Queen's Hunt (River of Souls 2)

“Your friend came just in time,” Valara said quietly to Ilse. “He is your friend, yes?”

“Who else would rescue us?”

Valara did not answer. She was scanning the guards and Raul Kosenmark with an assessing gaze. Ilse thought Valara did not consider herself to be rescued. She looked as though she was preparing herself for another interrogation.

She is not so wrong. Raul will not trust her easily. He cannot afford to.

Raul signaled to his guards. They scattered to their posts—two in the lead, two more to guard the rear—and set off through the dark streets. Their pace was soft-footed and quick, but not so quick that Galena could not keep up. They must have scouted the entire town, Ilse thought, because they never hesitated once. Within moments they had left the alleyway behind and were gliding between silent buildings, then down a series of shallow steps to the waterfront.

R

aul paused in front of an old wooden building. He scraped his knuckles over the door and whistled a lilting tune in a minor key. After a brief wait, another whistle answered. Raul rapped sharply in a one-two-one rhythm.

The door swung open to show a bulky man whose body filled the frame. Ilse recognized his face. His name was Gervas, and he had come to Kosenmark’s household five years ago. Like the rest of the guards, Gervas was dressed in dark gray and black clothing, and in the twilight, he was little more than a looming silhouette except for a thin edge of light reflecting from the short sword in his hand.

“My lord,” he said. “Trouble?”

“A bit. Nothing terrible.”

Raul led his party inside, past Gervas and a second armed guard. Ilse had the impression of a vast empty space, the air dank and smelling of wood rot and sludge. She could hear a sucking noise—water against pilings—and the rill of a free-flowing river. In the distance, she made out a pattern of faint gray lines. Cracks in the walls? Shutters? She couldn’t tell. They’d reached an abandoned warehouse of sorts. Alesso had delivered her message—that much was clear. When Raul had arrived, and how he had discovered her whereabouts, was not.

She reached out for Raul’s arm, only to find he had moved on. He stood a short distance away, speaking to one of his men in a soft, high whisper.

“We have a temporary shelter,” Raul said as she came to his side.

“How temporary?” she asked.

“A few hours, no longer. As I mentioned, Emmetz does have a watch of sorts. One of them will eventually discover a few bodies…”

“And those thieves will report us for the reward,” Valara said.

Raul regarded her with a slight smile. A leopard’s smile, neither safe nor friendly. “They might,” he said. “Would you rather I had killed them all?”

“Perhaps. Does that prove your moral superiority?”

He laughed. “An interesting question. Let us discuss the matter in more comfort.”

An open staircase in the middle of the room led up to a trapdoor. Raul whistled a different tune. There was an answering whistle, then the trapdoor creaked open. “My lord,” said a woman’s voice. “We didn’t expect you so soon.”

“Does that mean Barrent doesn’t have our supper ready?”

“He says nearly, my lord. Give us another quarter bell.”

She heaved the door to one side, and they climbed through into another empty cavern of a room. Farther off, two men stood around an iron kettle filled with burning coals. The scent of leeks and fish and olive oil wafted toward the newcomers. Raul indicated to Valara and Galena that they should join the others. Ilse was about to follow, when he touched her arm.

“One moment,” he murmured in her ear. “I need a word alone with you.”

He took her through another door into a smaller chamber lit by moonlight from an open window. Blankets and gear were stacked in one corner. Outside, a balcony ran the length of the building, and stairs zigzagged down to the alleyway below, where another pair of guards patrolled. The sight reminded Ilse of the previous summer, when Raul had hired scores of new guards because of his private war with Markus Khandarr.

That war never ended. It never will, until one of them dies.

And even death was no guarantee.

Raul shut the door and whispered the invocation to magic. A sharp green scent rolled through the air, the scent of crushed grass and wildflowers. He spoke a second phrase and silence closed around them.

Ilse turned. In the moonlight, Raul’s eyes were like shining golden disks. Underneath the scent of magic came the sharper scent of blood, both from his clothing and hers. Ilse felt a tug deep within. There was something wrong in this painful spurt of desire, but she had no wish to suppress it just now. And yet she found it impossible to move, to do more than stare at him from across the room.

His mouth curved into a smile. “Are you hungry?”