cabin. A weight he hadn't fully realized he was carrying lifted from his chest. He hadn't failed her yet.
A large crowd filled the chamber below, surrounded by a platoon of Sacred Brothers. Despite their bedraggled appearance, the captives seemed to be aristocrats, many of them in their senior years. Expressions of fear and indignation played across their pinched faces.
Josey wasn't the only one Caim recognized. Ral, in a fancy black suit, sat in a gaudy throne atop the dais. One at a time, the captives were brought before him and made to kneel.
While Caim watched, the Brothers escorted an elderly lord in a night jacket to the steps of the dais. When they released him, the nobleman stood up as tall as his stooped back allowed.
"I will bow to no usurper!" he shouted in a powerful voice that belied his age. "I would rather die."
Ral made a shooing gesture with one hand. "And I shall gladly grant your wish, my lord."
The old lord sputtered and coughed as the Brothers dragged him from the hall.
Mystified, Caim went to retrieve the bundles. When he grasped the sword's worn hilt, a voice whispered in his head. He knew it well. He'd heard it in his dreams a thousand times. The voice of his father's ghost.
"Justice ... "
Calm's hand shook. He wanted to throw away the blade, but a powerful force held him back. He shook his head, as much to deny the unease churning inside him as to clear it, and slung the sword onto his back. He carried the second bundle to the balcony, cut the strings binding its oil skin covering, and unlimbered his other gift from Hubert: the curved bronzewood shaft of a bow to replace the one he'd lost in the fire.
Caim strung the weapon with quick, sure motions. As he stood up, he placed an arrow across the rest and drew the string to full tension. The confusing maelstrom of emotions roiling in his chest-for Josey, for his father, for Kit's disappearance-they all vanished as he sighted on the throne. He was back in his element. This was business, pure and uncomplicated.
Caim took in a deep breath, and let it out slow and steady. In the space between one breath and the next, he fired.
The bowstring thrummed against his forearm as the arrow flew. He followed its path across the hall. A perfect shot. In his mind's eye, Ral slumped dead on the throne, his eyes turned misty with the fog of death. The image was so real he almost believed it had already happened, until the torchlight surrounding the dais flickered and the arrow dipped to the side, not much, just a hand's breadth, but enough to miss its mark. Instead of taking Ral through the throat, it sliced a furrow across the sleeve of his jacket.
The hairs on the back of Calm's neck tingled as he remembered another night, in Ostergoth's castle, and another perfect shot ruined at the last moment. Sorcery. His hands tightened around the stave of the bow.
Levictus.
Everyone in the hall looked up. Josey's eyes blossomed wide. The lordlings lurched to their feet and retreated from the dais. Their mutterings swirled up to Caim. Some of the Brothers drew weapons, but none moved to protect their liege. As for Ral, he hardly moved except to grimace and press his left hand against his chest.
Caim snatched another arrow from the bundle at his feet. Sweat drenched his shirt. Tremors chased each other through his stomach like a pack of angry dogs. But his hands were steady.
"Let her go, Ral!" he shouted. "Or the next one goes through your heart."
The assassin's dry chuckle ascended to the gallery. "We've been expecting you, Caim, but you're a bit late. Release my betrothed? No, I don't believe I will. The city is mine, and these good nobles were just swearing their loyalty to me. It would go better if you laid down your weapons and surrendered. Perhaps I'll grant you an imperial pardon."
"I don't think so. There are five thousand angry citizens outside the gates. Your pet soldiers won't be able to hold them off forever."
Ral stood with his hands at his sides, seemingly at rest, but Caim knew how fast the man could move. He kept the arrow centered on Ral's chest.
"Not forever. Just until reinforcements arrive from the outer garrisons. Then your little rebellion will be crushed in time for my coronation and subsequent wedding to this fine lady."
Calm's gaze flickered to Josey, and fingers of