sucked into some useless crusade to save slaves or children or something. You forget our purpose. We came here to rescue Annarah, not to save random blacksmiths.”
Malcolm scowled. “By what right do you get to decide who lives and who dies, old man?”
Morgant gestured with his weapons. “These help.”
Malcolm’s scowl deepened, and he took a step towards Morgant, Nerina grabbing uselessly at his thick, muscled arm.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t, he’ll kill you without…”
“Shut up, all of you,” hissed Caina. “If you wake up the rest of the workers, they’ll try to break out, the noise will rouse the garrison, and we’ll all get killed. Follow me.”
She turned and headed out the door and back into the Hall of Forges. Morgant, Nerina, and Malcolm all followed her, thankfully without any bickering or violence. She had no doubt that if Malcolm attacked Morgant, the assassin would not hesitate to kill him. Morgant claimed to only kill people who deserved it, but she noticed that restraint did not extend to anyone who attacked him.
A rule that Caina herself often followed, she had to admit.
But she would not let Morgant kill Malcolm, not after Nerina had thought him lost for so long. Not that she could stop him alone, but she doubted Morgant would want to fight Nasser, Kylon, Laertes, and Azaces all at once. For that matter, Morgant would not turn on them unless he had any other choice. Caina still had Annarah’s pyrikon, and he could not keep his promise to Annarah without that pyrikon.
So long as they kept heading toward Annarah, Morgant would cooperate.
Nasser and Laertes had returned when Caina stepped back into the Hall of Forges.
“We have disposed of the Immortals,” said Nasser. “The others should be returning as soon…ah.” He caught sight of Malcolm. “I see you were successful in locating Mistress Strake’s husband. Curious that he was awake at this time of night.”
“I was working on designs for new cuirasses,” said Malcolm. “Many Immortals have been slain or wounded as of late, and our quota for armor has consequently risen. Just who are you?”
Nasser offered one of his sweeping bows to Malcolm. “I am known as Nasser Glasshand.”
“The master thief of legend?” said Malcolm, incredulous.
“The one and the same,” said Nasser. “May I presume that you are indeed Mistress Strake’s husband?”
Malcolm nodded, Nerina still holding on to him. Perhaps she was still trying to convince herself that he was real. “I am.”
“Might I say that for a man who is supposed to be dead you look remarkably healthy?” said Nasser.
“Dead?” said Malcolm. “Why would you think that?”
“Father said you had been murdered,” said Nerina.
“Your father?” said Malcolm. “I am glad he is dead, otherwise I would kill him myself. I was betrayed. Your father feared I would convince you to give up wraithblood and leave Istarinmul for the Empire. So he had his thugs kidnap me and sell me to Malik Rolukhan.” He gave a furious shake of his bearded head. “Likely he increased your wraithblood dosage at the time to make you more susceptible to his lies.” He looked at them all. “Though I find it implausible that the Balarigar, Nasser Glasshand, and Morgant the Razor have all come to my rescue.”
“Direct fellow, isn’t he?” said Laertes.
“I cannot speak a lie,” said Malcolm. “A magus damaged my mind when I was young, and consequently I am incapable of falsehood.”
“Must be an inconvenience during business dealings,” said Morgant.
“It really was,” said Malcolm. “While I am grateful for your help, I would like to know what is going on.”
“All right,” said Caina. “You’ve suffered enough, so you deserve the truth. The wraithblood that poisoned your wife?” She looked around. Where were Kylon and Azaces? “Grand Master Callatas manufactures it from the blood of murdered slaves. He’s using it as part of a spell called the Apotheosis, a spell to summon millions of evil spirits and work a tremendous sorcerous catastrophe. Sealed within the Inferno is the last loremaster of old Iramis. She knows how to stop Callatas’s plan. So we’re going to rescue her, stop the Apotheosis, and kill Callatas.”
“An admirable summary,” said Nasser.
“An implausible story,” said Malcolm. “And yet…it rings true. The Lieutenant has said similar things to his acolytes when he thinks that he cannot be overheard. The Inferno is preparing for war, raising as many Immortals and manufacturing as much Hellfire as it can.” Caina spotted Kylon and Azaces coming around the barracks and sighed with relief.
“It is true, my husband,” said Nerina. “It is all