"Is there no other place for me to stay in? Must I spend my new life in this damp, sodden cave?" Ozorne snapped at Cothus. He shuffled his steel feathers in irritation and glared at the man.
"We apologise, sir, but we have no choice. We have been unable to find any remote dwellings, and to risk your being seen is to risk your life. Your enemies are as wrathful as they were ten years ago, sir. If they discover you are alive, they will kill you without haste." The Stormwing glowered in hate.
"I have no allies, none. I have only my own strength, and it is not enough."
"What do you wish to do, sir?" Cothus asked tentatively. Ozorne lowered his eyes to hide the bitterness in them.
"If I had what I had all those years ago, I would do what I failed to achieve then. But now I have nothing," He sighed quietly. "What do I wish to do? I wish to kill those who denied me my needs. I wish to kill those who made me fail. I wish to kill the one who ended it all."
Cothus gave an involuntary shudder when he saw the horrific gleam in Ozorne's eyes as he spoke this last sentence. He and Yasir had noticed on the night of the Rising that the Stormwing's chest and throat still retained scars from the final reckoning delivered by his killer. The whole realm knew it was Veralidaine Sarrasri, a young wildmage, who had slain him.
"Lord Ozorne?" A voice called out; Yasir's voice. The man walked out of the wall of darkness and into the cave.
"I have brought him."
A young man, similar in stature to Jas, the poor boy Ozorne had murdered, followed Yasir into the cave. He was putting on a good effort to force away the fear that clamoured to be shown on his face and in his eyes. He stared at the Stormwing.
Ozorne looked him up and down. His hair was cropped and brown, inconspicuous. His eyes were a light hazelnut that looked jumpy, as if they wanted to flit around their surroundings all the time, surveying every single aspect. He wore humble villager garments, and a calfskin shoulder bag hung from his shoulder.
"This boy here is the finest spy I can get hold of. He hasn't been very far, he's mostly dealt with petty detective cases, suspicious wives and husbands and all, but then again, he hasn't really been given a chance." Yasir offered a little praise.
Ozorne remained silent, still judging the nervous boy.
"Sir?" Yasir asked.
"If I employed you, would you swear loyalty to me?" The Stormwing asked haughtily.
"Yessir. It would be an honour to work for you."
Ozorne remained impassive, his mind a never ending system of calculation.
"Good. You will head to Tortall immediately."
"Just a spoonful of vervaine, please." Daine said to the apothecary shopkeeper, her nervous eyes darting around her.
"Salmalin doing another experiment, eh?" The shopkeeper made friendly talk as he spooned herb into a small pouch.
Daine nodded; she was a regular customer here, being her husband's errand runner when he was performing some arcane practice of magic.
A week had passed since the haunting dream of Ozorne. She had voiced her fears to Alanna, who lent a listening ear, though she could tell that the Lioness felt the same as Numair did: Ozorne was long gone, she was merely being paranoid.
After paying for the vervaine, Daine stepped back out onto the street, swallowed into the colourful crowd. Her nerves were taut, her mind shimmering in anxiety. She almost jumped in fear when someone pushed against her shoulder, and a feeling of breathlessness came over her. It was when she was nearing the uphill street that would lead her back to her towers that she noticed a familiar person in the crowd, one she strained to remember as being someone she'd seen on her way to the apothecary, and just as she'd left the shop. Instantly her heart began to pound quicker, and she tried not to stare. Instinct and common sense fought:
He's following you.
Don't be a fool. It's just coincidence. You're so paranoid!
Nevertheless, when she skirted into a different street, away from the direction of home, she sighted the man again. With his brown hair and air of nonchalance, he appeared to her normal yet out of place at the same time. She ducked into a grocer's and proceeded to buy four apples, supplying herself with the explanation that she could give them to Cloud and Silvereye.
She glanced out of the window, and saw the man again. He wasn't looking her way. But he was still in the same place.
Waiting.
She forced her expression to remain blank as she left the shop, watching the man out of the corner of her eye. She soon lost sight of him in the crowds, but knew and sensed that he was always following.
Eventually she walked to her street, heading uphill for her home. When she risked a look behind, he was not there. This had been expected; this street was a quiet one, and he would have stuck out like a sore thumb.
Breathing relief, Daine shut the Salmalin gates behind her and crossed the courtyard. In her mind, she was already composing a letter to Baron George Cooper, Alanna's husband and the most experienced spy in the realm.
Can you take this to the Lioness' chamber? Daine asked, waving a sealed envelope in front of a crow that gazed at her from the windowsill.
You know where it is-you've done this before, the wildmage added hopefully. I'd appreciate so much if you could do it again.
Message? But, messenger must have special treat after, the crow replied. Daine grinned and nodded.
I'll have the finest dried fruits prepared for you when you return.
The crow cawed, and took the envelope firmly in its beak. It spread its wings and dived from the windowsill.
Daine sighed. Her letter would be given to Alanna, and then forwarded onto George:
George, I'm in great need of your reputable services. I believe I'm being followed by a man when I go out. It's quite disturbing, and I'm worried. Could you put a spy to it, find out who and why this person is following me? I'll pay you even, if you'd like. Yours sincerely, Verilidaine.
"Goddess speed you, crow." Daine whispered, as she watched the bird fade into the sky.