The crowd of Shavig nobles swirled in tension, barely held in check by Oreg’s command. I caught a glimpse of Rosem’s firm wrestling grip holding Kellen back, and I blessed him for it. All that was needed was for Jakoven’s plaything to run amok amongst all the Shavig nobles. There was none—except maybe Charva, the wizard, who even stood a chance against it.

Orvidin, who’d managed to get one of the decorative pole arms off the wall, pushed through the crowd and shoved the pike under the crawling stable master and flipped it on its back. It twisted around as quickly as a snake and began to stalk Orvidin.

“Gods,” muttered Garranon beside me—I’d thought he’d stayed sensibly behind on the dais.

“Valsilva,” Garranon called, trying to attract the creature’s attention.

Floor coverings smoldered near the burning monster. A spilled mug of ale poured fire like water down the side of a table.

“Ward, that’s not working!” snapped Oreg though his magic poured through me to aid my efforts.

I called out to Siphern andreached —Hurog, not Siphern answered my call.

Power flooded into me and had not I immediately sent it away it would have reduced me to ash the way it consumed the poor thing that had once been a man. Still frantically dumping the magic I doused the fires in the hall.

“Oreg!” I called and, bless him, he saw what was happening. His hands closed over my shoulders and he began to absorb the magic I had no good place left to send.

The power stopped as quickly as it had come, leaving my limbs as weak as water. The smell of rotting flesh was gone, leaving only a sour smoky smell and a strange quiet that Orvidin broke.

“Siphern bless him,” he said, leaning on the old pike. He spat on the floor again. “I knew Valsilva.”

“Jakoven sent him all the way from Estian,” said Oreg. “To give a message to Garranon—and kill him if possible. A punishment for saving Ward’s brother.”

Kellen pushed forward looking angry and ruffled, followed by Rosem, who had seen to it that Hurog’s hope of salvation had not thrown himself onto the first of Jakoven’s monsters. I owed Rosem.

Garranon looked at the ashes that were left on the floor and swallowed hard. “He was a good man,” he said, then turned on his heel and left the room.

The anger left Kellen’s face as swiftly as a slate wiped by a cloth. “I’ll go talk to him,” he said. “He might listen to me. Ward, talk with your wizard and be ready to tell me what just happened before we, any of us, seek our beds tonight.”

Kellen followed Garranon and I silently wished him luck.

Oreg released my shoulders with an absent pat and said, “I don’t need to consult—I know what this is.”