"Cadorna," said Shal firmly. "It's not enough that he has his thugs accost us like criminals at the city gates. Now he has us followed, too."
"You, too?" Ren asked.
"No, not that I'm aware of. But the two of you… and for what?"
Ren crouched down and spoke in a whisper. "The treasure? The part we kept?"
"Then let's return it," said Shal. "It's just sitting on the nightstand in my room. We've no need of it. I wasn't even sure why you wanted me to keep it in the first place."
"Two reasons," Ren responded. "I didn't figure there was any way you could yank that armor out of your cloth without somebody noticing…" Ren spoke even more softly. "And I needed to get those ioun stones where they wouldn't be found."
"But since the stones are safe now, shouldn't we do as Shal says and return the armor?"
Ren heaved a sigh and spoke resignedly. "If I thought Cadorna was to be trusted, I'd be the first to hand back the rest of his treasure. But he's a rat of the first order, and I don't want to meet the fellow he sends after me wearing that armor or wielding weapons that jewelry paid for."
"You think he did it, don't you?" Shal looked at Ren.
The big man arched one eyebrow, puzzled. "Did what?"
Tarl answered. "You think he killed Shal's teacher-and that he'd kill us if he thought we knew."
"Yeah, I think so. But I don't know for sure. I do feel pretty certain that even if that half-gnoll was involved in it, it was work-for-hire. He at least had a sense of honor."
Shal hissed her words. "My flesh creeps every time I get near the councilman, and my gut feeling is that he did it. But I've no proof, and I don't know what his motive is. I'm prepared to test him by magic."
Cerulean stamped and snorted as though sharing Shal's anger and indignation.
"While coming from the temple, I heard that Cadorna has been made Second Councilman," Tarl pointed out. "That means we need physical proof before we do anything rash. Cadorna has tremendous resources at his disposal now. I heard he even hired a mercenary militia to guard the city."
"I've heard the same thing," agreed Ren. "We'll need to work together-carefully. When we know the why, we'll know if Cadorna is the murderer. For now, though, I'd settle for some supper."
"What about the woman in the gray cloak?" asked Tarl.
"If she's really following you, maybe we can learn why… or at least who sent her," Ren answered.
"I'll find out," said Shal, a strange fury in her eyes.
A sprinkling of guests sat at tables in the inn, one here, two or three there. There was someone at almost every table but not a full table in the house. Those who were with others were speaking self-consciously, the way people do when a room gets too quiet for comfortable conversation. Shal and Ren and Tarl made their way to a large oval table that had just emptied near the bar. Neither Ren nor Shal had to ask where the half-orc woman was. She was seated at the center of the common room, and while no one appeared to be looking directly at her, she seemed to be the focus of attention, her shining black hair and dark complexion contrasting boldly with the light walls of the inn.
She did not look over at the three, and made no move to approach them while they ate. It was not until they had finished eating and were talking quietly that she approached their table. She didn't wait for an invitation. As soon as she had made eye contact with all three, she sat down. She immediately leaned across the table and began speaking directly to Tarl in a treacherous, whiskey-hoarse voice. "I can make your brother well."
Tarl sat silent, compelled to look into her black eyes.
"I can make him whole again."
"How? What do you know about Anton? And who are you?" Tarl spoke coolly, showing no emotion.
"I am called Quarrel, and I've been sent as a messenger-" she hushed her voice to a whisper-"a messenger of the Lord of the Ruins."
"The Lord of the Ruins?" Like the others, Shal had not expected to encounter an emissary of the Lord of the Ruins inside Civilized Phlan.
Ren flashed a dagger in each hand. "Speak your piece and make it quick, orc-meat," he hissed.
The look Quarrel returned would have sent needles of ice through a lesser man. "Hold your peace, thief! No fewer than five warriors gathered in this room are also in service to the Lord of the Ruins, and there isn't a one who couldn't slam a knife into your jugular before you could ever lay a hand on me."
"You and two more would die before I fell."
"Perhaps, but that's not what I'm here for, nor is it what they're here for," she said gesturing around the room.
The woman spread her hands flat on the big table in a calming gesture, then spoke in a still-throaty but less biting voice. "I'm here to make a deal with you-a very good deal."
"Speak," said Shal, her staff now raised.
"I've already made one offer… I'll see that the cleric's friend is healed. I'll also name your teacher's murderer. I'll even kill him for you, if you wish…"
Shal started for a moment, wondering if the woman had heard any part of their conversation on the rooftop.
"And for you, thief, I'll get the name of the assassin who killed your red-haired lover. I'll let you kill him yourself, of course."
Ren fairly threw himself across the table and grabbed the orc-woman roughly by the collar. "Orc vermin! What do you know about my Tempest?"
"Unhand me, you bastard, or I'll have that assassin kill you instead!" Six armed warriors had leaped from their tables and moved in closer.
Tarl pressed his hand firmly on Ren's shoulder, and Ren loosed his hold. "I want to know what she thinks she can do for Brother Anton."
"How do you know these things, and what's the rest of your 'deal', Quarrel?" Ren fairly spit the words.
She spoke slowly, facing each of the three in turn. "I know who your master's murderer is, mage… Cleric of Tyr, I know who can heal your friend… And, yes, thief, I know who killed your lover. I know because I work for the one who controls all. Serve him, and each of you will be given the knowledge and the time to fulfill your quests."
"He can heal Anton?" Tarl asked hesitantly.
Ren wheeled to face his friend. "She'll see that he gets healed-in exchange for your soul! Think, Tarl!"
The woman's voice was like honey again. "Your friend exaggerates, Tarl. Service to the Lord of the Ruins is hardly the exchange of one's soul. The Lord of the Ruins is no god. He demands obedience, not worship. Look at me-I am a free woman."
"You are a free pig!" said Ren.
"That's enough!" Shal cried, standing to face Ren. "I've no more use for your bigotry than I do for her offer!" To Quarrel, she said, "I speak for the others. We've seen what obedience to the Lord of the Ruins means, and we want no part of your deal. Leave us!"
Fire blazed in Quarrel's black eyes for a moment. "The Lord of the Ruins gets what he wants," she said, "sooner or later." The half-orc stood, pivoted on her heel, and began to walk calmly toward the exit. The warriors rose as if to follow, but just as soon as she had opened the big door, Quarrel spun around and launched a tiny dagger from her hand.
"Down!" Ren shouted, and he leaped to try to deflect the dagger, but a big warrior rammed him from behind and sent him sprawling across the table.
Before Shal could duck or react with a spell, the dagger was buried deep in her collarbone, and green death began to spread through her body. She stood for a moment, a silent mental cry shrieking through her numbness, and then she flopped, twitching and jerking, to the ground.