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more moments, his dark eyes all but daring the Admiral to challenge him. Then he straightened, and his head turned towards Forgera. “And what about you, Ambassador? What if I were to tell you that your friend is lost, that I would not allow you to spend your life in a futile rescue attempt?”
    Drogni glanced over at the Ambassador. The man’s terror was apparent. His eyes were wide, and his breath came in short, shallow bursts. But his voice, although quiet, was backed with fierce resolve. “You can’t command me either.”
    The Vizier’s eyes narrowed, but the Ambassador held his ground. The two of them held a silent confrontation for a few more heartbeats, then the Vizier abruptly turned towards the man seated at Drogni’s left. “And you, Aras Makree? You have nothing at stake here. No tie to Rokan Sellas, or to Justin Varenn.” As the Vizier’s gaze roved over the Sergeant Major, the dark eyes suddenly widened, then narrowed just as quickly. The big man pointed a finger at Makree, and something verging between suspicion and understanding came into his voice. “Yet you too are a part of this. More than any of us know, I think. It was no accident that you survived Hilthak. Are you also determined to see this matter through to the end?”
    Drogni looked over at Makree, gauging his reaction, but the other soldier could have taught even the Vizier a thing or two about keeping one’s emotions hidden. “I am,” said the Black General calmly.
    The Vizier studied the three of them, and a smile crept slowly across his face. “Good. I had worried that your experiences on Hilthak might have weakened your resolve, shattered your courage. I am pleased to see that that was not the case.”
    Drogni blinked. Was that satisfaction in the Vizier’s voice? A moment ago, the big man had seemed almost angered by their collective refusal to let Rokan Sellas go. Had that been just an act? “What are you saying?”
    “I am saying that Rokan Sellas must be stopped. And it may be that you three are the best equipped to do so. You survived Hilthak. You are resilient and resourceful.” The words did not sound like a compliment coming from the Vizier’s mouth; rather, they came out like a manufacturer appraising a particularly high-quality piece of merchandise. “I stand by my original statement—I think it highly unlikely that you can defeat him. But it is not impossible. And if there is even the slightest chance that you will succeed, then we cannot let this opportunity pass us by.”
    Drogni felt a quiet surge of satisfaction. “So, what now?” he asked.
    The Vizier raised an eyebrow. “Now I locate Justin Varenn,” he said.
    Forgera looked up sharply. “I thought you said—”
    “And I spoke truly,” said the Vizier. “I do not know where he is. But I know how to find him.”
    Forgera’s face darkened momentarily, no doubt at the Vizier’s blatant twisting of the truth, but quickly cleared. “So you’re the Druid, then.”
    The Ambassador’s voice was casual, offhand, but the Vizier stiffened as if he had been struck. His eyes narrowed, and fire flashed in their onyx depths. “What did you say?”
    Forgera didn’t appear to have noticed the change that had come over the Vizier. “That was the last thing Rokan Sellas said. He said that the Druid would know when and where to find him.”
    The Vizier suddenly leaned forward, lightning flickering in his dark eyes. His voice was cold, and it bristled with an almost bestial ferocity. “What were his exact words?”
    Forgera shrank back in the face of the Vizier’s sudden intensity. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Instead, it was Aras Makree who answered, his voice calm and precise. “‘I will need a messenger,’” he recited. “‘To tell the Druid that he has failed. And that his failure is about to become his nightmare. I will take his savior…and turn him into the ultimate destroyer. Tell him, my friend—if that old fool has the courage to