Stalking Darkness

return.”
    The drysian smiled through his unruly beard. “A strong-minded woman, your wife. The eldest, Beka, is no different.”
    “By the Flame, Beka!” groaned Micum. “I promised Kari I’d ask Nysander to look for her.”
    “Rest yourself, Magyana,” Valerius said as the wizard moved to rise. “Give me your hand, Micum, and think of your eldest daughter.”
    Clasping his staff in one hand, Valerius took Micum’s in his other and closed his eyes. After several minutes he announced, “She is well. I see her riding with good companions.”
    “And Alec?” Micum asked, still gripping the drysian’s hand. “Can you see anything of him?”
    Valerius concentrated, frowning. “Only that he is not among the dead, nothing more. I’m sorry.”

36
D ARK D AYS FOR A LEC
    A
lec’s teeth rotted and fell loose in his mouth. Hot bile rose in the back of his throat, made doubly foul by the feel of the snakes squirming in his belly. He wanted desperately to curl up, writhe away from the interminable agony, but the iron spikes driven through his hands and feet held him spread-eagled. Blind and helpless, he lay waiting for release back into the dark dreams where there was only the sighing of wind and water—
    Occasionally faces would intrude on his darkness, swimming out of the murk only long enough to leer, fading back out of sight before he could put names to them
.
    Fevers rose, flaming across his skin to burn out every memory until nothing remained but the rush of the sea—
    Alec felt the chill of a salt-laden breeze against his bare skin, but no pain. His limbs felt heavy, too heavy to move just yet, but he ran his tongue over his teeth and found them sound. How could a nightmare feel so real, he wondered, or leave him so drained and confused?
    The cold breeze helped clear his mind, but the world was still rolling under him in avaguely familiar fashion. Opening his eyes, he blinked up at broad, square-rigged sails bellied out against a noonday sky.
    And two Plenimaran marines.
    Scrambling up to his knees, Alec reached instinctively for his dagger, but someone had stripped him to his breechclout, leaving him helpless. The marines laughed, and he recognized them as two of the men who’d pushed him around in Wolde.
    “Don’t be frightened, Alec.”
    Alec rose slowly to his feet, too stunned to speak. Less than ten feet away, Duke Mardus leaned at his ease against the ship’s rail. He’d been seated the one time Alec had seen him. He hadn’t guessed how tall Mardus was. But the man’s handsome, aesthetic face, closely trimmed black beard, and scarred left cheek—Alec remembered those well enough. And the smile that never quite reached his eyes.
    “I trust you slept well.” Impeccably dressed in leather and velvet, Mardus regarded him with all the solicitude of an attentive host.
    How did I get here?
Alec wondered, still at a loss for words. A few details trickled back to him: the frantic ride to Watermead, a snarling dog, unlit lanterns, hoping to find Seregil home. Beyond that, however, there was only a blank greyness tinged with dread.
    “But you’re cold,” Mardus observed, unpinning the gold broach that secured the neck of his cloak. He motioned to the guards, who pulled Alec roughly forward and held him while Mardus swung the heavy folds around his bare shoulders.
    Holding the brooch in place with one gloved hand, Mardus slid the long pin through one of the holes until its blunt point pressed against Alec’s windpipe.
    Terrified, Alec fixed his gaze in the buttons of Mardus’ velvet surcoat and waited. The pin pressed harder against his throat, but not quite hard enough to break the skin.
    “Look at me, Alec of Kerry. Come now, you mustn’t be shy.”
    Mardus’ voice was disarmingly gentle. Without wanting to, Alec found himself looking up into the man’s black eyes.
    “That’s better.” Still smiling, Mardus fixed the brooch in place. “You must not fear me. You’re quite safe under my care. In fact, I shall guard you like a lion.”
    Alec felt someone come up behind him.
    “Perhaps he does not understand his situation well enough tobe properly grateful,” a heavily accented voice hissed near his ear.
    The speaker moved to stand by Mardus, and Alec recognized him as the silent “diplomat” who’d been with Mardus at Wolde.
    “Perhaps not,” Mardus said agreeably. “You must understand, Alec, that Vargûl Ashnazai was all for gutting you like a fish the moment he laid hands