Careful of her narrow perch, Telyn found the footholds that led down the mountain's face toward the ground. This side of the mountain was even more treacherous than the other had been, and her wounded shoulder made the descent even more dangerous, no matter that Sala had pretty much healed her wound. Her footholds were little more than shallow outcrops of rock and dirt that gave way easily whenever she applied too much pressure to a single spot.
The nearly inverted slope of Raiador on this side, so steep it curved back into the face of the mountain for part of the distance, made the climb down even more treacherous. The sharp incline forced Telyn to go slow, hanging by arms already weary and battered by her fight in the tunnel above.
Sweat beaded on her brow, and her wounded shoulder seeped blood anew as time ticked by. Agony seared through Telyn, but she gritted her teeth and pushed past the pain. Anger and hatred were her fuel. She refused to rest until she rid this ground of filthy Katarie.
"What about these Katarie angers you so?" Sala's voice was a surprise, and Telyn nearly lost her grip at the suddenness of it. She huffed out an exasperated breath.
"It's nothing."
"Nothing does not turn blood to flame."
She could have played dumb, but she knew exactly what Sala meant. Still, she'd never told anyone about Bocjar.
"It's personal." She sighed, aware she had to open up to the Elementals, to establish trust. "They killed the old trapper who saved my life in the Endlands. One of their filthy raiding parties killed Bocjar and razed his home to the ground over a few measly skins. They're stinking, filthy scavengers. They pluck their existence and wealth off of those unable to defend themselves, but they'll never fight someone who stands up for themselves."
"Vengeance is Fire's domain, but be careful that it does not consume you."
Telyn grunted her response. She hated more than the Katarie, at the moment. She wanted the traitor the House of Gild unknowingly harbored. She wanted the name of the man responsible for her father's death.
Telyn was exhausted by the time her feet touched the ground. She dropped to her knees, panting, and clutched her wounded arm as she fought dizzying waves of nausea. Sala may have stopped the bleeding up on the mountain, but her climb had reopened it, and the pain was still there. She'd just pushed her arm further than was probably wise. Her muscles screamed for rest, and her head was beginning to throb from the expenditure of energy she endured in the mountain tunnel.
She groaned and bit the inside of her cheek in an effort to drive away the pain. She refused to give up now. She was too close. She almost--
The skittering noise of rocks on the hard-packed sand made Telyn jump, her anaqueri flashing into her hand as she surged to her feet in a fighter's balanced stance.
"Hold! 'Tis us, Sera!" Lysha Darl's hissed warning eased Telyn's alert. As the blonde woman stepped from the shadow of Raiador, Telyn relaxed.
Lysha's gaze slid over Telyn, and her brow furrowed over concerned aqua eyes. "Wha' happened ta ye? Where're the others?"
Telyn jerked her chin toward Raiador as she sheathed the anaqueri.
"We had to split up. They're coming. There," she indicated three silhouettes descending the mountain path. "Now, shall we get rid of this slime?"
Lysha's brows rose in surprise. "I din't know ye hated Bathron so much."
"I don't. But these aren't Bathron." Telyn glared toward the tents, and then focused intently on the largest of them, a grim smile pulling at her lips. "I found what we need. Follow me."
Chapter Four
As the small Gild party crept toward the mercenary encampment, the utter silence of the night settled over them, and Telyn's scalp prickled. It was too quiet. No crackle of campfires, no clanking or muttered salutations from guards patrolling the clumsy array of tents. In fact, no one moved in the night-draped camp, and only the occasional growl of a snoring body and the overwhelming stench that welled up from the camp offered any proof of habitation.
Telyn glanced toward Lysha, to see if the veteran Minegard noticed anything amiss. Lysha's head shook as her gaze crossed with Telyn's. Disgust thickened her Borderlander accent as she muttered, "Where're the bloody guards? Nah patrols, nah guards, nah camp order. Either these Bathron're awful sure o' themselves, or bloody stupid. I'll lay e'en bets on the latter, if yer askin'."
"They're not Bathron." Telyn hissed back, anger twisting around inside her chest. "Great Helios, can't you smell them?"
Lysha took a breath, and her face twisted in disgust as the change of wind threw a wall of stench toward the Gild party. A scowl darkened the Minegard leader's face, and she swore vilely beneath her breath. "By Rona's horns! Katarie! I'd recognize tha' stink anywhere. What're these filthy animals doin' 'ere?"
"That," Telyn muttered, "is only one of many things I intend to find out."
Then, waving the rest of the muttering group silent, Telyn edged toward the camp. Using gestures, she split the Minegards into three groups and sent them to cover the perimeter of the camp, her encounter with the Katarie assassin fresh in her mind. She didn't want any repeat surprises. Just because there didn't appear to be any guards didn't mean there weren't any out there. Her breathing shallow to near-silence, she edged stealthily toward the large, central tent. The Katarie commander would have the largest tent to himself, and she wanted a few words with the vile creature.
Easing the entry flap aside, Telyn slipped into the commander's tent as she motioned two of her compatriots to take up guard positions outside. Moving carefully in the tent's dusky interior, she followed the sound of a sleeper's heavy snores to a curtained partition at the far end of the tent. After Bocjar's murder, she swore to hunt down the Katarie who ordered his death. Was she finally about to come face-to-face with that filthy bottom-feeder?
She drew shallow, steadying breaths as she reached to slide the curtain aside and stood over her prey, her anaqueri drawn. Disgust slid through her as she stared down at the Katarie.
Great. She forgot that the demned things all looked much the same. Uglier than the thirty cardinal sins of the Targothic Pantheon. Legend said Katarie to be walking mutations of a certain type of Caryptus fish, with sharp fins of bone jutting from their foreheads and slimy skin the black-green color of rotting plant matter. Their looks weren't nearly as repulsive as their smell. Like most forms of animal vermin, they sprayed acrid-smelling fluid at anything that threatened them, and those fumes clung to a Katarie like a Cheelaq to a blood source. Only the ruling caste and the special group known as Assassins didn't possess the fluid glands.
This Katarie lay sprawled asleep at her feet and smelt only of a lifetime without bathing. He must be of a high-ranking caste, because he certainly wasn't an Assassin.
Her lips drew back in a silent snarl as revenge flashed through her. It had been a creature like this one who ordered the beheading of the kindly old Trapper who took her in after she fled Dariadus' Camp. Prince or no, this Katarie was a monstrosity, as well as someone's sick idea of a mercenary. Whoever brought him and his minions here would pay dearly for desecrating sacred ground like this. She didn't want to dirty her hands with this Katarie slime, but she knew she had to.
With a grimace of distaste, she reached down, grabbed the Katarie Warleader by its throat, and then jerked upward, her anaqueri flashing in her free hand. The foul creature started awake, a strangled whimper issuing from its throat as it caught sight of the glowing anaqueri.
"Now, Katarie," Telyn hissed, "Tell me who bought your service. Who brought you here?"
"P-p-please, Sera." The Katarie's command of Tagra -- the Gild's language -- was commendable, but only enraged Telyn more. Her mother's tongue never disgusted her before this night.
"Mercy," the creature begged. "Please, mercy!"
"Mercy's a dear commodity, Katarie, and you haven't paid for it." Telyn snarled. "Now, tell me what I want to know, or, by Helios, I'll slit your ugly neck."
"B-B-Brun-Gild..."
Telyn waited, expecting more, then shook the creat
ure roughly when it didn't oblige. "Don't waste my time, Katarie. What about Brun-Gild?"
"H-he paid us much gele to come here."
Shock plunged through Telyn. She suspected Brun-Gild capable of a lot, but never this. However, the fear in the Katarie's eyes told her it, at least, was incapable of deceit. Fiery rage burst to life inside her. "To do what?"
"Steal things. Kill Miners. Be B-B-Bathron..."
"You stinking animal!" Telyn spat out the words, her grasp on the Katarie's throat tightening as she shook it roughly. "Why? Why did he pay you to do these things?"
"Sera, please! I do not know!" The Katarie's eyes were saucer-wide in fright. "We do as we are ordered to do. Katarie do not ask questions."
"Nor do they come for the hire of gele," Telyn snapped. "Now, why are you here?"
The Katarie swallowed hard against her grip, rasping, "Prince Thatka could not prove himself a worthy warrior to the Court. This is the only way he could keep his troop."
Sardonic laughter bubbled up in Telyn's chest, and she barked a laugh. This flimsy piece of trash was a coward. This wasn't the murderous filth that killed Bocjar. This Katarie meant nothing to her beyond the information it could supply. Dropping the Katarie, she let her gaze burn into it. "If you're lying to me, Katarie, I'll hunt you down and hang your guts out for the carrion birds while you still live. I want you and your cowardly lot out of here before the next sunset, or you'd best start digging your graves and praying to whatever foul gods you serve."
Scuttling backwards, the Katarie prince nodded miserably. Looking down at it, a brief flash of pity went through Telyn.
Yet, she couldn't rouse herself to any sympathy for a worthless Katarie. Besides, she was too furious at her erstwhile master.
Brun-Gild. She still couldn't believe it. Why had he done this? What could Pel Brun-Gild have possibly hoped to gain by betraying his Household? What would the death of Ashes have gained him, either?
As she stepped from the tent, Telyn found Lysha standing over the body of a Katarie, glaring at four more of the stinking things. The older woman glanced at Telyn, her expression full of dark humor. "These five wanted inta tha' tent mighty badly. I think we've convinced them otherwise, fer now. Did ye get what ye're after?"
Telyn nodded shortly. "The Katarie claimed that Master Brun-Gild hired them."
Lysha gaped at her. "Brun-Gild! But... why would he do that?"
Telyn's eyes narrowed. "That's what I intend to ask him. Jes, Dec, Bur, stay here and make sure these animals leave by next sundown. Hold their leader in there at sword point and they won't give you any trouble. Katarie can't fight without their leader's say-so, and these ones're rank cowards, anyway."
The three men nodded, and Telyn gestured to the rest of the party. "The rest of you, come with me."
No one questioned her, fortunately. They fell in behind her as she stalked back toward Raiador, and the Minanx Camp beyond. None of them spoke during the trek back, and Telyn knew her fury was the source of that silence. She couldn't make herself care -- she was too furious, consumed by the fires of Raiador that burned deep in her chest, demanding answers and vengeance.
As they came within sight of the Camp, Telyn finally broke the silence of the group as she called a halt to issue commands.
"Nola, take a horse and go to the next Gildhouse, at Flinthead. Tell them to send their fastest messenger to Mistress Lanoki at Colandra. It's a fortnight's journey from Colandra, but she'll be needed here faster, if she can manage it."
Nola nodded briskly and took off toward the stables at a race.
"Lysha," Telyn turned her attention to the Minegard leader. "Alert the rest of the Garda. I want them ready to assist at an instant's notice, but I don't want their preparation to be obvious, for the moment."
"I'll see ta it, Sera," Lysha replied, and started for the Garda.
"The rest of you, spread out and keep watch on the main doors. Alert any other Minegards you see out here to what's going on, in case Brun-Gild should try to escape."
Barely hearing their affirmations, Telyn turned toward the main doors, and fresh rage curled up from deep inside her like smoke through a chimney. Inside those doors sat the man who sullied the honor of two Houses -- one of which she swore by her own blood to protect, and the other of which she was the only defender alive. If the Katarie told the truth, Brun-Gild invited the vile and cowardly creatures onto ground she held sacred, and according to Sala, he was the one who betrayed and murdered her father.
"Whoa, Sera. What's set you off?"
The deep, concerned voice brought her up short, even as she came up against a broad chest encased in leather and cloth. Glaring up at the man who blocked her way, she snapped, "You are in my way."
His hands gripped her arms in a familiar way she resented. "What's wrong?"
"To one side, mercenary."
"Not until you tell me why you're storming your own House, Sera."
The quiet firmness of his voice, and the strong grip on her arms, drew her gaze grudgingly back to his face. "I have no quarrel with you, mercenary."
"I would swear otherwise by your attack."
Telyn sighed. She clearly wasn't getting out of this easily; but she was also aware of time ticking away on her. "I have evidence that Master Brun-Gild has been plotting against the House of Gild. I'm on my way to capture him."
The man's eyes widened, but she was surprised to note that those same eyes contained no trace of surprise in the face of her words.
"Are you sure that's wise, in your temper?"
Telyn's eyes narrowed. Did this man dare to call her a shrew? "You've no idea what evidence I have, or how it enrages me to know what I know."
"I think I do." He squeezed her shoulders lightly. "I'll come with you."
Suspicion curled to life in Telyn's chest. What was his agenda? "Why?"
He cocked her a small, ironic grin. "Because I was contracted by your own House Grandmaster to investigate this Camp."
It was Telyn's turn to stare, slack-jawed, at the man before her. Master Wychel contracted this man? "Prove it."
He chuckled then, but the sound was short and terse. "He warned me that others wouldn't believe me."
From inside his leather armor, he withdrew a rolled parchment and handed it to Telyn. "Can you read?"
She glared at him as she snatched the sheet away. "Of course I can!"
Unrolling the parchment, she read the flowing script of the House Grandmaster, proclaiming one Nacaris Onarchar to be a bonded investigator of the House, entitled to examine all documents and properties belonging to the House and its Masters.
Telyn's gaze snapped up to his face, again. "Wychel really did send you."
"Aye."
"From the Borderlands?"
"What do you think?"
"I think you don't sound like a Borderlander."
He smiled, and shrugged. "Does it matter?"
Not a whit. He was still blocking her entrance to the Minanx House. "Let me by."
"You have no authority to arrest a Master, Sera Gwndal." His deep, rich baritone rolled over her in a quiet murmur. "That would be my job."
She sighed, and threw up her hands, breaking his hold on her arms. "Fine. As long as he's in shackles by the time my Mistress arrives."
Nacaris nodded and turned toward the doors, drawing his own blade as he took up the lead. Telyn followed him, refusing to acknowledge her relief that she didn't face this moment alone. Left alone with Brun-Gild, she was likely to kill him. She had a very personal score to settle with the AlcheMaster. But with Nacaris taking charge, Brun-Gild would answer to House justice at Mistress Lanoki's hand. Which didn't mean Telyn was about to let her hunger for knowledge go unaddressed.
Chapter Five
Nacaris flung open the doors to the Master's Chamber. Telyn's lips tugged in dark humor as her glare travelled to Brun-Gild where he sat in his Master's chair, facing the hearth. He had the gall to look calm, immersed in serene thought. However, as the doors slammed
against the stone wall, she saw the tiny flinch of his aged body. Telyn took perverse satisfaction in that motion, no matter how quickly he covered it.
"Sera Telyn." Relief followed fear across his face, and Telyn realized Brun-Gild was more afraid of Nacaris. He thought she would defend him? She resisted the urge to laugh. "I thought you were--"
"A ghost from your past, perhaps?" Telyn ventured accusingly. "Or maybe the spirits of Raiador, come to avenge the presence of your filthy Katarie? Or possibly the Household Elders, come to hold you to your treachery?"
His gaze darted toward Nacaris, and the flicker of fear returned briefly, before he clamped a lid on his emotions and a sardonic half-smile curved on his face. "Ah, I see you've been exploring, against my express wishes. Sera Telyn--"
"Explain yourself!" Nacaris thundered, even as he gripped Telyn's arm, holding her back when she would have flown across the room and removed Brun-Gild's treacherous head from his shoulders.
Brun-Gild shrugged. "Katarie are cowardly. I could count on them to follow my orders exactly, and without question --more, incidentally, than I could count on from some of the inhabitants here." He glared pointedly at first Telyn, then Nacaris. "Besides they came cheaply. A mere copper round a head."
"I don't care about the damned Katarie!" Telyn spat the words, struggling against Nacaris' grip. "Unhand me!"
"Calm yourself, Sera," Nacaris murmured near her ear, the hypnotic quality of his voice wrapping around her and cooling the fiery rage in her chest. She drew a deep breath, and relaxed.
Focusing her cold gaze on Brun-Gild, she watched him swallow hard, and knew he was frightened of her for the first time. "I couldn't care less how or why the Katarie came here. By the time they've fled at first light, all the Gild will know of their presence here. What I want to know is why you even bothered."
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