Sariel danced back, bracing to attack again, when black tentacles snaked out of the murk behind her and sought to draw her in. Drawn by the rage of their queen, the lumbering forms of several Nar’ath minions emerged from the swirling sand, and Sariel’s blades licked out to deflect grasping limbs as she was forced to retreat further or be surrounded.
On the other side, the queen sent her tail lunging around Innikar, encircling him. The coils spun, tightening like some huge fist in an effort to crush him, but Innikar was no longer there. Vaulting high in the air, he leapt for the queen’s scaly back. Once more the monstrosity moved with astonishing speed, lashing out with her tail to strike him from midair. The Sil’ath warrior was propelled to the ground, tumbling end over end as he disappeared from sight. The dark, hulking shapes of more minions converged there and vanished after him in pursuit.
Amric struggled to retain consciousness in the crushing grip of the Nar’ath queen. He pried weakly at the talons that dug into his flesh even through his oiled mail shirt, trying in vain to loosen them enough that he might draw a full breath.
“Now, Adept,” she said with obvious relish. “Where were we?”
The thick, protruding structures of her outer jaws flared wide, exposing the cold and eerily feminine countenance beneath. A blood-red mouth parted to reveal rows of glistening fangs, grinning in wicked triumph. Amric bared his own teeth and glared his hatred back at her. He fixed upon the slanted, glowing green eyes, and resolved to cling to awareness long enough to strike out at those orbs when she brought him close. Perhaps he could blind the fiend before she destroyed him. His vision darkened dangerously, a descending blackness threaded through with veins of white fire, and he blinked it back with a groan.
Fighting for consciousness, he cursed himself for underestimating the sheer power and ferocity of the Nar’ath queen. Sometimes the most difficult part of a trap was not in the catching, but in dealing with what one caught.
“Well?” Morland demanded. “Tell me what you see, farseer.”
“A moment more, my lord,” Lorenth murmured. He was a young man with a thin brown beard that matched the hue of his unassuming robes. He peered out the tower window into the night with unfocused eyes. “It is dark outside and the grounds of your estate are quite extensive. I am still finding my range.”
“Be quick about it then,” Morland snapped. “It is imperative that I know what transpires in the city tonight, and I am not a patient man.”
“Yes, my lord,” said Lorenth. “You have made your point.”
“Have I? I wonder. I can usually tell when I have succeeded in making my point, as I either achieve the results I desire, or the person who has failed me provides a highly motivating example for others. Which will be the case with you, farseer?”
The young man shivered without blinking. Even without the merchant’s ruthless reputation, there was the ice in his tone and the ominous leather creak and metal rasp of his guards to lend credence to his words. Lorenth kept his breathing even and clung to his focus with an effort. Whatever else might be said of the man, he paid well for results, and Lorenth desperately needed the coin.
“I will not fail you, my lord.”
“See that you do not, farseer.”
“I must remind my lord that my farsight cannot penetrate solid barriers-” Lorenth began.
“I am well aware of your limitations, farseer,” Morland interrupted. “And I would not have hired you if they would be an issue for this task. Now, we are in the tallest tower of my mansion to provide you the least obstructed view over the bluff’s edge and into the heart of the city. I suggest you make use of it, before my patience wears any thinner.”
Lorenth bit back his frustration, all too aware that ill-chosen words with this man could prove fatal. A severed hand collected no coins, after all. “Perhaps if my lord would indicate what he seeks to find-”
“And have you merely echo whatever I wish to hear?” Morland snorted. “I think not. I am paying a sum greater than you would see in half a year or more, and I am paying it for the talents of a true farseer, not some charlatan fortune teller who would twist the gleanings from my own words into false pearls of wisdom. I would be most disappointed to find that you had misrepresented your skills.”
Lorenth’s mouth went dry. The room had gone a deadly kind of quiet, but he resisted the urge to retract his sight from the far-flung darkness in order to glance about him. It was a nervous reflex, difficult to suppress under the circumstances, but he steeled himself with the knowledge that it would not help him anyway. He was no warrior; he could not evade the blades of the scowling guards and win his way to freedom even if he could see his immediate surroundings. Also, the additional delay might in fact prove his undoing. No, his welfare depended solely upon his abilities now, and he had best start providing results.
Perhaps if he provided a few meaningful details, Morland would trust him enough to reveal the true requirements for Lorenth’s work this evening.
His eyes focused on a distant point, thousands of yards away. He almost slumped with relief to find the outer wall of Morland’s estate, bathed in amber pools of light cast by wall-set torches. Finally, some light to work with! He focused over the wall and onto the manicured lane beyond, and from there over the bluff’s edge. He could not follow the slope from that point, as the angle from his current vantage point did not allow it. He would be forced to make another leap in focus, but at least this time he had his general bearings.
There was at least one element of truth to the merchant’s words, Lorenth reflected as he extended his sight again. The man had offered a considerable amount for what seemed a simple enough job, even if the details were lacking in advance. But then, that was not unusual in itself. Lorenth expected that a portion of the fee was to buy his silence afterward about whatever he would see tonight. He was probably meant to confirm a lover’s indiscretions, or perhaps spy on the clandestine dealings of some business competitor. Lorenth sighed to himself. It was usually something terribly tedious like that, some trivial personal or civic matter that was well beneath the scope of his talents, and a far cry from the valorous uses to which he had planned to put them when he first came to Keldrin’s Landing.
The darkened top of a building swam into focus, interrupting his roaming thoughts. Somewhere in the trade district, it appeared.
“I have reached the trade district, my lord,” Lorenth said. “Where am I to look?”
“Look to the streets,” Morland replied, eagerness seeping into his tone. “Anywhere should suffice.”
“Certainly, my lord, but if I know not where to look or what to-”
“Just look, you fool!”
Anywhere? It made no sense. Was the merchant not looking for something specific after all? Perhaps this was an extended interview of sorts, to verify his abilities in advance of a more important job that would come later. Lorenth felt a chill. How would he prove the veracity of what he saw if Morland was looking for nothing in particular? He had to find some convincing detail, something that would allay the suspicions of a powerful and vengeful man.
He shifted his gaze ever so slightly. This required a finer degree of control than most people realized, to move his sight only a few feet over such a distance. It was all too easy to jump wildly around and be forced to reestablish his frame of reference entirely. He had managed it over much greater lengths before, however, and the merchant did not seem the type to be impressed with the control Lorenth had practiced so hard to earn, so he swallowed the boastful words he was tempted to utter and resumed his efforts.