Zellohar
Page 35
Really, Lysethra, she chided silently, consorting with the servants in your own bed. Although, from the outline of the clinging silk sheets, this one might just merit the attention.
"Sorry to disturb your recreation, sister eldest," she said, her sarcasm belying her words, "but I've made a discovery regarding our bad-boy brother."
"Don't you ever sleep, Cal?" Lysethra sighed as she strode back to the bed. She dropped the mace onto the soft sheets, the pale light within its death's-head eyes dimming as she grabbed her robe. Shrugging into the garment, she noticed the terrified boy peering wide-eyed from behind the inky coverlet.
"Off with you!" she snapped, jerking the cover from the bed. "Can't you see we have important business to discuss?" The youth scrambled for his clothes, managing to find only one boot and his belt. "I said OUT!!" Lysethra screeched, stabbing a finger at the open door.
The articles he had managed to recover rained to the floor in his mad scurry. Calmarel laughed aloud at the hapless boy's distress, swatting him on the flank as he passed. She leaned out the door with a smile of admiration at the retreating form. Yes, the boy has budding potential. Although a bit skinny...
"Ahem."
Calmarel turned at the noise; Lysethra stood with arms crossed, clearly not amused by the intrusion.
"Well, what is so blasted important?" Lysethra plopped back onto the bed, propped up her feet and leaned back, pressing the heels of her hands into her closed eyes.
"Like I said," Calmarel said, barely able to restrain her excitement as she closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed. "I've finally discovered something worthwhile about our brother."
"Wait a minute. You said the tribesman—"
"No, no! Not that way," she explained. "My little spy has finally paid off!"
Lysethra bolted upright, her attention caught like a fly in a spider web. She and Calmarel had watched for days through the eyes of the tiny spider automaton, but spying on Iveron had bored them to tears; she never knew how monotonous preparing troops for war could be. And books—Iveron spent hours pouring over old books in a language neither of his sisters recognized, jotting down notes in runescript, which neither of them could read. But now, it seemed, Calmarel had gleaned some useful information.
"What did you see?"
"He was contacted by a Dukarr, someone who used to be under his command I think, through one of those scrying mirrors he uses. The Dukarr was badly maimed; said something about a gem being stolen. It upset Ivy to no end."
"Gem?" Lysethra surged to her feet, pacing. "What gem?"
Calmarel shrugged. "But that's not the best part!" she continued, halting her sister's pacing. "Just before he was killed, this fellow went on to describe the thieves. And, you'll never believe it, but the descriptions were identical to those of our dead tribesman's former companions. Except there are now four instead of three. The Dukarr mentioned an elf woman, too."
"So our brother killed him for losing a gem." Lysethra humphed in disgust. "Typical of him."
"Oh, no!" Calmarel corrected, rising to her feet. "Ivy didn't kill him. The fellow said something about having been caught in a deception. His own troops tore him apart right in front of the mirror." She smiled, remembering the grisly scene.
Lysethra dismissed her sister's amusement with a wave and continued her pacing.
"So, what's so important about this gem?" she mumbled around a well-chewed thumbnail. "It couldn't be simply for the wealth. Ivy was never much for money, unless it could bring him power. No, it must be some sort of magic."
"Which brings us back to those cursed books he has been reading ever since we left." Calmarel's excitement tempered and she took up her own pacing, pressing her amulet to her lips in concentration. "Blast his magical tinkering to the Nine Hells. If we could just decipher those runes he keeps scrawling, we'd have it, but unless we want to bring in a mage..."
"No! That's out!" The elder Darkmist was emphatic. "We don't know if the spy you caught was the only one, and we can't afford to let the council discover what's going on."
Silence, save for their pacing feet, reigned for a while, then Lysethra suddenly came up short, nearly colliding with her sister. Calmarel stopped, one eyebrow quirking in question. Her elder sister stared wide-eyed, obviously struck with a notion.
"Wait a minute," she said, wagging a finger. "You said the Dukarr's description of the thieves was the same as the tribesman's?"
"Yes. Close enough to make a coincidence impossible."
"Exactly!" Lysethra pounced on her sister's statement like a waiting mantis. "And Iveron told us that these thieves stole something from him!"
"Another gem?"
"Possibly. Did your little friend show you anything else?"
"Well, Ivy stormed through the keep and rounded up some Shadowknives, but before he said anything useful he took off his cloak." At her sister's raised eyebrow she explained. "He draped it over a chair and pinned the poor little thing between the folds. I could see nothing and only hear muffled voices, but it's obvious he's sending them after the thieves."
"Yes," Lysethra sighed grimly, "and if I know Shadowknife efficiency, the thieves will be dead very shortly."
"And Ivy will have his trinkets back..."
"And be more powerful than ever," Lysethra finished.
The two sisters looked at each other solemnly, then Calmarel slowly smiled. There were few things she enjoyed more than unraveling the tangled threads of a web of intrigue. And Iveron had supplied her with an intriguing subject for her inquisition.
Ivy might have a secret, she thought, but I have my own ways of discovering the truth.
EPILOGUE
A greasy smile smeared Haseeva Ben Hadalli's swarthy features as he contemplated his recent luck. Not only had his employers paid him in gold, they had also left him the horses to sell for his own profit. Coins clinked from hand to pouch as he left the corrals, leading the horse he had saved for himself. When he finished counting, there was enough money in his pouch to keep him fat for several months. Hadalli licked his lips and rubbed his hands together; he knew just the place to spend his new-found fortune. Walking briskly, he made his way to the best inn in town, already salivating as he thought of the victuals, ale and women that awaited him there.
Several hours, plates of food, and tankards of ale later, Hadalli was sated—well, nearly so. Two of the establishment's barmaids supported him as he staggered up the stairs to his room. In the narrow corridor at the top, he herded them ahead of him, giving them each a healthy pinch on the backside to hurry them along. Grinning at their squeals of laughter, he nearly collided with the dark figure that suddenly blocked the hallway.
"'Scuse me, friend—er, friends," Hadalli stammered, backing up a step and shaking his head to clear his vision. The one shadowy figure had split into three, two more now flanking the leader. "Ah, too loud, eh? Well, we were just retiring. We'll try to keep the noise down. Now if you'll excuse—"
"We have business to discuss, friend." The leader's voice was low, his accent strange, and his manner all too forward for Hadalli. He held his sharp retort, however, as a gloved hand hefted a jingling pouch.
"Er... yes. I see that we certainly do have business, friend." Hadalli looked beyond his new 'friends' to the women, who waited expectantly. "Go on, girls, I'll be there soon." He tossed them a coin and turned back to his benefactors. "Precisely what type of employment did you have in mind? I'm a guide by trade and—"
"Information is the only service we require of you."
Hadalli squinted at the man, but the dim light of the corridor dared not creep within the inky blackness of the hood.
"Information about your recent employers; their names and destination, perhaps."
"Well, I don't usually—"
The bag of coins that was tossed to him shut him up. In his drunkenness he fumbled the catch, but managed to snag the pouch by the drawstrings before it hit the floor. He peeked inside the bag and fished out a gleaming gold coin. The mint
was nothing he had ever seen before, but gold was gold.
"Fengotherond. They're sailing across the gap to the domed city, then I think to the north, but I don't know their final destination. As to their names, the tall woman's Avari; she never mentioned any second name. The half-elf is Shay, he's a priest of some sort, so he says. The dwarf's name is DoHeney, and the elf is Lyn-something or other; I can't quite remember."
Although he could not see it, Hadalli knew the faces beneath those hoods were smiling at his news. He grinned weakly and continued. "They left on the high tide. There won't be another ship in the same direction for two days, but you should be able to catch up to them in Fengotherond; they mentioned they would be staying there for a while."
"Good," the figure nodded to Hadalli. "That is very good. Thank you very much."
"My pleasure, friend," Hadalli quipped, tossing the bag in the air. The gods certainly were smiling on him today. "Don't hesitate to come back if you need anyth—"
A sudden widening of Hadalli's eyes betrayed the bare instant of pain as a slim stiletto slid into the soft spot at the base of his skull. His arms and legs went rigid, the impulses of the blocked nerve signals dying in infinite reflex loops as the slim blade snick-snicked through his grey matter. A black-gloved hand caught the bag of coins before it fell to the floor.
"What luck," said the fourth cloaked figure, the one who had hidden behind Hadalli. The assassin twisted the slim blade once more, sending spasmodic twitches throughout the already dead man's limbs. He then lowered the body to the floor, extracted the knife and cleaned the stiletto on the collar of the corpse's shirt. Twitching his arm to tuck the knife into a wrist sheath, the man snatched the pouch from Hadalli's belt. He hefted both the pouches experimentally. "Not only do we have the information we need, but I believe we have also found the price of four passages to the fair city of Fengotherond."
Sharp, evil smiles gleamed from within the hoods as the assassins melted into the shadows from which they were bred.
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Nekdukarr
Book 2 of The Cornerstones Trilogy
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About the Authors
Chris was born and raised in Oregon, Anne in Massachusetts. They met at graduate school in Texas, and have been together ever since. They have been gaming together since 1985, sailing together since 1988, married since 1989, and writing together off and on throughout their relationship. Most astonishingly, they have not killed each other, or even tried to, at any time during the creation or editing of any of their stories...although it was close a few times. The couple has been sailing and writing full time aboard their beloved sailboat, Mr. Mac, since 2009. They return to the US every summer for conventions, so check out jaxbooks.com for updates and events. They are always happy to sign copies of their books and talk to fans.
Preview Chris and Anne’s novels, download audiobooks, and read the writing blog at jaxbooks.com. Follow their cruising adventures at www.sailmrmac.blogspot.com.
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Novels by Chris A. Jackson and Anne L. McMillen-Jackson
From Jaxbooks
A Soul for Tsing
Deathmask
Weapon of Flesh Trilogy
Weapon of Flesh
Weapon of Blood
Weapon of Vengeance
Weapon of Flesh Trilogy II (with Anne L. McMillen-Jackson)
Weapon of Fear
The Cornerstones Trilogy (with Anne L. McMillen-Jackson)
Zellohar
Nekdukarr
Jundag
The Cheese Runners Trilogy (novellas)
Cheese Runners
Cheese Rustlers
Cheese Lords
From Dragon Moon Press
Scimitar Moon
Scimitar Sun
Scimitar’s Heir
Scimitar War
From Paizo Publishing
Pirate’s Honor
Pirate’s Promise
Pirate’s Prophecy (February 2016)
From Privateer Press
Blood & Iron (ebook novella)
From The Ed Greenwood Group
Dragon Dreams (November 2015)
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