They docked in a valley, and Leo strode out. Majnu and Arish moved to join him, but he ordered them to stay back.
A Ravani soldier dressed in a sand-colored combat uniform saluted at his approach.
“Your Majesty,” the soldier said, his gold stripes indicating that he was a captain. “The Black Scales have the boy in custody, but he hasn’t said a word.”
“Get out of my way,” Leo growled, and swept past the man.
The air prickled. Leo could hear the familiar hiss of fire echoing in his ears. The rune seemed to grow darker as he squatted and ran his hand through the blackened sand that was already beginning to cool. He gathered sand in his palm and watched it spill through his fingers. It fell straight down instead of dancing in the wind.
Leo got up and walked along the edges of the rune. It curved up and over the lip of the dune, and he followed it to the other side.
That was when he saw it. Or rather, did not see it. He had stared at the runes for so long that they were etched into his mind. The mark that had appeared on the back of the young priest looked like the eye of a hurricane, a mass of inward lines. The rune before him was also shaped like a storm, but it did not curve inward. Rather, it jutted out in a harsh line. Like an arrow, like a sword.
The rune was wrong. Did that mean the Arohassin did not know about the prophecy? Were they merely playing games?
“Oi!” he shouted at the captain still standing at the base of the dune. The soldier jumped. “Where’s the boy?”
“Well, sir, there’s an issue there,” the captain said. He paused. “The Black Scales, they took the boy.”
“The Black Scales serve Ravence now,” Leo said.
“Yes, but—”
“Take me to them,” Leo said. He walked right down the middle of the rune, scattering sand.
At the makeshift base of Samson’s Black Scales, soldiers milled in and out of neatly ordered tents. Leo spotted no refuse, no discarded bottles. He had always heard of the Black Scales’ efficiency, their rigid honor code, but he was still amazed by the sight before him.
Samson was prepped for war, just like he had said. Only, Leo realized with bitterness, he had underestimated how ready Samson was to take on the Jantari.
They arrived at a gate flanked by two guards. The men scowled at the Ravani soldier, but when they saw Leo, their scowls dropped away.
“Your Majesty,” they said and saluted.
“Let me see the boy,” he said.
“Our orders are to keep the gates locked until Commander Chandi has finished her interrogation,” one of the men said.
“You serve Ravence now,” he said. “You serveme.”
The Black Scale hesitated, but his partner spoke.
“We apologize, sir, but orders are orders. No one is to see the prisoner.”
“Do you know who you’re talking to?” the Ravani soldier seethed, but Leo held up his hand.
He looked at the Black Scale, and his voice was chillingly soft, devoid of inflection. “Move aside, soldier. I’ve already killed many men today. One more makes no difference on my tally.”
The Black Scales glanced at each other. An unspoken message flitted between them, and then one stepped back and pressed his hand to the panel.
The gates rolled back. Another Black Scale stepped forward, indicating for them to follow. Several soldiers within stopped and stared at Leo and his gold ceremonial robes.
None bowed.
The soldier led them to an adobe structure.
“Who’s in there?” Leo asked.
“The prisoner and Commander Chandi,” the Black Scale said. He turned and nodded to the Ravani soldier. “You can stay out here.”
