Death-danger, she read, and Assassins. Wise one.
"Warrior! It's Jadrek -- he's going to be killed!" She reached behind her for the door, certain that they were never going to make it to Jadrek's rooms in time.
But Warrl had been watching her thoughts, probably alerted through the bond they shared to her agitation.
:Mindmate, I go.: rang through her head.
At the same moment, as if he had heard the Kyree's reply the leshya'e Kal'enedral made a motion of triumph, and dissolved back into moonlight and shadow.
While Kethry was still staring at the place where the spirit had stood, Tarma was clawing the door open, all thought of subterfuge gone.
She headed down the corridor at a dead run, and she could hear Kethry right behind her; this time there would be no attempt at concealment.
Warrl's "voice" was sharp in her mind; angry, and tasting of battle-hunger. :Mindmate -- one comes. He smells of seeking death.:
Keep him away from Jadrek!
There was no answer to that, as she put on a burst of speed down the corridor -- at least not an answer in words. But there was a surge of great anger, a rage such as she had seldom sensed in the kyree, even under battle-fire.
Then Tarma had evidence of her own of how strong the mindmate bonding between herself and the kyree had become -- because she began to get image-flashes carried on that rage. A man, an armed man, with a long, wicked dagger in his hand, standing outside Jadrek's door. The man turning to face Warrl even as Jadrek opened the door. Jadrek stepping back a pace with fear stark across his features, then turning and stumbling back into his room. The man ignoring him, meeting the threat of Warrl, unsheathing a sword to match the knife he carried.
Tarma felt the growl the kyree vented rumbling in her own throat as she ran. Felt him leap --
Now they were in the older section -- running down Jadrek's corridor. Kethry was scarcely a step behind her as they skidded to a halt at Jadrek's open door.
There was blood everywhere -- spilling out over the doorsill, splashed on the wall of the corridor. The kyree stood over a body sprawled half-in, half-out of the room, growling under his breath, his eyes literally glowing with rage. Warrl had taken care of the intruder less than seconds before their arrival, for the body at his feet was still twitching, and the kyree's mind was seething with aggression and the aftermath of the kill. His hackles were up, but he was unmarked; of the blood splashed so liberally everywhere, none of it seemed to be Warrl's.
"Goddess -- " Tarma caught at the edge of the doorframe, and panted, her knees weak with relief that the kyree had gotten there in time.
"Jadrek!" Kethry snapped out of shock first; she slid past the slowly calming kyree into the room beyond. Tarma was right behind her, expecting to find the Archivist in a dead faint, or worse; hurt, or collapsed with shock.
She was amazed to find him still on his feet.
He had his back to the wall, standing next to the fireplace behind his chair, a dagger in one hand, a fireplace poker in the other. He was pale, and looked as if he was likely to be sick at any moment. But he also looked as if he was quite ready to protect himself as best he could, and was anything but immobilized with fear or shock.
For one moment he didn't seem to recognize them; then he shook his head a little, put the poker carefully down, sheathed the dagger at his belt, then groped for the back of his chair and pulled it toward himself, the legs grating on the stone. He all but fell into it.
"Jadrek -- are you all right?" Tarma would have gone to his side, but Kethry was there before her.
Jadrek was trembling in every nerve and muscle as he collapsed into his chair. Gods -- one breath more -- too close. Too close.
Kethry took his wrist before he could wave her away and felt for his pulse.
He stared at her anxious face, so close to his own, and felt his heart skip for a reason other than fear. Damnit, you fool, she's just worried that you're going to die on her before you can help her with the information they need!
Then he thought, feeling a chill creep down his back; Gods -- I might. If Char has had a watcher on me all this time, it means he's suspected me of warning Stefan. And if that watcher chose to strike tonight only because I spoke to a pair of strangers -- Archivist, your hours are numbered.
Kethry checked Jadrek's heartbeat, fearing to find it fluttering erratically. To her intense relief, it was strong, though understandably racing.
"I -- gods above -- I think I will be all right," he managed, pressing his free hand to his forehead. "But I would be dead if not for your kyree."
"Who was that?" Kethry asked urgently. "Who -- "
"That ... was a member of the King's personal guard," he replied thickly. "Brightest Goddess -- I knew I was under suspicion, but I never guessed it went this far! They must have had someone watching me."
"Watching to see who you talked to, no doubt," Tarma said grimly, her lips compressed into a thin line. "And the King must have left orders what was to happen to you if you talked to strangers. Hellfire and corruption!"
"Now I'm a liability, so far as Raschar is concerned." He was pale, and with more than shock, but there was determination in the set of his jaw as he looked to Tarma. "Char has only one way of dealing with liabilities ... as you've seen. Lord and Lady help me, I'm under a death sentence, without trial or hearing! I-I haven't got a chance unless I can escape. Woman, you've got to help me! If you want any more help with finding Idra, you've got -- "
Kethry had angry words on her tongue, annoyed that he should think them such cowards, but Tarma beat her to them.
"What kind of gutless boobs do you think we are?" Tarma snapped. "Of course we'll help you! Damnit man, it was us coming to you that triggered this attack in the first place! Keth, clean up the mess. Go ahead and use magic, we're blown now, anyway."
Kethry nodded. "After the visitor, I should say so -- even if there wasn't anyone 'watching,' he'll have left residue in the trap-spell."
"Did you pick up any 'eyes'?"
She let her mage-senses extend. "No ... no. Not then, and not now. Evidently they haven't guessed our identity."
"Small piece of Warrior's fortune. Well, I'm getting rid of the body before somebody falls over it;
it's likely this bastard was the only watcher. Archivist, or you'd have been caught out before this." She paused to think. "If I hide him, they may wait to check things out until after he was due to report. Hell, if they can't find him, they may wait a bit longer to see if he's gone following after one of Jadrek's visitors; that should buy us a couple more hours. Jadrek, are there any empty rooms along here?"
"Most of them are empty," he said dully, holding his hands up before his eyes and watching them shake with a kind of morbid fascination. "Nobody is quartered along here who isn't in disgrace; this is the oldest wing of the palace, and it's been poorly maintained and repaired but little."
"Gods, no wonder nobody came piling out to see what the ruckus was." Tarma's lip curled in disgust. "Bastard really gives you respect, doesn't he? Well, that's another piece of good luck we've had tonight."