away in the recesses of a cavernous coffeehouse. He had positioned himself against the wall, close to a small window with a clear view of the Laenidor Sacellum. The place was crowded, but no one had seen Pavanan Munif enter, save the three who offered him a chair. Helooked at the men, each with dusky clothes and a hardened face—they could have been brothers.
They exchanged introductions, all false names to be sure. Munif waited until the server left the cava before speaking. His tone belied his noncommittal expression. He repeated his inquiry. “You’re absolutely sure no one knows?”
Munif peered into the eyes of the man on his right. They were intelligent, cautious, ready. The agent’s hair, like the others’, was cropped short, his face dark brown from the sun and stubbled with a beard that had not seen a razor in days. He was dressed in drab clothing worn for too long without a wash.
“The Carac was not difficult to track, once we had the information from Burj al-Ansour,” the agent said. “He’s been under constant watch.”
Directly across from Munif, the second agent looked up from his Tivisisí coffee. “Tonnás said the summoners would arrive within a fortnight. He was not wrong.”
As patrons moved past them, the conversation took a more cautious turn. Munif lowered his voice. “What about the alchemist?”
“I allowed her to complete her work as instructed,” said the third agent. “I assumed we needed the orbs to be taken at the same time as the summoners.”
Munif thought for a moment before replying. “Yes, to make the case clearer for the Majalis. The ban remains in place, despite the passage of time.”
The second agent scoffed. “Yet the wicked do not cease their wickedness, regardless of the consequences.”
The first agent pondered a moment before looking up. “It will not be easy—taking them. This I know.”
Munif shrugged and gave him a bitter smile. He felt on edge. “But we will. There are no options here. I’ve said enough—all here are capable, that is why you were chosen. It’s time for you to leave.”
The other three agents heeded his words, quietly departingin unison and leaving Munif alone with his thoughts. He stood, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. His head swam and his stomach lurched.
“Damn, you look the a drunkard or fool,” he muttered to himself. Shaking his head, he realized his next task would have to wait a while longer.
Munif would need every bit of his remaining energy simply to reach his room and fall into a much needed sleep.
9
THE SKY above Tivisis was black.
Across the city, thousands of oil lamps adorned the streets and bridges like strands of luminous pearls, each orb shimmering white-gold in the night. Over the rooftops and domes rose dim silhouettes of soaring spires, high turrets and slender minarets all but lost in shadow. Cool air lay thick and heavy in abandoned squares and parks. There was a pervasive hush—a whispering stillness.
Two shadowy figures moved silently through twilight corridors until they came to an alcove near the Chantry of Domòs, which concealed a narrow stairway to the catacombs.
Slowly they made their way down carved stone steps worn smooth with decades of use. The passage was filled with the sound of water trickling down the rough-hewn walls and dripping from countless cracks in the ceiling. The descent was slick and treacherous as the two made their way down to a small antechamber and then deeper into the tombs. With no fear or mistake, the summoners traced an unseen footpath through the labyrinth of caves and tunnels to a sunken cistern.
There they found it.
Cut into the eastern wall was a niche. As the hooded figures neared, the echo of their footsteps broke the silence of the cistern. Pale light pierced the darkness.
A door opened. They entered without a word.
Outstretched hands welcomed them.
10
THE NET was cast.
Munif caught a glimpse of the morning sun from the balcony. The whitewashed
They exchanged introductions, all false names to be sure. Munif waited until the server left the cava before speaking. His tone belied his noncommittal expression. He repeated his inquiry. “You’re absolutely sure no one knows?”
Munif peered into the eyes of the man on his right. They were intelligent, cautious, ready. The agent’s hair, like the others’, was cropped short, his face dark brown from the sun and stubbled with a beard that had not seen a razor in days. He was dressed in drab clothing worn for too long without a wash.
“The Carac was not difficult to track, once we had the information from Burj al-Ansour,” the agent said. “He’s been under constant watch.”
Directly across from Munif, the second agent looked up from his Tivisisí coffee. “Tonnás said the summoners would arrive within a fortnight. He was not wrong.”
As patrons moved past them, the conversation took a more cautious turn. Munif lowered his voice. “What about the alchemist?”
“I allowed her to complete her work as instructed,” said the third agent. “I assumed we needed the orbs to be taken at the same time as the summoners.”
Munif thought for a moment before replying. “Yes, to make the case clearer for the Majalis. The ban remains in place, despite the passage of time.”
The second agent scoffed. “Yet the wicked do not cease their wickedness, regardless of the consequences.”
The first agent pondered a moment before looking up. “It will not be easy—taking them. This I know.”
Munif shrugged and gave him a bitter smile. He felt on edge. “But we will. There are no options here. I’ve said enough—all here are capable, that is why you were chosen. It’s time for you to leave.”
The other three agents heeded his words, quietly departingin unison and leaving Munif alone with his thoughts. He stood, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. His head swam and his stomach lurched.
“Damn, you look the a drunkard or fool,” he muttered to himself. Shaking his head, he realized his next task would have to wait a while longer.
Munif would need every bit of his remaining energy simply to reach his room and fall into a much needed sleep.
9
THE SKY above Tivisis was black.
Across the city, thousands of oil lamps adorned the streets and bridges like strands of luminous pearls, each orb shimmering white-gold in the night. Over the rooftops and domes rose dim silhouettes of soaring spires, high turrets and slender minarets all but lost in shadow. Cool air lay thick and heavy in abandoned squares and parks. There was a pervasive hush—a whispering stillness.
Two shadowy figures moved silently through twilight corridors until they came to an alcove near the Chantry of Domòs, which concealed a narrow stairway to the catacombs.
Slowly they made their way down carved stone steps worn smooth with decades of use. The passage was filled with the sound of water trickling down the rough-hewn walls and dripping from countless cracks in the ceiling. The descent was slick and treacherous as the two made their way down to a small antechamber and then deeper into the tombs. With no fear or mistake, the summoners traced an unseen footpath through the labyrinth of caves and tunnels to a sunken cistern.
There they found it.
Cut into the eastern wall was a niche. As the hooded figures neared, the echo of their footsteps broke the silence of the cistern. Pale light pierced the darkness.
A door opened. They entered without a word.
Outstretched hands welcomed them.
10
THE NET was cast.
Munif caught a glimpse of the morning sun from the balcony. The whitewashed
Similar Books
