Fox shifted impatiently. "Fine.What's your best guess?"
"If I had to guess, which underordinary circumstances I avoid most assiduously, I would say thatthis device was intended to turn one of Tymion's clockwork guardsinto an assassin."
One adept down, six more togo.
The words of an angry fisherman,spoken the day after Muldonny's death, rang through Fox's mind likea death knell.
"Not today," Fox said. "Who's withme?"
Pink wings, bright as sunrise, burstfrom Vishni's shoulders. Before anyone could stop her, she snatchedup the crossbow and leaped into flight. She disappeared from viewand a moment later, a length of rope slithered down thecliff.
Avidan removed a glass orb from apadded bag at his belt and handed it to Fox. "This contains some ofMuldonny's metal solvent. I suspect you'll find a use forit."
"Thanks." Fox dropped it into hisbag and reached for the rope.
Delgar waved him back. He spat inhis hands and seized the rope. After giving it a couple of hardtugs, he began to haul himself up hand over hand, moving so easilythat he brought to mind a stout gray spider.
Fox followed, ignoring the pain inhis bruised ribs. Vishni beckoned him up, her face bright withexcitement. She grabbed a fistful of his tunic and helped him crawlonto the ledge. Delgar was already deep into a stoneshifting chant,feet spread wide and hands planted on the wall of thekeep.
Fox looked for the imposters. Theywere edging along the ever-narrowing ledge with shuffling, sidewayssteps, arms spread wide as they hugged the wall. Below them the sealapped against the cliff. Ahead, a balcony jutted out over thewater.
"He's singing." Vishni spun thewords out, gave them a sibilant little caress. "Oh, yes.Stoneshifters know the best songs."
Something in the fairy's tone raisedthe hair on the back of Fox's neck. He glanced her way. Anexpression of bliss suffused her face, and she swayed in time tothe dwarf's chant.
Fox had no idea what this meant, buthe was fairly certain it would lead nowhere good.
"Nice tune, Delgar. Think you canpick up the tempo?"
This brought a frown to the fairy'sface. "Everyone," she said darkly, "is a critic."
She raised the crossbow, pointed itat the nearest man, and pulled the trigger.
The loosed string sang a singlesharp note. The bolt struck the stone inches from the man's hand.He jolted, lost his balance, and fell back, arms churning. Hedropped into the sea with a splash.
Delgar stopped his chanting longenough for an exasperated sigh.
The final assassin reached thebalcony and flung himself over the rail. A door opened and clickedshut behind him.
A scowl swept across the dwarf'sface. After a moment of indecision, he drew the Thorn from his beltand murmured a few deep notes.
Six feet of stone wall swung inwardon silent hinges, a door where none had been before. The threefriends hurried inside. Behind them, the massive door closed andsealed silently.
The interior of the ancient keep wasa single circular room, empty but for a series of stout stonepillars and a tightly spiraled stair. Open doors revealed longhallways leading to the more modern wings of the adept'skeep.
In the room overhead, a tableoverturned with a crash, followed by the clang of metal.
"Ha! I have you now!" howled aresonant baritone. The table crashed again. "Wait, no I don't!Hold, you blackguard! Hold, I say!"
Fox pulled the acid-filled globefrom his bag and raced up the stairs. Delgar followed closely,stomping upon his shadow with every step.
They burst into the glass-roofedobservatory to see a portly man dressed in sapphire blue dueling aclockwork soldier. And by dueling, Fox meant dodging one vicioussword stroke after another.
Judging from the color of hisclothes and the silver ear dangling from a chain around his necklike a bizarre pendant, the swordsman could only be the adeptTymion. His metal opponent wore a disk identical to the one Avidanhad found. It had been stuck to one side of the construct's head,like a single ear. The assassin, whoever he was, had a peculiarsense of humor.
Father Tyme did not attempt toreturn the metal warrior's attacks, and he blocked with glancingparries that forced sword to slide against sword, giving him amoment to dance aside.
Fox assessed the situation. He hadone acid globe. Melting the device on the guard's neck would stopthe attack, but a head shot was risky. If he missed, he'd be foundstanding over yet another dead adept.
To complicate matters, Tymion stoodbetween Fox and the metal assassin. Fox glanced at Delgar andhauled back the globe for the throw.
"On three."
Delgar seized the back of Tymion'scollar and jerked him out of the way. The glass ball flew past andshattered against the assassin's chest. Metal hissed and bubbled.The clockwork guard dropped to its knees and fell facedown to thefloor, lifeless as a ship's anchor.
Tymion struggled to his feet, swordstill in hand. His jaw dropped when he beheld the youngthief.
"My stars! And I do meanmine," he said as hewaved one arm in an expansive gesture that encompassed theobservatory and its jumble of lenses and astrolabes. "Welcome,welcome! I must say, you've an excellent arm, for a deadman."
"Um," Fox said. "Thanks. Isuppose."
The adept slid his sword back intoits scabbard. "To what do I owe this most timelyhaunting?"
Fox reached down into the scrapmetal and pried the disk from the construct's head. He scraped offsome of the adhesive-pine sap, by the smell of it-and handed it toTymion.
The adept sucked air throughclenched teeth. "Rhendish," he said darkly. He glanced at Fox."Unless, of course, some enterprising thief stole this fromhim?"
That possibility had never occurredto Fox. "I doubt it," he said slowly. "Thieves have territory, justlike cats. Anyone who steals from Rhendish knows he'll have me todeal with."
"A fearsome prospect, to be sure,"the astronomer said somberly.
Fox didn't take insult from thetwinkle in Tymion's eye. Considering that he'd just claimed to be abigger threat than Heartstone's adept, he figured he had a bit ofmockery coming his way.
The humor faded from Tymion's face."A shame about Muldonny, though. I rather liked theman."
"For what it's worth, so didI."
The adept nodded as if he'd expectedto hear this. "You deliver that line well. Just the right amount ofregret, a bit of a growl to lend an ominous edge. Nicely done. Mostimpressive. Most ghosts merely groan and wail. Very tiresome,wailing."
Fox slid a quick glance at Delgar.The dwarf shrugged.
"There might be other attacks," Foxsaid. "We saw at least twenty red-haired men by the southerndock."
Tymion looked impressed. "That many?Some herbalist is doing a brisk business in red charildye."
He held up a hand to forestall Fox'snext comment. "My dear ghost, I thank you for your warning andassure you that I do not take it lightly. I shall have my men roundup the reds, as they say."
Delgar cleared his throat. "We'lljust be going, then."
"Hmm? Oh yes, I suppose so. Back toyour watery grave, and so on."
Fox was beginning to suspect thatthe stories of the adept's eccentricities erred on the side ofunderstatement. "I'm not a ghost."
"Of course you're not." Tymionleaned in confidingly. "But you must admit that it makes for abetter story."
"He could sprout big pink butterflywings right now and I wouldn't be a bit surprised," Delgarmuttered.
Shouts rose from the hall below.Tymion cast his eyes skyward. "My guards. They might not be quick,but they're loud."
He waved one pudgy hand toward anopen window. "There's a ladder beyond that leads down to thebalcony. In case of fire, you know. Very practical, ladders. Isuggest you imagine a sudden blaze engulfing the room and respondwith appropriate haste. And Fox?"
The young thief paused at the openwindow and glanced back inquiringly.
"Leave Rhendish to me," Tymion saidflatly.
"I can't do that."
The adept sighed and shook his head."Then, young man, you truly are a
ghost."
Chapter 4: A New Hunt
Tymion watched the two young menclimb through the window and listened to the creak of the ladder ashe waited for his guards to arrive.
And waited.
The shouts in the great hall belowhad died away. The only sound came from the sea winds whistlingaround the old stone keep.
Something was amiss. Tymion fixedhis silver ear back into place, drew his sword with a flourish, andstruck a heroic pose.
And waited.
At last he heard slow, soft stepsclimbing the observatory's spiral stair, a tread far too light fora clockwork guard.
"Foolish things, clockwork," theadept muttered. "Unreliable. They rust in the sea air, take on theoccasional murderous rage."
The unmistakable click of a crossbowsounded behind him. Tymion stiffened and began to turn toward thisnew threat.
"Two assassination attempts in onemorning seems a bit excessive, don't you thi-"
Shock clutched his throat withinvisible hands, cutting off his words and breath. Tymion had hisshare of whimsical moments, but never could he have imaginedthis, not in a thousandyears.
His most unexpected guest pressed alever. The crossbow sang a single deadly note.
Tymion staggered back, clutching atthe bolt in his chest. His legs struck the edge of the giantastrolabe in the room's center. He fell back onto the enormousdisk, twitching and gasping like a landed fish.
He'd spent months marking theposition of the stars on this astrolabe's curving grid. Years, somany years, devoted to charting the night skies. There was still somuch to do, to learn.
He pushed aside his charts with anincreasingly feeble hand. His apprentices complained loudly enoughabout his handwriting when they transcribed his readings. Bloodstains would discomfit them utterly.
And there seemed to be a great dealof blood. Well, it would have to do, wouldn't it?
The adept wiped one hand across hissodden tunic and with his own blood wrote a name and a warning amidthe stars.
* * *
When his men burst into theobservatory, weapons drawn, nothing awaited them but Tymion's stillform and the ruins of a clockwork guard. The hilt of thealchemist's own dagger rose from his silent chest.
They stared at the bloody name onthe astrolabe.
"Best not to mention this," one ofthem said at last. "Father Tyme was a good lord, for all his oddways. One last bit of madness shouldn't overshadow all. He doesn'tdeserve to be remembered for this."
A murmur of agreement rippledthrough the room. One of the guards leaned down and used the sleeveof his tunic to wipe away the impossible claim.
* * *
The thieves regrouped at the boatand pushed it out to sea, leaving the third would-be assassin tiedon the shore for the adept's men to find.
No wind stirred the cove, so Foxdrew the oars out from under the hold and passed one toDelgar.
They rowed in silence. Even Vishniseemed subdued.
"The adept's death was none of ourdoing," Avidan said.
Fox huffed. "We were there whenHonor killed Muldonny. We brought her into his stronghold. I'd saywe had something to do with it."
"I was not speaking ofMuldonny."
Avidan pointed to the keep, and theblack banners unfurling from the observatory windows.
Fox's shoulders slumped in defeat."The first man to reach the keep! He must have gotten past theguards, finished what his clockwork assassin started."
He fisted one hand and slammed itagainst the side of the boat. "This isn't right. This isn't the wayit was supposed to happen."
"Rebellions seldom follow straightlines," Avidan observed. "If that is indeed what transpiredhere."
"Here it comes," mutteredDelgar.
The alchemist held up the metaldisk. "Given the complexity of this device, it was almost certainlybuilt by one of your adepts. Rhendish, I would assume, since he andMuldonny were the most skilled clockwork artisans in Sevrin.Rhendish may be eliminating rivals under the guise of a popularuprising. It has also occurred to me that he might have arrangedfor the Thorn to be 'stolen' and sold to Muldonny, in order thatHonor might have reason to retrieve it."
Delgar gave his oars a particularlyvicious tug. "The only way Rhendish would do that is if he had noidea what the Thorn was. And I doubt he's that stupid."
"I knew nothing of this daggerbefore Honor asked for our assistance in retrieving it, and no manhas ever accused me of stupidity," Avidan said.
"Just insanity."
The alchemist shrugged, not denyingthe charge but not particularly impressed by it.
"But why did Honor kill Muldonny?" The question burst from Fox like a cry of grief. "The man juststood there, looking at her like she was the answer to everyquestion, and she stabbed him in the heart."
"If you were in a position to seeMuldonny's face, you could not have seen Honor's," Avidan said."You didn't see her eyes when she killed him, or when she caughthim in her arms and lowered him to the floor. Nor when she saw thering Rhendish gave Muldonny the day you and I entered Muldonny'sstronghold."
Delgar's head came up. "A ring? Whatring?"
The alchemist's lips pursed and hiseyes grew slightly unfocused as he flipped the pages of memory. "Asmooth pink stone set in delicate silver filigree. It resembledelfin craft closely enough to fool someone with a superficialknowledge. A few runes had been carved into the band. That is all Irecall. I was somewhat occupied at the time, lobbing acid grenadesat clockwork warriors."
"Globes of acid!" Vishni wriggled onher seat like a happy child. "Wonderful! That's just what the storyneeded."
Avidan raised a forefinger, a simplebut peremptory gesture that silenced the fairy inmid-rapture.
"That's a good trick," Delgarsaid.
The alchemist ignored him, as well."Even if I'd had the leisure to reflect upon these runes, I lackthe knowledge needed to read them. But if you will loan me paperand pen, I believe I can reproduce them."
"Oh, that's good," Vishni breathed."That's definitely going into the story."
She handed over her book andproduced a quill and ink bottle from a pocket in her cloak. Avidandipped the quill and formed several runes with deft, certainstrokes. He blew on the ink to dry it, then handed back thebook.
"These are elfish runes! I know someof them." The fairy studied the page for a long moment. "Uh-oh,"she murmured.
Delgar bolted to his feet. For amoment Fox thought he meant to leap over the side of theboat.
The dwarf cleared his throat and satdown. "Basic survival rule: When a fairy says 'uh-oh,'run."
"Good to know," Vishni said."Becausethat would have been a lot more fun if I'd done it onpurpose."
Fox snapped his fingers in front ofher face to get her attention and then tapped the runes on thepage. "What does it say?"
"Minue tookher."
Vishni looked from one man toanother, her face expectant. They all shrugged. "Minue? Thedryad?"
"Explain the significance," Avidansaid.
"Trees are like fairy portals todryads. They can move from one tree to another. Every now and then,they take someone with them. But dryads are also fey, so whoeverMinue took could be anywhere. Anywhere," she added in anuncharacteristically grim tone.
The color drained from Avidan'sface. "The Faerie Realm," he murmured in a tone that mingled dreadand longing.
Vishni nodded. "It'spossible."
"But what does it mean?" Fox saidimpatiently.
The alchemist dashed both hands overhis face. When he turned to Fox, his eyes were calm and clear."Here's what we know so far," he said. "Rhendish went to seeMuldonny, lost at cards, and offered to pay his debt with a ring ofelfish design. When we infiltrated Muldonny's stronghold toretrieve the Thorn, Honor killed Muldonny and took the ring fromhis hand. It is my opinion that Honor was compelled to kill theadept, to her deep regret. Her reaction upon discovering the ringstruck me as horror-struck enlightenment followed by murderouswrath."
"What does he notice, I wonder, whenhe's not busylobbing acid grenade
s?" Delgar said to no one inparticular.
"My conclusion would be thatRhendish employed magic to compel Honor to kill. The ring was thelink between his will and her action."
Delgar cleared his throat. "A pinkstone, you said?"
"I did, yes," the alchemist said."Apparently the significance of that has escaped me, as doesconnection between this Minue and Honor."
"I can answer both questions," thedwarf said heavily. "There are certain rituals, very old and verydark, that can bind one sort of magic to another. These ritualsrequire blood and bone."
Vishni's nose wrinkled in distaste."Ick."
"Sometimes those rituals involvesymbols of blood and bone. For dwarves, that means carmite. Forelves, it's. . something else. I can't say more withoutrevealing secrets I'm pledged to protect. But this much I can say: elves carry magic in their blood and bones, so the words on thering probably represent the last bit of magic Honorworked."
"So Honor sent someone to the faerierealm."
"Possibly," Vishni said, drawing theword out. "The most we can say with certainty is that Honor calledto Minue and the dryad answered."
"It also tells us that Rhendish, orsomeone who answered to him, saw her do it."
Fox huffed. "Problem solved. We'lljust pop on over to Rhendish Manor and ask the adept to fill in thedetails."
"You are missing the salient point,"Avidan said. "Rhendish, or someone in his employ, isperforming magic."
Silence fell over them, heavy as seamist.
Delgar dropped his oar and reachedfor the sails. "I've got to warn my people. And then we've got tofind a way to get the Thorn far away from Sevrin."
A small, slim boat glided onto theshore, shifting color from north-sea blue to the muted purple ofthe sand surrounding this strange and rocky island.
The boat was dwarf crafted, ofcourse, as was the sword Nimbolk wore on his hip. He carried noelfin weapons, no elfin armor, no elfin magic, nothing that mightover-sing the Thorn's faint voice.
Assuming he ever came close enoughto hear it.
Two years was nothing to an elf,especially one as single-minded as he. The few elves who'd survivedthe attack on the midwinter tribunal had pulled through largely bythe force of his will. They'd pooled what resources they had tostay alive, to heal.
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