Sigeric’s footsteps shuffled into the doorway behind Canu. He sat in a chair in the middle of a dimly lit room, staring at the Floweress. She was still in chains. She was bound at the wrist and the chain was tied to a bar that jutted out from the wall. There wasn’t much else in the dark room besides a dirt floor and Canu’s Floweress. They were in one of the remote moves of the clan’s meeting house. They did not store plunder here, knowing it would be a foolish move to keep plunder where they sleep. Men could thieve easily that way.

“Did she heal him?” asked Sigeric, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

“No,” replied Canu.

“So did Emonu die, then?” asked Sigeric.

“Not yet,” said Canu. His voice was distant and uninterested. He leaned forward in his chair, dropping his head into his hands. The Floweress sat against the wall with her knees to her chest. Her blue robes were muddled with dirt and filth. She had not spoken a word to Canu since he had taken her from Ahod.

“Do you need me to take care of this, Canu?” asked Sigeric.

“Stay out of it,” said Canu.

“If it’s her life or Emonu’s, I’ll take Emonu’s. He’s your friend. She is not.”

“That’s why I’m keeping her alive. Killing the Floweress won’t help Emonu,” said Canu. He voice had become sterner. He did not need Sigeric getting involved. Sigeric always aired on the side of violence. It was the way he had always been. Sigeric’s dark beard and short hair made his complexion seem darker than it was. Sigeric dropped into a crouching position just inside the room, leaving the door open for torchlight to flood the room. It smelled of body odor and dung inside the room—leaving Sigeric to cover his nose at the poignant smell.

“How are you sitting in here?” asked Sigeric. “It smells like horse dung and rotten fish.”

“You may leave, Sigeric. Your presence is not needed,” said Canu. He had no patience for Sigeric. He had killed Ahod—someone Canu had planned on keeping prisoner to gain valuable information on. He would have known more about Maziq and that terribly awful snake he had turned into. The images still haunted Canu. The way that Maziq had willfully melted into a pile of black ooze and then slithered up the pedestal and morphed into that snake statue. Something about it had put Canu on edge ever since—and, of course, Sigeric had not been there to see that part yet.

“Are you still thinking of that sorcerer you told me about?” asked Sigeric.

“I am,” replied Canu.

Sigeric pursed his lips, nodding. The two sat in awkward silence for a moment.

“There had been whispers of that matter recently. It was a matter of time before we witnessed it ourselves,” said Sigeric. He was gazing up at the ceiling as he spoke. Canu was still turned away, staring blankly at the Floweress. “Something isn’t right with the realm. That sort of dark arts is only coming out of one place, and you and I both know that.”

“The realm is fine. It was a trick—a mirage,” said Canu.

“That’s not what Caroman and Blivth said. It seems to have taken a toll on you more than them. I would’ve guessed you went brain dead with the way you’ve been acting. Completely incompetent,” said Sigeric. A smirk was spread across his face. “Perhaps, I am more fit to lead than you are at the moment.”

“No,” replied Canu, standing from his chair. He turned to face Sigeric now. “I am the clan leader. The only thing that changes that is by flasduel.”

“Fair enough, Canu. The day is not far off that I will take you up on that. I want to end you.” Sigeric remained serious only for a moment, before bursting into laughter. Canu did not smile. “Flasduel? And who did you flasduel to take charge of our clan?”

“He’s dead now. It’s no matter,” said Canu.

“Dead? A flasduel isn’t to the death though, as I understand it,” said Sigeric, brows raised.

“It’s not. I killed him anyways,” said Canu.

Sigeric was long gone when Caroman emerged into the room that the Floweress and Canu sat in. Caroman gestured for two other men named Judd and Elric to bring forward two large dishes of food. Judd handed Canu the dish which included old bread and freshly cooked lamb. Elric shoved a plate along the ground towards the Floweress as if she were a contagious mutant. Eshna grabbed the plate and began eating ravenously. The four men watched in awe, before Eshna slowly lifted her gaze from her lamb. The men quickly busied themselves, embarrassed by their bluntness.

Caroman kneeled beside Canu. “I’ve discovered much and more of the Floweress through men in the taverns and on the streets,” said Caroman.

He had been missing for the three days since the siege on Ahod’s fortress. He was Canu’s inside man. Caroman had a way about him that invited secrecy. It was a gift. A gift that Canu could not quite grasp but nonetheless caused him to view Caroman as his most valuable man.

“What have you found?” asked Canu, engaged.

“I spoke to a travelling tradesman in the town. He claims to have seen Hyltir Hasamon sell her for auction for a mighty price a few months back. What Hyltir wanted to do with the coin, it is unknown—although there is speculation.”

“Hyltir, our master, selling the Floweress? That was just before he disappeared…” Canu’s voice trailed off.

“Precisely. Some are saying that Hyltir left everything behind in a hurry and sold the Floweress the same day. Wherever he was going, he wanted to waste no time. He has not been heard of since,” said Caroman.

“Do we know which direction he went?” asked Canu.

“I cannot be sure, but one man said he claimed Hyltir went south.”

“South? We’re already south. You cannot travel more south unless…” Canu’s brows furrowed. He stared at his chopped lamb as if he’d find his answers there.

“Unless he was making way for Mekdah. An abominable decision, no doubt. He is not the only one who has been lured there as of late,” said Caroman.

“What is there to be lured into?” asked Canu. “Everyone knows that is a death wish—a hell that is reserved for those chained in the Abyss. Have they been freed from their chains? What do the scrolls of Ena say about those times in our history?” Canu spoke quickly, which would overwhelm any normal man. But Caroman was sharp and witty, matching his every question and thought.

“There is lure because of the magic that has been discovered there. Sorcerers are no longer extinct. The one we saw with Ahod was only one example. There will be more like Maziq that continue to align themselves with lords and clans of power. As for those chained in the Great Abyss,” Caroman paused, feeling sick at the mention of the Abyss. “The scrolls of Ena are not accessible to people in our land. To know the sayings of the scrolls, one must journey north to the other side of the land bridge.”

“I will never go to the north. Everyone is a slave but those who rule. I could never live in a land without freedom. Never,” said Canu.

“I must agree with you, Canu.” Caroman gave a bowing nod, clasping his palms together. Caroman had trained his mind in the way of the Yukiwe—an ancient meditative art that was followed by nearly all Ulda in past times. Now it was only used by few—Caroman was one of them. Canu did not mind his Yukiwe tendencies. If it made him a better spy than what was their to complain of? Caroman was not often a man of violence, although Canu knew well that there were very few that could ever challenge Caroman in a rare instance of combat. Caroman usually could use his intellect and wittiness to escape any situation without need of violence. A stark contrast to Sigeric.

Caroman looked to Eshna the Floweress, whose plate was empty. She was licking her fingers viciously. Canu gave his plate to Caroman. “I’m not hungry. Give it to her,” said Canu, pointing to Eshna. Judd took the plate from Caroman and slid it across the floor to her.

“Has she spoken yet?” asked Caroman.

“No. She will not speak. Emonu’s life still hangs in the balance,” said Canu.

“Hmmm,” said Caroman. “I request that you give me time with her alone in this room. I may know how to get through to her.”

Canu chuckled softly. “Be my guest. I need to check on our men anyways. I figure half of them haven’t seen me in three days. If you can’t get through to her, I’m done with the peaceful methods,” said Canu. He was tabbing his scabbard which hung at his hip. Caroman gave a curtious smile, although he did not find Canu’s jokes amusing. Caroman could not remember the last time he truly laughed. Perhaps in his childhood.

Canu waved for Judd and Elric to follow him out. Judd was still a boy of seventeen and Elric was a burly man who have migrated from the northern nation of Fol when he was Judd’s age. Now he was nearly forty and the longest serving member of the clan.

The door closed behind them and then it was just Caroman and Eshna in the room. Caroman pushed the chair away, sitting with his legs crossed in the middle of the room. Eshna slowly lowered her plate, staring confusedly at Caroman. Caroman’s robes were long and wide. His hands clasped together beneath the cloth of his robes, and he closed his eyes. He sat so still that one could have mistaken him for a statue.

Caroman sat in the same position for nearly three hours. He had not opened his eyes, nor had he budged from his position. Finally, the first words were spoken. And it was not Caroman’s voice who spoke.