by Dave Gross
Cale donned his black cloth mask and said the prayer of healing. He'd performed the ritual often enough that he found the cool trickles of divine power a familiar sensation as they surged through his arms to his fingers. He pressed them against his injured head and felt the tingling sensation of healing flow into his skin, through his veins, and down to the bone. In moments, he felt only a faint line where the open wound had been.
Cale shook his head to dispel his dizziness. Evoking divine power was at once draining and exhilarating, not unlike a vigorous fight. He liked the feeling.
Cale put away his ceremonial mask and located the fallen bowman, or what was left of him. It appeared that every elf on the skwalos had put an arrow through his body. Cale took his sword belt and secured it to his own waist.
He looked up to see the last five griffons retreating, while one flew back toward the skwalos. Shamur sat confidently in the front saddle, grinning like a child on her first horseback ride. She guided the griffon toward a spot near Cale. The creature landed with feline grace, apparently undisturbed by the exchange of its rider.
"Let's go before our hosts decide to stop us," said Shamur.
Cale glanced back at the three old elves hovering above their sparsely defended home. None of them looked in his direction, and Cale knew they were purposefully ignoring their guests. They were giving them their chance to leave, thus sealing their agreement.
Cale hesitated before mounting the griffon. The thing was the size of a grand carriage, and he couldn't see how to climb onto its back.
"The other side," said Shamur.
Cale walked around the enormous beast to find a sort of leather ladder built into the griffon's harness. It trailed down from the saddle, between the creature's wing and flank. At Cale's touch, the griffon raised its wing in a well-trained gesture allowing him access.
Cale passed his bow up to Shamur and clambered into the seat behind her. Even before he could secure the straps to his waist and thighs, she slapped the reins and clucked. The griffon responded like an old, familiar mount. It leaped into the sky once more, its beating wings deafening both its passengers as it rose up from the skwalos. When it flew above the clouds, the griffon spread its great wings and glided southward.
"We're free!" shouted Shamur.
"Which way are we headed?" yelled Cale over the sound of the griffon's wings.
"Where else?" Shamur shouted back.
"But how will you find it?"
"I'm hoping Ripper Junior here will know the way back home."
"Ripper Junior?"
"Remind me to tell you the story some time," Shamur said.
Her laughter rang out even over the wind. Cale had never heard her sound so full of glee. Even in the face of peril both to her and to Thamalon, she couldn't resist the thrill of danger. After hiding so long beneath her own mask as a society matron, at last she could return to the adventures of her youth.
Cale had no wish to dispel her cheer. Thus, he didn't tell Shamur of Rukiya's demand, the condition by which Cale had sealed their alliance with the elves. He didn't know how the ancient elves spoke to the Lord of Shadows nor why Mask would tell them of his servant, Cale. All he knew was that the elves had foreseen the arrival of one who could help end their war with the Sorcerer. While their airborne armies assaulted Stormweather Castle, they wished to send an assassin past the Sorcerer's defenses. No elf could pierce the veil of suspicion and fear that separated them from the Sorcerer's people. Only a human assassin would do.
When Shamur learned the Sorcerer's youthful name was Tam Lin, she dismissed the similarity to her own son's name, despite the added coincidence of Castle Stormweather. Even if the place was a reflection of her world, it was nothing more. She couldn't accept the possibility that any part of her own son could be a hated tyrant.
Or so she'd said to Cale. For years she had pretended to be something other than she was, wearing the visage of a severe and stately society matron over her true self. Cale wondered whether her brave and mischievous laughter was yet another mask.
Either way, he couldn't stop thinking how much her wildness reminded him of her daughter, the woman he loved. The thought made him dread their final destination all the more. If he had to choose between saving Thamalon's life and sparing the Sorcerer's, he knew already where his loyalties lay. Even if this Tam Lin was some dark reflection of the scion of the Uskevren.
Yet what would Tazi think of Cale if he fulfilled his promise to the elves? If the Sorcerer was, somehow, her elder brother, Cale couldn't imagine that Tazi could ever forgive his murderer.
CHAPTER 23
POSSESSIONS
"They'll kill you, you know."
Radu leaped from the wall of the Hunting Garden to a third-floor balcony of the Hulorn's Palace. Still flush with energy from his most recent killing and heedless of detection by the Hulorn's guard, he had no need of spells.
"Obviously they suspect you've been spying on them. Why else would Drakkar tell you to meet him at the gallery of his patron without revealing the man's identity? When you arrive, you simply prove that you've been there before."
Radu leaped up to a window ledge on the fourth floor.
When Chaney flew up to join him, Radu said, "Why are you waiting for an answer if you can read my thoughts?"
"I can't read your thoughts," said Chaney, "and thank the gods for small favors. On the other hand, I did overhear that sending from your master."
"Employer," hissed Radu.
"Touchy. That veneer of yours is peeling away by the hour. I suppose I would be a bit testy, too, if I were about to seal my family's doom."
Radu clutched the balcony rail hard enough to crack the marble.
"On the other hand, if you were to kill Drakkar and the Hulorn while you have the chance…"
"Save your breath, phantom. You cannot manipulate me."
Chaney laughed and said, "Perhaps if I still needed breath, I would take that advice. Still, you can't say you haven't considered cutting their throats to insulate your remaining family from their schemes. Can you?"
"My brothers will be safe."
"Oh, so this Rilmark character you sent Pietro to meet is an upstanding citizen, good contact among the Old Chauncel, the very model of a-"
"Enough. I apprehend your meaning."
"Your problem has always been bad associates, you know. Come to think of it, that's what my father always said to me. Look how I turned out."
Radu made a derisive snort and said, "We are nothing alike."
"Not yet," said Chaney, "but you will die soon, and we'll see what sort of ghost you make."
Chaney received no reply, as expected. After a few more leaps across improbable distances, Radu came to the balcony where he first spied upon the Hulorn.
"Welcome," called Andeth Ilchammar.
The lord mayor wore his public disguise and stood amid the gently floating artwork in the very center of his distorted chessboard floor. Drakkar stood beside him, and between the wizards stood a red-haired man whose freckles and pug nose made him look younger than he probably was.
Chaney recognized him at once as Escevar, Tamlin Uskevren's constant companion. His presence there could only mean one thing.
"You don't want this job," said Chaney. "This could be your last chance to kill these schemers and save your family."
Drakkar beckoned to Radu. "Come," he said. "Allow me to introduce you to my master and another of our associates."
The wizard smiled knowingly, and Chaney felt vindicated in his earlier warning. He wished only that he could convince Radu of the danger and persuade him to turn on the wizards, but he knew the assassin resented any influence-especially since they both knew Chaney would say anything to deflect the assassin from Talbot Uskevren's family.
"Recent events have required an acceleration of our previous schedule," explained Drakkar. "Now that we have proof that Thamalon Uskevren was the principal conspirator against the lawful government of Selgaunt, his lands and holdings are
forfeit to the Hulorn. Unfortunately, his heir has proven more difficult than we had anticipated. In the interest of putting this ugly chapter in our fair city's history behind us, it would be well if he were eliminated. To that end-"
"No!" protested Escevar. "That was never the deal. You promised to support-"
"You came to us," said the Hulorn. "We promised you nothing."
"I only wished to-"
Drakkar snapped his fingers, and a red thorn flashed from his hand to Escevar's cheek.
"Silence, you mollusk," the wizard said. "If you held any sway with us, it vanished when you destroyed the painting."
"Yes," drawled Andeth, turning to Escevar as if in sudden memory of a past slight. "That was ill done. I should have liked to have hung Thamalon Uskevren's grave in my collection."
Escevar clawed at the tiny wound on his face. The thorn burrowed beneath his flesh, wriggling its way up toward his ear. He grimaced in an effort to keep his tongue still.
"That's what you get, you bloody beggar," said Chaney.
He felt a surge of heat fill his immaterial body, and he kicked angrily at the traitor's leg.
Escevar cried out, falling to one knee.
"I said silence!" screeched Drakkar, raising his hand for another spell.
The Hulorn put a hand on his arm and shook his head.
"We still have need of him," the lord mayor cautioned.
"Oh, most excellent!" shouted Chaney. He could hardly believe what had just happened. The ghost raised his foot and stamped hard on Escevar's thigh. "Take that, you rat!"
With a grunt, Escevar fell to the floor, clutching his leg.
"The razor," Andeth chided Drakkar. "Not the club. How many times must I tell you?"
"It was only a cantrip…" murmured Drakkar, seemingly mystified by the potency of his own spell.
Chaney could tell by the angle of Radu's head that he suspected the ghost was responsible for Escevar's discomfort. If nothing else, he must have wondered at Chaney's exclamation, but he dared not speak to him in front of the others. Instead, he remained silent, as usual-and, as usual, his silence began to make the other men fidget uncomfortably until they returned to the matter at hand.
"This man will lead you to Stormweather Towers and let you in," said Drakkar. "There, find Tamlin Uskevren and put an end to him."
"The Uskevren are exceptional targets," said Radu.
"You'd better believe it, Malveen," said Chaney. "You go in there, and I promise you won't be coming back out."
Drakkar looked to Andeth, who frowned but bobbed his head.
The Hulorn said, "Perhaps a fifty percent increase in your usual fee?"
"Triple it," said Radu, "and pay me now."
"Surely you jest," said Andeth. "For that sum, I could hire a small army."
Radu shrugged and turned to leave.
"Wait," said Andeth. "Double it is, then. Half now, half on compl-wait!"
Radu had one hand on the balcony rail.
"You drive a hard bargain," said the Hulorn. "Triple it is. Drakkar, fetch my butler."
Drakkar gaped at his master's offhanded dismissal, but he obeyed.
"Such a sum should do much to improve Laskar's circumstances," said Andeth. Chaney saw Radu stiffen, but only because he was watching for a reaction. So was the Hulorn, apparently. "Who knows how far the Malveen star could rise with your continued service to the city."
*****
As the trio approached Stormweather Towers, Chaney continued to test his newfound power. It failed more often than it succeeded, but he learned that he could inflict at least an annoying injury on the frightened Escevar if he struck while angry.
The problem was that he was more fearful than angry. He knew Tal had little love for his older brother, but he was fairly certain he wouldn't take pleasure in Tamlin's death.
"Don't do anything foolish," said Radu, "lest I act beyond the purview of my employ."
Escevar bobbed his head in tepid agreement, but Chaney suspected the words were actually meant for him.
Chaney feared that Radu relished the thought of facing Tal. No other swordsman had come so close to Radu's skill, and Tal had done so largely by dint of his supernatural strength and resilience. Radu's new, unholy powers more than made up for the advantages of a werewolf.
Werewolf…
The thought gave Chaney an idea. Just as Tal's affliction had been both a curse and a blessing, being a ghost provided certain advantages. Chaney had devoted himself to tormenting his killer with nothing but words, but he had at least one other weapon at his disposal, providing he could learn how to use it in time.
Yet Chaney wondered what else he could do. If the stories were true, then perhaps he could do more than smite a living man with his rage.
Chaney reached into Radu's body. He clutched for his heart and squeezed.
Radu didn't even break his stride.
Dark, thought Chaney.
He tried again with both hands, to no better effect.
Despite the failure to hurt Radu, Chaney did feel something. It was like the physical sensation of slipping on a pair of gloves.
Hopeful, Chaney thrust his arms into Radu-one down each of the assassin's own arms-and he stepped into the living man's body.
Chaney felt like a child struggling with a shirt his nanny was trying to force over his head. He felt the weight of limbs and torso begin to form over his own ethereal body. Cold surged from the place his heart had been and ran through a network of veins he no longer had.
Radu stopped walking. He shook his head violently then he turned around to look behind him.
Ahead of him, Escevar stopped and looked back, puzzled.
"What is it?" he asked.
Chaney felt Radu's body shiver and his muscles grow taut.
"Stop it!" hissed the assassin.
Chaney could no longer stifle his laughter.
"Why didn't I try this months ago?"
He kept shrugging his arms and legs into Radu's body, trying for a comfortable fit. The cold he felt did not subside. Instead, it grew sharper.
Radu clenched his fists, and Chaney felt the unutterable pain as the hardened sinews of his right hand ground and popped. He felt the molten agony of the bone shards still embedded in his face, even as the rest of his skull felt as cold as ice.
"What?" repeated Escevar, his voice a whisper, as he backed away from Radu.
"Relax," said Chaney.
He heard the trembling in his voice, even as he tried to sound nonchalant. Stinging hot tears welled in his eyes, but the cold in the rest of his body continued to intensify. He wanted to laugh, to mock Radu, to shout out in triumph, but the words were frozen in his mouth. The pain continued to grow until at last all Chaney wanted to do was scream, but he couldn't even breathe.
Get out!
Chaney fell to the ground in a thousand shards of shattered ice. Above him, Radu Malveen staggered briefly, then he stepped briskly away from the spot where he'd been momentarily rooted.
"Try that again," said Radu, "and I will kill every living thing within those walls."
"But I did-"
"Silence," Radu cut off Escevar. "I was not talking to you."
Escevar led the rest of the way in silence. Radu followed from a safe distance, keeping to the shadows. Chaney limped along behind him, still shuddering from the pain of being ejected forcibly from his first attempt at possession. It felt like a combination of a severe beating, a heroic hangover, and an infernal case of frostbite.
"What in the Nine Hells is inside of him?" Chaney asked himself, then he realized he'd probably answered his own question.
At the gate to Stormweather Towers, Escevar balked at the sight of a doubled guard. They saluted when he came into the torchlight and they recognized the master's butler.
"What has happened?" said Escevar.
"My lord requests you attend him at once," said the guard.
As two of the guard's comrades flanked him, Escevar realized his peril. He sai
d nothing, however, as the guards removed his sword and took him by the arms.
The moment they entered the herald's door, Radu struck.
To Chaney it appeared that Radu's blade had merely caressed the first guard's neck before thrusting forward to stab up into the second man's jaw. They fell forward simultaneously, as if stumbling over the same unseen obstacle.
One of the men holding Escevar released his captive and reached down to catch one of his companions. He saw the dark shape of Radu's coat flap toward him, but before he could open his mouth to shout an alarm, his eyes became the mouths of twin streams flowing down his cheeks.
The fourth guard had time to draw his blade, but he made the mistake of using Escevar as his shield.
Radu lunged forward, transfixing both men through the heart.
For a moment, all five bodies remained intact. Radu ran past them as steam rose from their open wounds into the chill night air, then, each within a second of the previous, the bodies crumbled to white ash and flowed after their killer.
The assassin was already running toward the house, so the pale essence of the dead men swirled behind him like the foamy wake of a black ship.
Guards shouted from the grand entrance to Stormweather Towers, "Who's there? Stand and unfold yourself!"
Radu veered away from the main entrance and ran through the garden. The wisps of his victims continued to trail behind him like smoke from a burning man.
Chaney saw a pair of guards at the kitchen door. They arched their necks to peer west through the shadows of the garden, but they didn't see Radu sprinting through the shadows. Chaney knew what their fate would be when the killer reached them. If he had a voice to warn them, he would…
Before he could reconsider his sudden inspiration, Chaney flew toward one of the guards-astonishingly, even faster than Radu. His ghostly form entered one of the guards. After an instant of quickly smothered confusion, Chaney felt the night air on his face, warm woolen clothes upon his body, and most amazingly-the body that housed his spirit.
"Over here!" yelled Chaney, pointing toward Radu. "Over here!"
The other guard drew his sword and peered where Chaney pointed, but he saw nothing.
