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crazy as it seems, yes.”
    “Only we tried it and nearly got ourselves all killed,” Piran added. “So Mick wants to give it another go, because he can’t leave well enough alone.”
    “The old records said the first lords harnessed the magic in a ritual at Mirdalur,” Blaine said, with an exasperated look at Piran. “We tried going there, to see if my presence would reactivate the magic.” He grimaced. “Piran’s right. The wild magic nearly killed us.”
    “So that’s it then?” Niklas asked. “There’s no hope of bringing the magic back?”
    “We’re not sure,” Kestel replied. “There are clues that it can be done – but we don’t know quite how just yet.” She hesitated. “There are some forces in Donderath that would be just as happy for the magic to stay dead.”
    Niklas frowned. “Forces?”
    “Do you remember Vedran Pollard?” Blaine asked.
    “Real son of a bitch,” Niklas replied. “The only person I knew who was as mean as your father – maybe even worse.”
    “Yeah, that’s Pollard. He’s thrown in his lot with a vampire named Pentreath Reese.”
    Niklas whistled. “They’re the ones who don’t want to see magic return? Damn, Blaine. You sure know how to pick your enemies.” He scowled. “That group my men fought, you think they were Pollard’s men?”
    Blaine nodded. “Yes. We had to dodge them the whole way to Mirdalur and then run for our lives when they nearly caught us there. Pollard also had his men camped outside Glenreith when we returned, trying to pressure Aunt Judith into an alliance.”
    Niklas made a rude noise. “You’ve got to be kidding.” When he saw Blaine was serious, he shook his head. “For a man everyone thought was dead, you can still kick up a fuss.”
    “Somebody knew Blaine was alive,” Kestel commented soberly. “Pollard sent an assassin to Velant to kill him.”
    All traces of humor drained from Niklas’s expression. “Seriously? An assassin? So you think Pollard may know about this whole Lord of the Blood thing?”
    “Looks that way,” Blaine replied.
    Niklas leaned forward. “Actually, this isn’t the first I’ve heard of Pollard. We’ve seen his handiwork the whole way across Donderath.”
    Blaine frowned. “What do you mean?”
    “We’ve never tangled with the black-clad men before, but only because we tried to stay out of their way. We have heard tales whenever we’ve stopped for provisions, and the stories aren’t good.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Guess that’s why, when my men saw them fighting your group and the odds looked uneven, they waded in.”
    “Believe me, we’re grateful,” Blaine said. “What tales did you hear?”
    Niklas shrugged. “Rumors that Pollard’s been hunting down former mages. Several have disappeared and never returned. There were dark stories about men in black clothing ransacking the mage libraries and universities, carrying off sacks of items, and torching what was left.” He grimaced. “Pollard seems to like setting fires. I’d heard the same about villages where he didn’t get the information he was seeking.” He snapped his fingers. “Went up in flames, and Raka take the survivors.”
    Outside, they heard a sudden crash. Horns sounded an alarm. Shouts and the sound of fighting filled the air. Niklas jumped to his feet, as did Blaine and the others. A guard appeared in the tent doorway.
    “Sir, we’re under attack.”
    “By whom?” Niklas had drawn his sword, and his eyes glinted with anger.
    The guard looked as if he was struggling against his own fear. “
Talishte
, sir. We’re being attacked by vampires.”

CHAPTER TWO

    “I don’t like this.” Bevin Connor looked at the wooden coffin and shuddered. Before the Great Fire, Connor had been the assistant to the late Lord Garnoc, and the eyes and ears of Lanyon Penhallow, an ancient and powerful
talishte
lord. Now, pinned down by forces loyal to Pentreath Reese, Connor was debating whether Penhallow’s