To collect her. Oracle Three Fifty-Six had been a volunteer instead of an "acquisition" of Omort's. Some females stepped up for the position, no doubt thinking they'd be smarter, better, less expendable. They never were.
"It's critical that we have one in place as soon as possible," she said in a measured tone. Sabine had to tread carefully with this subject, for it was a potentially enraging one for Omort.
He'd once stolen the gift of foresight from an oracle'but had no talent for interpreting the visions he received. It had made him even more deranged before he'd been forced to relinquish the ability.
"And we shall," he said absently as he crept around her room, inspecting her things, pausing to pick up a book here and there. Hundreds were stacked all over. Most were histories of this kingdom, of Rydstrom. She'd been studying him for years.
"I hadn't known you were so well versed on my enemy."
"I take this seriously-my opportunity to garner power for the Pravus."
"Yes, I have studied him much as well. Rydstrom has long fascinated me." He carelessly flipped through an ancient tome, then tossed it away. "Does he believe you're his?"
"I think so."
Omort smiled, revealing flawless white teeth, but the expression never reached his cold eyes. "How disappointed the demon must be." He sat down on the bed beside her.
Calm . . . calm . . . distract him. "What happened that night you faced him? When the kingdom fell? I've read what's been recorded, but the details are hazy."
"I'd made a secret pact with the Horde king, Demes-triu. He aggressed Rydstrom, depleting his armies, then launched a surprise attack. Rydstrom was forced to journey away to defend. That's when I captured Tornin. The castle was unprotected because Rydstrom's heir Cadeon refused his summons to defend the holding."
"Why would he do that?" From everything she'd heard about the mercenary Cadeon, he was fearless.