Bolan's dark eyes shot to him immediately.
"Too concerned with material things," he said. "Illusion. The Lady of Loss teaches otherwise."
He flexed Quick several more times, watching him closely. Keph struggled to keep his expression neutral..
Bolan shrugged and said, "You'll learn."
He tossed the rapier back at Keph, who started to reach for it then snatched his hand back out of the way of the tumbling blade. Quick clattered to the floor. He scooped it upand found Bolan nodding.
"Sensible enough to know when you could be hurt." His eyes glittered and he asked, "If your rapier had been falling into a pool of acid, would you have tried to catch it?"
He's testing me, Keph realized. For a heartbeat, rage at being manipulated flashed through him. He held it in check, forcing his face and his eyes to remain calm. Bolan's fine eyebrows arched slightly.
"Well?" he asked. "Would you risk injury to save your sword from destruction?"
If he said yes, it would contradict Bolan's comment that material things weren't important. But no seemed too obvious an answer as well.
"That depends," Keph said finally, "on whether I needed it to defend myself."
Bolan's eyebrows rose higher. Keph waited for an answer. The alchemist, however, didn't give him one. He just turned and stepped back to the curtained doorway.
"Come through," he said, holding the curtain aside as Keph stepped past him.
The mineral smell was even stronger beyond the doorway, the hot stink of a burning furnace underlying it. On shadowy shelves around the room boxes, bins, and jars peered down. A variety of heavy glassware was meticulously arranged on a long, marble-topped workbench. A low rack held books. Keph couldn't help but think of Roderio's laboratory. He froze, the image of his brother's burned facenow bandaged and healing after the attentions of priestswashing over him.
"Ah," said Bolan from behind him. "How insensitive of me. This room must have unpleasant resonances for you."
Keph turned around. Bolan was watching him. So, from behind the alchemist, was Jarull. His friend must have told Bolan about Roderio's accident.
"No," Keph said firmly, hardening his heart. "Nothing unpleasant at all."
Bolan's flawless face didn't shift, but somehow he managed to convey the impression of a prankster disappointed at the failure of a trick. He gestured with his stained fingers, summoning Keph back.
"Do you know where Wedge Street is?" Bolan asked. When Keph nodded he continued, "There's an alley off its north side. Wait there at full dark after sunset tomorrow night." The alchemist swept an arm toward the door to the street. "You can go now."
They were back in the bright heat of the afternoon before Keph even had time to blink. Squinting against the sudden glare, he twisted around just in time to see the door slam behind them. He looked up at Jarull. The big man was smiling grimly.
"Good job," he said. "It isn't easy to rattle Bolan."
Keph rubbed his eyes and said, "Jarull, was that what I think it was?"
Jarull nodded. "An invitation."
Down the street, the old men were staring at them again.
Jarull led Keph away from Bolan's house, strolling more casually, as if pleased that his friend had met with the alchemist's approval. Keph took a last look over his shoulder.
"That was… faster than I expected."
"Bolan isn't a patient man," Jarull replied.
"That's not what I mean," Keph said. "I thought it would take some time before the offer was even extended. You just told me about the cult a few days ago!"
Jarull was silent for several paces, then said, "Maybe it has something to do with Cyrume's death. Maybe Bolan is recruiting for a war against the Sehinites."
Keph choked. "He would do that?"
Jarull shook his head and replied, "I don't think he would. But I've heard from some of the others that Bolan hasn't been himself lately. He's normally very cautious-he has to be or the Sehinites would have uncovered us months ago." Jarull shook his head. "There's a woman," he said. "A visitor to the cult. She's only been around a little more than a month. Some of the others don't like her, but I trust her more than Bolan." He clenched his fist. "Power flows off her like a shadow."
"Do you think she's pushing him to bring in new worshipers?"
"I think she's pushing him to do more than that. The mission Cyrume was on last nightthat was her idea."."What's her name?" Keph asked.
"Variance. You may meet her tomorrow night."
"Maybe I will," agreed Keph. "Are you going to be there?"
"I'll wait with you in the alley," Jarull promised.
They walked for a few blocks in silence. Keph watched Jarull out of the corner of his eye. The big man stalked from shadow to shadow with as much strength as Keph had ever seen in him. Maybe even morethere was a new determination to him, a fire Keph could feel every time they talked. At the same time, Jarull was different. More distant. Harder. Shar had changed Jarull. Keph bit his lip.
"Jarull, this invitation…?"
Jarull paused and looked down at him. "Keph," he said, "if you're having second thoughts, now is not the time. An invitation like Bolan's is only extended once and if you choose not to accept it…" He gritted his teeth. "The cult has to be protected, Keph. It's too late to back out now."
Keph snorted and spun around to walk backward, facing him. "Jarull, when have I ever backed out of anything?"
Jarull smiled like a shark and said, "Never."
"That's right."
Keph turned back around and swaggered onward.
CHAPTER 5
Wedge Street took its name from its shape: narrow and tapering, less a street than a long, dead-end courtyard. It lay on Yhaunn's south side, not too far inland from the festering slums of the docks. The buildings surrounding it were large and had once been grand. Over the years, they had been either divided up into dirty, cramped rooming houses or given over to decay. The buildings left to rot weren't necessarily uninhabited, however. As the last red of sunset faded over the Sea of Fallen Stars and muggy night descended, Keph could see firelight inside the old shells.
Keph kept his hand on Quick and tried to sink into the shadows of the alley, hoping no one would notice a man too rich for the neighborhood. And alone.
Jarull hadn't come.
"Lying bastard," Keph muttered.
He squeezed Quick's grip, and stood his ground.
Jarull or no Jarull, he wasn't going to leave.
That afternoon, Roderio had ventured out of his chambers for the first time since his accident. Most of his bandages had been removed to reveal skin that was tender and baby pink, newly restored by the prayers of a priest. The only bandage still in place was the one that circled Roderio's head, covering his eyes. Soon that too could be removed, the priest had promised, but in the meantime, it was better to leave it. Looking barely worse off than a child playing a blindfold game, Roderio had shuffled about Fourstaves House, chatting and even laughing with his parents, his sister, his brother-in-law, his niece, the servants…
But not his brother. Keph had been ignored.
The night grew deeper. Tucked into the alley, all Keph could see overhead was the narrowest sliver of black sky. The few stars that twinkled in that space were pale and weak. Somewhere not too far away, people were singing some interminable halfling song. Keph stalked back and forth in the shadows.