Shelton had continued to work with Coulta and his magic since the younger sorcerer had returned from Arren three days ago. Everyone at court seemed content to believe that the threat against them had been removed with Varin's death, but Shelton had a nagging idea that something else was coming. There were simply too many questions he still had no answers to. So he kept meeting with Brother Pelles to see if he'd had any visions, sent out more spies, kept in contact with the stewards of the cities Varin had overrun, and worked on Coulta's magic.

He couldn't deny that he was also trying to distract himself from the hole burned into his heart and the grief that simply would not fade.

He was about to start a lesson on how Coulta could store magic inside crystals and gems when a messenger appeared at his office door.

"Important news from Arren," the boy announced breathlessly. "Lord Malryf wanted it sent straight to you."

"Thank you," Shelton said, moving from his seat in front of the dead hearth to take the wooden box the boy held out for him. He took it and handed over a single coin. The boy bowed, then took it and left.

The box was plain, darkly polished wood with a single lock. Sitting at his desk, Shelton easily used a small spell to unlock the box and opened the lid.

"I just want to make sure this isn't too important," he explained when he noticed Coulta watching him curiously.

Coulta got up to join him. "What is it?"

Shelton unfolded a single sheet of paper and read the words aloud, "'We found this in a hidden compartment in Varin's chambers. We don't have any idea what it is, but it gave me an uncomfortable feeling. I thought it best to send it to you. Malryf.'"

He put the note down and pulled a black velvet pouch from the box. Something small was inside, and he proceeded to tip the object from the pouch and into his left hand – a choice he immediately regretted.

He barely had the chance to realize it was a human finger bone inscribed with runes before it wrapped shadowy tendrils around his hand.

Sorcerer.

"Shelton?" Coulta's voice was unusually wary.

What do you want you unholy bastard? Shelton demanded of the necromancer.

Much to his surprise, there was no response at first. Then, Won't you speak to me?

A shot of excitement went through him and he laughed darkly, his mind already racing. "You've grown weak. You should be able to read my mind."

And you're to blame for that.

Shelton grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, frantically writing as he replied, "I had hoped I would do more good than just stopping a useless battle."

He hoped his words were legible as he passed the messy note to Coulta and stood. Coulta squinted at it for a moment, then turned to the door. It apparently took him only a moment to get a Guardsman in the hallway to start running errands because he was back almost immediately.

I'm not so weak that I can't act against you.

Shelton began pacing as his mind kept racing. "And what are you planning to do?" He made a couple gestures at the furniture around the room.

Coulta immediately began moving things to the edges of the room.

There was evil laughter in Shelton's mind. Do you even know who I am? I know who you are, Wielder of the Violet Power.

"Why would I care who you are?" Shelton answered. "You're undeserving of the life you have, and that's all that matters."

The first of the people he'd asked Coulta to send for appeared: Galen, his attendant. Shelton caught his eye and plucked at the shoulder of his robe with his free hand. Galen looked confused, until Coulta whispered something to him. He was glad Coulta understood at least something of what they needed to do.

I'm the only Master of my art. Do you understand now?

Shelton was only vaguely surprised. He'd had a feeling this was who he was dealing with back when he'd destroyed Varin's necklace. "Well, Emperor Kemale, what do you want?"

Myri entered the office then and he heard her gasp. Coulta motioned for her to stay quiet, having finished moving furniture, and she nodded. Galen returned with a spare robe and Shelton pointed to a chair nearby. Then he motioned to the hearth, but when Coulta moved to light it he held up a hand before pointing at Galen. It had to be a pure, natural fire.

What do you think I want?

Shelton's next request of Coulta took a lot more gestures that he knew were almost ridiculous, but by the time Galen had a fire going a minute later Coulta had sent him away again.

"How did you get Varin to work for you?"

Galen returned with a spare blanket and spread it on the floor where Shelton gestured. Now he just needed Brother Pelles, and to write another note. He hadn't even realized he was pacing the room until he turned back to his desk.

All my spies had to do was find the bastard willing to bring war to your doorstep. Then I offered him power in my court. But of course I wasn't going to keep the agreement. I just needed him to weaken your lands so I could invade with my true army.

Shelton had a feeling that the necromancer wasn't lying. He would get more satisfaction in telling the truth this time. Shelton finished scrawling the simple yet blotchy note to Coulta and handed it over. He hoped the young sorcerer could read what it said; Think of light, goodness, and saving everyone you love. He sat down on the blanket without waiting for a reaction just as Brother Pelles arrived. The priest didn't look like he approved of whatever he was witnessing, but Shelton was going to need his purification after being so close to the mind of someone who could control the dead.

"And what if I weaken you?"

Coulta knelt in front of him, waiting to be told what to do. Shelton pressed the back of his hand to the blanket and pointed to Coulta's belt before mimicking the thrust of a knife down into his hand. Coulta nodded in understanding, looking rather grim as he pulled an Altmyr dagger from his belt. Shelton held up his free hand to tell him to wait.

How would you do that? By cutting off your own hand?

"If it would mean weakening you, yes. I will gladly lose my hand to destroy your little talisman."

He knew the magic that allowed the necromancer to communicate with him would directly connect to the monster himself. It was blood magic, after all. His gaze went to Myri, who nodded.

A sorcerer with one hand is useless.

Shelton was well aware of that fact, but that was what he had called Myri for. "I'll find a way, if it means destroying you."

He made eye contact with Coulta and nodded. There was no time to wonder if the younger, less experienced sorcerer had been able to master his emotions enough to do what he needed to do properly so it didn't kill both of them. He could only have confidence in Coulta as the blade slammed straight down.

Just as before, there was a smell like death, but this time no magic or blood exploded from the bone that had attached itself to his hand. The bone was gone and Coulta's knife was poking all the way through his hand, but there was no blood.

The necromancer's magic had gone into the wound as the blade had shattered the talisman. This was exactly why Shelton had requested the priest, because he had known there would be no way around this complication and that his magic would be no match for the sort of invasion the blood magic would launch against his body.

Brother Pelles was with him in moments and motioned Coulta and Myri away. Pelles pulled the knife away and Shelton started seeing black blotches in his vision. It was becoming hard to breathe even as the priest uttered the most powerful prayers he could, stroking Shelton's wounded hand to coax the death and evil from it.

Finally, just as Shelton thought he would faint, the wound began to bleed a thick black pus that soaked into the blanket and Shelton's robe. Then it became the normal color of blood and Shelton's lightheadedness had more to do with the pain and the sudden gushing blood than the evil magic.

Then Myri was there, a gentle black-and-silver magic flowing from her hand to his. But she wasn't strong enough and he heard her call for Coulta, who gripped her wrist. Apparently he could pass magic into her that way, too, probably because she already had a small amount of her own personal magic to begin with, Shelton thought, his mind wandering. In just a few minutes, the wound was closed, though he had a scar on each side of his hand.

"Burn the blanket," he instructed, feeling exhausted. "And my robe."

Myri and Galen helped him change into the spare robe and Brother Pelles threw it and the blanket into the fire, where the flames went black for an instant before returning to bright yellow and orange. Shelton settled against the back of a chair and sighed heavily.

"What exactly happened?" Coulta finally asked.

"That was some sort of talisman Emperor Kemale of Dyrai used to communicate with Varin," Shelton explained. "He was behind everything that happened recently."

"But you defeated him?" Myri asked, sounding confused. "How is that possible?"

"We didn't," Shelton said, with a heavy sigh. "We weakened him and secured us a bit more time."

"Time for what?"

"Preparations." He met first her eyes, then Coulta's. "Something far worse than Varin's greed is coming for us. This isn't over."

The story continues in King of Blades, the second book in the Blades duology.