Rush appeared suddenly beside him, smiling, and Dart made a sour face and gestured with his hands, telling in sign what he thought of Rush’s parentage, more upset at the way he’d jumped than because he hadn’t detected his cousin’s approach. Rush grinned wider and signed that the corridor he’d checked led toward the kitchen and other parts of the castle useless to them. He also signed that if what Dart described was true, then he had the same problems, since they were cousins. Dart again waited while Rush moved swiftly into the right-hand passage.
The blond elf came quickly to the first side passage and found that it led to a door a short way in. Guessing at what he would find in the other passages, he crept over into the next one and found that it, too, led to a door, as all the others had. Nodding in satisfaction—he loved being right—he crept stealthily back to where Dart waited, confident that he knew which way to go.
He halted midstep as footsteps came toward him—from the hallway he planned to take. Rush hoped fervently that whoever approached wouldn’t see Dart and that his cousin had sense enough to hide. He moved back against the wall to avoid a collision if they turned his way and waited as the footsteps came closer. At least he didn’t have to worry about being seen.
He could just make out the hall junction, and in the light of a torch far down the passage opposite him he saw two guardsmen march past the crossing and continue straight down the hall. When they’d passed out of earshot, Rush crept back to where his cousin had stood but could see him nowhere. He sighed, thinking he needed to tie a leash around his fool kinsman’s neck.
Dart had moved a little down one hallway and stepped into an alcove when he’d heard the guards coming. Now he stole up behind Rush, who looked around and mumbled to himself about Dart being dumb enough to remain in the open, and tapped him on the shoulder. Rush jumped nearly his own height and whirled around, a dagger appearing in each hand as if by magic, but stopped and frowned at Dart’s smugly grinning face.
Not wanting to waste time calling him names, but hating the ability that allowed his cousin to see him, Rush signed their next destination. The way we need to go is straight ahead. We are in the servants’ quarters, which would put the king’s room and conference rooms not too far away. His blades didn’t interfere in any way with his signing, and without waiting for Dart to agree Rush moved off toward the finding of secrets.
Voices struck Dart’s ears as the two elves left another of the Darim king’s many state rooms. King Celos liked to hold meetings, and he had an abundance of rooms in which to do so. Also, the annual Trade Council convened here, no one trusting Celenian merchants in their own city and Darim being the easiest place for all the southern kings to reach. Because of this, the two thieves had already checked over twelve rooms, none of them close together, and knew another two dozen others awaited them. Even after stopping to pray for divine guidance they began to feel hopeless, until the sounds of talking drifted to Dart’s highly sensitive ears.
The little elf identified at least two distinct voices that carried on a hurried but quiet conversation. One sounded slightly angry and the other kept warning about being heard. When Rush glanced back at him, Dart motioned for a halt to give himself a chance to pinpoint the location and find out if this conversation was important.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on the two voices, letting the sounds of the wind howling outside and numerous people sleeping or engaged in activities he had no right to eavesdrop on drift to the back of his mind. Rush came softly up to him, checking the hallways for signs of guards but seeing none. Dart suddenly grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down one hall, his eyes still closed and his ears leading them closer to the two voices.
“I’m tellin’ you it failed.” That voice sounded tired and frustrated, as if it had repeated the phrase over and over.
“How?” The angry voice was barely a whisper. “Those things ne’er fail. I tol’ you not to send that idiot along with it. He prob’ly gave it away. I’m just glad it killed ’im afore he gave us all away.”
“So’m I. But now what’re we gonna to do? It’ll take too long to find ’nother Jaga if we’re to meet our deadline. And if my source’s correct, Dobry’s so nervous about bein’ killed he’s got everyone carryin’ a sword. We’ll never get to ’im now.”
“We can’t give up yet. Not and still expect to be paid. Did your man find out who killed the creature?”
“Aye. Was some youth from Ramen. Sounds like an ice-begotten good warrior. Dobry called ’im for one of his special errands.”
“Is he with anyone else?”
“Don’ know. My friend’s heard rumors that the Celene prince might be mixed up in it.”
“Him again? That’s all we need.”
“It’s only a rumor.”
The angry one snorted. “You know as well as I how often rumors come out true. Fire, but I’d like to kill ’im and be done with it.”
Dart thought he heard the other man’s knees rattle together. “You crazy? That’d start a war way afore Liskin wants to, and in the wrong place. Besides, he said we’re supposed to kill only Dobry. No one else. Was very specific, he was. And you know how he is ’bout followin’ orders.” Dart did hear the angry man swallow nervously. “If the stories are true, that Mahalian sorcerer is prob’ly nearby. I don’ like the idea of tryin’ to kill a wizard. Usually take you with ’em, they do.”
“I know, I know.” He sighed. “We can’t waste time on ’nother Jaga. We’ll have to send one of our own. And I think I’ve got just the man.”
“Who is it?” The first voice was suddenly excited, and it was his companion’s turn to hiss for silence.
“D’you want the guards to find us? You’re the one who works here, remember?” A pause, as if he received a silent answer. “The assassin’s a Galesian. One of the best. Once Dobry cools down, I’ll send ’im to do the job.”
“What about that Ramener?”
“Don’ worry about ’im. Dobry’ll most likely send ’im on his task or return ’im to his momma. Even if he gets in the way, my man has experience dealin’ with warriors. Black Guard aren’t even good ’nough to stop ’im. And Dobry’s idiot guards can do whatever fire-blasted thing they want. They won’ get in the way. Now…” The man paused as guards passed by.
“Now,” his voice was quieter after the guards were out of even Dart’s hearing range, “you get in contact with your other man in Bordell and tell ’im what’s goin’ on and to prepare an entrance for a visitor. I’ll send a message to my friend in Galesia. Liskin’s unavailable at the moment, so we’ll just have to wait to tell ’im what’s happened. Hopefully, we’ll be able to finish the job afore he knows anythin’ went wrong. If all goes well, Dobry’ll be dead in less than a month, and the south’ll be ripe for the takin’.”
“Should I try and pin the blame on Celos again?” He didn’t sound too sure of his ability to do so.
“No, too risky, considerin’ you almost got caught last time. If you can, try to at least hint at it, just to cause some confusion, but you don’ ’ave time to make a better link. Hopefully, we won’ need it. While they mourn their fat Overlord, they’ll be overwhelmed and destroyed. That’s enough for me.”
“All right. I’ll tell my man your plan. And try to get a hold of Liskin. No matter how busy he is elsewhere, or how mad he’ll be when he finds out we haven’t done our job yet, we’re doin’ one of his most important tasks.”
Dart, having followed the voices to a room next to the two conspirators, motioned to Rush to see what they looked like. The blond elf hurried quietly from the room and was gone several minutes. Dart could hear the two men walking off in opposite directions, noting that the one who passed by his room smelled strongly of lotus plants, and waited nervously for Rush to return.
Someone plotting to kill King Dobry and invade the south? Trees and bark! They’d already tried to kill the king once and failed, thanks to Vaun, but he’d be gone when they tried again. And Galesians were the best assassins in th
e world. Who could protect the Overlord from him? And there was a traitor in King Dobry’s house, someone spying on the goings on in the palace and informing this man, Liskin, and his cohorts as to a good time to murder the king. This was terrible! His Majesty must be told at once, and King Celos needed to know he, too, had a traitor in his castle.
At least now they knew the Darim monarch wasn’t involved. But it was going to be a hard, fast road back to Bordell to arrive before King Dobry figured out it might have been King Celos. The Overlord would surely act the minute he found out, and it would be terrible to see a king beheaded for no reason. Dart bit on his fingernails while he awaited his cousin’s return.
Finally, Rush came back into the room, his shifting body adding to the headache building in Dart’s skull ever since he’d heard the word murder. Dart signed to Rush what he planned, refusing to tell him the specifics of the plots he’d overheard, and the blond elf had to agree, though he didn’t like the idea of staying longer inside the palace. It would be bad to be caught at the same time as two murderous traitors. However, knowing King Celos must be informed of the conspiracy, he agreed to Dart’s suggestion of leaving a message. Following Dart out of the room, he took the lead again as rain began falling heavily outside.
* * *
Merdel stalked impatiently around the room, talking angrily to himself about what he planned to do to the two wind-brained elves when he saw them again. They’d left just yesterday, but already he felt that time rushed by them, time they didn’t have. His dark eyes rapidly scanned the room, focusing every now and then on his companions seated around him.
“Merdel, will you please stop pacing? You’re making me nervous.” Drath tried to sound calm and in control, but he really wanted to break the wizard’s fire-burned ankles. If Merdel wanted to pace, he should do it in his own room.
“And well you should be!” Merdel rounded on him, shaking his finger as if at a small child. “Every day we sit here is one more day that Elak has to locate us. The more time we spend idle, not going after him, the more time he has to find out what we’re doing and prepare against our coming. Our success relies on his ignorance of our actions, but we lose more surprise every minute those elves are gone. By the Fires of Tarquon, where did they go?”
Drath hated being yelled at for no reason. “I don’t know. Nobody does. You know how good those two are at hiding their tracks. But stomping around and yelling isn’t going to help find them. All we can do is wait, and I’d prefer if we all did it sitting down!” He took a turn to shake his finger. “And in case you’ve forgotten, it was your water-brained idea to come here in the first place!” Drath was rapidly losing his patience.
Merdel glared back at Drath but said nothing; neither did he stop pacing. Drath glared just as hotly but refused to say anything else until accosted again. He’d let Merdel provoke their fight if he wanted to and would only defend himself. Vaun and Thorne, in what was probably the wisest decision of their lives, opted to remain out of the argument, which had been going on for hours. Merdel insisted they ride immediately to Darim, but Drath said it was foolish to go galloping off after the elves when the cousins might not even have gone there or might return any moment. Merdel had consequently not taken too kindly to being called foolish.
While he and Drath bickered, the dwarf and the Swordsman sat quietly on opposite sides of the well-furnished room, watching the two combatants wordlessly. Vaun almost proposed a wager as to who would win but figured Drath and Merdel wouldn’t find it nearly as funny as he and Thorne would. So he occupied himself with either sharpening his Vaulka or caressing it.
Drath’s room was larger than any of his friends’, and Vaun found the fact mildly annoying. He did consider Drath their leader, as well as something of a role model, but he couldn’t understand why Drath deserved a golden washbasin and everything from water to ale to what Thorne claimed was Veldanese wine—the dwarf’s eyes had lit up on that one, though Vaun didn’t know why—in bottles that never seemed to empty, no matter how much Thorne drank out of them. The rest of them had to put up with if not poor accommodations, at least ones not quite so lavish.
Forested hunting scenes beautifully decorated the walls in Drath’s room, along with elaborately worked scrolling in blue, gold, and red. Not all were paintings or tapestries. A mural depicting six men chasing down the largest white stag Vaun had ever imagined took up one entire wall. Surely that was only an artist’s embellishment of some story. If the proportions were right, no deer could possibly be that big.
The tall man’s bed, too, looked big enough to hold at least four people. Vaun’s could have easily held two, and was very comfortable, but sleeping on clouds would be dreadful compared to Drath’s. His windows, twice as big, gave a better view of the gardens. Not that Vaun would ever complain; he only thought they should all be given relatively the same treatment.
Merdel stopped pacing and rounded on Drath again. “And another thing, if you think that...” The wizard gasped and doubled over, falling to the floor on his knees. He convulsed, his whole body tense and shaking. A deep groan forced its way out of his mouth, and his eyes shut tight. The others stared at him wonderingly for a moment, startled by his collapse. Then they sprang as one to his side when he groaned loudly again.
Drath reached him first. “Merdel!” He had forgotten his anger. “What’s wrong?” The wizard moaned deeply and clutched his stomach as if trying to hold it in. Drath worriedly eyed his other companions, but none of them could help him. They were as confused as he. Merdel grasped Drath urgently by the arm, squeezing it hard as he shuddered under another wave of pain.
Merdel coughed. “It’s…” He gasped again and swallowed nausea, pushing away the stars that threatened to obscure his vision. “It’s…the…barriers. Elak’s…weakening them…again.”
“How do you know?” Drath gripped his friend’s arm in return, ignoring the pain of the wizard’s hold on him. He’d probably have a nasty bruise on his arm by tomorrow.
“When…it all started, I…tuned myself…to their energy…so I could…keep an eye on them.” He cried out loudly this time and bent over, fighting another surge of nausea. “Ice and burning wind…it hurts. He’s really tearing them apart.”
Merdel stopped talking as another wave of magically induced pain ripped through his body, bending him over further and causing him to nearly scream. He shook and convulsed as he felt the walls separating this world from the next slowly tear apart, and Drath had to hold him with both hands to keep him from thrashing about. Thorne latched onto the wizard’s ankles to keep his legs from kicking one of them or the furniture. The dwarf could feel the tension in Merdel’s legs and knew his friend’s entire body was rigid. The curses underlying his grunts and groans of pain told them what he planned to do with Elak once he laid hands on him.
Drath didn’t know what to do, other than to hold onto the bearded mage until the pain stopped. Vaun knelt close by, unsure how to help the wizard cope with the pain that made his eyes clench tightly and tears leak down his face. The Song and the Rhythm were silent, not knowing how to combat this threat.
After four lifetimes of pure agony, Merdel went limp. All three people sitting around him picked him up and helped him to the large bed. For some reason, the white flowers, red leaves, and blue and gold scrollwork surrounding a falcon sewn in heavy thread in the center of the thick comforter stood out vividly to Vaun’s eyes. Years later, the young Swordsman could still describe to the smallest detail every inch of that covering.
* * *
Thorne went to pour some ale to help revive the mage. Merdel had felt the pain rush out of him as Elak released the spell and had had to fight hard to remain conscious. He’d somehow managed to keep from vomiting, though his guts churned mightily. If he’d known how much Elak suffered on the other end, Merdel would’ve felt some measure of satisfaction. As Thorne pushed the strong, bitter drink between his lips, the wizard swore silently that he would stop Elak no matter what it cost him. If it was with
in his power, his old friend would feel even more pain than he’d just felt.
The ale served to strengthen him and put life back into his limbs. Sitting up wearily, he surveyed the worried faces of his companions. He smiled faintly. “At least now maybe you fireheads will quit arguing with me and take me seriously.” The others laughed softly, knowing that the return of his dry humor meant the wizard would be fine.
Vaun gasped. “I thought you were dying.”
The others nodded agreement.
Merdel nodded. “So did I. Now you see why Elak must not succeed. The pain I felt was nothing compared to what will happen to our worlds if he accomplishes his goal. Now you know why we have to stop him as soon as possible. Now you know why we must hunt down those leaf-brained elves and pound some sense into them. They could be jeopardizing our entire quest. Both worlds will feel the pain of the weakening barriers, and the more he does it, the longer it will take them to grow strong again. I don’t even want to entertain the idea of what will happen if he actually succeeds.”
They all nodded seriously and moved back to their chairs, reassuring the mage that they would do whatever they could to stop the Dark Wizard.
Merdel sipped more of his ale but said nothing more as he tried to collect his thoughts. He didn’t know if he could withstand another bout like that and considered the advantages and disadvantages of keeping such a close eye on the barriers. Aftershocks of pain still rippled through him, and his hand shook as he raised the cup to his lips.
At that instant King Dobry burst into the room. His triumphant smile was accompanied by a dark expression. “I have it. I know who sent that accursed Jaga, and he’ll pay dearly for it.”
“Who was it?” Drath was surprised by the change in the king. He’d never seen the slow-to-anger monarch quite this upset before. Whoever it was, Drath was glad that anger wasn’t directed at him.
The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) Page 23
