Pernika’s eyes lingered on Brin a moment more. “Now that,” she said, “is terribly interesting. Point for you, stripling.”
Havilar smiled nervously. “Shall we go again?”
Pernika traded glances with Maspero, whose expression hardly flickered-a slight tightness around the eyes, a momentary purse of the lips. Still, a fleeting annoyance crossed Pernika’s foxlike face before she turned back to Havilar. “Not today. Sun’s too high. And you’re too skilled for me to go half measures.”
“All right. Tomorrow?”
“If we’re still here,” Pernika said, collecting her things. She and Maspero headed back through the tower, toward the city beyond, never saying a word to one another.
“That,” Havilar said, once Pernika was out of earshot, “was fantastic. Did you see me get past her? That wasn’t easy.”
“Was it?” Brin murmured, turned away and watching Pernika’s back.
“No it wasn’t.” He turned back to find Havilar frowning at him. “What’s the matter with you? It’s not … It’s not because of what she said before, is it?”
“No.” Brin beckoned her nearer. “I think Pernika’s a Banite. We need to tell Tam.”
Havilar didn’t react. “Sometimes,” she said after a heartbeat, “I think you say things like that to make me ask what you mean.”
Brin nearly cursed again-how could someone possibly know so little of the gods? — but he bit it back. Havilar might look like a tiefling, but the ways of the unbelieving dragonborn lined her marrow. “She worships an evil god,” he hissed. “The kind of god whose followers enjoy killing people to prove they can. And,” he added before she could speak, “not in a fair fight, or because someone needed protecting, or any of that.”
“Oh,” Havilar said. She stood on her tiptoes and peered over his head at Pernika’s retreating form. “Are you sure? She didn’t try to kill me before.”
“She has a tattoo,” Brin started.
“She has a lot of tattoos,” Havilar said. She rocked back down on the flats of her feet. “Maybe I need a tattoo.”
“Havi!” he barked. “Stop being daft and listen.”
Her brows went up, and her mouth tightened. “I am listening,” she said. “And I think you’re imagining things. Pernika’s not trouble-she didn’t hurt me before, she didn’t hurt you either, and I don’t think a tattoo makes the difference.”
“A tattoo of a dark god’s symbol?”
“Sort of like a devil’s brand?” she said sharply and set to unwrapping her glaive. “Tam knows what he’s doing. If you can spot some stupid symbol, then so can he.”
Brin flushed. “Whoever she is, she doesn’t need to know where I’m from,” he said a little stiffly. “I’d appreciate you keeping that to yourself.”
“Pernika doesn’t care,” Havilar said. “As you said, half the world’s Cormyrean.” She wrapped the batting into itself. “Although I don’t think that’s so.”
“I was exaggerating,” Brin said. “And I still don’t want you telling.”
Farideh appeared in the tower’s doorway and made straight for her sister. “Are you through?” she called.
“Got too hot. But she only took me five times of seven. I’ll catch up tomorrow.”
Farideh glanced at Brin. “They’re leaving tomorrow,” she said. “Mira said she has clues enough to find the place finally.”
Havilar’s face fell. “Oh. Drat.” She considered her glaive. “Do you think any of Tam’s people might spar with me? Or maybe you two-”
“I want to go with them,” Farideh said. “And I think you should come too.”
“What?” Brin cried.
“Really?” Havilar clambered to her feet. “Isn’t it supposed to be dangerous? Caves and evil wizards and maybe that creepy codloose Netherese?”
“It’s just a ruin. We’ve handled worse.”
“Well, right, but you were worried the whole time.” Havilar peered at her. “And what about Mehen?”
Farideh bit her lip. “He said to stay with Tam. We have to go along to stay with Tam.”
“That’s true!” Havilar grinned. “And he knows we’re here. He’ll know we’re there too.”
“You’re not at all worried about Mehen?” Brin asked. “I thought he was meant to be back almost a tenday ago.” The twins looked at him.
“Tam says Cormyr’s terribly complicated,” Farideh said. “That everything is bound up in officials and papers and things.”
“Well, yes,” Brin admitted. “But wouldn’t he have said-”
“What could happen to him anyway?” Havilar said. “It’s Mehen.”
From the open windows of the tower, came the sound of Tam’s raised voice. Farideh flinched. “Mira,” she said, “was going to talk to him about our coming.”
Good, Brin thought. If Tam hadn’t agreed yet, there was a very good chance he’d stop them from going. Even if Pernika weren’t a Banite, she was trouble. He was sure about that.
“Karshoj,” Havilar sighed.
“I think she’ll win,” Farideh said. “I just hope he’s not too mad once they’re done.” She looked down at Brin. “Did you know Mira was his daughter?”
“Yes,” Havilar said mildly. “Who else would she be?”
Farideh looked at her and shook her head. “Anyone else in the world. Did he tell you?”
“No. But their faces. She’d have to be his daughter. Or … his much younger sister. Or maybe a niece.”
Brin looked up at the window, imagining the man and woman beyond its shadows. “I didn’t know he had children. He’d be strange to have as a father.” The words had no sooner left his mouth but he regretted them: an itinerant spy was far less strange than a dragonborn bounty hunter. The twins let the conversation fall.
“I’m going to pack,” Farideh said. “Come up soon?”
“Yeah,” Havilar said. “A moment.” Farideh went back into the tower, leaving Brin and Havilar standing on the training field. Not looking at one another.
“Will you come?” she asked abruptly. “Or are you going to stay here?”
“Dunno,” he said. Just say you’re sorry, he thought. “I certainly won’t go where I’m not welcome.”
Her mouth was still tight and furious. “Well I guess that’s for you to decide. Don’t want you to have to muck it with us daft folks.” She turned and stomped back into the tower.
CHAPTER NINE
THE SILVER MARCHES
14 FLAMERULE, THE YEAR OF THE DARK CIRCLE (1478 DR)
The expedition was not what Mira had planned on-half as many helpers, only two of them Harpers with any sort of training for artifacts, her father ready to run back to Everlund at the merest sign of Shade-but she had not gotten to where she was without a knack for adaptation. Convincing her father it would be too dangerous to leave his hangers-on behind at Everlund-without him to watch over them-had been the first step, and one tenuously made. All it would take, she thought, looking over the group as they set a camp by the roadside, was a word from Tam, and her expedition would crumble. Fortunately, she had the long ride to the caverns to accustom herself to the ragtag bunch that hung on her father like they were his children. If Tam decided to undercut her, she would be ready.
Havilar was the simplest-so enamored of Pernika and her blade that Mira suspected she would follow the mercenary into the Abyss. At least for the next tenday. Mira had made a point of nudging Pernika into sparring sessions, taking on her share of the campwork to make certain there was time enough for it.
And if the tiefling wavered, there was Farideh who was-Mira suspected-almost as interested in Tarchamus’s magic as she was. Mira could count on the warlock to slip up beside her at least once a day with some nonchalant question about the arcanist’s powers. Whether she was greatly underestimating the gulf between his skills and hers didn’t so much matter, because one thing became abundantly clear watching Farideh beside Dahclass="underline" the girl was stubborn.