(eng) Mickey Zucker Reichert - Renshai Saga 02 by Fields of Wrath

Author:Fields of Wrath [Wrath, Fields of]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The three of you mock what you claim to represent. If you constitute Balance, then I am the counter-Balance. All forces must have opposition to exist.

—Colbey Calistinsson

AN INDEFINABLE SOUND awakened Saviar Ra-khirsson, and he found himself dodging an attack purely from instinct. Jeremilan stumbled into empty air, lost his balance, and sprawled onto the floor beside the chair that had, an instant earlier, held Saviar’s sleeping form. The old man rolled stiffly. Ignoring Saviar’s proffered hand, he clambered to his feet, glaring at the now wide-awake Renshai. “What have you done with her!”

Saviar blinked, brow furrowing. “Wh-what?” he finally managed, utterly confused. He drove aside blurry thoughts to the memory of what he had been doing prior to falling asleep that evening. He recalled a bland meal, a strange dice game with seven male Myrcidians that he had lost badly, and a routine practice with a pretend weapon. Nothing further came to mind.

Jeremilan balled his fists but did not lunge at Saviar again. “What have you done with her, you bastard spawn of demons?” His head lowered like a wolf preparing to bite, and he spat out each word, “Where . . . is . . . my . . . great-granddaughter?”

Alarm warred with Saviar’s confusion. “Chymmerlee? She’s . . . missing?”

Jeremilan’s fists turned white with strain, and his face seemed to acquire all the color they lost. “Of course, she’s missing. You know she’s missing.” His dark eyes glared into Saviar’s, though he had to look upward to meet them. “What have you done with her?”

Bothered he had to defend himself with time better spent finding the missing sorceress, Saviar huffed out an incensed breath. “I’m a prisoner, remember? I haven’t seen Chymmerlee, or any female Myrcidian, since you captured me. How could I?”

Apparently, the logic of Saviar’s words calmed at least some of Jeremilan’s rage. He hesitated. In that moment, another Myrcidian, a lanky white-haired man called Eldebar, stepped through the invisible doorway. “Paultan’s gone, too, sir. And Janecos.”

“What!” The flush drained abruptly from Jeremilan’s face. “Are you sure?” As he whirled to face Eldebar, he seemed to have forgotten about Saviar.

Too concerned for Chymmerlee to worry about whether Jeremilan meant him insult by turning his back, Saviar stepped up beside the Myrcidians’ leader.

Eldebar glanced behind him, as if he wished he were anywhere else at the moment. “We’re all in and locked up tight now. We’ve accounted for everyone but those three. There’s no indication they went anywhere together, and they didn’t leave word they intended to go outside.”

Saviar had become accustomed to the Myrcidian paranoia. Not for the first time, he wondered how they could lead any kind of contented life cooped up in their joint dwelling. “I can find them,” he said softly.

Both men whirled on Saviar. “Find them!” Apparently, circulation returned to Jeremilan’s face severalfold, turning it a dark shade of reddish lavender. “You? You’re the one who did this. You have to be the one.”

Eldebar shook his head. “Please, sir. That’s just not possible.

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