Master of Shadows by Lynn Viehl

Author:Lynn Viehl
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781440679315
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2008-12-10T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Saetta recalled his lieutenants to the main hall, where they delivered their reports. The interior guard, along with the courtyard and perimeter patrols, had been taken and imprisoned in the tunnels beneath the stronghold. The mortals they had found among the unconscious Kyn had been separated and placed under close guard. Their scouts kept watch for any approaching attackers, but none so far had appeared.

Not all the news was good. His men had failed to recover the female Kyn who had escaped from the hall during the initial attack.

Two guards escorting a female mortal had been discovered unconscious; both had been drugged with their own darts. The body of a third guard, found floating facedown in the water of an enormous bath, had also been found.

Saetta had hoped to take Rosethorn without any deaths. “How was he killed?”

“I cannot say, maréchal. He bled out into the water, but we found no wounds on his body.” The man crossed himself and then made a much older gesture intended to ward off the evil eye.

Saetta knew the women had likely escaped through an underground passage, but he ordered the stronghold to be searched again to be sure they had not concealed themselves somewhere in the house. “What of Sylas, the castellan?”

The men glanced at one another. “We found him in his rooms, maréchal. He lay upon the floor, and we could not rouse him.”

“Then he is drugged like the others.”

“We found no darts on him.” The guard looked unhappy. “His heart is still, his skin is cold, and he does not breathe.”

Saetta knew some of their kind could flee their bodies and take refuge in the dreamlands, where the Kyn briefly went sometimes when they rested. There, too, they became trapped when in thrall, a state brought on by feeding on a be spelled human until they were drained of blood. But had Sylas fallen into thrall, he would have had a dying human with him, and his body would have been warmed by the blood he had taken. “Carry him down here to the hall and post guards by him. Have you secured the stores?”

“We found their cold room,” one lieutenant admitted, “but one of them got to it first. The bags were slashed, and the pooled blood that leaked from them was strewn with copper coins.”

“Deliberately tainted.” That effectively rendered the blood worthless to them. “We will have to begin using the mortals tomorrow.

Set up—”

A hoarse scream echoed through the hall, followed by shouts for help. Saetta drew his sword and led his lieutenants to the source in the passage outside.

Three guards stood, backs toward one another other, their blades drawn. Their eyes darted around them as they turned, searching for something.

Saetta looked as well, but saw nothing. “What are you about?”

“It attacked Isidro,” one of the guards said. “It came out of the wall and took him.”

“What came out?”

“A demon.” The guard stabbed at the shadows. “A demon made of smoke.”

Saetta’s heel slid on something wet, and he glanced down at a pistol, a sword, and a pile of garments in a pool of blood.

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