Masque of Death (Kormak Book Nine) (The Kormak Saga 9) Read Online Free PDF Page A

toast with as much ease as if he had been sitting in the guest room of his own rundown manor. Still in the form and dress of a marine from the Pride of Siderea , the changeling also raised a glass.
    Orson strode across the richly furnished room, took an antique stone pitcher from the heavy oaken table and poured himself a goblet. He swigged it down unwatered, slumped down into a massive overstuffed armchair and studied his companions.
    Balthazar looked the same as he had when Orson departed for Siderea. He was very tall, broad of shoulder and narrow of hip and fitter looking than a man of his age had any right to be. People thought the extent of his alchemy was to dye his hair and beard black. Little did they know. Inwardly Orson cursed the weak heart that made him reliant on the potions Balthazar provided. With the Guardian around, being an associate of the Count was likely to be very dangerous. He let none of these thoughts show on his face.
    “Thank you, my friends,” Orson said. “It is good to be home although I fear that our ship has brought us a new problem.”
    “Yes, our new comrade was informing me of that. A Guardian of the Dawn. One of the fanatical witch hunters of the Holy Sun. And by all accounts a very deadly one.” From his cheerful expression, you would have thought Balthazar was discussing a pleasant surprise.
    “That is most assuredly the case,” said Orson. “One capable of killing a newly resurrected Lunar warlord.”
    “This is very bad timing,” said Balthazar. “As far as our plans are concerned.”
    “And possibly not a coincidence,” Orson said. He could not help but notice the changeling’s expression. If anything he looked even more relaxed than he had a few moments ago.
    Orson guessed he was paying keen attention to their discussion. Well, if they expected support from the Courts of the Moon for their rebellion, it would be best if he was involved. One thing was certain. The changeling would not be telling the agents of King Aemon anything.
    Balthazar cupped his wine in both hands and studied its depths. “We are so close. The jungle tribes are almost ready. When the signal is given, our brethren here within the city will rise against their oppressors. Terra Nova will be free, and the old faith will return. But we have another and yet more pressing problem.”
    He pulled a small miniature painting from within his tunic. Orson recognised the profile at once. It would be hard not to. “Lady Khiyana,” Orson said.
    “She is suffering a crisis of faith in our holy mission,” said Balthazar. “I fear that she intends to betray us and soon. Perhaps she already has. She has spoken to Frater Ramon a few times. She has always been weak.”
    There was a note of recrimination in the Count’s voice. Orson had been one of Lady Khiyana’s sponsors. He had seen how useful she could be.”
    “That is not the only problem,” said the changeling. “We must find the source of Vorkhul’s coffin. And we must find it before the sun worshippers.”
    He spoke with calm authority. Orson wondered as to the exact contents of the Lunar emissary’s chat with the Count. It looked as if he had managed to convince Balthazar that they were of the same faith. Orson wondered how true that was. He had his suspicions about the true nature of Balthazar’s beliefs. He had always kept his distance because of them.
    Balthazar nodded. “He is correct, Orson. Our Lord demands this. He has spoken to me in visions.”
    Orson was not sure how much credence to place in Balthazar’s visions. They always seemed to support whatever the Count wanted to be done. But then he was the voice of Xothak in this place.
    “Our whole plan is on the verge of being unravelled by one weak woman and you are concerned with locating some ancient relic.”
    “A relic which our enemies want as well.” There was a note of menace in the Count’s voice; one Orson had learned it was best not to ignore. He needed to find a way of