Blood Runner: Book Three of the Empress Saga

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The Sanguine Tower appeared as a thick column of mist as Krayson and Saveen approached. The great spire had an ominousness to it in the evening, even greater than in the daylight hours. The imposing spike of a tower, softly glowing with diffused gaslight, simply didn't belong among the pastoral spires of Westrun.

As the black edifice began to show through the mist, Krayson let out a long breath that almost felt like relief. Under normal circumstances, crossing the City of Althandor on foot wasn't a particularly daunting task. Doing so with a dragon in tow, keeping a complex ward in place, and avoiding population centers was an altogether different ordeal.

Saveen managed to keep up her disguise. On two or three occasions, her concentration had lapsed, making her face return to blue beneath her fedora and goggles. Thankfully, the only person to see such a slip had been a drunkard that had promptly vowed to lay off the whisky.

Krayson and Saveen often looked over their shoulders as they walked the high-altitude streets. So far, there'd been no sign of pursuit from Elise or those she commanded. Krayson was tempted to believe that he had succeeded, but he told himself not to let his guard down until the bloodsong was out of his veins.

Already, Krayson could feel spell echoes drifting from the tower, faint but noticeable. He could even sense the lingering traces of no less than five apotheoses. He recalled that it was the twenty-first of Elm, a day of advancement when initiates attempted to prove that they were ready to be sworn in as full brothers of the Order. Judging by the apotheoses, at least five new brothers would be wearing red robes soon.

The skybridge serving as the main approach to the Sanguine Tower had fewer people walking its length than others in the city. A young cryer hawked printsheets as he stood on a wooden box and shouted out the more sensational headlines. Otherwise, there wasn't so much as a noodle stand. Though, an enterprising Irdish goodman in a white waistcoat and trousers-- the gray-skinned fellow appeared as a ghost in the mist-- sold carriage tokens and train tickets. Not a half-bad idea, providing those who found themselves here the means to go elsewhere. Several goodfolk waited in queue to hand the Irdish man their coin.

Many found they had business with the Order, now and again, but they were always in a rush to distance themselves from blood mages once those errands were complete.

"I didn't expect so many," Saveen murmured as Krayson led her through the cluster surrounding the ticket seller. A path through the throng materialized as soon as people saw Krayson's red hood and eyes.

"The Order provides services to those who seek us out," Krayson explained. "Some may have come to arrange the divestiture of their bloodsongs, or to apply to the magocracy. Others come to sell their ether."

"Sell it..." Saveen muttered. "You mean as to say, they become daanmen willingly?"

"Very few daanmen didn't. The removal of ether as a punitive measure is all but unheard of and reserved for arcanists who've abused their powers."

"And Aleesh," Saveen said.

"Some Aleesh. I believe it was King Haelin that eased the persecution of their race and spared the half-breed children."

"Like Cardin," Saveen said. "But what of Elise? She was caught and made a daanman. Why wasn't she killed?"

"I don't know. His Grace seemed to already know of her elder blood and believed she was dead. But Elise is convinced he put her under the Lady Tarlen's command. I'm starting to wonder if anyone knows for certain what happened that night she was taken."

Saveen looked over her shoulder at the people around the ticket seller. "They have no idea, do they? That the Five Kingdoms are carrying out a genocide right under their noses. I wonder how many Aleesh are even left."