"I think something is there, and I want to know what." Vadim opened a drawer by his desk and pulled out the black velvet bag of chemar left by Fezaiina Rael. "Here. I want these planted around the Garreval, inside whatever is hidden behind that redirection weave. They are like selkahr but have no magical signature. Leave them where they will be most useful as gateways for invading forces. If Ellysetta Baristani's family is there by the Garreval, find a way to bring them to me."

Nour picked up the bag and glanced inside before depositing the pouch in the pocket of his robe. "Yes, master."

"You will take my newest umagi with you. He knew Ellysetta Baristani and her mortal family, and he has a few scores he wishes to settle. He is eager to help you find them, and he has many ties among the rabble that may come in useful." A door opened to Vadim's left, and the thick-muscled, brutishly handsome Celierian stepped into the room.

Despite the debatable wisdom of claiming Den Brodson, Vadim Maur still felt a surge of pride at the sight of him. It took a very powerful Mage to deliver six full-strength Marks in six days, but it also took a very strong umagi to survive the process. Brodson had, though not easily. The Celierian's ruddy face was pale beneath its tan, his dark hair now streaked with white, and his thick muscles were still twitching from the memory of his torment and subjugation.

"This is Master Nour, umagi. You will serve him as you would me." Vadim held Den Brodson's gaze and summoned the icy, dark sweetness of Azrahn. "Do not disappoint me, mortal. As you know, I deal harshly with those who fail me."

Brodson's face blanched three shades whiter, and a muscle in his jaw began a rapid tic. He bowed and moved to Nour's side like an obedient dog.

"Go. You depart at nightfall. You will use Kolis's entrance to the inn. Have his umagi bring a sacrifice for the guardians of the Well. There must be no hint of Azrahn to alert anyone to your presence."

"Understood, master. It shall be as you command." Gethen bowed, snapped his fingers in a wordless command for the Celierian to follow, and exited the room.

When the two men were gone, the High Mage lifted his trembling hands and examined them. The shaking had grown worse again, despite Elfeya's obediently diligent efforts to heal him, and much as he wanted to, he could no longer deny the truth.

The tremors hadn't started because he'd spent too much energy claiming Den Brodson's soul. They hadn't started because Shannisorran v'En Celay landed a lucky blow. He'd been weakening steadily since the night two weeks ago when he'd found Ellysetta Baristani in the realm of dreams and tried to force his second Mark upon her. She'd fought back with a ferocity he hadn't anticipated. The Fire she'd summoned had reached across the barriers of the dreamworld and scorched him in the physical realm.

And mixed in with that Fire had been something else. Something that struck deeper than a few layers of scorched flesh.

Despite his multiple visits to Elfeya v'En Celay and the daily ministrations of her healing hands, he had yet to completely recover. He was finally coming to realize he never would … at least, not in this form.

Age was finally outpacing magic. The time of his next incarnation—so long postponed by Elfeya v'En Celay's impressive talents—could no longer be held in abeyance.

Death was drawing near.

Shadows rot Kolis's soul! The Sulimage's ineptitude in Celieria City had cost Vadim dearly—the price far more than Celieria's discovery of Eld's secret aggression and the loss of a valuable Fey captive.

A Mage, when the time of incarnation came upon him, needed a new vessel to house his soul. Only the strongest, most magically gifted vessel would do, because though a Mage's memories and knowledge transferred to his new body during the incarnation, his powers did not.

Over the millennia, more than one High Mage had ousted his most dangerous rival not through direct combat, but rather by waiting for the time of his enemy's incarnation, stealing his chosen vessel, and replacing it with one of the rival's powerless mortal umagi. Once reincarnated, the Mage's helpless new form could then be effortlessly mined for all its centuries of precious knowledge before the pitiful living husk that remained was left to wither and die in the obscurity of captive servitude.

The greatest High Mage ever to rule Eld had no intention of meeting such a fate. Long ago, before the Mage Wars, before the scorching of the world, the germ of his grand idea had formed and taken strong root. Since that moment, every day of his life had been spent in pursuit of his dream.

Ellysetta Baristani was Vadim's greatest creation, the culmination of all his long, painstaking centuries of experimentation. She was his child, born of Fey flesh but tied to pure power through Vadim's most skillful manipulation of Azrahn's darkest secrets.

She was the Tairen Soul vessel whose birth he had engineered to house the next incarnation of his soul.

Through her, he could have what no other Mage before him had ever had: the pure, limitless power and destructive force of a tairen and—best of all—the immortality of the Fey.

And Kolis had let her slip through his fingers.

Vadim's hand was trembling again, but this time from fury. He forced himself to calm. He was the High Mage, a man who mastered adversity rather than succumbing to it. He would continue with his efforts to recapture Ellysetta Baristani—she was the ideal candidate to serve as his vessel—but Vadim had always been too wise a Mage to hold all his coin in one purse.

He had succeeded with Ellysetta Baristani. He could succeed again.