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I arch an eyebrow slightly in a silent question to Julita. To my relief, she catches on despite the tension that’s seeped into our interactions lately.
No idea who he is,she says.If he’s a first year, he’s only been at the school for a couple of months. He mustn’t be in the leadership division, and he can’t have done anything all that noticeable.
I continue studying him, attempting to commit his face to memory. Dark hair, narrow nose, knobby chin, top-heavy body with broad shoulders but narrow hips.
If I can describe him well enough to the other men, hopefully one of them will have some idea who he is.
After several minutes of tramping through the brush, I develop a suspicion of where we’re headed. Sure enough, we reach the back wall.
One of our escorts raps on the stones with a low muttering, and the shadowy opening appears in front of us.
The woman who spoke earlier prods me through, her companion and the nobleman following behind. We emerge to find one more conspirator dragging the concealed boat onto the river.
Apprehension prickles down my spine. I hardly feel safeonthe campus, but my situation is even more precarious when I let these psychopaths guide me beyond the college’s walls.
But any hesitation is dangerous. Benedikt proved as much with his confession—he said he only balked briefly at making the sacrifice they demanded before they decided he wasn’t committed enough.
An odd twinge passes through me, thinking of him and the last time the scourge sorcerers brought me out here. There’s a jab of anger, but also a twinge of grief and guilt.
I hate that Benedikt was selfish enough to turn on me to try to save himself. I don’t understand how he could have bought into this madness.
But I also hate that we made him feel inferior, however inadvertently.
I clamber onto the boat with the shrouded conspirators and the nobleman. We glide across through the darkness without so much as a peep from the guard patrolling the back wall.
Maybe the pretty boy who keeps hassling me should put his gift to better use and catch the actual bad guys around here.
On the far bank, we hike for another short distance to a horse-drawn cart. Five more figures are waiting for us there—only two of them concealed by black shrouds.
I eye the other three as I climb into the cart. They study me with equal suspicion.
These must be potential recruits from elsewhere in the city. They’re at least middle-warders by their clothing—quality fabrics and clean, no patches or darning.
One is really just a kid, a girl of maybe fifteen or sixteen, but the other two are significantly older than me. I think the woman, whose mousy brown hair is twisted back from her face in a tight bun, must be in her thirties, and the man maybe a decade older. The moonlight catches on the silver flecks in his hair.
Then one of our escorts pulls an arched canvas covering over the top of the cart. A tiny bit of moonlight filters through, but no one will be able to see in… and I won’t be able to see where we’re going.
These fiends are cleverer than they have any right to be, Julita mutters.
Two of the conspirators take seats at the front of the cart to start the horses trotting down the rough track. One of the others sits in our midst.
“We have friends ensuring that our travels stay safe from those who’d oppose our hopes for Silana,” she tells us. “If a cry to take flight goes up once we’ve reached our destination, run straight to the cart. We’ll have plenty of advance warning, and the gods will protect us from discovery.”
The gods? More like the conspirators’ deranged magic.
No wonder it’s taken so long for anyone to stumble on the scourge sorcerers. Even Julita only did by chance, because of her history with Wendos. They take every possible precaution to keep themselves hidden.
Even if I called on my men for help, it sounds as if I’d be whisked away before they could reach me.
As I suppress the jitter of my nerves, the shrouded woman retrieves a bottle from beneath her shroud.
“Everyone take a gulp,” she says, handing it to the nobleman next to me. “It’ll open your minds so you can fully embrace what’s ahead.”
I don’t like the sound of that.
The nobleman makes a face after his swallow and passes the bottle to me. I take a quick sniff, but I don’t recognize the sour earthy scent.
Well, I do have plenty of tricks up my sleeve, sometimes literally.
