Balram didn’t answer but looked back to where Aazen leaned against a wall. “You’re sure she was a Harper?”
Aazen shrugged. “She wore the pin. I left her body beneath the portal. Only the bloodstain remains.”
“I see.” Balram grasped a fistful of Talal’s dirty hair. He didn’t pull or shake the boy; he simply held the tender strands straight out behind his left ear, sifting them through his fingers. Talal stiffened, and the vacant smile on his lips slid away, replaced by a taut line as fear battled with anger.
Aazen waited. He’d been on the receiving end of this punishment when he was younger than Talal. He knew what would happen if the boy displeased his father.
“What did you do with the Harper’s body?” Balram asked. “These people—your friends—say you’re a scavenger. Did you scavenge her corpse? You don’t look like a vulture, though you’re filthy enough to be one.” He leaned closer, still holding Talal’s hair. He sniffed, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Your breath stinks of refuse. You’d eat your own droppings, wouldn’t you, if you thought they’d nourish you. Did you eat the Harper too?” His eyes gleamed wickedly. “Are you so very hungry? But that’s ungrateful. Don’t we feed you well enough down here—provide for your every need? Only an animal eats its own leavings.”
“I didn’t eat her,” Talal said. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. “I took her boots.” He pointed to his feet.
A pair of brown leather boots bunched up awkwardly around his knees, straps and buckles dangling. Scorch marks from old fires bruised the leather.
“They’re hers,” Aazen said. “I remember sitting on them.”
“Oh-ho.” Balram chuckled. “Straddled her like a two-taran whore, did you?” He clucked his tongue. “Isslun will be disappointed in you. Or is it Aliyea?”
Talal stirred. Balram snapped his hand straight out from the boy’s head without looking away from Aazen’s face.
Talal screamed out in pain and fell to his knees. He clutched at the patch of bare, bloodied skin behind his ear. Tears streamed from his eyes.
Haroun started forward, but Aazen caught the woman’s arm, roughly drawing her back. “You will only worsen the pain,” he hissed in her ear.
She glanced up at him, surprised, but kept her silence.
Balram calmly sprinkled bits of loose hair over Talal’s whimpering form. “It certainly sheds like an animal. What a mess you are.” He crouched down, snagging Talal’s chin. “If you’re truly the heartless vulture, why should you care what insult I give the Harper?”
“I don’t care,” Talal said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, but it seemed like you did, just then. The look on your face was terribly affronted. I’m warning you, boy, if you value these people’s lives, you will give me truth. Where is the Harper?”
“We brought her here!” Talal shouted. Jerking away from Balram, he climbed back to his feet and stood defiantly before the gathered Shadow Thieves. Behind him, the refugees, though far greater in number, stood in stunned, terrified silence while Balram regarded the boy.
“Why?” he asked.
“We tried to heal her,” Talal said, calmer now. He wiped his running nose as blood dripped down his neck. “So she could help us escape.”
A collective tremor went through the crowd, but still no one spoke.
“Did you expect we wouldn’t try?” Talal asked mockingly, his eyes daring Balram to come at him again.
Balram smiled. “I wouldn’t have expected an animal to speak so boldly. Yes, I knew you’d try. Were your efforts rewarded? ”
Talal shook his head. “She died during the first night. We didn’t want to waste our last healing draught on a lost cause.”
“Really?” Balram sounded impressed. “What little mercenaries you’ve become … that is, if you’re not little liars. Where is the body?” He raised his hand again, tracing the air alongside Talal’s head.
The boy refused to flinch. “Follow me,” he said. “I’ll take you to her.”
She awoke to a hand softly brushing her cheek. Meisha opened her eyes and saw Varan staring down at her.
Her hands were numb from being pressed against the cold floor. She clenched them into painful fists to keep from throwing herself away from Varan, but he merely sat before her, one hand endlessly shuffling his papers, the other resting on her skin, as if he had forgotten he’d laid it there.
Slowly, Meisha uncurled her body and slid out from under his hand. She came to an unsteady sitting position against the wall, still too close to the unstable wizard for comfort.
How long had she been meditating? No, that wasn’t true, she thought, berating herself savagely. Meditation had turned to sleep, and a deep one. That had never happened to her before, not unless she willed it. Had Varan used some magic to make her sleep? The thought was more than unsettling. Meisha knew what he could do to her when she was awake and aware. It was frightening to contemplate what he might have done to her while she was helpless in sleep.
Helpless in sleep.
Meisha stood up so quickly that Varan looked up from his reading. His smile struck her with a profound chill. “You’re dreaming, m’dear. Back to sleep now, child. There’s a good girl.” He resumed his shuffling.
Meisha slid back to the floor quietly, but her thoughts raced. Even in his current state, even asleep, Varan had sensed her presence in the chamber. He may have been confused about who she was or how old, but he knew someone was there with him. Of course—it should have dawned on her long before now.
Varan had known all along when the refugees were in his chamber. They shouldn’t have been able to take his discarded magics from him without his consent, not while he could still cast spells—and she’d had painful proof that he could capably defend himself. But according to Talal, he’d never attacked any of them, until Shirva Tarlarin and Meisha herself, after she’d picked up the banded sphere. Meisha looked around the room for the item, but it was gone, taken in the last delivery to the Shadow Thieves. Varan didn’t seem bothered by its absence.
Why, then, had he attacked her? Perhaps there had been another reason behind his violent outburst. Perhaps he’d killed Shirva Tarlarin for that same reason.
She watched Varan for a long time, but his face registered nothing and offered her no clues.
Meisha jumped at the sharp rap on the door.
“It’s just Talal,” Varan muttered without looking up from his papers.
Meisha’s mouth slid open and shut, but she had no time to marvel at Varan’s flashes of lucidity as the door opened a crack and Talal wiggled through.
“What happened to you?” Meisha demanded, seeing the dried blood on the boy’s neck and shirt.
“Lost some hair,” was all Talal would say. His hands shook slightly as he ran them through his dirty locks. His eyes were bright, hard chips of stone, but he smiled as he reached for her hand. “Still alive, I see. Good. Come with me. You’ll like this.”
Curious, Meisha followed him out into the corridor and down the passage he’d tried to take her through before. It arched away from the warrens and back up a tunnel in a rough horseshoe, emptying into a circular chamber bounded by steep flowstone sides. Scattered about the floor were piles of small- to mid-sized stones.
Meisha stepped around Talal to see at a better angle and realized the piles were arranged in tidy rows. A group of men with shovels scooped rocks onto a high mound at the back of the chamber.
“They’re graves,” Meisha said, counting the fallen and coming up with the exact number—plus one—of refugees Talal said had died in the Delve. Her gaze returned to the fresh stone pile.
Talal followed her eyes. “Like it? One of ’em’s yours. We dug it the night I brought you in,” he explained, and had the good grace to look sheepish. “You know—just in case. After you mended, we kept it for when they came back. Oh”—he kicked off her boots and held them out—“you can have these back. Don’t fit me anyway.”
“They believed I was dead?�
� Meisha asked, suspicious. “On sight of a grave alone?”
Talal exchanged grinning gazes with the circle of digging men. One of the men winked at Meisha. “Not at first,” the man replied. “But Talal told ’em we’d dig you up, ‘yes sir, right away sir—it’ll only take a few days with these little stick shovels you give us, sir.’ ” The digger laughed heartily.
“So we started in,” Talal said, frowning as he fingered the newly naked skin behind his ear. “We actually dug up Shirva. Aazen left with half the men and the latest shipment when we started digging, and Balram didn’t linger to look beyond that she was female and recently dead. It’s just like before,” he said, looking at Meisha. “Balram hates the Delve, everything about it makes him twitchy. It was all he could do to be down here smelling us.”
“Bloody cowards,” another man said. He spat on the ground.
Meisha smiled at Talal. “You have my thanks,” she said. “You’ve saved my life twice now.”
The boy jerked his shoulders, but he was blushing fiercely. “Nothing to it, Lady. You get us out of here, Tymora puts us in balance.” He added quickly, “The bitch.”
“We have to talk about that,” Meisha said, looking at the gathered men. “Get everyone together, if you will. We can’t wait for Kall to find the portal. We have to try to escape on our own, and the only way out is through the Shadow Thieves.” There was restless murmuring among the men, but Meisha ignored them. “According to Talal’s brother, at least one of them has the key to activate the portal. We’re going to take it from the next party that comes through the door.”
Eyebrows soared around the circle of diggers, but Talal grinned, slapping an arm around Meisha’s neck. “What’d I tell you, boys? She’s going death-seeking again. That’s our Meisha.”
When the diggers had dispersed back to the warrens, Meisha pulled Talal aside. “I need to know about Shirva Tarlarin,” she said.
Talal looked surprised. “What about her?”
“Do you know which of Varan’s items she touched that set him off? Was anything found near her body?”
Talal thought for a moment. His eyes clouded. “She had one of his strings,” he said finally. “From his neck sack.”
“His neck pouch?” Meisha asked. She hadn’t expected that. Then she remembered the rings. She’d put the apprentices’ rings back in Varan’s pouch at the same time she’d been handling the sphere, just before Varan attacked her. Had Shirva Tarlarin touched the pouch too? “Is that why he killed her?” she wondered aloud.
“Don’t know, but the string was wrapped around what was left of her fingers. I think he”—the boy swallowed—“near as we could tell, he bit some of her fingers off taking it back.”
A mental picture of Varan attacking a woman with only his teeth made Meisha light-headed. She felt Talal steady her with a hand to her waist. “Why would he do it?” she asked. “He keeps nothing of great magic in there. What is he hiding?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Keczulla, Amn
5 Marpenoth, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)
Cesira stood in the ruined tower, watching through one of the arched windows as Dantane, Morgan, and Laerin rode toward the estate.
Kall came to stand behind the druid. He lifted a hand as if to touch her long hair, but her tresses stirred in the wind, blowing out of his grasp.
You never asked me, Cesira said, turning to face him. You didn’t ask me to stay behind.
“I was afraid you’d say I was a damn fool,” Kall said with a laugh. “I thought I’d try an indirect approach to get you to do my bidding.”
As if you’ve ever had a problem convincing me of anything. And you’ve always been a damn fool. Getting some years on you doesn’t change anything, she said. Why do you want me to stay here? Even my charms—though considerable, I grant you—won’t be enough to save Morel’s name. Amn has seen through all our pretenses.
“It isn’t for that,” said Kall, frowning. “Don’t you think I would rather have you at my back down that snake hole than Dantane? Now which of us is the fool?”
Then why?
“Because Balram won’t stop us from entering the portal. He’ll find out about it, and he may put up a token resistance, but he wants us to get in. And once we’re inside, he’ll come in after us and bring all manner of Hells down on our heads. He’ll want to kill us all underground, where no one will see, then go about his business.”
Cesira laughed shortly. You fill me with such confidence, my lord. I may faint from it, she said.
Kall shook his head. “I’m not worried about a fight with Balram in the Delve. But if he tries to seal us in, if Garavin’s plan to get the refugees out fails, we need someone on this side who can blow that sealed entrance apart. You’re the only one I trust, and the last person I ever wanted to ask to do this.” He took her hand, folding her fingers around a small emerald.
Cesira looked at him questioningly. He showed her his sword. It rode at his hip as always, but the emerald in the pommel had gone. When Garavin took his gem down into the Delve, she could use her magic on the link between them to locate the hidden entrance, bypassing any concealing magic laid on the tunnel.
“Take rooms at an inn somewhere in the better districts,” said Kall. “Garavin will use his stone to call you, if something happens.” He grinned lopsidedly. “Believe me, if something goes wrong, we will call. I’m not too proud to ask for a rescue if I can’t dig myself out of a hole.”
But Cesira frowned, refusing to be distracted by the jest. Take rooms at an inn? Why would you ever think I would agree to hide, Kall? What are you protecting me from?
Kall hesitated. “This house won’t be safe. When Balram finds out who’s coming after him, he may send men here.”
And?
“And if he does, they’ll be out to destroy whatever is left of Morel. No loose ends this time. Balram won’t allow it.”
Then I hope he won’t be too disappointed to find the lady of the house here to greet him.
Kall’s eyes narrowed. His lips moved, but no sound came out. What was that, my lord? Cesira asked teasingly. I am the one who lacks speech, remember?
Kall put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed, fighting the temptation to throttle her. “I said, you’re a stubborn, arrogant wench.”
And you’re a blind pig’s arse, Cesira threw back, if you think I’m running away to hide.
“I can’t have him get to you.” Kall tried to steady his voice. “I won’t let it happen.”
Kall … Her anger gone, she seemed as much at a loss as he.
If anything happened to her, Kall realized, it would be the end of everything. He’d begun to build a new life the night he’d been hurtled through the portal to Garavin’s camp. Now the ashes of his old life threatened to destroy everything he’d come to cherish.
Kall stepped back, kneeling before Cesira. He lifted a hand toward her. “Come here. I want to show you something.”
Hesitantly, Cesira placed her hand in his palm. His fingers wrapped securely around hers. He guided her to the floor, splaying her hand beneath his against the rough wood. “Do you feel that—that catch?” he asked.
Cesira nodded and pressed. The false floor slid back to reveal a slender nook, no wider than their two arms but just as long. Arrows filled the pocket. Dust covered their fletching, but the points were still sharp enough to kill.
“My father feared attackers from every direction, even before Balram’s magic took his mind,” said Kall. He felt calmer now, and oddly detached as he spoke of the past. “He had dozens of these caches hidden throughout the estate. I don’t think I’ve managed to find them all, but there are weapons and traps—some of them wickedly ingenious. I’ve written the locations down, along with instructions for how to set the traps. Morgan and Laerin were very helpful in that area, as I’m sure you can imagine. You’ll want to go through everything step by step so you can remember where they are without looking for them.”
Cesira watch
ed his face as he spoke. You knew I would insist on staying, she said.
“Yes.”
The druid forced a smile. Perhaps, she said, after all this is over, you’ll return to Mir with me? Unless, after you pull off your heroic rescue, Meisha decides to make you a Harper.
Kall groaned, a little of his old humor returning. “Gods forbid. Being a merchant was difficult enough.”
“Ye don’t need to be harping, anyway,” echoed Garavin’s voice from the stairwell. He appeared at the door, grinning. Morgan, Laerin, and Dantane trailed behind in the stairwell. “I’ve seen ye dig, and that’s fine enough work for any man.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever be able to stand upright again, after that first day,” Kall said with a mock wince.
“Ah, well, that was all part of my plan. Bent over, ye could hear me better. Young people are too tall for their own good—makes it harder for them to listen.”
Did you find what you needed? Cesira asked the dwarf.
“Aye, but it came at a high price.” He wagged a finger at Kall. “This little adventure had better hold my interest, young one,” he warned.
“Trust me,” said Kall, clapping the dwarf on the shoulder. “If Meisha’s message is any indication, it’s long past time the Delve’s secrets were brought to light. Dumathoin will approve.”
“And Abbathor’s fury will be unleashed,” said Garavin.
“What do you mean?” asked Dantane.
“Meisha’s Howling Delve is named for a dozen or so dwarf venturers who fell to the sway of the god Abbathor,” said Garavin. “The Howlings worshipped Dumathoin first, but greed corrupted them. They were banished from their clan and went into exile.”
“Into the Delve,” said Kall, “and into business with Amn. According to Dantane’s information, the ancestors of the current Bladesmiles made a substantial and secret fortune buying magic weapons and item components from the Howlings. They made the exchanges through a portal that connected the Bladesmile estate with the Delve.”
“Until the day the portal went dark on dwarf heels and never lit again,” said Dantane. “The Howlings disappeared and so did the supply of magic. Subsequent Bladesmile generations locked away the portal and removed its keys. If they couldn’t make money off it, they didn’t want their name associated with arcane magic. Except now the portal’s been reactivated.”
Howling Delve Page 20
