Garret propped his feet up on the desk. The chair was remarkably comfortable. The previous owner had had fine taste in furniture. After taking another bite of a crisp apple, Garret leaned his head back to take in the office.

This office was finely decorated for the master of a rural paperworks. It was a wonder that no one in Rosewater ever questioned how "Old Man Hamish" came by such riches. Merciful winds, but the room was even lit by gaslight. A veritable luxury this far from Althandor.

Garret missed the Spired City. Who ever would have guessed? When he arrived in Gaulatia six months ago, he imagined that his return to the City of Althandor would come all too soon. That was then. The old man was a cagey buzzard, and despite Garret's initial confidence, finding exactly which scrivener within Rosewood was the man they sought had proven a trying undertaking. Garret could hardly wait to take a stroll within the cool mists of the city with a fetching lass on his arm.

Garret's relief at a job completed was cathartic. He could finally relax and dream of what he'd do once he returned home. The Vantalan would have been able to forward his plotting considerably, and Garret looked forward to mucking up dear Arkus' ambitions if only to see the look on the imbecile's face.

Oh, and the opera! Garret's adoring fans must have been clamoring for his return to the stage. He wondered if dear Cloetta had completed her newest work. What he had seen before taking the train to Gaulatia had been simply marvelous. The opera house would be sold out for weeks once the production opened, especially if Garret's name was attached to it.

"I confess, dove," Garret said through a mouthful of apple, "As delectable as the local produce is, I'd hoped for something more substantial for dinner."

The unmistakable sound of a stack of papers being tossed into the air preceded lovely Elise's reply. "Enough jawin'," she snapped. "If you haven't noticed, the job's only half done."

Garret pulled the brim of his bowler hat over his eyes. The woman was much too high-strung. She should realize that the difficult part was over. The rest was mere details.

After one final bite, Garret tossed the apple core to the side. It was by pure chance that it landed on the chest of the lanky corpse by the door.

The old man had been a spry fellow. Who would have guessed someone with a mop of white hair like that could run so fast? Unfortunate for him, Elise had been certain of where he meant to hide. A simple pinprick later, and the world contained one less rogue arcanist to defy the magocracy.

"These rebels are becoming a problem," Garret observed. "This marks the fourth commission I've finished this year alone. What of you, dove?"

"Seven," she grunted. A cabinet shattered in the next room, followed by a string of curse words Garret wouldn't repeat in polite company.

"So many?" Garret let out a long, appreciative whistle. "Our dear monarch must value your services quite highly."

"Value?" Elise scoffed. "You have a tool, you use it. Don't mean you'd lose any sleep iffen it broke in the usin'."

She stormed into the office, her hands planted firmly on her hips. As always, her Aleesh coloring set Garret's passions aflame. Golden hair on brown skin was striking, and her green eyes only enhanced the effect. The lacings of Elice's bodice were half-undone, giving a tantalizing glimpse of her wares. A distraction, Garret assumed. Likely as not, the old man dropped his eyes for the brief moment it took for Elise to get her spike in him.

Despite himself, Garret shuddered. Elise's methods were ghastly. Effective, but ghastly. By the wide-eyed look of frozen terror on the old man's face, he would have agreed.

"He's hidden it," Elise declared. "I can't find any glyphs or sigils. If it's here, he didn't use magic to hide it."

Garret leaned back in the chair and clasped his hands behind his head. "I rather suspect he didn't."

He couldn't see her with his bowler hat covering his eyes, but he could feel the sneer she directed towards him. She stomped across the room to stand over the pitiable package huddling in the corner.

"Time to talk, girl," Elise snarled nastily. "Either you know what we want, or you're no use to us."

Garret peered out from beneath the brim of his hat. The scrivener's apprentice was a pretty, little thing. Garret had his suspicions of why the old man had chosen her. Red hair cut short to her jawline, shapely legs, blue eyes that were tilted and the shape of almonds— some Althandi blood in the girl— and a smattering of freckles on her cheeks as well. Garret was hopeful that she wouldn't upset Elise much further. The world would be diminished to have such a beauty taken out of it.

"I don't know what you want," the apprentice whimpered. "I only learned Ham knew runes the other day."

"A likely story," Garret sniggered. "You mean to tell us you lay those sigils without an education? Preposterous."

He stuck a finger through the scorched hole in his cuff. He'd need a new coat after this. That sigil trap had been masterfully executed, and he'd nearly lost an arm to the spell.

Still, if the girl was being truthful, Garret had a remarkable talent in front of him. Such things shouldn't be discarded out of hand. There were future plans to consider, after all.

Elise struck the girl's cheek with an open-palmed slap. Blunt and crude, but it got the point across. Much like Elise herself.

"Enough of your lies," Elise shouted. She pulled one of her nigh-invisible spikes from her bodice and held it against the apprentice's throat. "An etched diamond the size of a chicken egg. We know the old man brought it here, and some very angry people want it back."

A tear fell from the girl's eye as she shook her head.

"Dove," Garret spoke up, "if she knew, she'd have told you by now. It's been what? Four hours?"

"I'm only needin' a moment longer," Elise growled.

"You've tried the stick. Allow me to try the carrot, so to speak." Garret chuckled at his own pun. Carats and diamonds. Delightful.

Elise stepped away from the girl. "Have it your way, fancy man."

"What's your name, child?" Garret asked as he bounded to his feet. "Something particularly lovely, I would think."

"Reyn," she replied in a meek tone.

"Oh my, it seems I was right. Reyn." He closed his eyes and let the name roll off his tongue. He savored every moment of it. Garret sauntered closer to her, his hands behind his back.

"You do know what we seek, yes? An intelligent young lady such as yourself must have deciphered our intentions by my beauteous companion's description of the item in question."

Reyn watched him approach the way a cornered rabbit would watch a hungry wolf. A bruise was forming on her cheek from where Elise hit her. She folded her arms tighter across her chest and huddled into the corner of the office. After a long moment, she nodded.

"Tell me what we're looking for," Garret coaxed. "I'd like to hear your own voice say it."

She swallowed. "The Imperial Diamond," she whispered.

"Quite so," Garret cried out excitedly. He clapped his hands together— an act that made the sweet thing jump. "I knew there was a good head on those shoulders. Now then, if you've deduced what we're looking for, you've surely guessed on whose behalf we're doing the looking."

A bead of sweat appeared on Reyn's brow. "Your king."

Garret crouched before her and feigned a gasp. "My king? My dear Reyn, Cathis is everyone's king. Gaulatia is still one of the Five Kingdoms, is it not?"

Reyn flinched as if expecting a blow. Merciful winds, but did he truly seem like the sort of brute that would lay hands on a young woman? Garret was insulted.

Well then, in that case, perhaps he ought live down to her expectations. His fingers worked through a three-point single somatic— three gestures with one hand— and fed a measure of ether into his imprint in the Weave. He then placed his forefinger just beneath Reyn's throat. Garret found her imprint as well and allowed the ether to flood from his to hers. Shaped by his somatic, the ether formed into a spell of the enchantment school.

Domination. Reyn now belonged wholly to him.

"Where is it, pet?" Garret asked, his voice dropping an octave. "I've grown tired of searching, and you would please me greatly if you helped."

"However I can," Reyn replied breathlessly.

"What is this?" Elise demanded. "Rough her up, fine. Put a scare in her. You stole her mind!"

Garret ignored his dove. His pet was much more interesting at the moment. He relished the way Reyn's eyes shone with utter devotion when she looked at him.

Oh yes, Garret would certainly find a use for her. She was precisely the sort that could worm her way into the Vantalan's household. Her sigils could be of particular use.

A sharp pain stabbed into the back of Garret's neck, and the ether in his spell vanished from the Weave. Reyn blinked rapidly, then cried out in horror over what Garret had done to her.

Garret rose to stand and turned on Elise, his hands already halfway through the somatic for a rather nasty transmutation. "You filth!" he roared. "You dare use that disgusting tool on me? Me? I am Garret Merovech-Deveaux, heir to..."

Elise socked him in the jaw hard enough to rattle his brains inside his skull. Garret slammed into the office wall and was about to cast his spell when Elise buried her knee into his stomach. He crumpled gasping to the floor. Garret nearly lost his apple.

"I always knew I'd been saddled with a madman," Elise sneered as she stood over him. She bent at the waist and plucked her spike from the nape of Garret's neck. "Be glad I held back. I'm not wantin' to answer for comin' back to Althandor alone."

"Aleesh freak," Garret wheezed. He couldn't get his legs to work. Elise had knocked the wind from his lungs.

"Sticks and stones, fancy man." Elise looked at Reyn and clucked her tongue. "As for you, talk while you can. Else I'll consider lettin' this one do what he meant to."

Another voice spoke in Reyn's place. "She doesn't know."

Garret and Elise both turned their heads towards the newcomer. Framed in the doorway was a man wearing a red half-robe with the hood pulled over his head.

Elise took a defensive posture and brandished her spike. Garret, however, knew exactly what had plopped himself in front of them. No sane arcanist would dare wear something like that unless they had earned it.

"The blazes are you?" Elise demanded.

"Joshuan Krayson," the man said to introduce himself.

Garret managed to get back to his feet. He kept himself a discreet distance from Elise as he did so. "Krayson? That's a fell name, sir."

Krayson tossed something underhand to Elise. She caught it and made a soft noise of surprise.

"The Imperial Diamond," she murmured.

"In the old man's home," Krayson explained. "No wards or sigils. A simple chest with a double lock."

"What's your game?" Elise asked. "Were you contracted by Lady Tarlen?"

"I very much doubt it," Garret told her. "Our friend here would only leave the Spired City for a very specific task."

Elise shot him a glare. "Speak plain. What is he?"

Krayson took another step into the office. "Blood runner," he said. He pulled the hood of his half-robe back to reveal the evidence for his claim.

He was much younger than Garret had assumed. Seventeen or eighteen. Rather handsome, to be honest. Krayson had chestnut hair worn long for a young man. He had a strong, cleft chin that gave him the look of Teularon, but his eyes were most definitely Althandi. His eyes were also a bright scarlet color, but Garret endeavored not to stare at that particular detail.

Krayson's eyes marked him as surely as the eyes of a royal assassin. Red irises meant he practiced blood magic. It was more taboo than courting a hierarch's wife and infinitely more dangerous. However, the blood runners were indispensable to the Five Kingdoms. Their particular skill set assured the very survival of the magocracy.

Even now, Garret could feel it pulsing within Krayson's veins. He held a bloodsong, and it was a magnificent one.

"My father," Garret said hopefully. "That's why you're here?"

Krayson's gaze fell on Reyn, still huddled in the corner. He jerked his head in the direction of the door. "You should leave," he said gently. "This isn't for your ears."

He didn't need to repeat himself. Reyn fled from the paperworks as if all the dragons of Shan Alee were snapping at her heels.

Garret might have taken umbrage at Krayson dismissing his new pet, but the hope of receiving what was due held his tongue. This moment was a long time coming. At last, it would be his.

"There's no need to wait," Garret said as he rubbed his palms together. "How does this work? We'll need a goblet, yes?"

Krayson shook his head. "To my knowledge, the Merovech is alive and well. He travels with his legion in western Althandor."

It was a curious mixture of emotions. Disappointment, to be sure, but Garret supposed it would be uncouth of him to wish ill on his own father.

Regardless, the news of the Merovech's well-being left quite the question remaining to be answered. "Well then, my friend, what brings you to Gaulatia if not to bestow on me my birthright?"

Krayson's eyes narrowed dangerously. People often reacted like that when Garret spoke of what was due to him. Their type had strict ideals on the management of bloodlines to which Garret didn't subscribe.

"I'm not here for you," Krayson said, then turned to look at Elise.

Throughout the exchange, Elise had kept her arms crossed and her eyes lowered. She must have assumed that the affairs of arcanists were no concern of hers. After all, she was a daanman, a mortal with no ether of her own.

"You must be joking," Garret said flatly as he regarded her.

"What?" Elise took a wary step back. "The blazes you lot talkin' of?"

"The king himself authorized this," Krayson told her. "Elise of Eastrun, it's time for what was taken from you to be returned."

Her green eyes lit up with a ravenous hunger. She stepped forward, her avarice plain in every detail of her expression. "Truly?"

Krayson approached her and drew a knife from his belt. "Yes. Come forward and kneel."

Garret withdrew and left the paperworks. He had no desire to see someone else receive what he wished for himself. Also, it was said that the rites of the blood runners, couriers of bloodlines, were disturbing to the uninitiated. Garret had no desire to witness it until it came to be his turn.

He waited outside the paperworks and leaned casually against an elm tree. The wait wasn't unduly long, but it took more time than he had expected. Elise strode out of the paperworks, her face raised to the night sky with a look of sublime exultation. There was no sign of the blood runner.

"All you hoped for, dove?" he asked her.

"Oh, you're still here?" she said when she saw him.

"My, aren't we full of ourselves?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, fancy man."

Garret snorted in disdain. "Hardly. I'm surprised you even deign to speak with me after our little disagreement earlier."

"I haven't forgotten," Elise said with a dangerous look. "But I trust you'll be more careful with that perversion when I'm around."

Garret raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "The job's complete, dove. You believe we'll be in each other's company much longer? We'll take the train back to Althandor and never cross paths again."

Elise smiled. It was the sort of smile that was anything but. A dangerous woman. Garret desired her like no other.

"Krayson left a message," she said. "He'll deliver the stone to Lady Tarlen on our behalf while we work this next commission."

Garret was intrigued. A blood runner carrying the Imperial Diamond? The king's court would riot if they caught word of it. This next job must have been important.

"Don't leave me in suspense, dove. What is the king's wish?"

"A contract on a royal assassin," Elise replied. The eagerness for violence in her green eyes was entrancing.

Garret let out a long whistle. "To kill an assassin, one uses other assassins. Not murderers. Why would dear Cathis want us?"

Elise held out her hand, and a small tongue of fire appeared in her palm. She stared into the flame, her chest heaving in satisfaction.

No somatic as Garret could see, and he would have heard an incantation. It seemed his dove had been a sorceress before becoming a daanman. Every moment he spent in her company, Elise became more and more interesting.

"This isn't just any assassin. Our target is Princess Jin Algara."

TO BE CONTINUED IN RUNE KNIGHT: BOOK TWO OF THE EMPRESS SAGA