Now came the most difficult part, for the slates were not firm, and he had to press flattened palms and squirm upward with shoulders, chest, belly and thighs. His feet were used more to check any slip than to propel him up the slope. Bits of slate slipped but none fell. As difficult as the last part of the climb was, Gord managed it rather quickly and without mishap.
The slanting roof ended abruptly. It surrounded a shaft about twenty or so feet deep. Around this shaft were windows and doors. The upper two stories of the building housed a penthouse of sorts, sheltered from view. There was a little garden in the depression and Gord could hear the splash and tinkle of a fountain playing in the darkness yet unpierced by the coming sun. There was more splashing, and what sounded almost like a soft hooting, several giggles, and a man's laugh. Gord didn't hesitate. Grabbing the inner edge of the roof, he somersaulted, slowing the tumble by holding on a moment, then plummeted down the remaining distance into the enclosed garden.
The soft thud of his landing and the sound of his roll and slapping contact coming erect alerted the man depositing himself in the fountain's pool. He jumped out, trying to reach his sword, the two girls with him shrieking and getting in his way as they reacted to the noise and the man's evident fear. "Who the hells dares to enter here uninvited?" the man blustered in a deep voice as he managed to get his weapon in hand.
"I thought it acceptable to drop in on an old associate, Sunray. … Or do you prefer to be called Raynald these days?"
"Gord? How did you escape the Prae. .." His question died for he could think of nothing to cover the slip.
"Don't concern yourself. Sunny-boy. Lies won't save you, I know the whole rotten truth," Gord lied, sure that Sunray would have no way of knowing any differently. "I’ve come to even the score."
"That's a laugh, you cheap little rogue," the tall, handsome man said without humor. "You just got what was coming to you — or you will soon. You couldn't take me before, and you're no better now. "You're dead if you try to get away, and if you stay I’ll kill you!"
Now it was Gord's turn to mock, but his laughter was real. "A blowhard and a braggart still, Raynald! You were a worse thief than I always. A fumble-fingered, blabber-mouthed egoist. Worst of all for you. Sunny-boy, you can't use a sword worth shit"
The taller man backed toward an open door fading into the penthouse. The doxies who had been entertaining him had disappeared through it as the two antagonists fenced with words. Raynald now seemed intent on retreating there himself.
"Running inside won't save your fat ass," Gord said, sliding forward rapidly, eyes never leaving his opponent.
Raynald never replied. He turned and dashed into the doorway, pulling a drape across the opening. Gord followed in leaps and bounds as a cat moves. With a slash of his dagger, the drapery was gone. Gord then crouched low, instinctively. A buzzing above his head made him glad he did. The crossbow bolt's wind ruffled his dark hair in passing.
Still low, the young thief dashed inside, moving quickly to the right, for the bolt seemed to have come from the left. Such a weapon took too long to reload, and Gord knew that his enemy would be waiting with sword once again. It was a pity that the first rays of the sun were now coloring the cloud-dappled sky overhead with touches of carmine and magenta. In a minute the fiery reds and oranges of full dawn would replace the darker hues. Gord would have no advantage of magical vision in the dark.
"Now I am ready, mite, to face you on more even terms," Raynald said as he advanced toward Gord. The taller man held his falchion and a second weapon now, a long, dark-bladed misericord as main gauche. "You thought I'd fight unequally armed?" he demanded, using his chin to indicate Gord's own long dagger.
That moment almost did Gord in, for he was distracted by the gesture and inference of fair play. His eyes went to his dagger for a split-second, and in that time Raynald launched himself into the attack. Gord managed to catch the descending falchion in time to take nothing more than a nick. He managed to parry Raynald's dagger thrust, too. The taller man had the advantage, however, and now he pressed it, forcing Gord to back up and stay in a constant posture of defense.
"You. . see. . weakling. . runt!" Raynald said as he struck with a flurry of hammering blows and backhand slashes in an attempt to beat Gord's defense down. "I … told. . you … I'd … aackl"
Gord had slipped under a backhand sweep of the falchion and struck with his shortsword. The point stabbed into the taller man's thigh before he could step back. There!" Gord shouted as he slashed and cut the returning right arm with his dagger. "A double lesson for a second-rate swordsman. Now save your wind for gasping your last breath." Just then the very tip of Raynald's poniard caught Gord's own right arm, and the scratch thus inflicted burned tike molten fire.
"A kiss in return!" the bigger man panted, with a wolfish smile and gleam of anticipation in his eyes.
"You filth!" Gord screamed at him. "You use venom on your dag!"
"Isn't that tough turds, you whining cheat! You'd have used two weapons to my one — or none, I’ll wager. Now I’m the better armed, and you cry foul. Poor little Gordy," Sunray mocked.
The wash of anger that coursed through his body seemed to lessen the fiery numbness that filled his arm where the poisoned blade had cut it Gord allowed the rage to grow, but he checked it short of the point where it would blind him to his situation. The young thief fought carefully but fiercely, defending, countering, and slowly the feeling returned to his right arm again. "Now, Raynald. we come to the last test!" Gord called to his opponent in cold fury, and he matched the challenge with a combination of attacks that sent the taller man back in panic.
A hit scored! Another!
"Rot you. Gord!" Raynald cried in a fury of his own. "How do you resist the venom?" he demanded, for both wounds he had received came from the shortsword wielded by Gord's poison-touched right arm.
"My anger, you vile snake, countered your rotten venom. The blood flows freely and cleanses the wound." Even as he gave his enemy the truth. Gord laid to with blinding speed and power, sending the falchion flying as his shortsword slashed Sunray's arm in the process. Closing as quickly, Gord pinned the man's poisoned dagger with his own while he pressed his sword to Raynald's belly.
"Spare me." the taller man pleaded.
"Why? You would not have granted me mercy!"
"Because I can tell you the whole plot!"
"I told you, scoundrel, I already know everything there is to know."
The man Gord had once known as Sunray nearly whined in his eagerness to save his life. "Not quite everything, I’m sure. There's no way you could know everything. I'm an assassin now, you know." he hurried to explain before Gord cut him off — literally! "And because of that I’m privy to everything. If you grant me my life, I’ll tell you all. Look, Gord, I’ve even got secret papers hidden …" As he said this Raynald made a move toward something.
Gord wasn't sure exactly what Sunray had intended to do, because in the next instant the man's head simply vanished!
"Gods!" Gord exclaimed.
"Oh, Gord! I saved you!" Summer cried. Thanks be that I managed to get up here quickly," she added, panting.
"What the devils are you talking about, woman?" the young thief demanded in angry confusion.
The blonde woman looked stricken. "The poisoned dagger, Gord. I saw him shifting it to strike as he distracted you with his talk. I managed to cast my dweomer just in time. I simply pointed my wand, uttered a certain word that shall remain my secret, and sent the man's head into another dimension — one in which there is no such thing as air. Your friend here died of suffocation. But better him than you!"