“Merrick wouldn’t lie to a client about a job.”

“But Esrahaddon was a wizard. He’s survived a thousand years—I can’t imagine he could be murdered by a common killer.”

“I just said it was Merrick. He’s not common.”

As the two walked through an empty Gentry Square, even the bells of Mares Cathedral were silent. Hadrian sighed. “Then I’m on my own in finding the heir now. If I follow the payment to Merrick, I’ll be halfway to finding Gaunt.”

“Hadrian.” Royce placed a hand on his friend’s arm, stopping them mid-step. “You’re not up to this. You don’t know Merrick. Think a minute. If he can kill a wizard, one who could create pillars of fire even without hands, what do you think your chances are? You’re a good—no, you’re a great—fighter, the best I’ve ever seen, but Merrick is a genius and he’s ruthless. You go after him, he’ll know, and he’ll kill you.”

They were across from Lester Furl’s old haberdashery in Artisan Row, the shop that the monk Myron once worked in. The sign of the cavalier hat still hung out front, but the place was empty.

“Listen, I’m not asking you to come. I know you’re marrying Gwen. Congratulations on that, by the way. And it’s about time, I might add. This isn’t your problem. It’s mine. It’s what I was born to do. What my father trained me for. Protecting Gaunt, and finding a way to put him on the imperial throne—that’s my destiny.”

Royce rolled his eyes.

“I know you don’t believe that, but I do.”

“Gaunt could be dead already, you know? If Merrick killed Esrahaddon, he might have slit Gaunt’s throat too.”

“I still have to go. By now, even you must see that.”

When they reached The Rose and Thorn, Gwen was waiting with anxious eyes. She stood on the porch, her arms crossed, clutching her shawl. The autumn wind brushed her skirt and hair. Behind her, within the darkened interior, patrons talked loudly around the bar.

“It’s okay,” Hadrian reassured her as they approached. “I’m taking the job, but Royce is staying. With luck I’ll be back for—”

“Go with him,” Gwen told Royce firmly.

“No—really, Gwen,” Hadrian said, “it’s nothing—”

“You have to go with him.”

“What’s wrong?” Royce asked. “I thought we were getting married. Don’t you want to?”

Gwen closed her eyes, shaken. Then her hands clenched into fists and she straightened. “You must go. Hadrian will be killed if you don’t—and then you … you …”

Royce took her in his arms on the steps of the tavern and held her as she began to cry.