It is unknown how old the Demon of the Tower is or how long it has been residing in the Tower it is named after. The oldest accounts of its presence come from stories from refugees of the Twenty-Year War who fled into the Wastes and somehow managed to reach Hertwolf. To this day it remains an open question what exactly the Demon is and why it continues to dwell in its Tower.

  Excerpt from 'Living off the Land: The Wastes'

  “Did you enjoy your stay?” Tess asked Dovell, who was standing in front of the Riverspike Inn with his pack on his shoulders.

  “The place was decent,” Dovell answered, eyeing Tess in her blue and light-grey ministry trappings. “You didn't have to pick us up.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, fluttering her hands dismissively. “I live nearby so I figured I might as well walk with you.”

  She paused for a moment as if she wanted to say something more, yet dared not.

  “I heard you met the Demon,” she eventually said, looking at Dovell with anticipation.

  “We did,” Dovell replied, hiding his annoyance. Bali was not supposed to mention that encounter until we left.

  “What was he like? I've only seen him in the distance a handful of times.”

  Dovell's annoyance increased. What was he like? It was like the Second Bane took shape in physical form. “What exactly did you hear about this meeting?”

  Tess shrugged. “Only that he appeared at the ruined temple complex you were investigating and that he pointed to some bodies.”

  So she basically heard everything then, Dovell thought as he coughed into his hand. “I'm sorry to say that I can't tell you anything more than that. The Demon itself I can only describe as overwhelming.”

  He turned away from her, rude as it may be. He had no desire to continue this conversation. Yesterday evening they had learned that Utial Rennzon, one of the two missing rangers, had never arrived at Linia burcht and that nobody there had been expecting him either. Since then the rumours had exploded, and by now everyone in the city knew that an ill fate had befallen all those who joined White Candle's expedition. For his part, Dovell wasn't planning on adding even more fuel to the fire. They're going to talk about this for years.

  Tess, fortunately, seemed to take the hint as she turned her head towards the Tower of the Demon visible in the distance and gazed at it wistfully.

  A tight feeling pinched Dovell's chest. She behaves like a religious worshipper with the Demon as her god. It was a thought he did not care for at all, and he reached up to grasp the recovered religious book he was keeping in his tunic. Why do I keep getting the feeling that we stumbled upon something far greater than anyone could have imagined?

  After the remaining members of the lance appeared from the inn, they started their ascent of the central hill towards the building that held the blueshift gateway.

  “I heard you visited the lodestones yesterday?” Tess asked, walking alongside Dovell.

  “We did,” Dovell replied. He had declared yesterday a day of rest and ordered everyone to take it easy. “We decided to see some of the sights.”

  Tess laughed. “Sights? No wonder you visited the lodestones then; they are the only sights we have here unless you happen to be an archaeologist. They are most worthwhile to see up close, though.”

  “That they are,” Dovell agreed.

  He spoke the truth. From a distance the massive stones were already an impressive sight, but standing close to them was almost breathtaking. For a start, the sheer size of them was overwhelming; had they been buildings they would have been eighty storeys high at least, and their bases were as wide as the entire Winged Keep.

  The most impressive part, however, was the atmosphere that surrounded each of them. Each stone attracted the ?ther of its particular element, and if you stood very close to one, you could actually feel the pressure of a single element.

  As a result of this, all the plant life in the immediate vicinity had become transmogrified. Every lodestone had a group of herbalists living nearby who tended to these unique plants.

  “Did you buy some potions as well?” Tess asked. “Those are always in high demand with visitors.”

  “Some of us did,” Dovell said, recalling the demonstration that one of the herbalists had given. The man had taken a blunt sword, poured some oil on the edge and then proceeded to cut a log clean in half with it. Oil of Sharpness, he had called it, which was an uninspired name for an otherwise inspired effect.

  I suppose those kinds of things are the reason why the Ministry of Transportation bothered to set up a blueshift portal to this ruined city. There is much ancient knowledge hidden here.

  There was one place, however, they had not bothered to visit: the dark-grey tower before them that grew ever larger with every step they took.

  When Dovell set foot in the overgrown square that surrounded the Tower of the Demon, he could feel the now familiar aura starting to press down upon him.

  “Having met the Demon,” Tobiac said to nobody in particular, “this place creeps me out even more now.”

  “Did the Demon scare you?” Tess asked, with a hint of surprise.

  “No, no,” Tobiac quickly answered. “It's just that its presence is rather unsettling if you aren't used to such a thing.”

  “You are about to get even more used to it,” Nissek whispered. “It's sitting right there in front of us.”

  Dovell immediately strained his eyes to see and realized Nissek was right. The Demon was indeed sitting in front of the Tower.

  Despite only being a short distance away, none of the men in the lance had seen it earlier because the colour of its fur perfectly matched the grey of the stone behind it.

  “Oh!” Tess said, and immediately rushed to the front of the group with a hopeful look in her eyes.

  Nissek fell back next to Dovell to whisper in his ear. “It's not here for us again, is it?”

  “I hope not,” Dovell whispered back, but he already knew that hope would be futile.

  Tess reached the Demon and stopped a few steps away from it. Dovell couldn't tell if it was acknowledging her presence, as she did not say anything; she merely stared at the ancient chimera with her mouth slightly agape.

  “Guard-captain Messchiel,” an unmistakable voice rumbled inside Dovell's head.

  As I feared, Dovell thought, before wondering with a pang of dread whether the Demon might be able to hear his thoughts as well. No, that would be impossible. Don't give into irrational fears.

  Swallowing hard once, he stepped forward and halted next to Tess, who was still admiring the Demon with wide open eyes.

  How did Bali address it again? Lord of the Tower or something? Dovell felt just as he did the first time he had appeared before the King.

  The Demon, however, did not seem to care for a greeting, as it spoke again. “Did you discover anything about the ones that came second?”

  It wants to know about that again?

  “I'm sorry to say that we discovered little, though I'm grateful for your assistance in the matter.”

  “What did you find?” the voice demanded. The humming sound underneath seemed much more intense than before.

  Dovell hesitated to answer. The only thing they had found that could be considered a clue was the religious text. If he told the Demon about it, it might want to take the book for itself and Dovell wouldn't be able to stop it. On the other hand, it was solely because of the Demon they had found the book to begin with, and Dovell felt it was a bad idea to lie to it this close to what was arguably its seat of power. Especially considering it clearly had more than a passing interest in the dark assailants' presence at the ruins.

  “We found a religious text on one of the bodies,” Dovell replied with a tight voice. “It's a common text and there should be several copies to be found in the burchts east of here.”

  “Why is it important?”

  “It might not be important at all,” Dovell said, “but it was all we could find. Their runestone pouches were empty and the rest of the things we found were common travel items.”

  “I took their material spells,” the voice said.

  Dovell raised his head in response to look at the Demon's intense grey eyes. Even though they had thought the Demon might have taken those runestones, it was still surprising to hear that it actually had.

  “Could we perhaps look at those then?” Dovell asked. “We might learn much from them.”

  “They are beyond retrieval,” the voice answered.

  Beyond retrieval? What does that mean? Did it destroy them?

  “I'm sorry to hear that. They might have aided us in telling us who these people were.”

  This time the Demon did not respond, instead shifting its gaze to the lance members behind Dovell, looking from one to the other.

  “Perhaps you could tell us something about what they looked like?” Dovell asked. “The corpses were too far decomposed to tell anything about their appearance.”

  The Demon's gaze moved back to Dovell. “They were common,” the voice said. “Bright skin, dark skin. Light hair, dark hair. Men, women.”

  So they weren't all Dusters? Or am I misunderstanding?

  The Demon's pupils grew bigger and it bared its fangs, its voice intensifying again. “What they did cannot be forgiven.”

  With that, the Demon turned and walked away.

  Everyone remained still as they watched the Demon ascend the first steps of the stairway that encircled the Tower.

  “Let's go,” Dovell said to his men the moment the Demon disappeared.

  Everyone quickly resumed their pace towards the ministry building at the edge of the square.

  “That was amazing,” Tess said with a look of delight on her face. She looked over her shoulder several times as they walked, in an attempt to catch another glimpse of the Demon.

  She was the only one who spoke, however. The men of Fifth Lance did not say a word until they found themselves in the room that would soon hold the gateway back to Rios.

  “How does it do that?” Tobiac muttered. “It actually snuck up on us in broad daylight.”

  “Without moving, too,” Nissek added drily.

  None of the men asked about the conversation Dovell had with the Demon, as they all realized it wasn't for outsiders to hear. Even Tess seemed to understand as she had not asked about it either and was now preoccupied with the Blueshift spell.

  For his part, Dovell was glad he could leave this place behind, and not just because of the Demon. Being on the Frontier once more had made him remember many things from his past, including the reason he had come here the first time, and that was a memory he didn't care for at all. The past should remain the past; focus on what's important now. Again he felt the book in his tunic to assure himself that it was still there.

  “We are ready,” Tess said as she moved her hands from a nearby rune board. “The other side will make the connection soon.”

  “I bid you goodbye, then,” Dovell said with a curt nod. “I thank you for the assistance you have given us.”

  She made a throwaway gesture with her hand. “Oh, don't mention it; thanks to you, I got to see the Demon up close.” An excited gleam filled her eyes.

  From the corner of his eye Dovell could see the other blueshift channellers exchanging glances in response to her words. Do they think her strange, or are they jealous?

  Even here, Dovell could still feel the lingering sensation of the Demon's aura. Truthfully, he was amazed that Tess could ignore it so easily. Perhaps it's something you grow accustomed to.

  Dovell shook off the thought and positioned himself in front of the two rune poles. The Demon and Hertwolf were behind him now. What mattered was what lay before him.

  “Fifth Lance, line up.”

  The men fell in behind him and a moment later the gateway appeared, showing the room they had left four days earlier. It also showed a small elderly man with white hair ending in a widow's peak whom Dovell immediately recognized.

  Grandmaster Lakrin.

  Unshaken, he ordered the men forward. “Fifth Lance, double pace.”

  They all swiftly filed through the gateway into the other room.

  “Guard-captain Messchiel,” Lakrin greeted him. “Welcome back.”

  “Grandmaster Lakrin,” Dovell said with a brief nod. “I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

  “I decided to come and meet you,” Lakrin said, nodding greetings to each of the men. “I have carriages waiting outside to take you back to the barracks.”

  That caused Dovell to give the grandmaster a peculiar look. “Did something happen while we were gone?”

  “Nothing that requires your immediate attention, I assure you,” Lakrin said, letting his gaze run past all the men's faces and taking note of their relieved expressions. “You all seem glad to be back, by the looks of it.”

  “It's not exactly what it looks like,” Dovell said, swinging open the door. “I will explain on the way; I assume you will be coming with us?”

  “Indeed I will.”

  Two carriages were prepared and waiting for them. After fastening their packs, Dovell, Nissek and Lakrin entered one and the remaining members of Fifth Lance boarded the other.

  As the carriages started moving, Lakrin's expression changed from neutral to concerned. “What happened in Hertwolf, Dovell? You've all come back looking like you were chased by the tempest.”

  Dovell chuckled drily. “That would be near accurate. We ran into Hertwolf's guardian just before we passed through the gateway.”

  That caused even the usually stoic-faced grandmaster to widen his eyes. “The Demon of the Tower? You fought it?”

  “Nothing so violent, fortunately. Talking was all we did, and I have to say that our meetings with it were among the less worrisome things we encountered.”

  “Meetings, even,” Lakrin said, the worry vanishing from his face. “It sounds like you had an eventful time then. I'm eager to hear what you learned.”

  Dovell sighed. “Truthfully, close to nothing. Most of it is merely confirmation of what we already knew.”

  Dovell quickly explained all that had taken place in Hertwolf, as well as the final conclusion of the entire endeavour.

  “And this is the book you found?” Lakrin said as Dovell handed the grandmaster the religious text.

  “This is it,” Dovell said, leaning back into the cushions. “I inspected every page of it, and it's all just basic text. No notes in it of any kind.”

  “And it's a standard text?”

  “As far as we can tell, yes,” Dovell replied. “As I said, it ultimately brings us no closer to discovering the identity of our dark assailants.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Perhaps not,” Lakrin said, thumbing through the pages. “However, your theory about a religious cult being behind it certainly has merit. Especially if this cult has its base in the Dust Empire.”

  “Why is that?”

  “While you were gone, we discovered that there are several troublesome developments taking place in the city. All initiated by an organization that as far as we can tell only has Duster members.”

  “What are you saying?” Dovell asked, before his jaw tightened as he realized the answer. “The Dust Empire is behind it all?”

  “That is a definite possibility, though at this point it might just as well be a Duster syndicate making a move. As of yet, we have no hard evidence to prove it one way or the other.”

  Hearing that did little to reassure Dovell. “Then what are these troublesome developments?”

  “Nothing we can make a move on for now.”

  Dovell's expression hardened and his lips formed a tight line. This was why he disliked speaking with Lakrin or anyone of the Whisper. They never gave a straight answer and they never told you everything.

  “I understand your displeasure with the situation,” Lakrin said, seemingly unperturbed by Dovell's reaction, “but I'm certain you'll agree with me that if it is indeed the Dust Empire that is moving against Gerios, it is not something we can act rashly upon. At the moment we still have the advantage, as they don't know how much we have learned already.”

  “Then why did you come to meet us?” Dovell asked pointedly. “You showing up in person to welcome us isn't something you would do just to be polite.”

  “You know me too well, Guard-captain,” Lakrin said with a faint smile. “There is indeed a reason for that. Two actually, the second one being that I was particularly curious to hear what you found in Hertwolf.” He leaned forward slightly. “The first reason, however, is the urgent one, and far more immediate than any Dusters running around in the city.”

  Even more immediate than the Dust Empire conducting covert operations in the city? “What would that be, then?”

  “The White Candle wards will fail within three days,” Lakrin stated flatly.

  Dovell jerked upright and he could hear Nissek draw a sharp breath beside him.

  I knew there couldn't be much time left. But only three days?

  Dovell closed his eyes. “Who confirmed this?”

  “We finally managed to find a magister from Galond, but regardless of his assessment, the light from the charge indicator above the sanctum can only be seen in the dark at this point. It will be soon.”

  “Then we need to prepare.”

  “Indeed, and such preparations are already in progress. Guard-captain Arwoude suggested that the Royal Guard should drain the last of the charge so the exact time of failure can be controlled. The King agreed with his plan, so the presence of your lance will be required as well.”

  Dovell nodded slowly. Tees would be keen to resolve the situation at the White Candle any way he could. He was the one who lost a man, after all.

  “When will it happen?”

  “Draining the remaining charge will start at first light the day after tomorrow. The Amber Quarter is being evacuated as we speak. Fortunately, most of its residents have already left, so there will be enough time to complete the evacuation. The entire Royal Guard will be present for this, and every magister and magistra in the city will be under house arrest for the duration.”

  “And this Duster organization? Are they going to make a move when all this is happening?”

  “I cannot say with any certainty.”

  That's not surprising. Dovell did not press the issue, however, knowing full well that Lakrin would not give him a straight answer anyway. Instead he sank back into the pillows of the closed carriage and watched the Winged Keep grow larger as they entered the Royal Quarter.

  Later that day, Dovell found himself sitting on the edge of his bunk trying to make sense of everything he had learned so far. He had spoken to Tees earlier and was satisfied with the plan the Third Lance guard-captain had come up with. If anyone tried to interfere during the operation, they would be in for a world of trouble.

  Nevertheless, Dovell remained tense. It's just too much. Before I left for Hertwolf, it was just the magic guilds that were suspect. Now they are joined by religious cults, Duster syndicates and perhaps even the entire Dust Empire.

  Lakrin had said that the Duster organization found in Rios wasn't proven to be linked to the dark assailants, but Dovell had little doubt that it was. Whatever this organization was up to, they would take their opportunity the moment the sanctum wards went down.

  However, at this point there was little he or anyone else could do about it. Tomorrow the entire Royal Guard would be busy preparing for the White Candle operation, and there would be no time for anything else.

  Preparing for something we don't know anything about.

  He got up from his bunk and started to wander through the barracks.

  When he arrived at Third Lance's bunk room, he halted in the doorway and stared at the second bed on the right.

  Ristyk's old bunk.

  Dovell knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent Ristyk's death, but he felt partially responsible nonetheless. It was on his watch that the ghast had escaped from the sanctum.

  Had we known that Karan de Ekkar was planning to sneak into the sanctum, we could have stopped him and the ghast would have remained sealed away inside.

  Looking at Ristyk's empty bunk, Dovell thought about the days to come. We can't go into this blindly like we did before. If there is information, no matter how insignificant it is, I need to know about it so we can prevent future tragedies like this.

  With renewed determination, he paced back to his bunk to pick up his cloak, then went outside across the Winged Keep's bailey.

  The Old Belltower, the massive donjon at the centre of the Keep, stood silent and dark against the clouded night. As Dovell passed it, he suddenly sensed the same aura he had felt at the Tower of the Demon that afternoon.

  Dovell's eyes widened as he peered into the darkness. It can't be!

  Fortunately, the moment passed almost instantly, and Dovell let out a sigh of relief. Just a memory. That beast can't possibly be here after all.

  Despite his own assurances, he looked back towards the donjon several times before he reached one of the many passageways that led down into the Stockade. It seemed that the two meetings with the Demon had affected him more than he realized. He still expected it to appear from the darkness somehow.

  Inside the Stockade, Dovell found the corridors empty apart from the occasional field agent. At this hour, there won't be many people here. Undaunted, he continued. Most of ?ther division's operators had an office here, and as long as he could find one of them, he should be able to gain some information.

  Unfortunately, all the offices were empty. Knocking on the door of Lakrin's personal quarters yielded no response either.

  It's almost like they are hiding from me.

  He knew that wasn't the case; he had simply charged in on the spur of the moment without regard to the hour. It would probably be better if he returned in the morning; he didn't want to be so crude as to start barging into any room he could find.

  Dejected, he passed the canteen where he noticed a solitary blonde woman sitting at one of the tables.

  Dovell halted in the doorway to get a better look. Who's that? Even though he barely knew anyone of the Whisper by name, he did recognize most of their faces. He would have remembered an attractive woman like that.

  She leaned on one elbow with her head cupped in her hand, picking at her food. Her disquieted expression indicated that she didn't want to be there.

  A field agent waiting to be debriefed?

  Dovell stepped into the canteen. If she was waiting for a debriefing, then she was waiting for an operator.

  “Good evening,” Dovell said as he approached her table.

  The woman looked up and Dovell realized she wasn't as young as she appeared from a distance. In her early thirties, looks like.

  “Hello,” she spoke with a soft voice.

  Dovell noted that the snow peas on her plate were mostly untouched as she put down her fork and rose from the table. “I'm ready to go.”

  That took Dovell aback. “I believe you are mistaking me for someone else. I'm Guard-captain Messchiel of the Royal Guard. Fifth Lance.”

  “Oh,” she said. Then her expression turned to one of shock. “Oh, I'm sorry. I was expecting someone to pick me up. I am Cecille de Alistrin. I'm pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Dovell replied. “Could you tell me who it is you are waiting for? I'm looking for someone to speak to about an important matter.”

  “I'm not sure; they just told me to wait here.” She fidgeted with the sleeve of her dress.

  She speaks with an eastern accent. That's interesting. Could she be here because of that Duster organization Lakrin was talking about?

  “Please, sit,” Dovell said, pulling out a chair for himself.

  Cecille sat down immediately and placed her hands in her lap.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Tasselhane.”

  “Tasselhane,” Dovell repeated slowly, mulling over the word. “And what might your job there be?”

  “I sell perfumes.”

  “No, I mean your job for the Whisper.”

  She hesitated and did not answer, studying Dovell's face instead.

  “Are you a field agent?” Dovell asked.

  “No,” she answered immediately, followed by a slight jolt in her posture as if she berated herself for answering.

  “An operator, then?”

  This time she did not answer, instead looking down at her plate.

  Dovell rubbed his chin. That's peculiar. Her response is contradictory. Her silence affirms she is indeed an operator, but she isn't acting like one at all. Any operator that Dovell knew would have calmly answered the question with a yes or a no, depending on how they perceived the situation.

  “Did you arrive by blueshift?”

  She nodded and glanced at him.

  This isn't going anywhere. He considered leaving her alone and trying his luck on his own again, when another woman entered the canteen.

  Dovell did recognize the new arrival. She's an operator for ?ther division, I'm certain. He had seen her before with Lakrin when speaking to the King. Kell is her name, I believe.

  “Guard-captain,” Kell said. “I wasn't expecting to find you here.”

  “I was waiting.”

  “What for?”

  “You, it appears. I need someone to tell me everything we have learned so far regarding the White Candle situation—and I mean everything.” He raised his hand. “I won't take no for an answer and I think you know why.”

  A light smile curled around Kell's lips. “How ironic.”

  Dovell glowered. “What's ironic about that?”

  “Madam De Alistrin is here for the exact same thing.” She looked at Cecille. “I am Kell, operator, ?ther division, first Rios outfit.”

  Cecille rose from her seat once more. “Cecille, operator, Foreign division, Tasselhane outfit.”

  So she is an operator after all, and from the foreign division. Looks like there is far more to this Duster connection than Lakrin let on.

  Dovell nodded to himself. I was right to come here. “I will be attending this briefing as well.”

  “You weren't invited,” Kell said pointedly.

  “That's irrelevant,” Dovell said, rising from his seat and walking a few steps towards Kell.

  “Are you trying to intimidate me, Guard-captain?” she asked, undaunted.

  “No need,” Dovell said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “You can't stop me. I will take this to the King if I have to.”

  Kell stared at him coldly for a few moments while Cecille eyed the exit as if she wanted to make a run for it.

  Dovell didn't flinch. The disapproving stare of a woman did nothing to him, not after all the things he had seen in his life.

  Eventually, Kell relented with a light shrug. “Fine, but I will have your word that you will not speak of what you hear with anyone. That includes members of your lance.”

  That was easier than I expected. “You have my word I will not.”

  “Very well; if both of you will follow me. The carriage is ready.”

  The briefing isn't going to be here? “Why do we need a carriage?” Dovell asked.

  “You will find out when we arrive,” Kell coolly answered.

  Very well, Dovell thought. He had got what he wanted, so he refrained from antagonizing Kell even more.

  They exited the Stockade near the south gate, where indeed a carriage was waiting for them to take them into the city.

  Nobody spoke during the ride. Cecille kept her eyes firmly focused on the view outside the carriage, and Kell spent her time reading some report.

  They halted in front of a large town house. After stepping out of the carriage, Dovell could see the White Candle as a faint pale smear in the distance beneath the moonlight.

  We're in the Sixth District? Why come here?

  The front door of the town house swung open and everyone filed into the building. As Dovell stepped inside, he recognized the man who had opened the door for them.

  “So you are here as well, Ven,” Dovell said.

  “Guard-captain Messchiel,” Ven said without changing his expression. If he was surprised by Dovell's sudden appearance, he didn't let it show. I wonder if there is anything that can surprise him.

  They entered the living room, where two more men were seated. Dovell recognized the one on the left. They're all part of the same outfit, Dovell realized.

  He did not recognize the man on the right, however. He was a young man with a square face and unruly brown hair with a grey streak that ran past his temples.

  “We have an additional visitor,” Kell stated. “This is Guard-captain Messchiel of the Royal Guard, Fifth Lance.”

  The man Dovell recognized frowned. The other man, however, suddenly looked at Dovell with apprehension in his blue eyes.

  Kell continued. “You already know Ven, so that leaves Raviel.” She pointed at the man on the left. “And Hans,” she added, pointing at the man on the right.

  Somewhere in Dovell's mind, a tiny bell rang. Hans? Where did I hear that name before? He studied the man more closely. He was plain-looking without any specific features to make him stand out. So why do I get the feeling I ought to know him?

  “Have we met before?” Dovell asked Hans.

  “No, Guard-captain,” Hans said after a brief hesitation. He wanted to say something else, but Kell interrupted him. “He's not here for you, Hans. The guard-captain is looking for more information, just as we all are.”

  Why would I be here for...

  Then it hit him.

  “Hans Niessen,” Dovell said calmly. “You are the traitor that let the woman escape from the Stockade.”

  “That was a scheme on our part,” Kell said as she sat down and gestured for everyone else to do the same. “Hans has been working with us the entire time.”

  “And when were you going to inform us of this?” Dovell asked, feeling his anger rise. “We spent considerable time trying to find him. That woman too.”

  “We planned to inform you about everything the moment the situation at the White Candle is resolved, which as you know will be in two days, one way or the other. Your particular part in that resolution is the only reason I allowed you to come here, by the way.”

  Dovell glared at her.

  “Oh, come on Guard-captain, you didn't really think I would be swayed by some idle threats?”

  Those weren't as idle as you may think. He calmed himself and made a throwaway gesture. Getting angry at this point would not help. “What about the woman he helped escape?”

  “She is working with us as well,” Kell replied, “but those questions will be answered in time. Let's start with the more recent events first.” She nodded towards the other operator. “Cecille, if you will.”

  As the evening progressed into night, Dovell listened with increasing agitation as everyone shared their information. He had always believed that he had a pretty good grasp of what the Whisper was up to, but this evening showed how wrong he was. That realization was reflected clearly in his body language.

  “I think that about covers everything,” Kell said, after Hans had finished his part of the story.

  She took note of Dovell's baffled expression. “Unless you have something to add, Guard-captain?”

  “Something to add?” Dovell said incredulously. “I don't know where to begin.”

  “It was more than you expected?” Kell asked with a faint smile.

  “Are you joking?” Dovell exclaimed. “When I left for Hertwolf, I thought the magic guilds were all we had to worry about. Yet now, four days later, I hear that the Whisper has joined forces with the shadiest among them, and that even a province magistrate is involved in some deal with the Dust Empire.”

  “That sums it up,” Kell said drily. “Though the events in Tasselhane could be unrelated.”

  Dovell gestured toward Hans. “Not if what he said is true and they are already in the city. I refuse to believe that a Duster syndicate who are planning a major operation in a few days and the sanctum wards failing at the same time is mere coincidence. Honestly, I'm mystified why the King hasn't been informed of this yet, especially the part about De Reswinn.”

  “Are you?” Kell asked sharply. “We can't even state with certainty that the baron is involved in something illegal. Only that he made a deal with a group of suspicious Dusters, while having no idea what it entails. What do you think the King would do if we presented this as it is?”

  The truth of her words hit Dovell like a hammer; he instantly knew the answer.

  He would do nothing. As Kell said, their current knowledge of the baron's situation warranted a deeper investigation for certain, but nothing more. Taking direct action against the magistrate would be out of the question.

  Besides, Dovell thought, King Darych is a trusting kind of man. If we told him about this, he would probably invite the magistrate here to talk about it, and that would instantly reveal our knowledge of the situation.

  He clenched both his hands into fists. The King would be no help in this, but the Duster syndicate's presence in the city was another matter.

  “At the very least we need to hit the haunts we found,” Dovell said. “We must know what they are planning before we proceed with the final breach of the sanctum.”

  “I agree,” Kell said, “but we can't. We have neither time nor personnel to do that. Not with the breach being only a little over a day away.”

  “We could spare a single lance tomorrow,” Dovell said. “I'll go myself.”

  Kell shook her head as she rubbed her temple. “You do not understand. Even if you do that and you successfully capture anyone there, which is unlikely I might add, it will only take care of one of many haunts.”

  “We will have people to question.”

  “True, but assuming the syndicate set this up properly, the people you arrest will only know their own part. They won't know the entire plan, and they won't know the locations of the other haunts.” She placed her elbows on the table in front of her and folded her hands together. “Which means that the only effect it will have is that, at best, we learn a small part of their plan in exchange for them knowing we are on to them.”

  “That remains the better option,” Dovell insisted.

  “Does it?” Kell said. “Again, we don't have anyone available for anything. The Royal Guard is tied up with the White Candle, the Whisper with making sure the guilds obey their house arrests, and the city watch with the evacuation of the Amber Quarter and generally keeping the peace. You may not know this, but the citizenry has become increasingly nervous since you left. The rumour mill is completely out of control, and the outgoing roads have been packed with people for several days straight now.”

  She eyed Dovell. “So who do we have left?”

  Dovell slammed his hand on the table, causing Cecille to jump in her seat.

  “Nobody.”

  Kell solemnly nodded. “Even on the off-chance we could learn anything from such an assault, we don't have anyone available to act on it. Not until the situation at the White Candle is fully resolved.”

  “So that's it, then?” Dovell said bitterly. “We just have to brace ourselves for the storm?”

  “We do still have one advantage left,” Raviel said. “The planned breach is still a secret, so if the Duster syndicate's plan relies on being ready when the wards fail, we might be able to finish before they notice.”

  “They'll know,” Dovell said. “I have no doubt about that. The first time they attacked the sanctum, it was near flawless. If it wasn't for that Callium adept who blew himself up, and that woman Felt being there, they would have achieved their objective already. These people are masters at what they do.”

  Hans raised a hand. “About that,” he interjected softly.

  “You have something to add?” Kell said.

  “Well, yes,” Hans said. “There is something that has been bothering me about the level of skill of these Dusters. Or at least, the ones Felt and I encountered.”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, no matter how you look at it, they were all novices. I can't believe that a group that makes so many basic mistakes could be the same group that attacked Callium at the White Candle. Most of the people we encountered weren't even able to channel ?ther. All zero tier.”

  “There could be a special outfit,” Raviel said. “One that contains only their elites.”

  “That's certainly possible,” Hans replied, “but if this operation is so important that it requires even the elimination of all those people in Hertwolf, why would you leave any part of that operation in the hands of novices? Not to mention we know that the dark assailants spoke accentless Rion. They weren't Dusters.”

  A silence fell in the room.

  “You make good points,” Dovell eventually said, “but in the end, they are irrelevant. The ones coming after the White Candle will be the same ones as before, and they are the ones we need to fear.” He looked around the table, eyeing each person individually. “And as far as I can tell, you learned absolutely nothing about them, correct?” he said as he came to face Kell.

  She nodded. “It is as you say.”

  “Then I am done here,” Dovell said.

  “Shall I signal a carriage for you?” Kell asked with an almost purring voice.

  Again, Dovell glared at her. Damn woman. She knew it would be like this from the start.

  In the carriage back to the Winged Keep, Dovell closed his eyes and ran his mind over everything he had learned. It was a lot of information, but he had failed to achieve his goal. The dark assailants remained as unknown and elusive as before, and the thought filled Dovell with dread.

  Nevertheless, he knew his fear was irrational. He had faced the dark assailants in battle before with just his own lance and come out with only two men injured. If the entire Royal Guard prepared for them, then any battle taking place could only end in their favour.

  Similarly, the information he had heard about the Dusters and the magistrate was also cause for worry, but nothing more than that. It was something that could be dealt with in due time.

  He opened his eyes and turned his head sideways to look at the sky as he faced the real reason for his subconscious fears; the one thing that kept running through his mind.

  What they did cannot be forgiven.

  They were the last words the Demon had spoken to him. Dovell shifted around in the normally comfortable pillows as he recalled the Demon's rumbling voice and the anger contained within.

  What did the dark assailants do? What could possibly anger the Demon to the point it wanted to ask humans for information? Was it related to the item the expedition found? The item that now still rests within the sanctum? Or is it gone already? Stolen by Callium?

  Apart from his fear and confusion, he was also angry. Angry at the Whisper for withholding all this information. If he had known about this earlier, he wouldn't have wasted a day in Hertwolf and would have forced a blueshift to return. Perhaps then there would have been time to do something more.

  He sighed and rubbed his forehead. His desire to find answers at this meeting had only led to more questions, leaving him with nothing but the small hope that by opening the sanctum early, they would be able to steal the march on their enemy.

  All I can do now is make certain that if they show up, they will pay for all the grief they have caused so far. And by the ?ther, I will do just that.