To her astonishment, he shook off her hand. “Calm down, Mari,” he said in a perturbed voice. “You’re rumpling my silk shirt.” He fussed with the soft material, smoothing out wrinkles that would have been imperceptible to less fastidious eyes. “Now, follow me. And whatever you do, don’t look down.”
With that he turned and stepped off the end of the bridge. Mari screamed. She lunged forward, trying to grab him, but he had already vanished from sight. Frantically, she peered over the edge of the bridge. She could see the labyrinthine streets of the Old City far below, but she caught no glimpse of Cormik. His body must have already landed.
“Why, Morhion? Why did he do it?”
“Indeed, why?” Morhion echoed her, but Mari had the distinct impression he was mocking her. “Cormik was hardly the suicidal type. In fact, I’ve never met a man as obsessed with staying alive.”
Mari shook her head in disbelief. Yet she had seen Cormik step off the edge of the bridge.
“Oh, stop this nonsense,” a voice said impatiently. “We haven’t got all day.”
A chubby hand shot out of thin air and grabbed Mari’s green jacket, yanking her off the end of the bridge. This time she was too surprised to cry out. She braced for the shock of the plunge, but she wasn’t falling. In fact, she could feel a hard surface beneath her deerskin boots.
Cormik was glaring at her. She looked down. That was a mistake. Though it felt as if she were standing on solid rock, all she could see beneath her feet was clear air and the twisting streets a hundred feet below. A wave of nausea crashed through her, and she clutched Cormik’s arm for support.
“Didn’t I tell you not to look down?” he chided her.
“Invisible,” Morhion murmured with interest. “The bridge doesn’t end at all. It merely becomes invisible. And when we stand upon it, we are invisible as well.” He turned to Cormik. “This was wrought with powerful magic. Who are we going to find at the other end of the bridge?”
“You’ll see,” Cormik replied mysteriously.
Cormik was right, Mari realized. It was definitely better if she did not look down. Her feet were content to believe they trod upon hard stone, and she didn’t want to give them any other notions. She kept her gaze fixed ahead. Far below was a dark and seamy section of the Old City. They continued to walk.
“We’re here,” Cormik announced.
“Er, where’s here?” Mari asked hesitantly. “I don’t see anything.”
“Must you always be so negative, my dear?” Cormik asked in exasperation. “I know it’s difficult for you, but just trust me.”
He moved forward and vanished from sight. Mari knew there was little point in protesting. “Here goes nothing,” she grumbled, stepping forward.
The tower was invisible as well, at least from the outside. Once within, Mari found herself surrounded by comfortable, solid stone walls. The three passed through an arch and into a circular chamber with a domed ceiling. Instantly, Mari was dazzled by a shimmering spectrum of ruby, emerald, sapphire, and diamond-white light.
“Welcome, Cormik,” a husky voice said. “This is a surprise. And I see you’ve brought friends. Well, don’t just stand there. Come in.”
After several moments, Mari’s eyes adjusted to the dazzling illumination. The chamber’s walls were encrusted with precious stones, and the gems refracted the light of countless candles. The effect was breathtaking. In the middle of the chamber, on a chaise of crimson velvet, reclined the figure of an incredibly beautiful woman. Her short hair was like a wave of polished onyx, her skin as lustrous as burnished amber, her eyes as bright as violet sapphires.
“Hello, Jewel,” Cormik said, his bow surprisingly graceful for a man of his girth.
“Greetings, my dear, doddering coot,” she replied sharply.
“Ah, my sweet, hideous hag—I see you’re still grating on the nerves.”
Mari frowned at this curious exchange. Cormik had called the woman “Jewel.” The name seemed vaguely familiar, but Mari couldn’t remember where she had heard it. Certainly she had never seen the exotic woman before. At first she had thought Jewel to be about her own age, but now she wasn’t so certain. There was something strangely old about Jewel’s sharp violet eyes and smoky voice.
“Now, let me see,” Jewel mused, turning her attention to Cormik’s companions. “This must be the Harper Mari Al’maren and the mage Morhion Gen’dahar. Cormik has told me much about you. But don’t worry yourselves, loves, for I seldom believe anything Cormik tells me.” She smiled warmly, and Mari returned the expression despite herself. She found she liked this mysterious woman.
Jewel bade her guests sit on crushed velvet lounges. Servants clad in black leather jerkins and black silk masks appeared with glasses of ruby-colored wine. Each of them wore a long knife at the hip. Mari drained her glass quickly in an effort to settle her nerves.
“I’m so glad you brought your friends, Cormik,” Jewel said in her throaty voice. “It is good to finally meet some of those who journeyed with my grandson.”
Mari blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry,” she sputtered. “I didn’t realize I knew any of your kin.”
Cormik set down his glass with a frown. “Haven’t you been paying attention, Mari? Of course you knew her grandson. This is Jewel Talondim, Ferret’s grandmother.”
This was too much for Mari to absorb. “Ferret’s grandmother?” she said incredulously. “But she’s so … young. Ferret was a good ten years older than me, and Jewel can’t be a day over—”
“Ninety-three,” Jewel interrupted with a laugh. “Oh, I know what you’re thinking, but I can assure you there’s no magic involved. Just good blood. The women of the Talondim clan have always aged gracefully.”
“I believe that qualifies as an understatement,” Morhion commented matter-of-factly. Jewel gave him a solemn nod.
Mari had learned a little about Jewel from her grandson, Ferret. The Talondim clan were independent thieves, not allied with any guild. Normally, such free-lancers were eradicated by the fiercely territorial thieves’ guilds, but the Talondim family was unusually powerful—due in no small part to the strong hand and keen mind of the clan’s matriarch. As a result, instead of attacking the Talondim family, the thieving guilds of Iriaebor more often sought to forge alliances with Jewel. Thus the Talondim family prospered.
Mari was suddenly filled with sadness at the memories of Ferret. “Your grandson was a good thief, Jewel,” she said quietly. “I can’t tell you how much he helped us when we were fighting Ravendas. But more than that, he was a good man. I miss him.”
Jewel reached out and gave Mari’s hand a squeeze. “I know, love. We all do.” She sighed wistfully. “For the longest time I was furious with the Harpers and the Fellowship of the Dreaming Dragon, for taking Ferret away from me. But now that we’ve met at last, I can see why he risked everything to help you.”
Mari wanted to say how sorry she was, but the words would not come, so she settled for gripping Jewel’s hand fiercely. Jewel laughed and caught Mari in a maternal embrace. “There’s no need to cry, Mari. Don’t you see? We’ve already become friends.”
Despite a flood of tears, Mari couldn’t help laughing, for it was true.
It was Cormik who politely reminded them all why they had come to Jewel’s invisible tower, and they got down to business. It took some time to recount all they knew concerning Caledan’s transformation, yet Mari was amazed that Jewel absorbed it so quickly and with such aplomb.
“I have heard of this Stiletto,” Jewel confessed when Mari finally finished. “But I’m afraid I know very little about him.”
“Very little would be more than I know at the moment,” Cormik replied gruffly.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me in your case, Cormik?” Jewel asked smartly. “As far as my sources have been able to determine, Stiletto is a new underworld power in the Western Heartlands. He—or she, for no one really knows—appeared about two years ago, and since then has quickly risen to power in the world of thievery. Each day, more and more underworld operations fall under Stiletto’s control. Every thieves’ guild west of the Sunset Mountains has felt Stiletto’s bite, and I’m afraid the Talondim clan is no different. We’re all losing obscene amounts of money, so you can imagine that the location of Stiletto’s base of operations is something every guild-master and crime lord in the Western Heartlands would give his pickpocketing hand to know. Despite all our efforts, Stiletto has managed to keep his lair—and his identity—a secret.”