Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(63)

Corporal Talbot’s timely arrival was both a blessing and a curse, as far as Evan was concerned. The news about the attack on Chalk Cliffs supported parts of the story that Evan was telling, but it also meant that his warning had come too late. The fact that Celestine already had a foothold in the east made him feel crowded. It made him want to keep traveling west until he reached the edge of the world. And maybe jump off.

It also meant that his movements were limited now. It didn’t help that he and his crew were locked up together in a suite of rooms. It was like being penned in with a pack of nervous cats. Not even the ritual of tay would settle their nerves.

He wondered if Destin knew about the attack on Chalk Cliffs. If he didn’t, he would hear about it before long. Would that make Evan’s job easier or harder?

Evan was almost grateful when the wetlanders called him into the queen’s small hall for questioning. His crew, not so much.

“What if you never come back?” Brody said, shifting from foot to foot in his agitation. “What will become of us?”

“We should fight our way out,” Jorani said, producing a dagger from some hidden place. Evan half-expected her to come up with a bow and a quiver of arrows and a trebuchet as well.

“If we try to fight our way out, I will be killed, and you won’t,” Evan said. He brushed at his fine breeches, which by now were looking less fine. “How is that helpful?”

She seemed stumped by that question. After a moment’s pause, she stowed the blade away.

The bloodsworn turned Stormborn were the fiercest, most loyal crew he’d ever known, but they were like children in some ways. They could be led, but they weren’t skilled at making decisions on their own.

Celestine probably likes it that way, he thought, but I don’t. I could use a little help.

When Evan arrived at the small hall, his interrogators were waiting for him. All the faces were at least marginally familiar. The wolf queen. Captain Byrne. The queen’s niece, Lady Barrett. The queen’s sister, the princess Mellony. Lord Bayar, the High Wizard. Hadley DeVilliers. The upland mage, Shadow Dancer. Corporal Talbot, who’d brought the news of the fall of Chalk Cliffs. And, of course, the healer—Prince Adrian sul’Han, who sat in the corner nearest the hearth, his face in and out of shadow.

In Ardenscourt, sul’Han had always worn drab healer’s colors, so it was a bit of a shock to see him dressed in velvets and satin. The prince had his mother’s eyes, with a bit more blue in them, and a hint of her coppery complexion below his coppery hair.

Evan was beginning to realize that there was no way to win over the queen if he didn’t win over the healer. Sul’Han was the son of the queen, after all, and blood trumps everything else. Even if she believed what Evan had to say, when it came to a choice, she would choose her own blood. That was the way the world worked.

But winning over the healer was going to be like climbing a mountain from deep underground. It would help considerably if Evan could convince him that Jenna was still alive.

Talbot opened the session with a brisk overview of what had happened in Chalk Cliffs. It was all too familiar.

“This is what the empress does,” Evan said. “For the past five years, she has been systematically winning the free cities of the Desert Coast. First, infiltration by her bloodsworn. Then, the taking of the port, the off-loading of her armies, and an invasion that extends her control as far as the Dragonbacks. Here, let me show you.” He’d brought his maps along, and he laid them out on the table and traced the backbone of Carthis from north to south.

“Where is her stronghold?” Captain Byrne leaned over the map.

“Here.” Evan unfurled another map, an older one, of the Northern Islands at the time that they were conquered by the Nazari family. “I found this in your temple library,” he said. “I assume this was brought here by some of those who fled Nazari rule eons ago. It’s out of date, but the geography should be the same.”

He turned the map so that Byrne could get a better look. “For years, the Northern Islands have been battered by storms that made it difficult even to approach the shoreline,” he said. “In recent years, the weather has seemingly improved. Celestine has been rebuilding the ancient Nazari capital of Celesgarde on one of the Weeping Sisters—I’m not sure which one.”

“The Weeping Sisters?” The queen cocked her head. “I’m not familiar with those.”

“They are three islands in the Northern Islands that are known for volcanic activity—like many of the mountains in the Fells. I’ve not been there, but I would expect that the defenses would be formidable.”

The healer watched silently throughout the geography lesson, taking notes, the scratch of his quill audible now and then when the conversation died.

“The empress’s ships carried off dozens of prisoners,” Barrett said, “including one of our best officers. Based on past practice, where would she take them and what—what does she intend to do with them?”

Evan looked from face to face, seeking clues. The atmosphere in the room was fraught, full of tension, unstable, seething with secrets. It reminded Evan of when a storm was about to break, the clouds piling up, the air so thick with electricity that it was difficult to breathe.

“Would this officer be Captain Gray?” he said.

The whole room flinched—all except the healer, who went very, very still.