Realms of infamy a-2

by Ed Greenwood

  “Her father is dying. The brother can’t stand the idea of his sister receiving their full inheritance, and he says that’s what will happen if she lives. I guess the father’s made special arrangements of some kind.”

  No wonder that. But now I knew for certain he was talking about my Ashana.

  “He’s investigated local laws and says that if his sister is dead, he’ll be rightful heir to his family’s property.”

  Rightful heir. The words stung with their inappropriate-ness. How could he refer to Menge as the rightful heir to anything? The slug was lucky the family hadn’t turned him out long ago. Every neighbor knew well enough that he dragged disease-ridden women in with him every night after he’d had his fill of ale and spirits. I’d heard that when his father had been well, he’d beseeched the clod to show more respect for their home. But apparently Ashana’s father was too good a man to throw his own son out.

  The irony was that Ashana undoubtedly would continue to support her brother regardless of the terms of an inheritance. How could Menge not recognize his own sister’s radiant spirit?

  How could Renek be talking seriously about killing Ashana-this splendid young woman who had shown an interest in me? She was no thug, no murderer. She wasn’t even a self-righteous apprentice.

  I didn’t know what to think or do or say. As Renek continued his description of the assignment, I was suddenly aware that the only emotion in his voice was that sick bit of excitement he always displays before a hunt.

  I felt I had to do something, but I was at a loss. Renek was, after all, my master. I was indentured to him for a lengthy term of service, and it was not my place to challenge his business doings.

  But I remembered the way that Sil had looked at me, and I finally blurted the only business question I could think of: “The brother-” I didn’t say his name “-has a terrible reputation. How can you be sure you’ll be paid?”

  Renek reined his horse to slow it and glanced at me. “He paid in advance.”

  I was trying to imagine how he could have, but Renek completed the thought.

  “Apparently, a long time before the father got sick, he had set aside his wife’s jewelry-she’s dead, I guess. Anyhow, he’d put the jewelry away for his daughter’s dowry. Menge — that’s the client-told me he staged a robbery to take the stuff. Steals his sister’s dowry and then has her killed. A really nice fellow, don’t you think?” Renek laughed at his little joke. My stomach twisted.

  Then Renek started explaining how he would handle the case. I wanted somehow to find just the right words to make him stop, to get rid of this whole ridiculous notion and go on with his business-elsewhere. I could think of nothing appropriate, given my status, but I spoke again anyhow. I actually interrupted him. “Aren’t you kind of worried about assassinating someone so close to home?” I asked.

  “Tine, I didn’t think you concerned yourself with such matters.” His tone said he didn’t think I should concern myself with such matters.

  “I–I-”

  He waved me to silence. “Really, Tine. You don’t need to worry for me. This isn’t the usual high-visibility political killing, with some notorious person wanting to take credit for the assassination. No one will even know I’m involved.”

  He stopped his horse and turned to face me. “If you’d seen the dowry, you’d know why I’m doing this. It’s no ordinary sampling of jewelry. I don’t think many men make that kind of a haul when they get married anymore.”

  Greed. Simple greed. That’s why so close to home. That’s why Ashana… My stomach twisted again. I don’t know if he could sense any of my dismay, but he spurred the horse and started on again.

  I couldn’t do this-couldn’t be involved, couldn’t let it happen. But what could I do?

  Voices started in my mind again. I kept seeing the look Sil gave me before he died. “Liar! Murderer! You betrayed me!” I could hear his voice, cracking, frantic. How could I keep those words from being Ashana’s?

  “— strangle her.” Renek’s words jarred the questions from my head.

  “What?” I asked too loudly.

  “It will look as if a common thug broke into the home. I’ll strangle her, take a few things, and leave.”

  He planned to kill her with his bare hands.

  “You’re not even going to need to get involved in this one,” he said. His voice rose with excitement as he continued. “Menge doesn’t have the stomach to do it himself or he would. He’ll make sure the door is unlocked…”

  Renek was an assassin, a professional. He used arrows, darts, tools for his work. I couldn’t fathom how he could think of killing someone with his bare hands. To grasp someone around the throat and hold the neck, squeezing while the person flailed, watching while the eyes bulged…

  The voices started again. I knew I needed a clear head. I needed to think, figure out what to do. “Their father,” I stalled. “Will he live much longer? Is Menge anxious for his death, too?”

  “Menge suggested that if I strangled Ashana in front of their dad, the old man might keel early from the shock. I don’t know, though. That’s kind of creepy. I wouldn’t want his ghost rising up and coming after me.”

  Now, there was a sense of perspective. He found that idea creepy. The voices in my head cheered his sensibilities.

  I forced myself to ask routine questions-when, where, what would he have to bring.

  I wanted to warn Ashana, but I knew she’d never leave her father’s side-not now. I was sure she hadn’t left the house since she took the poison from me.

  And then it came to me: I could go with Renek. I’d go “just in case.” Somehow, I’d figure out a way to stop him.

  “What if the father wakes?” I asked. “You might need me there.”

  “He’s bedridden!” he chided.

  “Well, what if he shouts a warning? Or what if the woman puts up more of a fight than you’re anticipating?”

  I could tell he thought it strange, my insisting on participating, but I got the impression that perhaps he believed I had a morbid fascination with the idea of seeing him strangle someone. I didn’t care what he thought. I had to be there to find a way to stop him.

  When we reached home, Renek showed me the dowry. It was an awe-inspiring collection for sure. There was gold aplenty, and more. An entire necklace of dragon scales shimmered in blue and purple hues. There was an arm bracelet, hewn in detail so fine it could only be from a master dwarven crafter. Emeralds glittered from the intricate bevels on its surface. I wondered at the cache. I had heard Ashana’s stories of her father’s business, but his wife must have come from royalty to stock a dowry chest like that. And the son truly was a drunken fool to part with those riches to gain claim to a business and house that were probably worth less.

  Lights were on only in the front of the large manor. We entered in the back where it was dark. The door was unlocked as Menge had said it would be. Renek said Menge had promised to go out for the night and get too drunk to remember anything. I was sure we could trust him at that.

  As soon as we got inside I scanned the darkness for a tray of glasses, a suit of armor-anything that would clatter when it fell. I thought perhaps I could startle Ashana so she would cry out and alert neighbors or passersby before we could get near.

  The house was silent. I was thinking Ashana might hear us even before we got much closer. Then she started to sing.

  It was an ancient hymn of Myrkul, God of Death. My grandmother had sung it when my grandfather died. Ashana’s voice lilted through the vast house, clear, and so mournful it felt as if someone were physically pressing on my heart. Renek started to tiptoe forward, but I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. I froze, mortified. I had put a hand on my master. I don’t know what I thought he would do about such insolence, but to my surprise he just motioned impatiently for me to follow him toward the lighted room. For a moment, I did so, dumbly.

  Then it hit me. The woman’s father had just died. She was doing her duty and sending his sp
irit to rest. And none of this fazed Renek. He was still going to kill her.

  I stepped forward-three long, quick steps, and I grabbed him.

  I caught his head fast in the crook of my elbow. If he tried to yell, it was muffled by my arm. I pulled him back and down, hard. I tripped him to the floor. I straddled him, pushed his shoulders hard to the ground, and then I put both my hands around his throat.

  In the dim light, his eyes reminded me of the opossum’s as I pressed against his throat. I watched my hands as they squeezed more tightly. The knuckles bulged. So did Renek’s Adam’s apple. There was a slight gurgling sound as he died.

  I thought for a moment of Renek, lunging prematurely at Sil. Perhaps, even for a professional there is something impetuous about murder.

  Ashana was still singing in the other room. “Carry, carry 0 Dark Soldier. Carry, carry, o’er and away.”

  I stood and walked quietly to the doorway. Tall candles formed a circle around the bed in the center of the room. Ashana was draping a cloth over her father’s body. I felt more an intruder now than I had a moment ago, sneaking in with Renek. Ashana must have sensed I was there, though. She turned and motioned for me to enter the room.

  “Menge wanted this?”

  She knew. I nodded.

  I could see tears forming in her eyes. She looked beyond me at first and then straight at me. “I saw him with Renek one day-after Menge took my dowry. I know what Renek does, what you do.”

  I recognized the look in her eyes. I’d seen it before. “You knew,” she said. “You were here, with Renek, to kill me.”

  “No.” I shook my head. Cold terror pierced through me She couldn’t think-“Ashana! No! I-”

  And then I saw a glimmer of her usual warmth. “I understand,” she said. She stepped close. “You stopped him.” Her voice trailed off. She brought her hands up to her head and ran her fingers back through her hair, pushing it off her face, but loose curls dropped back down over her eyes.

  This time, I reached out to brush her hair back. She flinched at my touch and I quickly pulled back my hands.

  I hate my hands. I’ve always hated my hands. But now I’m not sure if its the hands themselves or what I’ve done with them. I keep staring at them. I’ve even tried covering them up with that cloth I got from Sil. They appear to end where the cloth begins, just as the gnome’s hand did. I try to imagine what new hands might look like-if they might make a difference with Ashana. I wonder if the gnome ever wished for new hands.

  I think it’s time to go talk to that wizard in Thay.

  Thieves’ Honor

  Mary H. Herbert

  Teza inched forward another finger’s width on the branch and strained her eyes to see through the leaves. There he was, coming slowly, almost wearily, along the forest path below Teza let her breath out in a soft, appreciative whistle.

  By the cloak of Mask, what a stallion! Broad shoulders, muscular legs, powerful neck, large intelligent eyes, and a tail that swept the ground like a black mantle. His hooves gleamed when he moved, and his coat was polished ebony He was by far the most magnificent horse Teza had ever seen, and she had seen many. She had a passion for other people’s horses and had made it her life’s profession to trade and sell them whenever she could get her hands on one.

  But this one! Such an animal would be worth his weight in gold pieces in any horse market in Faerun. All she had to do was catch him, and he would be hers.

  At the moment that task was looking easier and easier. Teza had spotted the horse just after sunrise in the northern edge of the Ashanwoods near Rashemen’s great city of Immilmar. He had been alone and nervous, with a broken halter dangling from his ears. Teza had not been able to believe her luck The stallion was too tall to be one of the mountain ponies favored by the Fangs of Rashemen and too slight to be a draft horse, which meant he had probably escaped from some merchant caravan or a nobleman’s stable.

  She had followed him through the morning, waiting for her chance while he wandered aimlessly along the rim of the woods. Then he had happened onto a trail familiar to Teza and began to head toward an old oak well known by local road agents for its low-hanging branches and dense foliage. Teza had decided to make use of that opportune tree.

  Silently she turned to look straight down between her bent knees. Her muscles bunched; her fingers tightened around the coil of rope in her hand. Already the stallion was only a few steps away from her perch, unaware of her presence.

  The morning breeze had died to a mere flutter, and the summer heat brought glistening sweat to Teza’s forehead. She ignored the heat and the growing discomfort in her legs, instead straining to see the open patch of ground below.

  Her heart suddenly jolted. There he was! His head… his neck… his broad black back. Like a panther, Teza dropped onto the stallion’s back. With a skillful flip, she tossed a loop of rope over the horse’s muzzle and pulled it tight. She had him!

  The horse stopped in his tracks; his head came up, and for one brief moment, Teza thought he was going to accept her and stand quietly. The hope died aborning when the stallion’s ears whipped flat on his head. Instead of a snort of surprise or a whinny of fear, his voice rang out in a stallion’s scream of triumph. Before Teza could move, he bolted forward into a dead run.

  Teza’s head snapped back. Frantically she wrapped her hands in his mane and pulled herself low and forward over his neck. The pounding of his hooves echoed the frightened pounding of her heart as she stared wide-eyed at the woods flashing by her. The stallion was running berserk over an uneven wooded track. Not even her big, rawboned weight hauling on the rope around his nose was slowing him down.

  She tried to sooth him with her voice, signal him with her legs, even grab for his broken halter. The horse only ran faster, his teeth bared and his head low like a striking snake.

  Teza prided herself on being able to ride anything on four legs, but this mad, frenzied gallop terrified her. There seemed to be no way to control or calm this horse, and he was showing no signs of tiring. When he burst out of the woods and sped even faster over the open ground, Teza groaned. She wondered for once in her life if it would be wiser to abandon a prize than find herself broken on the rocks or crushed under a fallen horse.

  It was only when she tried to move her legs that she realized she had no choice. Her thighs, her seat, and her knees were strangely stuck to the stallion’s heaving sides. Panic rose to choke her. She yanked wildly at one leg and then the other, and all that happened was the stallion tossed his head and snorted in contempt.

  In that instant, Teza knew she was in desperate trouble. Instead of a velvety brown, the stallion’s eyes blazed with a cruel greenish fire and his cold breath, carried on the wind, smelled of dank water and rotting vegetation.

  “Gods above!” she railed to the sky. “An aughisky!”

  The horse neighed again in agreement, his voice so close to wild laughter it made her blood run cold.

  Teza hunched over the aughisky’s neck. Struggling was getting her nowhere. She had to think of something else and fast. She could see they were running east toward the Ashane, the long, deep Lake of Tears where the aughisky lived in its silty depths.

  Also known as a water horse, the aughisky was rare and wily, seldom seen by humans, but its reputation was well known by anyone who lived within the environs of Lake Ashane. The creatures were predators and fed on unwary or greedy humans who tried to mount them. Held fast by the aughisky’s power, the helpless victims were carried underwater, drowned, and completely devoured. Only the liver was left to wash up on the shores.

  Teza shuddered at the memory of the tales. She beat the horse’s head with her fists. “Stop, you ugly, fish-eaten carp bait!” The aughisky snorted and stretched his head even farther out of her grasp.

  Teza caught a silvery glimpse of water framed between towering hills. The Lake of Tears. They were nearing the eastern shore, where high bluffs plunged down into the dark water. And Teza was no closer to escape than when she dro
pped on the aughisky’s back.

  She sat in shuddering dismay and stared at the water stallion’s surging head. There was one more thing she could try. Her hands cold, she drew her dagger from its sheath. She’d been forced to use the blade many times in her life, mostly as a warning against overreaching men, but she had never turned it against a horse. She had to remind herself that this shining, magnificent creature was a beast of water and blood and ravening appetite.

  Gritting her teeth, Teza clutched the dagger in her right hand, leaned forward over the horse’s neck, and plunged the blade with all her strength into the aughisky’s neck, just below his throatlatch.

  Nothing happened. The water horse did not even slow.

  The woman yanked out her dagger and stabbed him again and again, but still he raced toward the water. Teza saw no sign of blood or any liquid leaking from his wounds.

  The aughisky neighed a cruel cry of glee. He galloped past a copse of trees, through an opening between two high rock walls, and burst out onto a cliff overlooking Lake Ashane. He stopped so abruptly, Teza was flung against his neck. Her dagger fell out of her fingers.

  She felt his hold on her legs give way. Before she could regain her balance, the horse lifted his heels and threw her over his head. Her hands scrabbled for a hold, but he snaked his black head out of her grasp and all she caught was his broken halter dangling by his ears. The old leather straps stopped her fall just long enough for her to look downward.

  Her eyes opened wide in terror. There was nothing but air between her and the rock-studded edge of the lake far below In a crazy, slow motion horror, she watched her dagger spin down, bounce off a half-submerged rock, and sink out of sight in the lake. Then the halter snapped off the aughisky’s head, and she began to drop.

  Teza screamed.

  Suddenly something snatched the back of Teza’s wide leather belt. It yanked her painfully to a stop and held her dangling over the precipice. She felt the aughisky’s cold breath chill her back.

  “Oh… please, you gorgeous creature, don’t drop me!” Teza pleaded in a very soft, deliberate tone. Her eyes pinned on the black rocks below her hanging feet, she hung as still as she could.