“Are you sure this is the right pouch?”

It had to be a mistake. Kevlin shook the empty bag. The rock wasn't even pretty. Dark gray, it was about the size of a large egg that had been half squashed. Its edges were rough, although the side facing him was fairly smooth and curved.

“Absolutely,” Antigonus said.

Kevlin glanced up and choked back his next retort. The old man’s face was red and his eyes blazed with anger. Frail and half-dead though he might be, he was still a powerful sentinel.

He’s gone mad, Kevlin decided.

The shadeleeches had taken Tia Khoa and left the rock in its place. Antigonus was so far gone, he couldn't tell the difference. Kevlin would humor the old man. He’d dump the sentinel’s pet rock and see if he could escape from the fort before sunrise.

Kevlin sighed, filled with bitter disappointment. For a moment, he'd actually thought he'd get to see it. He should have known better.

Never trust magic or those who wield it.

He couldn't remember who had told him that, but the phrase rang true like never before.

Antigonus coughed and clutched at his chest. His anger subsided and he settled back against the stone wall. “Appearance has nothing to do with power.”

“If you say so,” Kevlin replied.

He decided not to point out that it wasn't a good analogy. Look at Antigonus. He looked like the walking dead and that’s about as much power as he seemed to have left.

In an attempt to look interested in the rock, Kevlin flipped it over in his hand. The opposite face was almost flat, with a raised emblem in the center, in the shape of a six-pointed star that reflected the light like crystal.

Twisting the stone round to straighten the star, Kevlin started in surprise. The curved underside of the stone fit his palm like it had been molded for him and some rough protrusions along the top fit neatly between his fingers. It was as if the stone had melted to fit a man’s hand.

My hand?

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He shivered. That was a creepy thought.

The crystal emblem flashed bright blue, temporarily blinding him, surprising him so much that he nearly dropped the rock. After his eyes cleared, he found the six-pointed star gone, replaced by a sword emblem with flames radiating out in six lines toward his fingers and wrist. The candle flared and the flames seemed to dance, as if alive.

Maybe it really was more than just a rock.

He looked up at Antigonus to find the sentinel staring at him with wide eyes, an expression of wonder on his face. That made Kevlin suddenly nervous. Magic was not supposed to surprise Antigonus.

He extended the rock to Antigonus. “I don’t think I should take this.”

Antigonus shook himself, as if emerging from a trance. His smile was triumphant, even though his eyes looked sad.

“No,” the sentinel said. “I cannot take it back.”

“Why not?”

“I name you Steward,” Antigonus intoned, his expression grave. “Guard Tia Khoa well until the Chooser commands.”

Kevlin nodded, trying to mimic the grave expression on Antigonus’ face. Great, he thought with a sigh, more riddles. Who’s the chooser? But then the rest of what Antigonus said sank in.

I’m the steward?

His mind raced as he tried to remember tales he'd heard of Tia Khoa. Only the mightiest sentinels were called as bearers, but when one of them died and another chosen, a steward was involved. Exactly how, he had no idea.

“What do I do?” Kevlin asked, his voice cracking a little. He licked his lips and tried to swallow but found his mouth dry.

“Leave this place,” Antigonus said. “Find Harafin. He’ll know what to do.”

Harafin. Kevlin had forgotten about the powerful sentinel hopefully riding to their aid. He grabbed Antigonus’ arm. “Ceren’s on her way to meet him. She’ll bring him back.”

“Good. Without Cunning, you will fail.” He sagged, and Kevlin helped him lie back down.

“Can you use your magic?” Kevlin had to ask. “Can you help me get out of here?”

“No.” He barely heard the old man's faint whisper. “The shadeleeches consume my strength. I am weak, useless.”

“Why didn’t they kill you?”

Antigonus coughed, his body convulsing with pain. When he recovered enough to speak, he said, “Must get the stone away.”

“Why haven’t they taken it?”

“They can’t. It would destroy them. Only the steward can hold it unharmed.”

Kevlin glanced down nervously at the misshapen rock he held. Shouldn't Antigonus have done the whole steward naming thing before telling him to dump the rock into his hand? Oversights like that got people killed.

“They hope to break my mind,” Antigonus said. “And force me to name one of them steward.”

At least that part make a twisted kind of sense. Kevlin rose to his feet. “Rest. I’ll keep it safe. We’ll return for you.”

He tucked the rock into its pouch and drew the cord tight. Uncomfortable with the idea of placing it around his neck, he slipped it into the burglar pack on his back. He turned to say goodbye to Antigonus but the old man was already sleeping, his scrawny chest barely moving.

His mind whirling, Kevlin left the room, locked the door, and extinguished the candles. He padded to the end of the hallway, pushed open the far door and slipped into the hall beyond.

A makrasha that had been standing behind the open door, howled right in his face.