Chapter 23

“I…can come back at a better time,” Gergran stammered, backing away toward the door.

“No,” said Lucien. “Stay a moment.”

He felt what was about to happen before the idea fully formed in his mind. Someone else, a being outside of him yet somehow connected, made the choice for him. A flicker of electricity roared through his body, though he moved not at all, and then he felt the eyes marking his body flare, a ghost of light breathing greater brightness and life into them.

A whisper floated through his brain, gaining in power. It belonged to a masculine being, lightly accented, with an almost mischievous rhythm. This stranger is trouble. Don’t you sense it? He means you and yours ill. There is a dark omen about him, and his intentions are plain.

Yes, Lucien thought, I see it, too.

He will lure you into an ambush on the road. There will be no survivors.

Lucien took six steady steps toward the dwarf and placed his hand on the stranger’s shoulder. He felt the eyes across his body surge again.

“Tell me, Gergran Beldehr, why do you wish us harm?”

“Lucien—” Cree began in a warning tone.

The dwarf began instantly to sweat. His eyes bounced among the Tombtakers, desperate for an intervention. But none of the others came to his aid, though they did stand at the ready, attentive. Lucien gripped the dwarf’s shoulder harder, fingers digging in.

“Why did you plan the ambush along the Graydowns Road? What do you stand to gain from our demise?”

“I—I…I…” The dwarf wiped at the sweat on his forehead, then stumbled toward the door, leaving without another word, beard beads clacking.

Tyffial stalked to the door after the dwarf, mouth hanging open. “That bastard was going to rob us?!”

“Aye, Tyffial, well sussed, you absolute thumb,” muttered Otis, dropping wearily into a chair at the dining table. “Neat parlor trick, Lucien. How’d you do it?”

That same sinuous voice visited him, nudging.

Tell them, Nonagon. Tell them everything.