<u>40</u>


    Three candle-marks later, Prince Nalderick stood in the ruins of a shattered and bloodied passenger cabin, fighting for self-control.  Lady Solara was with him, along with the halfling healer, Scander.  …Not that there was anyone left in the cabin to rescue or treat.


    Lords Valerian and Filimar had been shifting debris and shorn timbers, but all that remained of the lady Sheraza were bloodstains and bits of torn cloth.  Then his golden-haired mage broke out of a scrying trance; ‘here and now’ coming back to her wide violet eyes.


    “I do not sense death in this place, my prince,” she said to him, wobbling a little from headache and weariness.


    Valerian had gone across to the ragged hole that gaped through the cabin’s outer bulkhead.  He leaned out, one had clenched to the hole’s ragged edge.


    “She may have jumped, Your Highness,” suggested the blond northerner, turning to look back at Nalderick; just a tall silhouette, surrounded by daylight and wind.  “It is not wise, and no one with safer options would do so, but…”


    “One may use the heart of a vortex to port oneself elsewhere,” finished Nalderick, clutching wildly at hope.  He sighed, then, gazing around at the luxury cell where he’d dined with his beautiful prisoner.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    If she’d lived… if she’d freed herself… where would Sheraza go next, wondered Nalderick? (And what would he do if he found her again?)  Filimar set down a beam end, shaking his head.


    “I did not know her well, my prince… our branch of the family never ranked highly enough to merit much of his lordship’s attention… but she is an Arvendahl, and that is proud, stubborn blood.  Lady Sheraza is loyal, right into the grave and beyond.  If she’s found a way out, she will build up her strength and re-arm.  If…”


    “Go on,” said the prince, very quietly.  One hand was clenched to the hem of his own slashed ebon cloak, just barely not trembling.  “If <u>what</u>?”


    Filimar took a deep breath, glanced over at Val, and said,


    “My prince, I don’t presume to advise.  You have smarter people than either of <u>us</u> to do that, but… if it were me, I would triple the guard over Lord Arvendahl’s corpse and his head.  She will want to honor her lost one, Sire, as I would have given my soul to do for my dad.”


    “As anyone would,” added Valerian, joining his raven-haired heart friend.  “My prince, there is the game.  We’re committed to that.  But, afterward, by your leave… we can seek for news of Lady Sheraza.  I intended to go to Lobum on a personal errand, but I am willing to search for her ladyship, first.”


    Solara gave him a scathing look.  She could have raised a blister on granite, with those scornful and slitted eyes.  With a snort, she said,


    “Your highness, this pair of backwater idiots could not find the end of a bag from inside.  I shall join them, my prince.  If, that is, I have leave to do so?”


    Nalderick sighed, not looking at them, but seeing a pale and beautiful, chilly face.


    “Alive,” he whispered.  “I want her back, whatever it takes, but safe and whole and alive.  To all seven layers of Doom with the game.  I concede it.  Find my lady, bring her back safe, and all that you ask for is yours.”