The captors had to come this way, he knew. Why else would they go to Castlemere, if it wasn't to take passage on a ship?

He watched the ships as they left with the changing tide, following them with his eyes until they vanished one by one over the horizon. The squat ship was the last to disappear, taking hours to do so, but finally even it was gone too.

Bartolo didn't know how, but he was going to get answers. He had a duty to Miro and he knew Jehral must come this way.

As if answering a prayer, he recognised the man with the round face walking towards him.

Hermen Tosch.

The trader saw Bartolo even as Bartolo saw him. Hermen turned to run, but Bartolo was quick, even for a bladesinger.

Bartolo dragged Hermen through the street until he found a convenient wall. People screamed and ran from the bladesinger with the black expression, his zenblade held in one hand and a local man held captive in the other. Guards were called for, but Bartolo paid the townsfolk no heed.

Bartolo shoved Hermen high up against the wall and pressed the point of his zenblade to the trader's cheek.

"Where are they?" Bartolo said.

Hermen's face turned red from the pressure Bartolo was applying to his throat. Bartolo relaxed slightly to allow the man to speak.

"They've gone," Hermen gasped. "Left in a ship. You missed them."

"Scratch you," Bartolo cursed. "I don't believe you."

Bartolo spoke some words and the runes at the end of his zenblade suddenly lit up with red, like glowing coals. The colour travelled infinitely slowly down the blade, as if each symbol was lending its fire to the next. "Are you ready to die?"

"You didn't search all the wagons," Hermen said, "did you? My men left something for you in the forest. A fire. The Petryan's belt. Those you are looking for were with the wagons you never searched."

Bartolo swore. "Are they both unhurt?"

"Yes, they're unharmed. Jehral is a good man."

"Put him down, bladesinger," Bartolo heard a voice speak with quavering authority behind him.

Bartolo turned. Perhaps fifty soldiers of the city watch circled him with swords drawn. Their officer was brave, Bartolo had to give him that; the officer's sword wasn't the only one shaking in the bunch but he stood firm.

Bartolo spoke some more words and the runes on the zenblade sparked with colours of topaz and emerald. Several of the watchmen walked slowly backwards. "I'm not done here," Bartolo said.

He once again regarded Hermen Tosch; the trader stared back at him defiantly. "Where was the ship headed?"

"The Hazara Desert. To the hidden city."

"Where?" Bartolo demanded.

"They don't call it the hidden city for no reason." Hermen smiled.

Bartolo moved the tip of the zenblade until it hovered in front of Hermen's eye. "Why are they being taken there?"

"To meet with Jehral's leader, the prince."