Bloodwalk

Well-chosen words will do us no favors now, she thought. "There are no rumors from the north, only truths." Eli stopped and stared blindly at the worn leather of her saddle, remembering. "I chanced upon a merchant caravan just north of Littlewater. It had been through Logfell and Targris and was turned away at the gates of Derlusk. "The hired guards spoke to me when I rode near to inquire of their business and wares. They said Logfell was lost, completely overrun with the disease, and that Targris had its fair share of victims as well.

Several of their own caravan weren't feeling well, and they suspected those at Derlusk knew something but would not even open the gates to them." "Turned away at Derlusk? But surely the sages there have some information, some knowledge of a cure?" Eli knew the defeated and confused tone in Dreslya's voice, had known the same when confronted by these horrible truths. "The sages have their books and magic, Dres, but the merchant princes hold the gates and the money. They'll not see their decadence ruined by plague, and I suspect Littlewater will hold much the same opinion-too long have they courted Derlusk's nobles and favor." Dres was quiet, absorbing the news as Eli thought a moment.

Then the hunter leaned forward to whisper in her sister's ear, "What is happening here? Why have we not heard news from the high oracle?"

Dres pulled back quickly, her eyes darting in all directions. She shook her head as if to say, Not here, not now. Eli's concern grew at her sister's strange reaction, though something within her already sensed the nature of her anxiety. After a moment, she nodded and dropped the subject. Dreslya calmed, then turned as the long horns on the walls began to trumpet across the field, a

Dres must have the resolve and fortitude of a hundred hunters, she thought, to face these things on a daily basis. But then, Dres never really found out what had happened. Shouldn't find out. Eli lowered her head and rode on. Taking a deep breath, she banished her demons and tried to calm herself amid the confining walls and rigid lanes of the populated city. She felt a mild claustrophobia away from the open grassland of the Reach. The eyes of Brookhollow's citizens seemed to bore into her as they stood alongside the route of the hunters, silently casting fethra petals in front of the horses' hooves. The scattering of the flowers before the host of hunters was a sign of dark times, as if saying the petals were useless and the faithful sought the blessings of their leaders. Eli noted that the onlookers threw down the petals, but each home kept a bundle of the dried leaves by the door in preparation for the growing sickness and the debilitating fever that was no doubt coming.

The sky was an impenetrable pitch beneath the singular tower of Jhareat. Though small globes of bluish light floated in a wide circle around its base, Khaemil did not need them. His eyes were well suited to the absolute darkness in the ruins and forest beyond. He flexed his fingers, still numb from Morgy

A single man tore apart Mahgra's foothold in Targris. Is this the ally you wish vengeance for? I had no idea loyalty was so strong among your kind. It borders on-compassion." Khaemil said the last to needle Talmen's growing suspicion into a more logical frame of thought. What he said of Mahgra was true, but Talmen need not know the ghostwalker was drawn into the matter purposely. "It is not loyalty I speak of, but caution. One man did cause Mahgra's fall and the loss of Targris.

Imagine what else such a man might do." "Hoarites are not known for their heroics. They kill when they are called and move on. He is likely miles away by now." "We don't know for sure, do we? We have no idea who he is, and we are unable to scry upon him if he walks the shadow road. How can we be sure the oracles have not seen him-and Targris, or even Logfell?" "You worry too much, Talmen." "Do I? I've watched too many of our plans in the past become foiled by overconfidence and missed details. Why should this be any different?"