this time you knew that Malcolm was alive, and you didn’t try to tell me?” She started to shake, not from grief or weakness but from pure fury. “I know that you can’t speak or write, but you could have found some way to tell me! All the time I spent screaming in the Sisterhood’s hospice, all the times I tried to kill myself, all the times I cried myself to sleep, and you knew he was alive?”
Azaces gave a single nod.
Something snapped in Nerina Strake then, and she flew at Azaces with a scream, pounding at him with her fists. She might as well have tried to punch through a stone wall. Malcolm pulled her back as Nerina screamed and ranted, while Azaces simply stared at her.
Suddenly Caina was next to them, clamping a gloved hand over Nerina’s mouth.
“Be silent,” she hissed. “Did you forget about the Immortals?”
Nerina struggled for a moment, and then her pale eyes went wide with alarm.
“That’s better,” said Caina, removing her hand.
“I’m sorry,” said Nerina, fury and fear churning in her sense. “I just…I…”
“We should kill Azaces,” said Morgant. “Now. We’ve delayed far too long.”
“Would he be a spy for Rolukhan?” said Caina. Kylon could not detect her emotions through the shadow-cloak, but her voice was cold and hard and clipped.
“I do not know,” said Malcolm. There was no fear in his strange aura, only rage. At least not fear for himself. He dreaded the thought of anything happening to Nerina, and that dread inspired fury, which focused upon Azaces. “Rolukhan might recognize him on sight, though.”
“He didn’t earlier,” said Kylon.
“We were disguised,” said Laertes.
“No,” said Caina. “A man like Rolukhan regards slaves and soldiers as furniture. Simply part of the background. Or tools only to be noticed when he has need of them.” She looked at Azaces. “Why did you do this?”
Azaces said nothing, closing his eyes.
When opened them a moment later, they shone with a pale blue glow.
The others reacted at once, drawing weapons and pointing them at the silent warrior. Only Caina remained still, a motionless shadow in her cloak. Kylon looked at her and wished he knew what she was thinking. He was certain, though, that Azaces was not a threat. There was no hint of aggression in the man’s aura, only regret and pain. Even without his arcane senses, Kylon would not have believe Azaces a threat. He had the look of a beaten man.
“You are an Immortal?” said Malcolm.
Azaces shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Morgant. “We’re wasting time, he’s a threat, and he’s admitted to betraying Strake. Kill him and let’s go.”
“I agree with the strange crazy man in the black coat,” said Malcolm. “Kill him.”
“Kylon?” said Caina.
Kylon hesitated, and then shook his head. “No. There’s no anger in him. He…doesn’t feel like an Immortal, despite the eyes.” The blue glow was already fading from Azaces’s dark eyes. “Only grief and regret.”
“And just how do you know that?” said Malcolm.
“He’s a stormdancer,” said Nerina.
Malcolm shook his head. “You have kept some peculiar company since I was kidnapped, but I am grateful. Perhaps your powerful friends kept Azaces from murdering you.”
Again the silent warrior shook his head.
“Enough,” said Caina. “We’re not killing him.”
Both Morgant and Malcolm protested, and Caina raised a gloved hand.
“He’s one of mine,” said Caina. “One of the Ghosts.”
“Ghosts?” said Malcolm. “The Emperor’s spies?”
“Yes,” said Nerina. “I joined them, too.”
“We’ll figure out what to do once we escape the Inferno,” said Caina. “If we fight amongst ourselves now, we’re finished.” She pointed at Azaces. “If we are attacked, will you side with Rolukhan and the Immortals?” He shook his head. “Will you fight alongside us?” A nod. “To the death?” Another nod. “Very well, then.”
“Stay away from me, though,” said Nerina, her voice harder than Kylon had ever heard it. “I don’t care why you did it, but you did. You let me think my husband was dead for years. Whatever happens here, we are done. If we escape alive, I never want to see you again. Ever.”
Again Azaces nodded, the grief twisting inside of him like a living thing.
“The longer we stand here discussing this little drama,” said Morgant, “the less likely we are to escape the Inferno alive.”
“You’re right,” said Caina. “Let’s go.”
###
Caina led the way through the Hall of Torments.
The Hall was gloomy, lit only by alchemical lanterns scattered upon stands here and there. The air smelled of rotting meat and clotted blood, the faint buzz of flies audible in the distance.