Kaden perused his most recent page of handwritten notes. Not ones on fighting techniques, but ones, rather, on the art of distilling emotions, their uses, and their effects. It was well into the night and Kaden had only the light of a small candle to read by.

His mind had been turning over and over both things he'd already known and things that he was still learning about the science behind it all.

Laying in bed, Hernah's limp arm draped across his chest as she slept naked beside him. Her breasts crushed against his ribs, nipples hard as steel. Even as she slept. He assumed she was having another of her erotic dreams about the two of them entwined in passionate lovemaking based on the obvious reaction of her slumbering body.

She was far too eager to share the intricate details of those dreamy visions every morning and insisted that together they try to recreate them. For a woman living out a certain death sentence, Kaden felt she was resigned to getting as much enjoyment as possible before that day came.

Kaden was just more interested in surviving another day.

He felt that somewhere in all the knowledge he had at his disposal was the answer to all his problems. Problems that all revolved around the sordid world of politics and balancing on a knife's edge between two superior foes. All he wanted was revenge on the prince. All Princess Lyla wanted was his obedience.

If he played his cards right, especially with Princess Lyla, he could have that revenge. But he worried that once the prince was out of the way, she'd discard him in a heartbeat as well. She might say that wasn't the case, but he still had the feeling that she viewed him only as a cock to ride.

The door to the bedchamber cracked open. Sahl slinked in, his nose wrinkling at the lingering scent of sex.

Kaden beckoned him over to the bed and handed his friend a set of papers. "Here."

"What's this?"

Hernah stirred and both the young men fell quite. Kaden didn't say a word until he was certain she was still fast asleep. Even then, when he did, he kept his voice hushed. "Something I've been working on. I want you to set up a special still for me."

Sahl pondered the papers and the complicated drawing on one of them. "What's this for?"

"We need to figure out how to make some of these more advanced mixtures like Touran does."

"Nothing in the library on it?"

"Very little. They're like family recipes. Closely guarded. Someone has to show you. And since my father's notes weren't left by any of the looters that ransacked the shop, we're going to need to do some backwards calculations."

"You're the Karo Shar. You can't just command Touran to show you?"

"Doesn't work that way. Touran is in Prince Relastin's service, and he's not a slave, so I don't have any jurisdiction over him. Plus, as you know, the Decrees protect craftsmen from being coerced into divulging the secrets of their trades. So we'll take some of the medicine he's been giving me, and we'll break it down into its component parts."

Sahl twisted the paper about in a circle and observed the complicated drawing on it. "This thing has like twenty different lines coming off of it."

"Well, I didn't know how many components to expect. Better to have too many than not enough."

"And you want me to build this?"

"Yes." Kaden was direct. "It won't be easy, but I figure with the equipment we have, we should have what we need."

"I'll get right on it in all my free time." Sahl folded and pocketed the drawing. "I'll get on it once the basic stills are set up. You got us guards yet?"

"Yes. One guard rotating three times a day. That will leave the shop guarded all day and all night and should prevent any more thieves."

"Better. Because I'm not doing all this work just to have it stolen. One more robbery and I'll turn in my resignation."

"Slaves can't resign, Sahl."

"Oh, we can. It's called a knife to our own chest." Sahl pulled back the folds of his clothes to show Kaden a familiar dagger stashed in his belt. The one Kaden had hidden in the shop after taking it from the thief who tried to rob him years ago.

"You found my secret hiding place?"

"I did. Somehow, amazingly, no one else did before me."

"Be careful, Sahl. You know what the Decrees say."

"I know what they say about us sorts carrying weapons. But I'm keeping it because I have a feeling, being associated with you, I'm going to need it."

*  *  *

Night and its calm had fallen upon the desert encampment of Prince Relastin and his soldiers. But it was only calm because of the towering and smoking torches ringing the perimeter at not more than six foot intervals. They illuminated the sands as though it were daylight.

Hands clasped in the small of his back, Prince Relastin stood at the very edge of the circle and stared off into the night that quickly became the darkest of black. His armor hadn't acquired a single new blemish during the battle that transpired in the earlier heat of the day. Even though he'd fought in the thick of it. There wasn't a single man on the battlefield who'd been able to match him and lay a hand on him.

Beyond the light, the squeals of Black Rohs and the chittering of their fangs broke what should have been silence.

Every so often one would come as close to the light as it dared. And only the biggest and most fearsome of the deadly nocturnal desert-dwelling arachnids dared.

He'd watch as the deadly tips their eight legs tapped upon the sand, leaving barely a trace of passing. Like a dancer, they strode across the Barrens. But a dancer that craved human flesh and sought something it could not reach because of the bright flames.

The artificial suns glinted off their two large eyes in the front of their heads, and the three more on either side. Black like pools of oil, they reflected the light and marked the creatures and their exact locations. Like beacons that warned of death should anyone wonder too far from the circle providing protection for the men.

Despite their primal desires, however, the beasts that often reached greater than ten feet in length were held at bay by the simple method of security. And once the creatures decided they would not find a meal here, they were back off into the night to feast upon the dead. Or, if they were lucky, the still barely alive.

The prince had seen their preference for live flesh many times during his expeditions into the desert.

The crunching of bones and the slurping of guts was an eerie sound to hear, even when one could not see it. If the Black Rohs found a still living victim and its fangs sunk in, the screams of agony as the monster's venom liquidized their organs and they fed were truly horrific.

"What news?" When a cautious soldier approached, Prince Relastin acknowledged him. But his eyes did not waver from the darkness.

"After reviewing the reports from our scouts before sunset, it appears we've routed your brother's forces, my prince." The soldier in his padded tunic and blue urk bowed upon delivering what he obviously considered as good news. "The enemy are preparing to flee back to the west at sunsrise. As soon as it's safe."

The prince drew a deep breath—one filled with the acrid tinge of torch smoke. "And what if, this time, we don't allow him to?"

"Uh? My prince? I don't understand."

Eyes still locked in the distance, Prince Relastin saw a new faint set of eyes just beyond the light's edge. This Black Rohs was smaller, but just as courageous as its larger brethren. "I said, what if we do not allow him to?"

"Well, um, you may of course do as you wish. And the men will abide." The soldier was stammering. "But, uh—"

"Spit it out!" the prince snapped. "I won't behead you for it. I know what you're thinking. So let's put it on the official record."

"Sir, uh, my prince," He had to inform his prince of the way things were done, but not do so in a manner that caused disrespect to be taken. "According to the Decrees, as you know, it is considered protocol to allow Prince Kolad, Son of Abran, your brother, to withdraw unharassed if he disengages."

"Hmm." That was the prince's only response to the completely factual statement. One which he was indeed very well aware of.

The soldier stood as though there was a muzzle clamped over his mouth. Waiting for something more. That something more came, but only after a long silence.

"I am personally tired of my brother drawing my attention away from the Abyss, the Koronai within, and my pending glory. I believe he is doing the bidding of Prince Zar. Knowing that the longer I must spend in the Barrens fighting off these frivolous assaults, the less opportunity there is available for me to progress down to the Gates and claim what is rightfully mine. It is time that I send a firm message. Not just to him, but to all who would challenge me. That message will be those who do so will face death, and nothing less."

"My prince." The warrior bowed. "What would you have us do?"

There was to be no further debate on the subject. His prince had made his decision. "Make sure the men are prepared to attack at first light. Once the Black Rohs scatter, we will end this little problem with Isol and my brother once and for all." The prince followed his proclamation by drawing his sword and stepping out beyond the ring of light.

"My prince? What are you doing?"

Prince Relastin stood there, sensing the night and the creatures dwelling within it. Several sensed him as well, their reflective eyes turning towards him. "I'm going to hunt some Black Rohs."

"Sir! There's fifty of the beasts out there. If not a hundred."

"And I fear them not," the prince's words carried all the weight of his resolve. "Tell the men, those who are true Warriors of Ison, that they are to join me. The rest of you can cower behind the torches like frightened children until sunsrise."

And then the prince moved off into the consuming darkness and became one with it.