Pain exploded in his side, drawing a cry of both surprise and anguish. Stiletto looked down to see a dagger protruding just below his ribs as he collapsed against the wall.
All thoughts of his quarry vanishing, he withdrew a small flask from a pocket, removed the stopper and put the vessel to his lips. He gripped the dagger hilt with his other hand; the potion would heal the wound, but the knife had to be removed first. As he prepared himself, however, a strange sound reached his ears: growling, and the clatter of clawed feet on marble.
There should be no animals in here, he thought.
Stiletto lowered the flask that might have saved his life and peered around the curtain into the hall. He only had time to scream before flashing white teeth clamped onto his throat.
The bloodcurdling scream stopped Avari in mid stride. She whirled back as a thrashing swirl of torn drapery and black cloaks plunged over the balcony railing. It crashed onto a table, flattening the sturdy structure, then lay still. Avari bounded forward, noting that several others had also found weapons and were advancing, albeit more cautiously.
"Avari, take care!" Yenjil called as something moved beneath the curtain, but a muffled bark and the shaggy tail that poked out from between the folds told her the truth. Gasps of astonishment from the crowd went unnoticed as she threw the encumbering fabric aside and hugged the wolf that emerged.
"Lynthalsea, are you hurt?" Avari asked as she pushed the canine elf away to look for injuries.
The animal that was so much more than an animal simply shook as if to rid herself of morning dew. She licked her bloodied snout and yawned, beaming up at Avari as if in answer.
"Kill the beast!" one of the crowd yelled. "It ripped that man's throat out."
Yenjil stepped forward, but Avari quelled their debate with her usual tact. She reached into the folds of drapery and hoisted the not-quite-decapitated assassin by the hair for all to see.
"This was the only danger here!" she said.
"A Shadowknife!" Yenjil blurted, kneeling to look at the dead man's face.
"A what?" Avari asked as she stared at the assassin’s pale features with the prominent black dagger tattoo.
"Gods, I've only heard fables of them." Yenjil sheathed his sword and waved the others back, though some were retreating from the gory spectacle already. "Shadowknives are a clan of assassins who dwell among the worshipers of the Dark Gods."
"I'll wager there is more than just this one in your fair city." Avari let the corpse drop and turned toward Yenjil. "We thought the Nekdukarr knew nothing of our whereabouts, but we were obviously wrong. As for this fearsome beast..." she knelt and let Lynthalsea lick her face, "she was only protecting me."
"Nekdukarr?" Yenjil breathed in horror, his usually calm visage flushing pale. "You've angered a Nekdukarr?"
An excited squad of guardsmen burst into the room at that moment, forcing the captain to regain his composure. A few sharp orders dispersed them to care for the injured and wrap the assassin's body in the curtain to be taken away. The interruption allowed Avari to speak to Lynthalsea privately.
"Are the others all right?" she asked, concerned at the wolf's fortuitous timing. The animal's whine doubled her worry. "They're not all right? Who's hurt? Shay?" Another whine. "DoHeney?" A rough bark affirmed her guess.
"Is he dead?" she whispered, fingers of dread gripping her heart. Lynthalsea shook her head violently, giving Avari some hope. "He's going to be all right?"
Another bark and a tail wag filled her with relief. The assassins had failed! Her friends were safe.
"Lynthalsea, let's get back to the others," she said. A commanding voice rose over the din, and Avari turned to look. The wolf noted the woman's expression and whined softly.
"What's wrong?" Avari asked, then jumped as Yenjil came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Whoa! Still a little nervous, eh? So am I." Yenjil cocked an eyebrow at the wolf. "You have interesting friends, Avari, but it would be best if we left. There is nothing else I need to do here, and there may still be danger for you."
He retrieved his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders on their way out, Lynthalsea padding at her heels. Avari drew the material close, shivering as she realized how much skin she was exposing. Her dress was a wreck, her hair had come undone, and their dinner had been reduced to shambles.
"I'm sorry the evening was ruined, Yen," she apologized, "but I have to get back to my friends."
"As I said, this has been the most exhilarating evening I've had in years," he said as they neared the carriage, "but it needn't be over just yet. There may still be assassins after you—"
"That's why I have to—"
"—and we never finished our dinner."
Avari stopped at the carriage door and considered the implied invitation. She looked suspiciously at Yenjil for a moment, but saw only concern and kindness in his eyes.
"Are you sure you want me close to you, Yenjil? As you've seen, my presence tends to attract violence."
"I know someplace where I can ensure our safety," he assured her. "And I think I can even manage a bite of dinner; after all, I did promise to feed you. I can send an imperial messenger for your things, and you will be rested and ready to go in the morning. But if you feel you should be with your friends, I will escort you."
Avari thought frantically; until this moment, she had not even considered not returning to her friends. What if they needed her? Yet she was also reluctant to cut short her evening with this charming and understanding man. She jumped as a cold nose nudged her hand.
"What is it, Lynthalsea?"
The wolf tugged gently, and led her a few paces away. Avari could hear Yenjil muttering as she walked away.
Avari knelt and looked Lynthalsea in the eye. "You want me to come with you?"
Whine.
"You want me to stay?"
Whine. Bark.
"You want me to go with Yen?"
Enthusiastic barking and tail wagging.
Avari wondered if her interpretation was correct. "I really should go back with you."
Whine.
Avari glanced back to where Yenjil waited patiently, glancing up and down the dark street and pretending he did not notice the strange conversation.
"You and the others will be all right?"
Lynthalsea butted her head against Avari and wagged her tail. Her next nudge was stronger and pushed her closer to where her host stood.
"If you think it's the right thing to do..." Avari felt guilty, but Lynthalsea was insistent. "All right then; tell Shay I'm fine. We should leave at first light. There may be more of these assassins after us, and we can't be safe in the city. Someone will pick up my things; let him know where and when I should meet you." The wolf barked and wagged in agreement.
"And Lynthalsea," Avari added, as the wolf turned to go, "thank you for saving my life. Now go! And be careful!"
Her friend was already a grey streak, weaving in and out of the shadows. Avari turned back to Yenjil, who watched the wolf depart with a dozen questions in his eyes.
"I'll come with you if I may have your word of honor on one point, Captain Thallon," she said, forestalling his questions with her stern tone.
"My word is yours to command, milady!"
"Then I shall hold you to your promise to feed me!" she said, hopping into the carriage. "I'm starved!"
CHAPTER 12
Shay was pacing a smooth track in the carpeting of their suite's main room while he waited anxiously. Avari was probably being stalked by an assassin, Lynthalsea was out searching the city in the guise of a wolf, and DoHeney lay comatose behind a door he had been forbidden to open. The priests from the nearby temple of Thotris had been polite but adamant. Their assurances that DoHeney's life was out of danger made Shay feel no better.
"Don't worry, the city is safe," he said, mocking his previous words. "Go out and enjoy yourselves!" He gripped the back of a chair in white-knuckled impotence. He could do nothing for Avari or DoHe
ney, just as he had done nothing for Cantie...
The guilt-ridden priest winced as he recalled the innocent bewilderment in Cantie's eyes as their life-light faded, her mother weeping over the girl's lifeless body, DoHeney's ashen skin and labored breathing as he struggled to retain the barest thread of life.
And I was absolutely no help!
Shay struggled to prevent himself from punching a wall, throwing a chair, anything that might relieve some of his stress. The muscles in his forearms bunched and writhed, his fingers cramping in their grip on the chair. He breathed deep in an attempt to rein in his anger; it was as effective as an attempt to hold back the tide, or stop the wind from blowing.
Suddenly Shay spun, strode to the door of the sick room and dropped to one knee. He put one eye to the key hole, squinting at the dim candlelight within. DoHeney lay on the bed, still unconscious, but obviously better. His skin was now more akin to his typical ruddy complexion.
Had I not delayed my spiritual studies with those of wizardry, I would be the one healing DoHeney! Shay thought. Perhaps High Priest Berryl was right...
The creak of the door startled him to his feet. Lynthalsea slipped in, dressed only in a blanket. Her presence quelled one of his fears, and her smile and nod of affirmation dismissed the second: Avari was all right. But at the same time, the sight of the comely elf sent a pang of dread into his heart. What if Lynthalsea had been the one struck dead by a poisoned dart while he sat by, unable to help?
"How is DoHeney?" she asked.
"Out of danger," he assured her. "The priests who were summoned seem quite competent. They say he will sleep for a while, but should be fine upon waking. Avari is well, I take it."
"Oh, much better than well," the elf smiled. "She hasn’t a scratch, and the Shadowknife that attacked her is dead. Although he did leave a dreadful taste in my mouth." Lynthalsea scrubbed at her lips with the blanket.
"You mean you—"
"The assassin is dead, though whether by Avari's dagger, falling from a balcony or my tearing his throat out, I really can't say," she smiled again, trying to break Shay's dark mood.
"You said Shadowknife? I might have known a Nekdukarr would employ their ilk. Well, where is she?"
Lynthalsea hesitated. "She's not coming back tonight."
"She refused to return, when DoHeney is on the edge of death?" Shay asked, his ravaged nerves fanning his temper.
"I told her to stay," Lynthalsea explained. "I didn’t tell her about DoHeney’s condition. Her presence would have made no difference. I would have taken full responsibility if he died."
"Really?" Shay said with a hint of sarcasm. "Well, I suppose someone should be out enjoying themselves tonight."
"Yes!" Lynthalsea’s tone revealed her annoyance at Shay's attitude. "She wanted to come back, but I told her not to. Avari was enjoying herself, Shay, don't you see?" Her voice turned soft and pleading. "I've never seen her the way she was tonight: smiling, confident, positively radiant. Don't condemn her for finding a little happiness, Shay."
The abashed half-elf nodded and hung his head; he had no right to blame Avari for his own black mood. She would be safe with Yenjil, if with anyone. And if she gained something from this night, it could only benefit them all.
"I am sorry, Lynthalsea," he said. "I should never—" His apology was interrupted by the priests exiting the sick room.
"He will be fine, but he needs complete rest now." The elder of the two looked at Shay suspiciously as if he expected him to break DoHeney's sleep to try some of his own healing.
"Thank you," Shay said as he shook their hands, discretely passing over their fee. He ushered them out, ignoring their curiosity toward the lovely half-naked elf. Shutting the door behind them, Shay leaned on it and breathed a heavy sigh.
"Shay," Lynthalsea said, "no one blames you for being unable to heal DoHeney or Cantie."
"I know," he said, then in a murmur to himself, "but perhaps someone should."
"I need to get cleaned up, Shay," she said, moving to her room. "We should probably keep a watch. Shadowknives don't give up easily."
"Go. I'll stay up." He lifted his hammer from the ring at his belt and sat lotus upon the floor, facing the open balcony. "I couldn't sleep now, anyway. I'll meditate a bit."
The door to Lynthalsea's room closed, ushering a silence that Tem's priest found oppressive. He balanced the dwarven war hammer across his knees and rested his hands on its haft, settling his mind into the comforting rhythm of meditation that so often brought him peace.
Memories of the night's horrors stirred in him: the screams, the crash of glass, the weight of Cantie's body in his arms.
He opened his eyes, realizing that peace would not come to him this night. It didn't matter. He didn't need to sleep, and he didn't need to meditate. He prayed to Tem for strength, and felt the solidity of his faith surrounding him. His faith was strong, he knew, and his skills with magic had served them well when disaster struck. He could not always solve every problem, protect against every threat or cure every ill, but he prayed to be able to, nonetheless.
"Not every threat, or every ill, perhaps," he murmured, as if bargaining with his deity. "Just enough."
He wished there was someone he could talk to; someone to whom he could pour out his heart without feeling childish or stupid. As he took a deep breath, trying again for calm, a thought struck him and he nearly laughed at the irony.
"Avari would understand."
Shay found a smile upon his lips, and knew that he would now be able to find peace. He sat in silent vigilance, ordering his mind, and never noticed Lynthalsea's concerned gaze from the doorway of her room.
Life can be good, Avari thought, letting a sigh of bliss escape her lips. I just never knew how good.
Her toes curled in the thick fur of the rug, snug beneath the over-sized robe her host had loaned her to replace her mutilated dress. He had also prepared, with his own hands, a dinner to rival that of the restaurant they had been forced to flee. Avari was still nibbling on dessert, a sinfully rich piece of chocolate mousse cake, each bite chased with a sip of spicy rum liquor, warming her inside as much as the dancing flames in the wide stone fireplace warmed her outside. She sighed again and reclined against the divan on which Yenjil Thallon sat.
"Why the sighs, my fair warrioress?"
He had started calling her that after the restaurant fracas. Although Avari initially scoffed at it, she now rather enjoyed the sound of it. Perhaps it was the wine and the good food; perhaps she just liked the way he said it.
"Worries?"
"Oh, no," she said, realizing that it was the truth. She was well and truly relaxed for the first time in weeks. “I’m just... I like it here. It’s nice." She looked around at the dark walnut-paneled study; interesting weapons, standards and trophies hung everywhere. Incongruously, above the mantel hung a portrait of a lovely elfin woman in a rose-colored gown. A high shelf of books and scrolls dominated the opposite wall. It was a very comfortable room.
"They must pay you well," she said as the last bite of her dessert passed her lips, "for you to afford this place." Yen’s home was a town house that rose three stories above the street, with a huge kitchen, an expansive master suite, guest rooms, and a stable in the back.
"Alas, this humble abode is one thing I cannot claim as a trophy." At her skeptical look he said, "It came with the job."
"The emperor gave you this house just for commanding the city guard?" It seemed a rather luxurious fringe benefit.
"Not quite, my fair warrioress. I don't own it. He just lets me live here, as he will the next captain of the guard."
"Hmm, nice of him." Another sip of the sweet liquor eased down her throat.
"Actually, it's politics," he said, the last word distastefully. "I am often disposed to entertain courtiers who have military interests, though they usually have more interest than sense."
"Sounds like you don't like being captain of the guard." Avari turned and looked at him, trying to ga
uge his response.
"I took this position because I was tired of being a field commander." Yenjil's eyes took on a far-off look. "Tired of seeing all the blood and fallen friends. I thought it would be a nice quiet post with lots of prestige and little action. But now..."
"Not so quiet since I dropped a Shadowknife onto your dinner table, eh?" Avari asked.
"That's just the point," he said. "As I told you, tonight's been the most fun I've had in months. It's bizarre, but I think I actually miss the excitement."
"Well, this Nekdukarr we stirred up may provide you with more excitement than you bargained for."
Yenjil arched his eyebrows and nodded in affirmation. Avari's story had captured his interest like a snared rabbit. His questions had been intelligent and precise, but the gleam in his eye, usually humorous, was now dangerous.
"Although, if he can use the power in these gems, it won't be much of a war," she continued. "More like a scythe cutting through grass." A shudder tensed her shoulders at the thought of Darkmist wielding that kind of power.
Yenjil's hand cupped her shoulder gently, nudging her over in front of him. One hand swept her hair to the side, while the other slowly kneaded her taut muscles. Apprehension tensed her for a moment, but the combination of wine, food and the liquor soon relaxed her again, to say nothing of Yenjil's strong hands scouring away the tension.
"I think we might be able to provide a few rocks for that blade to notch itself on," he rumbled confidently.
"You think you can convince the emperor that the threat is real?" Avari asked. Visions of full-scale war leapt into her mind; until now this had been a personal struggle.
"You provided a good bit of evidence, my fair warrioress." He tousled her already disheveled hair. "When I plop a dead Shadowknife on his dais, how can he argue? From what you've said, we're already at war, we just don't know it yet. I can have five-hundred lancers in Beriknor in three days, and let me assure you, that is a force to be reckoned with."
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