The Conqueror's Shadow (66 page)

And with that, Corvis moved to leave.

“Rebaine!”

Corvis locked eyes with a shaken but determined Salia. “Yes, priestess?”

“What about you? Whatever else has happened today, you're still responsible for your actions of years past. Are we to just let you go?”

“Salia,” he said softly, “I'm not a young man anymore. My days of fighting are over, as of right now—
unless
you force me to do otherwise. I can walk out of here, in peace, and we can never trouble each other again. Or you can try to stop me.” Sunder clanked as Corvis's hand rested upon the blade. “Which will it be, Salia?”

The priestess forced a smile, though it was weak and sickly at best. “Have a safe journey, Rebaine.”

“AND FOR A CHANGE,”
Corvis finally finished, “that's exactly what happened. Davro and Seilloah traveled with me part of the way. She's back in Theaghl-gohlatch, probably chatting it up with the sidhe. Swapping recipes for wayward travelers, I imagine. Davro as much as told me that he'd kill me on sight if I ever came near his valley again, but to tell you the truth, I think a part of him enjoyed the whole thing.”

Tyannon lay next to him, far more beautiful than he remembered, eyes wide as she took in the entirety of the tale. The kids, excited beyond measure to see their father again, had exhausted themselves into slumber hours ago. They'd hear a heavily edited version in the morning.

Corvis and Tyannon were curled up in bed, where they'd spent hours talking. Lying in a heap at the foot of the bed, its fate largely undecided, was a battered suit of black-and-bone armor.

“It's so incredible!” Tyannon breathed, one hand tightening on his.
“Even knowing what happened seventeen years ago, it's hard to believe.”

“Believe it,” Corvis said simply. “I'm not proud of it all, but it's all true.”

“And you really saw me? When you were …” She choked, just as when he'd described to her his condition at Jassion's hands after his capture. “Seeing things?” she finished lamely.

“Tyannon, you're all I've seen since I walked out that door last summer. It was just a little more vivid that time, that's all.”

For a time they lay in near silence, each pretending not to notice the other's occasional tears.

Finally, Tyannon stirred. “I'm so sorry about Jassion, Corvis. About what he did. I—”

“Hush. It's over now. And at least you know he's alive and doing well for himself.”

She frowned. “He's not the kind of person I'd wanted him to be.”

“I don't think any of us are.”

“You know, you're right,” Tyannon said brightly with a sudden, unexpected grin. “I think we'd better work on improving you—right now!”

The next hours passed with no conversation at all.

SOFTLY
, with a stealth he'd lacked months before, Corvis closed the door to the kitchen and sat down at the table.

It was the darkest hour of night outside. The moon had long since sunk beneath the horizon, but the sun would not rise to take its place for some time yet. Tyannon and the kids slept soundly, content for the first time in ages. Corvis—Daddy—was back, and everything was all right again.

He'd see to that himself.

Corvis was tired, a weariness that saturated muscle and flesh, down to his bones. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, perhaps for a week or three. To forget the events of the recent past, to awaken to Tyannon's face, her smile outshining the dawn itself.

But Corvis Rebaine was never a man to leave things undone, and though his last remaining task could have waited days, or weeks, or longer, he would do it now, this night, and have it done with.

Moving slowly, smoothly, silently, he lifted the pouch he'd worn at his belt and placed it gently on the table beside the flickering candle. As nimbly as he could, he untied the thong and reached inside.

The first item to emerge from the depths of the bag was a small scroll case, containing Rheah Vhoune's key, pieced together from fragments of ancient lore. The key to a spellbook that had burned to ash in a storm of apocalyptic flame.

Mostly.

Next came a handful of parchment, ragged and torn at one end where the pages ripped from the book when Audriss grabbed it. Thank the gods he'd had the time to find the proper place, to get a solid grip on the pages before the Serpent recovered! He wondered, briefly, if Audriss had even heard the sound of tearing as he'd wrested his prize away and, if he did, if he'd been sane enough to understand the repercussions.

Finally, from the depths of the pouch, he pulled a jumbled mess. Strands of hair, scraps of cloth, baubles and adornments such as rings and earrings: everything he could surreptitiously gather, palm, or outright steal while he'd helped the nobles and Guildmasters to their feet.

“… this one you'd especially like, my Terror,”
Audriss had gloated.
“A charming spell that flawlessly controls dozens of people, so long as you have the proper foci …”

The new regent—the new
King
—would create a better Imphallion. Exactly the kind of nation Corvis would have created …

If
he'd
been in charge.

Slowly, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the silence of the night, Corvis began to cast.

Thanks and accolades …

To the many eyes that have analyzed
Shadow
in its earlier sundry incarnations: Gary, Chung, Joe, Cortney, Erin, Brian, and Laura; and especially to my dear wife, George, and my sister, Naomi. (And also to Dad, but you already got a dedication earlier in the book. Leave some for everyone else.)

To Brendan, for “You know, that looks interesting.”

To David, for agreeing with Brendan.

To C.A., who's been waiting patiently for his misplaced acknowledgment since
2004
. (It's a little dusty, but it's still good.)

To Justin, who started the whole thing. (Well,
my
whole thing.)

And to my mother, Carole, because failing to thank Mom is always a bad idea.

A
RI
M
ARMELL
would love to tell you all about the various esoteric jobs he held and the wacky adventures he had on the way to becoming an author, since that's what other authors seem to do in these blurbs. Unfortunately, he doesn't actually have any. In point of fact, Ari decided while at the University of Houston that he wanted to be a writer, graduated with a creative writing degree, and—after holding down a couple of very mundane jobs, such as retail positions and an advertising proofreader—broke into freelance writing. He has an extensive history of writing for role-playing games, but has always worked on improving and publishing his fiction at every opportunity. He has several shared-world novels and short stories in publication—including
Agents of Artifice
, a “Magic: the Gathering” novel—but
The Conqueror's Shadow
is his first wholly original published book.

Ari currently lives in an apartment that's almost as cluttered as his subconscious, which he shares (the apartment, not the subconscious) with his wife, George, and two cats who really need to have some form of volume control installed.

The Conqueror's Shadow
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2010 by Ari Marmell

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Spectra, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

S
PECTRA
and the portrayal of a boxed “s” are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-0-345-51905-4

www.ballantinebooks.com

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