern plains left Melissa wistful for a cool breeze. At the edge of the trees, she got her wish. Cool wind swept in from the east, smelling of the salt sea.

  Yes, thank Mercy, a blessing was upon her today.

  No sooner had Melissa thought those words, then a cry went up from the front of the caravan. Word was quickly passed down the line from the leaders at the forefront to the main body, and then to Melissa's portion in the middle where the nobility were traveling.

  Her friend Orm, a veteran caravan guard at the head of her same detail, brought the message to her. His dark brows gleamed with sweat under the broad brim of his hat, a grassland shade similar to the one Melissa wore.

  "We are to stop at the Governor's Orchard," he said. "Tell the lady, if you may. She doesn't like men intruding on her."

  Melissa nodded to Orm.

  "I'll take her the word."

  He smiled.

  "I count on you too much lately."

  "As long as you don't start to actually lean on me, big man."

  His smile broadened.

  "Wouldn't dream of it. Thanks for going with my size and not my age."

  "One must respect one's elders," said Melissa without cracking a smile. She turned toward the carriage in which the lady and her niece rode.

  Behind her, Orm chuckled.

  Melissa smirked, but only when she was sure no one could see her. Seeming cold helped a girl avoid being thought of as a woman in the caravan life. Melissa could be friends with Orm because he understood that fact. Most of the guards were young men, exactly who she would not want knowing she was anything but the best spear-fighter in the wagon train.

  She walked alongside, matching pace with the wheels, then knocked on the door of the carriage.

  "Lady Nasibron," she said. "Word from the head of the column.

  The carriage door opened a crack.

  "Well," said Lady Kellene Nasibron, an aging noble witch who sat on one side of the interior, "Out with it, girl."

  "The caravan is stopping at the Governor's Orchard not far from here."

  "We're close to Soucot," said Lady Nasibron. "Good. Good. I expect we will be asked to meet with the governor, my dears." She directed the last sentence at the two younger women riding in the carriage with her. One of the two folded her hand and nodded to Melissa.

  "Thank you," she said.

  This one was Lady Nasibron's sword servant, though Melissa did not remember the woman's name. She wore a dark cloak and carried a scabbard across her knees. A larger sword, the Nasibron family blade, was propped against the wall, almost as tall as its current wielder.

  Melissa bowed her head, then retreated from the door, letting the carriage pass. Her eyes followed the dark wooden conveyance and the four horses pulling it for a m
oment. She picked up the pace, spear strapped into the carrier on her back. The cool wind escorted the caravan into the orchards around Soucot. She caught up with Orm.

  “The witch snap at you?” he asked.

  “A little bit,” said Melissa.

  The plants on either side of the stone roadway were in bloom. Trees bore apples in all seasons here, kept by cycling gardeners who cultivated different breeds at different times of year. There was always fruit to harvest as a result according to the book Melissa had been reading by the light of the campfires at night.

  Her shift was daylight and had been uneventful on the journey south. Most bandit groups wouldn't dare attack a caravan of their size, even if they didn't know a powerful wizardess and her sword servant were among the travelers.

  If word of her traveling had gotten around, Lady Nasibron's presence with them could probably be a greater deterrent to raiders and brigands than any number of guards with spears and arrows. Melissa wondered if Orm had come to the same conclusion.

  He breathed in deep, clearly savoring the southern air. His weathered face seemed younger, the lines less deep and pronounced now that they were truly in the south. Melissa was glad someone appreciated the warmth of this clime. Despite being born in Soucot, Melissa was unfamiliar with the south as an adult.

  As the caravan came to a stop by the Governor's Orchard, Melissa felt, only for a moment, glad she was back in the land where she had been born. That emotion quickly turned to dread as she thought of the possibility her parents might still live in Soucot. She ought not to have to meet them again, given how they'd parted those years ago. Mother and father could forget her for all she was concerned. She wished a different life than the one they had pushed on her.

  Orm motioned to the bright, blue-painted roof of a pavilion down a stone walkway off the road.

  "That's the governor's shade if I'm not mistaken," he said.

  Melissa nodded, then pointed with a finger as the shapes of people approached from the far side, a party of a dozen well-dressed members of the nobility surrounding a slim woman in a formal black gown.

  "Governor Lokoth herself?" she asked.

  Orm's eyebrows rose.

  "You may be right," he said. "See those two?"

  He indicated a pair of hulking men, both with skin a shade of gray that blended almost to a pale green. Shirtless, they flanked the woman in black, each carrying a heavy mace in one hand.

  "I see them," Melissa said.

  "They're demons. Members of the governor's personal forces."

  "You're sure?" Melissa asked.

  "I've seen men like that in the north too, in Wagewood, last I can recall."

  Melissa had never seen demons before. She frowned.

  "They look so human."

  "Look closer. You'll see their faces aren't like ours, and they have ridges like horns over their brows."

  Melissa squinted.

  "They're a hundred yards away," she said. "You have better eyes than mine, even at your age."

  He shrugged.

  "I have to keep some edge. Being sharp-eyed is practical, given the profession."

  "I can't disagree," said Melissa.

  Lady Nasibron's carriage rumbled to a stop near the end of the path leading to the pavilion. The door opened and the sword servant descended the steps. She carried the small sword at her hip and the great sword on a sling over her shoulder in an ornate sheath and baldric.

  After her, Lady Nasibron's niece, Elaine, descended. She wore a finely pleated skirt and a jacket of white over her maroon tunic. Elaine had spoken little to anyone outside the carriage throughout the weeks of travel. Melissa suspected Lady Nasibron would frown on her niece, a young noble lady herself, consorting with the commoners.

  When Lady Nasibron emerged from the carriage, she wore a dark hat and a smile that came with living every day with a full belly for decades. She joined her niece and her sword servant, then motioned to Melissa and Orm.

  "You two, follow. I won't let Governor Lokoth outnumber me by so much."

  Orm glanced at Melissa, but she was already moving to join the three noblewomen. Any day she refused a simple request by someone so highborn was a day she risked her career. Orm followed her.

  "Very good. You two are well on task," said Lady Nasibron. "Now stay at each flank. Aryal," she nodded to the sword servant. "Lead on."

  Aryal threw back her cloak's hood, revealing long white-blond hair. She marched up the path toward the pavilion. The other four followed her at Lady Nasibron's more sedate, perhaps regal pace. No one rushed a lady with so much magical ability, evidently, not even an imperial governor of Jadiketz.

  Under the shadow of the pavilion, dark-haired and dark-clad Governor Tandace Lokoth met them, leaving most of her party a few yards behind, but keeping her demon bodyguards close. Did she fear a wizardess or was this just the custom?

  Melissa could not answer those questions, given her less than noble roots. She had studied many things in books, but the demons who served the governors throughout Tancon were not among them.

  "Lady Nasibron," said the governor in a smooth voice. "I've been eagerly awaiting your arrival."

  "And grown older for it, I see," said the lady witch. "I take it you have need of me or I would not be summoned south by name."

  "You think correctly," said the governor. "But before we discuss that matter, allow me to inform you of the other I requested who should be here shortly."

  "You wanted another wizard as well?" Lady Nasibron sniffed. "I'm insulted."

  "Not just any wizard." Governor Lokoth smiled slightly. "I believe you're personally familiar with Deckard Hadrian."

  Lady Nasibron stiffened visibly.

  "You'd summon that demon hunter here? At the same time as me? And you didn't think to mention that in your letter?"

  "I hope there will be no problem."

  Nasibron snorted.

  "A problem? I daren't think you care about feelings, so in that case, nothing you would understand, Tandace."

  Melissa's gaze followed the governor's expression as it changed from one of smug superiority, in knowledge and position both, to one of ice-cold venom, the sort of expression Melissa knew all too well from the mirror.

  "You may tell me how you feel, Kellene," said the governor. "But in front of my people, you will call be my the title given me by glorious Mother Mercy herself. You know what is appropriate. A learned wizardess such as you cannot claim ignorance."

  "An impressive rant, governor. I meant only the offense you earned. Deckard Hadrian may be the greatest demon hunter who will ever live, but he is also a man of questionable reputation. I will leave it at that."

  Lokoth's lip twitched. Her face, still mostly smooth in her early forties, remained a mask of impassive and unemotional calm. Her eyes flicked to Elaine where the dark-haired young woman stood at her aunt's side.

  "You are Palavian, are you not?" she said.

  Elaine bowed her head.

  "As my mother before me, governor."

  "Indeed. Your mother is an honorable lady, though I take it she has not practiced in magic as her sister here?"

  "I fail to see the relevance of this, governor," said Lady Nasibron.

  Melissa glanced at Elaine, whose face was reddening.

  "Governor, my mother is having my aunt tutor me."

  "And your father? He is Palavian, is that not true?"

  "Indeed, governor."

  "Good," said Lokoth. "I take it you have studied the most common traits of the Palavian people, girl."

  "Leave my student alone, governor," said Lady Nasibron, bristling visibly.

  The demon guards stepped forward, each moving with precision, not moving more than absolutely necessary. They made no move to use their heavy steel maces. Aryal, the sword servant, tensed visibly. Melissa fought and resisted the urge to reach for the spear hanging from her shoulder sling. Orm backed away slightly, clearly, intimidated by the demons.

  Governor Lokoth shrugged, rais
ing both hands.

  "That's plenty of anger. I will honor your request this time, Lady Nasibron."

  "Appreciated," said the old witch. "But I warn you. Don't push me or my student. Governor."

  "Noted." Governor Lokoth sniffed the air. "I take it that goes for your guards too?"

  "What would you have to say about my guards?"

  "Not much, I'm afraid," said the governor, smug smile reappearing.

  Orm made no response, eyes still on the demon guards. Melissa took a deep breath. Too deep apparently.

  "You," said the governor, pointing at her. "What is your name, guard?"

  "Melissa."

  "Your whole name," said the governor.

  She bowed her head.

  "Melissa Dorian, governor."

  Lokoth tapped her chin with a finger.

  "How long have you been in the employ of Lady Nasibron?"

  "She's never employed me. I'm a member of the caravan guards."

  "Indeed?" Lokoth smiled, turning to Lady Nasibron. "You didn't even bring private troops?"

  "I'm afraid not all of us have the same kind of resources as an imperial governor."

  "It seems I was wrong to summon you from the Chos Valley. One mage, even one wizard will not be enough to assist me with my trouble."

  "As you were equally vague in your letter, I must say, governor, this trouble of yours is still a mystery to me."

  "And yet, here you are."

  Lady Nasibron laughed, not bothering to stifle or suppress the harsh sound.

  "I fear life in the valley is becoming boring, and for my student's health, I thought warmer weather would suit us both."

  Lokoth's smile never dimmed.

  "On that, we can agree, Kellene."

  "Tandace, it has been some time indeed." Lady Nasibron smiled, actually smiled at the governor.

  Melissa stared at the two women. Elaine's jaw hung slack.

  "Twenty-two years and perhaps a few days," said the governor. "When I was chosen to govern."

  "You made a terrible mage. The change has been for the best," said Lady Nasibron.

  "I hope you're a better teacher now than you were then." Lokoth smiled. "Because I have a task for you along those lines."

  "I already have a student."

  "If I recall you are more than capable of instructing more than one pupil, Kellene. I wasn't your only student, last I saw you."