by Eve Forward
“We’d better do something before whoever did this comes back for him. Let’s see, where has he got my amulet under all this ridiculous costume ...” she passed her hands thoughtfully over the gray surface. Arcie began to fidget.
“I think you better hurry, Valerie ... We dinna want whoever did this taste come back and find us ...”
“Hush, Barigan. Ah, here ...” she rested a palm over the general area of the statue assassin’s chest and looked puzzled. “I thought you said he wasn’t wearing it... he shouldn’t be.”
“I dinna ken,” replied the Barigan. “Come on, do somewhat, change him back, whatever, he can tell us about it later.”
“Pish-tosh, Barigan. I can’t change him back. Have you a chisel or some such tool? We’ll have to get my amulet out of there.”
“What if ye slips and breaks his arm off, or take a big chunk of his chest out?” retorted Arcie. “Either change him back or let’s us get out of here and kiss yer amulet goodbye. We have no got time to play sculptor.”
The sorceress sighed. “I told you, I can’t change him back.”
“Och aye, I’d forgot. Excuse me. I’d thought you were a sorceress.” The thief’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
Valerie bridled.
“I am a sorceress.”
“Yet ye canna undo a wee spell? Call that as power?”
Arcie snorted.
“I could change him back, if I wished. I just don’t want to.”
“Nay, I heard ye. Ye said ye couldna do it.”
“I could so.”
“Nay, ye couldn’t.”
“Yes I could!”
“Nay, nay, never ye could.”
“I can and I will, Barigan!” She rolled up her sleeves.
“Stand back and kill anyone who comes near.” She rested her palm over where she detected her amulet, drawing power from it through the layers of gray stone.
This was going to call for the undoing of another’s magic, someone quite likely more powerful than she... and thus demanded a bit more finesse.
She sang the Words of Unbinding, her voice weaving into the magic of the stone and unraveling the enchantment upon it. She could see the threads of silver-white magic bound round the atoms of the changed stone; her voice and power had to carefully spin wires of black undoing that would lift and twist and dissolve the white power, without cutting; cutting the threads would cause the spells to collapse and leave the assassin a pile of meat and pebbles. Thank Kuluna that some Weaver training was part of every Nathauan’s magical education! The concentration, the tight power of the white mage’s magic was stronger than she had ever encountered, stronger than she had expected. Her mind hummed with pain as her voice sang, trying desperately to keep her power steady.
Feldspar, quartz, bones of earth, Mica, limestone, fall away, Return to flesh of life’s given birth, Blood from sand, and skin from gray.
Purple-black light glowed and shimmered around the statue, and then suddenly vanished. The dim gray object fluxed into black cloth and fell with a groan on its side.
Arcie hopped over and shook the assassin’s shoulders.
“Sam! Come on! Valerie, help... Valerie?”
Arcie turned and lunged just in time to catch the sorceress before she collapsed onto the cobblestones. He looked over to where Sam was unsteadily getting to his feet. “Sam! Come on, help me with Valerie here ... I think as she strained something.”
Sam looked around. Mizzamir was gone. With trembling heart he went and scooped up the unconscious sorceress and then, Arcie pelting along behind him, he ran for it.
Silence reigned as the footsteps faded away. Then, with a flash, Mizzamir appeared, wounds and poison cured with a potion of godly healing he’d had stored back at the Silver Tower ... and found his captive vanished.
“Oh dear,” he muttered. Mizzamir’s plan to capture the renegades one by one as they wandered about town seemed to have failed. One of them had seen him, and, despite his best efforts, had escaped. That one might have warned the others. He’d have to rethink.
“Well, perhaps another time.” He vanished again.
Sam, carrying the unconscious Valerie, and Arcie hastened through the back streets.
“We’ve got taste find the others and get out of here,”
panted Arcie. “The guards are going to be coming out after me pretty soon ... I got into a bit o’ trouble with a couple of locals.”
“Guards,” scoffed Sam coldly. Arcie looked up at him in concern.
“Sam... I heard a couple of them as they walked past ... they’re out looking for someone that sounds like ye, unless there be another person about dressed all in black who wields daggers... what’d you do?”
“Assassinated one.” Sam peered around a corner. It was safe. He hastened on.
“Assassinated one?!” exclaimed Arcie. “What did ye go and do a stupid thing like that for? And on my time, no less! Fer shame!”
“He was trying to rape some girl. Now shut up, Arcie, and let me think.”
Sam rubbed his brow. His mind was still muddled from being turned to stone, but he remembered Mizzamir’s parting words... “I’ll come back for you.” Now that the Barigan and sorceress were safely away, he’d have to go back to that street and hope to meet the mage when he returned. And do it swiftly, and stealthily, and with a quick exit nearby in case he failed again. He looked at Arcie. The Barigan was fidgeting.
“Arcie, Robin’ll be sleeping in the stable. They won’t have let him have a room. Valerie ...” he dropped the Nathauan to her feet and held her up. She blinked blearily at him with large purple eyes. “Valerie, can you walk? Just a little way?” She nodded weakly. “All right. Arcie, get Valerie to the stable. They won’t think to look for us there. Then go find Blackmail and Kaylana. Tell them to help Valerie, and get everybody to the north edge of town. We’ve got to leave early. I’ll meet you there if I can ... If I don’t show up in one hour, go on without me, as fast as you can.”
Arcie was looking at him in confusion. “Sam? Are you all right?”
“Go!” The assassin gave him a slap on the shoulder and ran back down the street. His soft footfalls ceased abruptly as he turned a corner and vanished into the darkness. Arcie shook his head in puzzlement, and led the woozy Valerie across the street. The night made everything seem strange ... happenings, people, colors ... in the dim moonlight, peering out from the folds of his scarf, Sam’s eyes had seemed to have faded from their whimsical hazel to a strange cold gray.
He got to the stable, and found a strange but very peaceful scene. Kaylana was washing her arms off in a bucket of water, Robin was lying down in a corner, eyes wide, and Blackmail was on his armored knees in the straw of a loose box, rubbing down a wobbly brown foal with a twist of straw. The foal’s mother was standing and assisting him with her tongue. Out of breath, Arcie hurriedly explained the events of the evening and Sam’s message.
There was a scramble to collect gear from rooms, and then the party headed out into the night.
The shadows welcomed Sam like an old friend. He fluxed with a twinge of relief into the blessed coolness of the Shadowrealm, and ran in a straight line back to where he estimated he’d last seen Mizzamir. A quick scan of the area turned up no mage-shadows, so he slipped through a dark corner with some reluctance and concentrated on waiting. He hadn’t been prepared to meet the Arch-mage before ... an assassin generally preferred to hunt a target, choosing the time and moment, and with a bit of preparation such an assassin was almost unstoppable.
Cunning, with reactions and strength built to an inhuman level by the skilled focusing of the fire in the blood- cold, merciless, swift, silent and deadly. It was this way with Sam now, as he waited.
After about forty-five minutes, he gave up. The mage must have shown himself, found Sam gone, and vanished.
Sam felt a twinge of irritation at having wasted time by getting Valerie and Arcie out of the way. It was their fault he’d missed his kill. With a sulk, he stepped back into t
he shadows, sliding through into the twilight.
As he hastened through his strange new kingdom, he noticed the available shadows growing dimmer, less passable.
It must be coming on to dawn Outside. Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust. The thought of dull, bright daylight irked him. It would be faster and safer if he were to follow the others by their shadows and emerge to catch up with them when the lovely night came again. He made his wraithlike way through the gray world to what he judged would be the north side of town.
“He does not come,” muttered Kaylana suspiciously.
“Did he say who it was that had petrified him?”
“Nay,” Arcie shook his head. “Just gave us a shove in yer direction and went running back.”
“There’s something strange going on with that assassin,”
Valerie muttered. “A while ago, I tried to use my magic, and it was as though my amulet had passed beyond the boundaries of the world. And yet when we found him again, it was secure under his stone clothing. And now?” She wrinkled her brow, and concentrated a moment, then frowned. “And now it’s gone again. I find that very disturbing.”
“Ye said he shouldn’t be wearing it?” inquired Arcie.
“Could it hurt him?”
Valerie sighed. “The Darkportal is pure distilled evil. Only a faint source, as I said, and harmless so long as its power is not used ... but if he is wearing it, and if he is somehow using it, it will begin to affect him ... I have trained for many years to control it, and even so it makes me the dark, cruel, evil person that I am.” She smiled with her shark teeth. “What it may do to your foolish little blond friend one can only speculate.”
Robin fidgeted. He didn’t like the thought of anyone else as evil as Valerie coming with them. He felt it would be best to move on.
“It’s been an hour, and more so. We’d better do as he suggested, and move on,” he offered.
Arcie looked at the sky. It was getting lighter. “It’ll be dawn soon,” he muttered. “Far too early, though. The nights really are getting shorter,” he said, then glanced up at the tall figure of Blackmail. “With some exceptions, of course.” The helmet nodded graciously.
Kaylana sighed. “Yes, perhaps we should leave. If he is able, he will catch up with us later... and if he is not able, then we are at great risk every moment we remain inside this city. We will move on.”
“And leave my amulet behind?” snapped Valerie.
Kaylana regarded her from cool green eyes.
“Would you prefer to wait and explain your position to the city watch when they arrive, helpless as you supposedly are without your Darkportal?”
Valerie seethed a moment, then conceded sulkily.
“Well, if you put it that way ... but he’d better catch up to us.” The group turned to go ... and paused. The tall dark figure of the knight did not move.
“Blackmail? Come on,” urged Arcie. The knight drew his sword and stuck it into the earth in front of him. He folded his mailed hands over the top of it, set his legs apart, and stood, like a steel colossus, unmoving. The company watched in silence a moment. Then Kaylana said softly, “He tires of running away, I think.”
“Damned knightly types,” snorted Valerie. “Come along, you plated ass.”
The dark figure of the knight was utterly still, except for the faint whispering of the wind in the ragged black plumes that adorned the helmet. After a moment, Valerie sighed.
“We could leave one, but not two.”
“We must wait a bit longer,” agreed Kaylana. Robin and Arcie exchanged the glances of those who would much rather be elsewhere and settled down to wait impatiently.
Sam found five shadows on the relevant space that signified the edge of town. Two medium sized ones, one large one, one small one, and one with four legs.
“That’s them, all right,” muttered Sam crossly, walking around and over them. “Why aren’t they moving? Why are they just sitting there? It’s been over an hour by now. Idiots.” He kicked at the black splotches. “Get up, get on with it, you scum!” he yelled. How wonderful to be able to yell that way at them, no more than a shadow’s width away, and have them take no notice. Stupid people.
He was better than all of them put together, and all they did was use him for a convenient way of snuffing enemies. They didn’t trust him, obviously, still lurking here after he’d told them to shove off, and he didn’t trust them. No doubt the first chance they got they’d trade him to Mizzamir for their own benefit. That was part of why it was so important to kill the mage.
But maybe ... maybe he should kill these people first, before they could betray him. Then he’d be free to track down the mage without all this stupid tromping around the countryside after some mythical goal. Arcie was a little wretch who’d stolen his things several times and constantly was abandoning him in times of danger. Let’s see, if he came out of shadow there, a quick, well-placed kick to the solar plexus should finish the Barigan there off quite nicely. Then next to him was that simpering centaur ... well, his throat probably cut open as easy as anybody’s.
Valerie was there, that dark bitch who wanted his amulet! He clutched at the stone under his shirt. It was cool on his skin and tingled. It was his, his, and she couldn’t have it. It gave him power over twilight and shadow, and he’d kill her for no other reason than to keep it. He could easily throw a poisoned dagger through her chest while the centaur was still falling. The knight was there, he’d be a bit harder, but Sam had never trusted him; he was strange, and things that Sam didn’t understand were dangerous. Armored, yes, but a bag of poison dust through that dark viewslit in the visor should do the trick ... and Kaylana, who hit him with sticks and had gotten him into this whole damned mess in the first place!
It was all her fault! And she was probably the most powerful member of the party right now, with Valerie incapacitated and Sam the Invincible wise to their treachery ... she would have to die first. Sam didn’t even bother to use his assassin skill of summoning his latent fire-energy. Vermin like these didn’t need or deserve that sort of special treatment. He quickly checked his equipment, armed himself with a blade in each hand, and Shadowslipped.
He stepped out of the darkness behind a wall, and unluckily met the first rays of the morning sun and Kaylana’s piercing green eyes at the same time.
He flinched away from the biting sharp light, struggling to maintain his purpose but having trouble sinking a knife into the heart of the owner of those impossible green eyes. If the fire had been leaping in his blood he wouldn’t have hesitated, but he hadn’t summoned it...
Kaylana, though she did not know its origin, saw the killing intent in a pair of strange gray eyes that squinted from a wrapped mask of silk cloth. She did not question, only countered. A will strong enough to face down a starving beast, a gaze older than the steel and cities of men bored into Sam’s brain.
Though only an instant passed for the other companions, as they startled at the assassin’s sudden appearance, it seemed to the two combatants an eternity; Kaylana cold and still as a mountain glacier, Sam trembling with pent-up killing force and fighting his shrinking agony of the growing sunlight.
At last he withdrew, fighting himself back, forcing himself to be calm, to act normal. This is not the time ... wait, wait, until later in the darkness, or when they sleep and the eyes cannot see...
The daggers slipped back into their sheaths, and Sam slumped limply, tugging his mask down to shade his eyes.
“Una, sorry,” he heard himself mutter. “I thought you were someone else.”
“Indeed,” said Kaylana coldly. “I felt much the same. Are you wearing Valerie’s amulet, Sam?”
Sam stiffened, paranoia flashing anew in his brain. Kill them! Kill them now! “Amulet? What amulet? Oh, that. No, of course I’m not wearing it. Don’t be stupid. Come on, let’s get out of here.” He set off at a brisk pace down the road, the others exchanging glances as they followed, except for the dark knight, who turned his helmet to giv
e the assassin a long look. Then he sheathed his great black sword and followed. Kaylana felt the lies and strangeness in the assassin’s words and mind, but kept back, and did nothing; caution must be her watchword.
They marched out into the sunshine, down a dusty road with fields of grain growing gold on either side, despite it being still the autumn of the year. At last they passed the edge of the cultivated lands, and a short ways later, came to the edge of Cranch Sealake Channel. There was a little shipping and fishing town there, not much more than a harbor for the city of Martogon further up a northflowing river. They spoke to the dockmaster, and booked passage on a small craft that would take them to the far side of the water, to the land of Natodik and the next leg of their journey.
“This are a nice change,” commented Arcie. The others were inclined to agree. After long days of travel and being hunted, it was a relief to let someone else worry about where they were going.
Cranch Sealake was not actually a lake, but rather a wide, rounded channel separating the lands of Natodik and Kwart. The deep blue waters rose and fell in a strange tidal pattern that seemed to have little or no connection with tides elsewhere. Rumor had it that this strange tidal behavior was caused by the slow breathing of a huge behemoth that dwelt on the channel floor. In these enlightened times, of course, the whole thing was regarded as a foolish superstition ... but that didn’t stop the captain of the Roslilia from surreptitiously tossing a basket of sweet loaves and flowers overboard as they neared the center of the lake, to appease the monster and hopefully keep it in slumber.
The Roslilia was a small, well-built ship, two-masted, with white sails and a water-nixie carved into her prow.
Fouse, the captain, ran the route from the lakeport near Martogon, across the water north to the seaport of Starhold He normally took few or no passengers, but these folk had paid a nice sum to be taken there immediately, instead of waiting for one of the other ships that left at different hours.
The party had a pair of small rooms below deck, although Robin found the cargo hold better suited to his needs. His four legs enabled him to balance quite well on the rolling deck, and he got the impression of really traveling, seeing new things, new lands. He spent much of his time up on deck, tuning his harp as it reacted to the salt spray, and trying to write verses-both for his own use and to convince the villains that he really was interested in their adventures. Right now, though, these villains had dragged up cushions from one of the cabins and were sitting about, enjoying a bottle of wine chilled in the ocean, off-handedly playing a game of cards, and talking.