Malachor Dreadweave's Arc

Chapter 6 of 1

Isabelle went upstairs to sit with Starweaver. Malachor stayed at the corner table with the old wizard he had summoned. Cornelius Gearwright turned his mug in slow circles. His gears ticked. The proof had served its purpose, but the old man had not left. "You told the girl the truth," Gearwright said. "I helped you. But I heard more than you meant me to hear." He tapped his brass goggles. "A demon. Binding words. A vote you mean to bend. I sat in council halls before your grandfather was born, lord. I know what you are trying to build." Malachor kept his voice low. "You will forget it." "I forget nothing." Gearwright smiled through his beard. "That is the trouble with summoning the old ones. We do not tuck away when the errand ends. I could speak your plan to any wizard who asks. I could speak it to the six." He leaned close. "So tell me my price, or I walk out that door and start talking." Malachor had summoned the old man for one hour of testimony. Now that hour was a blade at his throat. He could not kill Gearwright here. The tavern was full, and the demon's own containment had taught him what death magic cost. Then the door opened, and cold air swept the room. A samurai stepped inside. He wore a white demon mask, and gears turned at his belt. Takeshi Yamamoto. He pulled off one glove and drew a blade across his own palm. Blood welled. He turned slowly, reading the burn of the cut. Every head lifted. A serving girl froze with a tray. "I hunt a demon," Takeshi said. His voice was flat behind the mask. "It walks in a human body. The trail burns hottest here." His masked face fixed on the old wizard. "You reek of it." Gearwright went still. "I only spoke of one." "Speaking is the same as carrying." Takeshi stepped closer. "Where is the demon?" Malachor saw the door he needed. He rose. "This man knows the demon's whole plan," he said. "Names. Places. The vote that will open the Veil." He met the tracker's red mask. "Take him. Question him far from here. What he knows is what you hunt." Takeshi seized the old wizard by the collar. Gears whined as Gearwright grabbed the table edge. "You cannot give me away, boy, I am older than your line—" "You wanted a price," Malachor said. "This is it." Takeshi dragged the old man out into the dark. The door swung shut. The room breathed again. Malachor sat back down. The one witness who could unravel him was gone, carried off by a hunter who would never bring him near the council. But Takeshi now had the demon's true trail. The tracker would find Azhar'goth before Malachor ever spoke the name. The race for the name had just gained a rival.