He waded ashore, ignoring the water up to his thighs, sloshing into his boots. He wanted to get this obligation of his discharged and be on his way.

The pathway up from the beach was short and came to a divide. To the left it meandered up and over a ridge, then down into a vale where the sprawling estate, Villa Beata, had rested. Gutted by fire in an attack a year previous, it now lay abandoned, a testament to the wicked effective-ness of Belasco and his minions. To the right lay the stone-strewn path leading to the black castle.

Now regretting his impulsive jump into the surf, he trudged up the path, water knotting his stockings in his boots. Even with the rain, they had managed to stay dry until he jumped into the water. Not only would he have serious polishing to do to save the fine leather boots from the predations of seawater, he would have a heroic set of blisters to show for his impatience as well.

Sighing in resignation, he wondered if one of the inhabitants of the black castle might have a balm for his feet when he reached the gate. He crossed over a rickety-looking drawbridge—really well maintained and sturdy, but allowed to look as if it had fallen into disuse.

The castle itself was a study in theatricality. Originally constructed by Macros, the first Black Sorcerer, it had been magically erected out of a blackish stone, shot through in places with steel grey. The looming gatehouse had the look of an open maw, as if any who entered would be devoured. The empty courtyard was weed-choked and dusty, and the twin doors to the castle were ajar.

Jim knew as well as those who lived here that the decision to relocate from the villa to this miserable haven was part of a ruse to let Belasco and his masters think the Black Sorcerer and the Conclave of Shadows had been humbled, driven into a fortress where they huddled in fear and waited for the mad magician’s next assault.

The truth was much more complex than that, Jim had quickly come to realize. As he approached the entrance of the forlorn-looking castle, Jim reflected on his changing relationship with these people over the last year.

The relationship between the Conclave of Shadows and the Jamison family had been difficult for twenty years. Jim’s great-grandfather, the nearly legendary Jimmy the Hand, later Lord James of Krondor, had married Pug’s foster daughter Gamina. In a sense, they were distant family, but along the way a division had slowly developed.