The Tyrant's Law(161)

“Drakkis?” Inys managed, and his voice sounded weak and cracked in his own ears.

The nearer slave shook its head.

“I’m Marcus Wester. That’s Master Kit.” It was the same voice. The one that had called him back.

“Morade,” Inys said. “Does Morade live?”

“No,” the slave said. “I’m going to have to go with no on that.”

Inys felt the relief pour into his soul. He tried to rise, but his body felt so weak. So heavy. The air smelled of rot and ice and the sea. He shook himself, trying to bring his mind to bear, and reared up on his haunches. Every muscle in his body was stiff, slow, and unresponsive. The sense that something was wrong grew.

“Where is Erex?” he asked. “And Drakkis? What’s become of Drakkis Stormcrow?”

“Well,” the slave said. “I may have some bad news about that.”