man glanced toward him. His face was marked with bruises and what appeared to be a half-healed burn, which showed bright pink against his dark complexion.
Kosenmark gestured for Gerek to take a seat. “Tell us your report,” he told the young man, adding, “Names are not necessary just yet. You came with news about Osterling.”
The young man nodded. “I did. Three months ago, the royal fleet sighted Károvín ships sailing east. A week later, three of those ships foundered on Osterling’s reefs. In the skirmish that broke out, the garrison troops prevailed. They took a number of prisoners, including a young woman the Károvín had drugged with magic.”
“You have spies within the prison.”
A shrug. “That follows, yes. I learned this woman made several attempts to escape. None succeeded. The old prison uses particular spells to guard against particular kinds of magic. Unfortunately, those spells did nothing to prevent Lord Khandarr—”
“No names,” Kosenmark said.
The young man regarded Kosenmark with evident curiosity. “Very well,” he said slowly. “Then let us say a certain man questioned this woman about her identity, her allegiances, and so forth. The young woman did not cooperate. As is usual with a man of his character, he resorted to forceful magic. The woman defended herself with even stronger magic that struck the man insensible. He had not yet recovered when the woman escaped in the night, leaving the entire garrison, including the other prisoners, either dead or unconscious.”
He paused and drew a deep breath. “I cannot continue without using names, my lord.”
“You can and you will.”
The young man’s lips parted in a bitter smile. “Are you afraid of names, then?”
Kosenmark merely stared at him. Gerek knew that stare and he wasn’t surprised when the young man lowered his gaze. “No names,” he repeated. “Very well. She escaped, this nameless woman. Her path crossed that of two other nameless women in the city. As you can understand, that attracted my attention.”
“Yes, I do understand that,” Kosenmark murmured.
His comment seemed to provoke faint amusement. “Yes. Well, as you can also understand, I offered my assistance. My colleagues organized several distractions. We fabricated evidence that more prisoners had escaped from the garrison. A supposed murder took place in a certain pleasure house. In the confusion, I sailed here by a convenient boat. Your friend—I gather she is your friend—sends a message. She desires a ship for distant ports. She will send further word by the usual channels.”
If he had not known Kosenmark, Gerek would have missed the brief flicker of tension in the man’s mouth. There and gone, like a speck of snow in a fire. He is afraid, Gerek thought. Not of this stranger, but for Ilse Zhalina.
Kosenmark’s voice, however, betrayed nothing. “Did she mention which channels?”
“The usual, my lord. Just as I said.”
“I see. Thank you.” Kosenmark signaled to Stadler. “Please escort our guest to quarters until we can confirm the details.”
Stadler took hold of the man’s arm, but the man pulled away. “You will remember your promises?” he said to Kosenmark.
“You have my word.”
The answer seemed to satisfy, because the stranger gave a curt nod and followed Stadler from the room without any further argument. Once the door closed, Kosenmark rested his head on his hands. “I leave tomorrow,” he said. “Two days at the latest.”
“But my lord, I-I—”
Gerek swallowed the spasm in his throat. Kosenmark kindly did not pay attention to him. “Our friend’s report is not entirely unexpected. I’ve heard rumors that the king’s mage is too ill to leave Fortezzien, and deprived of its usual ruler, the court in Duenne is in disarray. The two might be connected or not. I dislike making assumptions about anything connected to Markus Khandarr. However,” he said, “the matter of the King’s Mage and his health are not our immediate concern. The news this young man brings from Fortezzien is. There are a dozen usual channels a trusted friend might use to contact us. Over the last half year, several have proved unreliable. I suspect that Markus Khandarr has bought their loyalty. In spite of his recent indisposition.” In a softer voice, he added, “They were always more devoted to profit than any particular cause. I cannot blame them, considering past events.”
Meaning Dedrick’s death, along with Lothar Faulk and other trusted associates.
“If anyone inquires after me,” Kosenmark went on, “tell them I am grieving for an old friend’s unexpected death. That should please Markus, once he revives enough to inquire. And I know he will. Have Mistress Denk keep