Description: Alex Alex stared up at the road from the ditch and licked her lips. Three men. Four horses. They were uhlans, light cavalry from the emperor''s regular army, with tall embroidered caps and smart uniforms. Their horses were good ones, and the saddlebags practically bulged with provisions and supplies. They probably have wool socks. For the past three nights, ever since she''d abandoned the last husks of her shoes rather than try to repair them for the hundredth time, Alex had been lusting after wool socks. In the old days she''d hardly ever thought about socks. They''d been hers for the asking, along with clever, noiseless shoes perfect for sneaking across rooftops or padding down darkened halls. Now she was barefoot, and the stony ground of Murnsk had sliced and blistered her feet. Socks, she had to admit, were probably not the most important thing in those saddlebags. If she was going to make it, she needed food, and most of all she needed those horses. They were there for the taking, and all that stood in her way were three young men who''d done nothing worse than sign up to wear a fancy uniform and ride in parades. They work for the emperor, which means they work for Elysium, which means they work for the Black Priests, whether they know it or not. But Alex knew that was thin. All of Murnsk works for the emperor, in the end. Does that make them all just as guilty? She''d been a thief-the best thief in the world-but she''d never thought of herself as a murderer. Once, she''d kept a count of the men she''d killed, when she absolutely couldn''t avoid it. Now she''d lost track, or purposely forgotten. It had been three days since she''d eaten, and that had been a squirrel she''d clumsily skinned herself, a few mouthfuls of stringy muscle and fat. Now is not the time for second thoughts. She''d left the Mountain because she loved Abraham and very much thought she loved Maxwell, and also because the two of them were the most sanctimonious, infuriating pair she''d ever met. They all agreed what had to be done, but even when an opportunity fell into their laps they refused to take it. So Alex had decided to take it for them. She stared at the three men. Abraham would have told her to wait, not to be impulsive, to consider other ways of getting the supplies she needed. Easy for him to say. He''s not eating squirrel. In the end, what decided her was the thought of going back. It seemed like the only alternative, apart from dying of starvation, and she couldn''t bear to think what they''d say to her. Especially Maxwell, with everything she''d said to him before she left. Bullheaded stubbornness was probably a poor reason to decide to kill three men, she thought, but honestly, did the reason really matter? Maxwell and his tutor can debate it in their endless hairsplitting. She rose from the tall grass and climbed out of the ditch, just beside where the three uhlans stood together, talking and smoking. One of them noticed her and did a double take, tossing his pipe down and putting his hand on his sword. "Hey there!" he said. "Stop!" The senior of the three regarded her and sniffed. "You''ll be getting no charity from us. Off with you." "I believe it''s a girl." The third uhlan peered closer. "Are you selling, is that it? I''ll give you a box of hardtack for a quick ride." "I can''t believe you," the first said. "She''s filthy." The third uhlan shrugged. "Cunny is cunny." Well, Alex thought, that makes this a little easier. She raised her hands and exerted her will. Two globes of darkness formed around her fingers, congealing out of the late-afternoon shadows like pools of ink. As the uhlans gaped, the darkness formed itself into three long, thin needles and stabbed out to catch each man just above the bridge of his nose, punching effortlessly through flesh and bone. A moment later the three tendrils withdrew, and the uhlans collapsed like puppets with their strings cut, blood leaking from neat holes in their brows the size of a pencil. Alex let out a ragged breath. Done. There was no taking it back. Now food, and socks, and- There was the crack of a pistol shot, and she stumbled forward, as though she''d been punched in the side. She managed to stay on her feet, turning to see a fourth uhlan stumbling out of the opposite ditch, his pants still unfastened. He was fumbling with his pistol, clawing at the pouch on his belt for another cartridge. "Demon!" he shouted. "M-m-monster-" Another line of darkness speared out, going through his throat like a flat-bladed spear. When it withdrew, blood fountained, drowning his cries. Four horses, Alex thought muzzily, and four men. She found herself lying on the ground, with no memory of how she''d gotten there. One of the horses had come over to investigate her, its hot breath brushing her face. Her side stung, the first tendrils of a pain that promised much worse to come. Get up. Find out how bad it is. Alex closed her eyes, then forced them open. I didn''t give up when they had me chained to the bed of a cart. I''m not giving up now. She raised her head and fumbled with her shirt. It was slick with blood, but it seemed to be leaking, rather than spurting, which was probably good. Her probing fingers found the wound, all the way to one side of her torso. She tried to remember long-ago lessons. If the ball had torn her guts, she would fester and die, sure as sunrise, but she didn''t think it had. I could go back to the Mountain. If she could make it that far, Abraham would help her whether he was angry at her or not. I could . . . No. Slowly, one hand pressed against her side, Alex sat up, then got to her feet. Gritting her teeth through the pain, she stumbled toward the nearest horse and pulled open the saddlebags, looking for bandages. The horses would take her south. And somewhere to the south was Janus bet Vhalnich and the army of Vordan, and the best chance she would ever have to get her revenge on the Priests of the Black. Chapter One Raesinia Talbonn was not a city with a great deal to recommend it, in Raesinia''s opinion. It stood at Vordan''s northern frontier, the last major settlement before the Murnskai border. The highway that passed through it was an important artery of commerce, but it didn''t look the part. It barely looked like a road at all, more like a track worn in the mud by a bunch of animals all going the same way. Which was more or less the truth-the biggest trade here was cattle from the Transpale, driven north along this road in exchange for heavy wagonloads of timber and iron from the freezing forests of vast, empty Murnsk. Talbonn was the sort of city that grows up to cater to carters and cattlemen, with filthy, stinking streets, low, mean buildings, and an overabundance of winesinks and whorehouses. Nevertheless, it had made an effort to rise to the occasion. Uniformed armsmen stood at regular intervals along the main road, which had been swept clean of dung and broken glass for the benefit of the noble visitors. The largest hotel in the city, which called itself the Grand in pale imitation of the real thing back in Vordan, was a four-story eyesore of plaster and gilt with pretensions to architecture, covered with unnecessary buttresses and ornamental balconies. Raesinia rolled her eyes at it as her carriage drew closer and pulled into the circular drive, passing footmen with too many shiny buttons. "When we stop," Sothe said, "remember not to open the door until the second carriage pulls up." "We''ve been over this," Raesinia said. "More than once." "Forgive me," Sothe said. "You have a habit of ignoring my instructions." That brought a faint smile to Raesinia''s lips. Her Head of Household was as jumpy as a startled cat, unhappy at how hastily the conference had been assembled and how little time she''d been given to secure the site. Though, truth be told, Raesinia wasn''t sure any amount of time would have been enough for Sothe to feel comfortable. It had been almost six months since their clash with the Penitent Damned, but the attack of the supernatural assassins had clearly left a deep impression. Sothe opened every door as though she expected to find a murderous Black Priest behind it. The carriage drew to a halt, and a few moments later Raesinia heard the second vehicle draw up behind it. Booted feet crunched on the gravel, and there was a rap at the door. "Your Majesty?" Barely said from outside. "We''re ready." Raesinia glanced at Sothe and got a slight nod. She stood, hardly needing to duck to fit through the doorway, and stepped out. At least wartime was good for banishing some of the more ridiculous formality of the royal court. Raesinia wore a sober dress of black and gray, with a sash in Vordanai blue providing the only splash of color. She''d impressed upon her dressmakers that it wouldn''t do to have the queen

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