made a crackling sound as he crushed it.
"Crows," Giraldi breathed quietly.
Everyone turned to look at Frederic.
"I was moving one of the corpses," Frederic said quietly. "Tyrus. His head had been chopped off. That thing crawled out of..." Frederic swallowed and looked a little green. "It crawled out of the head's mouth, sir."
An odd and unpleasant burning sensation had begun to throb through Amara's finger scarce seconds after the taker had bitten down. Over the next several heartbeats, the burning numbness spread to her entire finger and hand, to the wrist. She tried to clench her fingers, and found them barely able to move. "Its bite," she said. "Some kind of poison."
Frederic nodded and held up his own weakly flapping hand. "Yes, ma'am. Bit me a few times when I caught it, but I don't feel sick or anything."
Amara nodded with a grimace. "It wouldn't make sense for a taker's venom to be lethal. We'll have to hope for the best. These things must have approached men who were sleeping. Crawled into their mouths." She started to feel queasy herself. "And then took control of them."
Giraldi frowned. "But you'd feel it crawling into your mouth. Those things are big enough to choke you."
"Not if it bit you," Amara responded. "Not if you'd gone numb, so you couldn't feel it on you. Especially if you were asleep to begin with."
"Great furies," Bernard breathed.
Amara continued to follow the line of logic. "They didn't pick random targets, either. Janus. Our Knights." She took a steadying breath. "And me."
Frederic said, "Steadhold-uh, that is, Count Bernard. We've taken a head count inside. We're missing four other men."
Bernard arched an eyebrow. "They aren't in the steadholt?"
"We haven't found them," Frederic said. "But the far door of the hall was open."
"They were taken," Amara murmured. "Must have been. They went out the door on that side so that they could leave the steadholt without us or Doroga seeing them go." She took a deep breath. "Bernard. The longer we wait around, the more likely it is that we will suffer additional losses. We need to wipe out that nest immediately."
"Agreed," Bernard said quietly. "But can we do it? Without the firecrafters to set it ablaze and assist us in any fighting, I'm not sure how effective we can be."
"Do we have a choice?" Amara asked quietly.
Bernard folded his arms across his chest, squinted up at the sun, and shook his head. "I don't suppose we do," he rumbled. "Every advantage. We must create what we need." Bernard nodded once, sharply. He turned to Giraldi, and said, "I want your century ready to march in ten minutes. Tell Felix about the takers, and make sure all the men know about them. Have him create a record of what we've learned so far and leave it where any relief troops will find it in case we... aren't able to tell anyone ourselves. They'll need to stand watch for one another against the takers, and sleep in shifts."
Giraldi banged his fist on his breastplate and stalked off, bellowing orders again.
Bernard turned to Amara. "Countess, I'm appointing you Knight Commander. We'll need to make the most of our Knights' strength. I want you to do it."
Amara licked her lips and nodded. "Very well."
"Frederick," Bernard said, "get every Knight Terra we have left and have them cover you while you go through some of the buildings. I want every furylamp outside of the steadholt's great hall ready to go with us when we march. Move."
Frederic nodded and dashed off.
"Furylamps?" Amara murmured.
Bernard traded a look with Doroga, and the big Marat smiled broadly.
"Furylamps," Bernard said. "We attack the vord nest at nightfall."
Chapter 27~29
Chapter 27
Fidelias opened the door of the room and stepped aside, letting in a haze of smoke and incense, the sound of reed pipes, and the low murmur of human sound that drifted through the halls of the brothel like cheap perfume. The cloaked and hooded figure on the other side slipped into the room and drew back her hood. Invidia Aquitaine looked around the room, her expression remote, and while she felt around her for any intrusive furycraftings, Fidelias shut and locked the door.
Lady Invidia nodded to herself in satisfaction, and Fidelias felt her own furycraftings rise up to keep their conversation private. Her voice was low, tense. "What happened? The streets were a madhouse of rumors."
"Kalare's men followed them back to Sir Nedus's manor," Fidelias reported. "Three cutters and an archer. They attacked as Isana dismounted from the carriage."
Invidia looked