As fast as the Amnesian Hero disposed of his enemies, he was not quick enough to reach his sword; the githyanki leader had already snatched it off the ground. This time, the Thrasson did not rush to the attack, as even his god-made armor was no defense against that star-forged blade. Instead, he glanced in Jayk's direction and found her atop the warrior he had kicked earlier, clawing at his eyes and doing something bloody with a dagger. Not three paces from her, one githyanki was thrashing about in the razorvine, growing more tangled by the instant and bleeding from all the places not covered by his dark armor. Another fellow, the one whose helmet had made such a toll when the Thrasson jerked him to the ground, was shaking his head and slowly rising to his knees.
The Amnesian Hero took a flying leap at this githyanki, kicking him in the helmet with enough force to smash his face back to the ground. When the warrior's body fell instantly limp, the Thrasson snatched up his sword and whirled around, automatically bringing the weapon up to slap aside a slashing blade that was not there.
The githyanki leader, more cautious with his own safety than that of his underlings, had not leapt to the attack. He stood three paces away, frantically trying to rouse his fallen warriors by kicking them in the helmets. The Amnesian Hero raised his borrowed sword to column guard and advanced. The githyanki retreated a few paces, then stopped and sank into a battle stance. Though the star-forged sword in his hands was as light as a feather, the brute held it with both hands, a sure sign that he was more accustomed to fighting with force than finesse.
The Amnesian Hero stopped two paces from his foe, pretending not to notice that he was standing among the fallen githyanki. He smiled, then dipped his heavy sword in salute. The leader leapt forward, trying to catch his prey at a disadvantage. The Thrasson wrenched his heavy sword up into a high block, deliberately allowing his attacker time to dose. The gold-draped warrior sneered and threw his weight into a vicious downstroke.
The Amnesian Hero held his position until the blades clashed, then deftly danced aside as his star-forged sword sliced through the clumsy weapon he now held. The surprised leader lurched forward, stumbling over a fallen underling and landing on his knees. The Thrasson sprang on him instantly, bringing the pommel of his broken sword down on the unarmored base of the fellow's neck. The githyanki collapsed in a heap.
The Amnesian Hero retrieved his sword, then glimpsed Jayk out of the corner of his eye. He turned to find her stooping over a fallen githyanki, one foot atop his dislocated shoulder to keep him pinned to the ground while she pulled his head up by a topknot of coarse hair. Before the Thrasson could fully grasp the situation, she slipped her free hand around the warrior's neck and calmly drew a dagger across her victim's throat.
"Jayk!" the Amnesian Hero screamed. "What are you doing?"
The Thrasson's words were barely audible, of course. Jayk's spell had not yet lapsed, so all sounds in the alley remained muted. The tiefling stepped over to another of the unconscious githyanki and pulled his head up.
The Amnesian Hero rushed over and caught her dagger arm. Jayk whirled on him so quickly he thought she might be attacking, but she only tipped her head and gave him an innocent smile. A cold shudder ran down his spine. He pointed at the bloody blade and shook his head to indicate there was no need to slay their foes. The tiefling thrust her bottom lip out, then stuck her knife into her belt without cleaning off the blood.
The Thrasson released her, then saw that she had already slashed the throats of four warriors. A fifth hung motionless in the razorvine, the hilt of a baroque throwing knife lodged between his eyes. Sickened by the needless killing, the Amnesian Hero cleaned his blade and thrust it into his scabbard, then retrieved his amphora and turned to leave.
The Thrasson found the tiefling in front of him, using the stump of a broken githyanki sword to hack through the leader's neck. This one was the last to die; she had already decapitated the other survivor.
The sight stunned the Amnesian Hero so badly that he could not quite believe what he was seeing. The other attacks could be excused by the heat of battle; it was not unreasonable to slay disabled foes to prevent them from rejoining the fray later-but this was murder. The Thrasson lay the amphora aside, then caught Jayk's arm and wrenched the bloody sword from her grasp.
"You're a maniac!"
The only sound to pass between the Thrasson and the tiefling was a muted drone. Jayk ran her red-stained fingers through the flickering motions of a counterspell, at the same time raising her gaze to meet that of the Amnesian Hero. Her black eyes were large and round, and her mouth was shaped into a small, astonished O. On her shadowy face, the expression seemed more a parody of innocence than one of innocence itself, but neither did she show any sign of guilt or remorse.
The tiefling gestured at the fallen githyanki. "You think I kill them, yes?"
"You did kill them." The Amnesian Hero's stomach began to chum, and he had the sick feeling that taking Jayk as his guide had been a terrible mistake. "Tessali was right. You belong in a locked cell."
The tiefling's face grew even darker. "Me? I do not think the Lady of Pain lives in a barmyhouse, huh?" She spun on her heel and started toward the back of the alley, limping because of a slashed thigh she had suffered when the githyanki first ambushed them. "You know nothing!"
The Amnesian Hero glanced over the dead githyanki. "I know that I had disabled these warriors." His voice was hard with reproach. "There was no reason to kill them."
"There was reason-good reason." Jayk stopped at the back of the alley and flashed a smile. "Besides, life, she is only an illusion."
"Illusion or not, there's no glory in killing helpless foes." The Amnesian Hero fixed her with a stony glare. "It's better to let them live, so they can describe the battle and sing your fame."
"Pah! Fame is delusion."
"To those who lack it, perhaps." The Thrasson picked up his amphora and gestured up the alley. "Let's go. You promised to show me to the Lady of Pain."
"No. It is better to hide here." She waved at the back of the alley, where the razorvine was so dense it hid the walls of the surrounding buildings. "If someone comes because of the fighting, they will not look for us in there."
The Thrasson scowled. "There's no use stalling. If you lied to me…"
Jayk raised a hand. "I do not stall." She motioned at the githyanki. "We should not show ourselves. The bounty hunters, they already look for us in all the streets and alleys of the Hive, yes? But they do not expect to find us here. It is much better to wait, you will see-but hurry!"
Deciding that the murderous tiefling was bound to be more experienced in such matters than he, the Amnesian Hero reluctantly nodded. While he cut a swath through the razorvine, she used a saw-toothed githyanki sword to drag the severed stems aside. It took only a moment to clear their cubby hole, then they took the amphora inside and pulled the stalks back over the entrance. The hollow was just large enough for them to squat side-by-side without brushing against the surrounding vines, and the light filtering in from outside was dim and spotty. The Thrasson knew the hiding place would not stand up to a close inspection, but he had also seen enough of Sigil to realize its residents instinctively shied away from razorvine; if someone came to investigate the fighting, the last place they would search for victors was among the black-leaved tangles.
The Amnesian Hero used his sword to clear a small viewing hole. "I trust you know what you're doing, Jayk."