Everyone? Who is everyone? He couldn’t have meant everyone, everyone—could he? Maybe he was just babbling. People do that when they’re dying, don’t they?

She remembered his eyes, clear and focused, holding on like … Emery. “There’s no time left. It’s up to you now.”

“Only you know now—only you can save …” When Esrahaddon had spoken those words, she had not really listened, but now she could hear nothing else. She could not ignore the fact that the wizard had used his last breath to deliver to her the secrets he had carried for a thousand years. She felt that he had presented her with sparkling gems of immeasurable worth, but without his knowledge, they were nothing more than dull pebbles. While she could not unravel what he had been trying to say, it was impossible to ignore what had to be done. She had to leave. Once she discovered where Gaunt was being held, she could send word to Hadrian and leave the rest to him. After all, he was the guardian, and Gaunt was his problem, not hers.

Arista stuffed the only possession she cared about, a pearl-handled hairbrush from Tur Del Fur, into a sack. She hastily wrote a letter of resignation and left it on the desk. Reaching the door, she paused and glanced back. Somehow, taking it seemed appropriate … almost necessary. She crossed the office and picked up the old wizard’s robe. It hung, gray and dull, in her hands. No one had cleaned it, yet she found no stain of blood. Even more surprising, no hole marked the passage of the bolt. She wondered at this puzzle—even in death the man continued to be a mystery. Slipping the robe over her dress, she was amazed that it fit perfectly—despite the fact that Esrahaddon had been more than a foot taller than her. Turning her back on her office, she walked out into the night.

The autumn air was cold. Arista pulled the robe tight and lifted the hood. The material was unlike anything she had ever felt before—light, soft, yet wonderfully warm and comforting. It smelled pleasantly of salifan.

She considered taking a horse from the stables. No one would begrudge her a mount, but wherever she was going, it could not be too far, and a long walk suited her. Esrahaddon had indicated a need for haste, but it would be imprudent to rush headlong into the unknown. Walking seemed a sensible way to challenge the mysterious and unfamiliar. It would give her time to think. She guessed Esrahaddon would have chosen the same mode of travel. It just felt right.