Stormtide

CHAPTER EIGHT
Steiner

The docks were awash with people, some shouting, some crying. Most were staring slack-jawed at the blood-red frigate heading for the open sea. The sails were full with a wind that shouldn’t have existed.

‘Seems our good fortune didn’t last long,’ said Marek. Steiner could just make out the gaunt frame of Mistress Kamalov standing at the stern, arms outstretched, summoning a gale to speed them on their way. Four novices stood beside her, following the renegade Vigilant’s lead. Was that Kjellrunn staring from the back of the ship? He hoped so.

‘The pier is crawling with soldiers,’ said Kristofine, clutching Steiner’s hand with a wild look in her eyes. The crowd near the pier started to dissipate, keen to be away from the armoured men in black cloaks.

‘I can’t believe it,’ said Steiner as the Watcher’s Wait departed Virag. ‘Romola left without us.’

‘She did warn us she’d set sail if soldiers came,’ said Marek. He rubbed his stubbled jaw with one calloused hand. ‘At least Kjellrunn and the children will be safe.’

‘That’s good for Kjellrunn,’ said Steiner. ‘But what about us?’

‘We need to get out of the city,’ said Marek. ‘The Empire will be asking a lot of questions over the next few days.’ He walked away and headed towards a side street. Kristofine and Steiner followed, their gazes lingering on the ship as it receded into the distance.

‘Shouldn’t we try and book passage on another ship?’ asked Kristofine with a worried glance over her shoulder.

‘No one will be going anywhere for about a week,’ said Marek. ‘They’ll forbid the captains from leaving port. Every hold and crate will be inspected.’

‘You don’t know that,’ she replied. ‘We could still catch up with them at the next port.’

‘Actually I do know that.’ Marek’s voice was low and his words clipped. ‘I used to serve with those men. I used to give the orders.’

‘Fine,’ replied Kristofine, though her tone of voice said otherwise. ‘But we’re on our own and need to be prepared.’

‘If we delay we’ll be caught,’ said Marek, his expression grim. Steiner could tell his father was struggling to keep his anger in check.

‘But we have nothing but the cloaks on our backs,’ replied Kristofine from between gritted teeth. ‘What’s the point of escaping if we starve to death on the road?’

‘She has a point,’ said Steiner, stepping between them. He pointed out a handful of market stalls further up the street. ‘Come on.’

There was a perfunctory attempt at haggling, but Marek was more committed to being on his way than commanding a good price. Moments later they were outfitted with a satchel and two packs filled with food that would keep them going for a few days at least. The stalls were packing up for the night and the rain, which had never really stopped, began anew.

No sooner had they gathered their supplies than two Imperial soldiers appeared and began to question one of the vendors. As one, Steiner, Kristofine and Marek pulled up their hoods to shield them as much from prying eyes as the drizzle that fell in Virag’s crooked streets. Steiner hid the sledgehammer beneath his cloak and prayed they were not searched.

‘What else do we need?’ he said.

‘Something to sleep on,’ replied Marek. ‘And Kristofine should have a blade.’

‘But I don’t know how to fight.’ The tavern-keeper’s daughter from Cinderfell looked at the older Vartiainen, shock and worry writ plain on her face.

‘Not yet you don’t,’ replied Marek. ‘But you’re going to learn now that you’re on the road with us.’

‘Is that wise?’ Steiner wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.

‘Do you have a better idea?’ Marek’s impatience was clear as he paced down the street, away from the soldiers. Steiner leaned in close to his father.

‘I just don’t want her getting hurt is all,’ he whispered.

‘That makes two of us,’ replied Marek.

‘Three of us,’ added Kristofine, with a curl of her lip. ‘And I can hear you. What do I say if the soldiers ask us our business?’

‘We’ll tell them we’re mercenaries,’ replied Marek. ‘There’s never a lack of violence in Vinterkveld.’

‘Fine,’ said Kristofine, though this time Steiner had the sense she had made up her mind about something. ‘Where do I get one of these swords, then?’

It took around an hour to get what they needed. The rain fell harder with every coin they spent and a deep chill settled over Virag as the sun slunk towards the horizon from its hiding place behind the clouds. Steiner clenched his numb fingers into equally numb fists and Kristofine huddled close to him.

‘If we leave now we’ll never know if Tikhoveter discovered anything,’ said Steiner, slowing his pace.

‘We can’t be sure Tikhoveter didn’t sell us out to the local garrison,’ said Marek, clearly wanting to be on his way.

‘But he may be my best chance of finding out where Felgenhauer is.’ Marek shook his head and cursed softly. ‘We don’t have the luxury of time for that sort of thing.’

‘Luxury? She’s family! Family isn’t a luxury. I’ve already lost Kjellrunn to gods know what port in Shanisrond. I may never see her again.’

‘I’ve more a mind to search for Kjell than Felgenhauer,’ said Marek, his expression hard. ‘Come on. Now isn’t the time for this.’

‘Your father has a point,’ said Kristofine. ‘Let’s leave.’

‘If this uprising is going to stand a chance I’m going to need someone with the arcane on my side. I’m going to need Felgenhauer.’

‘Steiner.’ Marek’s tone was pleading now. ‘She’s likely dead, and us along with her if we go back to Tikhoveter.’

‘I’m going to speak with the spy,’ said Steiner. ‘We paid him and he owes us.’ He set off down the cobbled street as the drizzle continued to fall.

‘Gods damn it,’ muttered Marek, but he followed his son all the same.

‘Is there any chance we’ll agree on anything today?’ said Kristofine to Marek as they followed Steiner through the winding streets.

‘I don’t have much hope,’ said the blacksmith.

Smoke rose up over the city and obscured the few stars that peeked through the dreary clouds. Every chimney on every street gently exhaled more soot into the darkening sky.

‘Cities are wretched places,’ said Kristofine. ‘I feel like I’ll never be clean again.’

Steiner was too tired to form any sort of reply, could think of nothing else except Tikhoveter and what the spy might know about Felgenhauer. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed the Matriarch-Commissar until the old spy had mentioned her name, but now her whereabouts consumed his thoughts.

A shout of alarm from the next street was their first clue something was wrong. They pressed on through the winding streets, keeping a bleary eye out for Imperial soldiers.

‘There shouldn’t be this much smoke,’ said Marek, struggling not to cough.

‘Surely it can’t be much further.’ Kristofine said no more as Tikhoveter’s townhouse came into view. Tongues of fire spoke destruction from every window. The stones of the beautiful old house were blackened and Steiner guessed the wooden beams had surrendered during the fire. The roof had collapsed, no doubt killing anyone inside that hadn’t already burned to death. Dozens of neighbours stood in the street clutching buckets. They did their best to ferry water from the nearest well, but the blaze had done its fearsome work.

‘We need to go,’ said Marek quietly. ‘The Empire will be watching this place to see who comes calling.’

‘You don’t know it was the Empire that did this,’ said Kristofine, but she became silent as she caught Marek’s stern gaze. The old blacksmith disappeared into a side alley. Marek didn’t speak as he strode away, hands balled into fists. Kristofine held Steiner’s arm tightly.

‘Do you think Tikhoveter escaped?’

Steiner shrugged. ‘The Empire are thorough. When they take an interest in someone …’ He grimaced. ‘They usually end up dead.’

‘Will we end up like that?’ said Kristofine. ‘Burned in our sleep?’

‘They’ll be looking for me too,’ replied Steiner. ‘You’re only caught up in this because of me. If things get bad you start running and don’t stop. Understand?’

Kristofine looked at him from under her hood, neither nodding in agreement nor refusing his request. He wished she was on the ship with the others.

Marek led them to a canal at the edge of the city where an inn hunched low under a rickety roof. The low din of merchants could be heard from within, no doubt arguing about the day’s events and the losses they had suffered.

‘What are we doing here?’ asked Kristofine hopefully.

‘Change of heart,’ said Marek. ‘You two are dead on your feet, and I’m not much better. Smithing is one thing but dashing around takes its toll. We stay here tonight and set off in the morning with a proper meal in our bellies. It may be the last time we eat well for some time.’

‘That’s the first bit of good news I’ve heard all day,’ replied Steiner, shouldering the door open and stepping out of the rain.

‘Seems we all agree on something after all,’ said Kristofine as Marek held the door open for her.

The night at the inn was far from restful. There was a low rumble of conversation from the bar until closing time and occasional shouts from the city outside their window. Steiner took first watch, waiting outside their chamber door, watching for the Imperial soldiers he feared would surely come. Kristofine took a turn and Steiner was deeply asleep by the time Marek took a shift.

‘Is this how it’s going to be now?’ asked Kristofine the next morning as they packed their things. ‘Always looking over our shoulder for trouble?’ There was a stillness to her that Steiner hadn’t seen before, as if the gravity of their situation had settled on her shoulders overnight.

Marek nodded. ‘It’s been that way for us for some time now. Welcome to the family.’ He smiled but Kristofine didn’t laugh at the joke and Steiner felt a pang of guilt. He took her hand in his as Marek stepped out of the room.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered to her.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Kristofine replied, but her gaze was fixed on the floor. ‘When I left Cinderfell I simply wanted to be away from my father. I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into.’

‘It is my fault,’ replied Steiner. ‘If we hadn’t spent the night together, the night before I was taken to Vladibogdan, then people in Cinderfell wouldn’t have suspected you of witchsign.’

‘Even if that hadn’t happened I’d still have had to flee Cinderfell. It’s not every day a man arrives on the back of a dragon and burns an Imperial ship to ashes.’ Finally she looked up and forced a brave sort of smile.

‘One day we’re going to find a place we can live without worrying about the Empire,’ said Steiner.

‘One day.’ Though the way Kristofine said it made Steiner wonder if that day would ever come.

They enjoyed a repast of warm porridge, hot tea, and dash of honey that made everything seem better. The canal was filled with boats that bumped up against one another. The air was filled with the sound of fraying tempers and stifled curses.

‘What’s happening?’ asked Kristofine.

‘People are trying to get their cargo out of town by canal now the port has closed,’ said Marek. ‘A lot of people, all with the same idea.’

Steiner took an anxious breath. An idea was starting to form. A woman passed them in the street and glanced at Steiner. There was a frozen moment as she recognised the three of them before she turned away. It was the Spriggani woman from Tikhoveter’s house. Steiner sprang forward and caught her by the arm.

‘Wait! What happened?’

‘What do you think happened!’ hissed the woman, one hand straying to her hood, making sure it stayed up. Now Steiner was closer he could see she had a pack on her back, just as they did. She too wore a cloak for the road and sturdy boots. ‘They killed Tikhoveter and waited nearby for you. I set fire to the house to warn you off.’

‘You set fire to your own house?’ said Kristofine.

‘I only stayed because he wanted me to. I’ve begged him to leave for Shanisrond for years but he couldn’t give up his old life.’ Her mouth creased with grief and tears shone at the corners of her eyes. ‘I think he liked the danger, but I didn’t need a hero. I just wanted a husband. Now I have neither.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Marek. ‘Did he tell you anything before the soldiers came?’ The Spriggani woman blinked away her tears.

‘He was excited. Said he couldn’t believe it. The Emperor has learned of what happened on Vladibogdan and flew into a rage so terrible his own court feared to attend for three days.’

‘Did he mention any names?’ asked Steiner. ‘Anything about dragons?’

‘Dragons?’ The woman scowled as if he were simple. ‘How dare you speak to me of children’s stories now.’ She took Steiner by the hand, her grip hard and icy cold. ‘The greatest monster to stalk Vinterkveld is no dragon. The Emperor is by far the most dangerous creature to have ever lived.’ The woman looked away, her shoulders slumped as the energy drained out her, and then she walked away without farewell or a backwards glance.

‘We should follow her,’ said Kristofine. ‘If she’s headed to Shanisrond—’

‘No,’ said Steiner. ‘I made a promise to Kimi. I said I’d find a way to lead an uprising against the Empire. People are going to find out about Vladibogdan soon enough, they’re going to find out about the novices, and we need to tell people why these things are happening.’

‘Steiner, this is madness.’ Marek looked away. ‘We’ll be caught in no time at all and everything you’ve fought for will be for nothing.’

‘And if we don’t? Then what?’ Steiner struggled not to raise his voice. ‘How many more people like Tikhoveter will be killed? How many Yamali people, how many Spriggani will continue to suffer?’ Kristofine and Marek said nothing. ‘I’m going to catch a barge down river and start telling people what happened on Vladibogdan,’ said Steiner. ‘If you want to sail for Shanisrond’ – he shrugged – ‘I can’t stop you, but I’m headed for Slavon Province.’

Kristofine took his hand and kissed his scarred knuckles. ‘You can’t go on your own, I won’t let you.’

‘Just my bad fortune to have a son as stubborn as I am.’ Marek shook his head and gave a weary smile. ‘We do it your way. We tell people what’s happened, and we fight when we can.’

‘And we find Felgenhauer,’ said Steiner. ‘Now let’s find a barge and leave this place.’

CHAPTER NINE
Silverdust

The Envoy was true to her word and the novices worked through the night to unload the supplies though the chill was deep and bitter. Silverdust had no need to pack for he had long given up the mundane pleasure of possessions. He took a spare uniform and packed a handful of curios so that he might pass as human.

No one spoke as he headed across Academy Square. The gaunt novices, wrapped up against the cold, shared wary looks at Silverdust’s passing. The remaining Vigilants of the Synod assembled to watch Silverdust depart. None had words of farewell for the Exarch. He nodded to them and turned his back. It would be many hours until the sun rose at this time of year, yet Silverdust’s aura of arcane light emanated brightly around his feet. He turned to take in the brutal splendour of the four academies. It pained him to know he would not return here. Vladibogdan had been his prison these long decades but it had also been his home. The Envoy slunk from the shadows, the white fox stole that hung from her shoulders ghostlike in the darkness. She joined him at the centre of the square and followed his gaze to take in the buildings.

What will happen to these children?

‘Such sentimentality.’ Envoy de Vries grinned. ‘Come, pay no mind to them. The Emperor needs new Vigilants now more than ever. I am sure they will be treasured.’

Silverdust began the many steps down to Temnet Cove where the Imperial galleon waited in the darkness. The silver light followed him and threw weak shadows all around.

‘I’ve long been aware that individuals of certain power manifest the arcane in strange and forbidding ways,’ said the Envoy from behind him. ‘For Khigir it was tongues of flame that danced at his feet.’ She paused. ‘They never did find his body.’

Most unfortunate. Though in truth Silverdust had hated Khigir. He’d been glad to hear Steiner had put an end to the hateful man.

‘I trust you can suppress this nimbus of heat that surrounds you?’

I am sure I can accommodate you, Envoy de Vries.

‘I don’t like you, Silverdust,’ said de Vries dispassionately. ‘I don’t like the way you never speak.’

I was injured. My face. It is difficult to form words and so I use the arcane. He didn’t really care if she believed the lie; she had no way of proving him false short of wrenching off his mask. They were halfway down the countless steps to Temnet Cove, the stone worn smooth by the passage of time. How many novices had scaled these steps only to die during their training?

‘I don’t like the fact that you retired,’ continued the Envoy, her voice quiet but no less dangerous for that. Silverdust reminded himself de Vries needed him alive.

‘And I can never tell if you’re mocking me or not.’

I would never mock you. You are the Emperor’s representative.

‘I don’t like your mask, and how it reflects my face back at me.’ Silverdust reached the bottom of the steps and made a mental note, adding Envoy de Vries to the list of people he wanted to kill.

I will think on what you have said and make efforts to appease you.

The Envoy stopped and stared up at him. Silverdust could feel her frustration as she tried to get the measure of him. She released an irritated sigh and headed towards the boarding ramp. The ship was lit by lanterns, the masts gilded in soft light. A dark shape awaited them on the main deck.

‘Father Orlov,’ said Envoy de Vries with a smile. ‘Have you been waiting long?’ The Vigilant gave a shrug as if it were no matter. Silverdust approached the man with the sense that something was amiss.

I trust the island will be safe in your hands, Father Orlov.

‘In my hands? Ah, you are mistaken, Exarch. I am not staying on Vladibogdan.’ Silverdust looked at Envoy de Vries, who smirked at him with her hands on her hips. ‘I too am journeying to Khlystburg,’ continued Father Orlov. ‘So that the Emperor may benefit from both of our accounts of what happened here.’

Silverdust nodded. His hopes to assassinate the Emperor wavered with this new complication. No matter. It was a long way to Khlystburg and a plan would present itself in good time.

It did not take the galleon long to reach Cinderfell with Father Orlov and Silverdust lending their talents. Both of them had studied at Academy Vozdukha and could summon arcane winds with a gesture. The white sailcloth billowed out from the mast and snapped taut as more and more wind was conjured into being. The day favoured them with a lazy drizzle and pale grey skies. Silverdust was grateful that the Envoy stayed below decks. Her endless affectation of boredom made him want to burn things.

Soon the ship had crossed the Spøkelsea. Cinderfell was just as drab and dreary as Silverdust remembered. The cottages and hovels were squat, built from drab grey stone with thatched roofs, scattered over a steep incline that looked out to sea. Envoy de Vries emerged from her cabin and stood at the prow. The town was silent as a tomb.

‘Where is everybody?’ she whispered.

‘Perhaps Shirinov put them all to the sword when he came here,’ said Father Orlov. ‘He was always keen in that regard.’

Orlov, Silverdust and de Vries took a small boat to the stone pier, escorted by two soldiers who rowed without a word.

‘Why was Shirinov so desperate to come here?’ asked the Envoy.

I do not know. Silverdust wondered if the Envoy believed anything he said. He couldn’t blame her for distrusting him.

‘The Vartiainen boy had a sister,’ said Father Orlov, happy to oblige the Envoy with facts. ‘It was concluded that she should have been brought to the island instead of her brother. This was Shirinov’s and Khigir’s mistake.’

Khigir never had the sight. He could not have detected witchsign even if his life depended on it.

‘This sister,’ said de Vries, striding down the pier. ‘Her name?’

I did not learn it. Another lie in service to Steiner, another attempt to keep someone safe.

‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ said Father Orlov. ‘Shirinov took a ship to Cinderfell with around twenty soldiers. Surely they can’t all have disappeared.’ Silverdust left the pier and crossed the beach, noting large pieces of blackened driftwood tumbling to and fro at the water’s edge. The Envoy joined him and looked around.

‘Damn you, Steiner Vartiainen.’

Something troubles you, Envoy?

‘Your talent for understatement is masterful, Silverdust. Where is the ship? Where are the soldiers?’

Silverdust pointed to the several pieces of burned driftwood.

Your missing ship has been ravaged by fire. It sank close by, or perhaps it washed ashore and the locals broke the hull down out of fear of reprisal.

Silverdust studied the beach. Three weeks had passed since Shirinov’s ill-fated journey. The rain and tide had long since washed away any tracks that might tell a useful story.

‘Emperor save us,’ said Father Orlov from further up the beach. Silverdust and the Envoy made their way to where the Vigilant was pulling something free of the shingle.

‘It seems you have found Ordinary Shirinov,’ said the Envoy. Father Orlov shook the sand from a silver mask with a gently smiling expression. A smear of blood had dried at the corner of one eye.

‘B-but where is the body?’

Silverdust extended one arm and pointed out to sea.

‘Shatterspine,’ said de Vries, invoking the name the novices had used for the man. ‘The old bastard really is dead after all.’

Or gone renegade.

The envoy laughed bitterly. ‘Shirinov would sooner sprout wings and fly than turn against the Empire.’ She stalked off towards the town without a backwards glance. Father Orlov cradled the mask in his trembling hands.

Are you unwell, Father Orlov?

‘No.’ Orlov straightened up and gripped the mask more tightly. ‘I’d never known a Vigilant be killed before the uprising. Now this Vartiainen peasant appears and even the most venerable of our number fall. It is … It is unseemly.’

Did you think us invincible, Father? Immortal?

Father Orlov shook his head, and though Silverdust could not see his expression he knew the man felt disgust. Disgust for Shirinov’s fate and disgust at Silverdust’s insolent question.

Father Orlov tossed the mask onto the stony beach and followed the Envoy. Silverdust watched him go and waited, feeling the wind whip all around him. It must have been a fight to inspire the storyweavers, he decided. A lone peasant boy riding a dragon, taking on a seasoned Vigilant and twenty soldiers. This was the stuff of legend. Something the people of Vinterkveld would grow drunk on. Silverdust stooped to retrieve the mask and drifted into town, though he was certain all the inhabitants had fled. To stay would be madness. To stay would invite difficult questions and a swift death.

They found rooms in an abandoned inn and the soldiers took roles as cooks, servants, and waiters. Envoy de Vries insisted on a hot bath and Father Orlov turned in early. He had said little since uncovering Shirinov’s mask. Silverdust waited in his room, sending his focus out beyond the wooden walls to ponder at the soldiers in their company. His attention brushed against the minds of men drawn from many provinces across the Empire. Most of the soldiers were useful fools that cared nothing beyond getting paid and fed, but one approached, younger than the rest, who he sensed was different. Silverdust opened the door before the young soldier could knock. He held a tray with a bowl of borscht, a plate of dark bread, and a stout mug of ale.

Come in.

The soldier hesitated at the door, then entered the room with a wary expression on his face. Silverdust knew full well what the rank and file thought of him. The way he seemed to glide rather than walk unnerved people. That he never spoke aloud but dropped the words directly into a person’s mind earned him greater mistrust. And there was the question of his loyalty.

What is your name?

‘Streig,’ said the young soldier as he set the tray of food down. He was barely older than Steiner, with a downy fuzz masquerading as a beard, and hair shorn down to stubble across his scalp.

I have already eaten, Streig. So I invite you to stay and enjoy this food.

‘I … I can’t do that,’ said the soldier.

You and I both know that the Emperor has so many soldiers he cannot afford to feed them properly.

‘That’s no secret,’ replied Streig. ‘The peasants in the Scorched Republics eat better than we do.’

And you are hungry, are you not?

Streig’s stomach chose that very moment to growl.

I wish to take the air outside. Being cooped up in these sombre dwellings does not suit me.

Streig had the good sense to remain quiet and watched Silverdust leave. The streets outside the inn were shrouded in the deep darkness of winter night but Silverdust had his own illumination. He drifted along the lonely winding lanes of the town. Something else was in Cinderfell, some other presence that he could not put a name to. The buildings became fewer as he drifted onward, following the steep incline up through the town. The Exarch paused, staring up at the star-flecked heavens, before turning north and advancing into the woods. The leaves and grasses at his feet grew black as he passed by, scorched by the aura of argent light. This was novel; for decades he had only walked the corridors of Vladibogdan and now he travelled in the shadow of moonlit trees, beckoned by an unknown feeling, almost a sound to his arcane senses.

Something wailed in the darkness, something pained and anguished. The trees crowded around Silverdust with dark and threatening branches, then all at once opened out to a clearing. The ruins of a chalet stood on the far side and scores of broken branches littered the ground. Silverdust paused at the edge of the clearing.

You can step into the light, Envoy de Vries.

‘And here I was thinking I’d been so good,’ she said, stepping out from behind an old oak tree a dozen feet behind him. ‘I do so hate the cold.’ She shivered in the night’s chill and stared up into the Exarch’s blank mask. ‘And what brings you out so late at night, Silverdust? What have you seen?’

Silverdust cast his gaze over the clearing where writhing ghostly forms stood weeping and moaning. There had to be a dozen of them, broken in body and mind, cradling old swords and crooning to themselves like tired children.

Can you not see them?

‘What?’ The Envoy drew her knife from the golden belt that hung from her hips.

The ghosts of the Okhrana haunt this place. They linger over shallow graves and cry out for absolution. I hear them.

‘This is nonsense,’ replied de Vries. ‘No Vigilant has ever had such gifts.’

They speak of a peasant girl with terrible power. She summoned the stones from the earth and smashed everyone alive to a pulp.

‘More of your cryptic foolishness. Don’t you think I know you’re hiding something, Silverdust?’

I am not hiding the ghosts of the Okhrana from you, I give you my word on that.

The Envoy looked over her shoulder and for a second Silverdust wondered at how easy it would be to kill her in the darkness of the forest. It was no good, he decided. He needed her to gain audience with the Emperor. Only after the Emperor was dead could he rid himself of the Envoy once and for all.

They haunt this clearing and yet remain hidden from you.

‘There is much that remains hidden from me.’ There was a sour curl on her lips. ‘Not least the events of Vladibogdan.’

The ghosts say one name, over and over.

‘Vartiainen,’ said the Envoy. Silverdust nodded. She stepped closer and dropped her voice to a deathly hush. ‘I don’t believe you can see these ghosts. You’ve told me nothing I did not already know.’

You knew a dozen Okhrana had been sent to Cinderfell, Envoy?

Her silence confirmed she had not.

We could return in the morning and dig them up if you need proof.

Envoy de Vries looked around the clearing as if it might come alive with stalking nightmares at any moment.

‘Perhaps you can see ghosts. I don’t care. I’m going back to the inn. You will keep me informed if you learn anything else.’

Silverdust said nothing and watched the woman leave. He wandered the clearing for long moments, drifting between the phantoms who cried or wailed in the night. As a man he might have fled from such a vision, but as a cinderwraith he had no fear of death. Never before had he seen such apparitions, but much had changed since Steiner had taken his hammer to the Ashen Torment.

Finally he came to a grave with a marker. The soul that had belonged to these bones had moved on to whatever rest awaited. Silverdust crouched down and leaned closer to the wooden marker. A name had been carved into the wood.

Verner.

Silverdust stood slowly and nursed a pang of jealousy. How he longed for the peaceful slumber of death’s cold embrace. How he yearned to pass on from this existence. Silverdust glided from the clearing back towards the town. There would be no peace, not while the Emperor still drew breath.