Ebeian smiled from his hidden vantage point. Perhaps Rorsin might have a backbone after all.
"Here," the mage began, "try to follow along. If you have possession of part of Thazienne Uskevren's soul, you will have the ability to scry through her."
Both the elf and Ciredor realized Rorsin was confused.
"A window through her eyes," Ciredor explained. "You would have the inside view to all her family's dealings. I think even you," he added derisively, "can recognize what that could mean for you and your family."
"I guess I'm not making myself plainly understood," Rorsin interjected. "I don't understand why you would ever part with something that special?"
Good question, thought Ebeian. The elf had been wondering that himself. If Ciredor hated Tazi so much for that mysterious, past offense, why sell her so cheaply? Surely the dark mage could come up with a more interesting fate for her than this.
"I have to admit," Ciredor grudgingly revealed, "that you pose a good query, boy." He stood up and his maroon clothing turned black against the firelight. "I was never able to fulfill my bargain with your father and I find loose ends to be… annoying. As delightful a morsel as the splinter of little Tazi's soul is, I cannot be bothered with fragments right now. They have no worth to me."
Ebeian saw that Lord Rorsin was curious, and that curiosity emboldened him.
"No worth?" the lord asked.
Ciredor turned to gaze into the fire, and when he spoke again, Ebeian recognized that he did it more for himself than anyone else in the room.
"I have been collecting flasks such as these for some time now, and one like hers would be worthless. It would sully my offering. I wouldn't risk that when I only need three more to complete my objective."
"You've got more of these," Rorsin pointed to the flask on the table, "here with you?"
Warming his thin, long fingers by the fire, Ciredor did not even turn around when he responded, "Not here, but in hot Calimport. I need only collect one more and I will be quit of this frigid city. Fannah's is the last, and I need find only two other, minor souls."
Ebeian's green eyes grew wide at the mention of one of Tazi's only friends.
"Though tonight," Ciredor added as he turned to smile at Rorsin, "I find it quite comfortable here."
Rorsin made no reply, not knowing how to. His smile fading, Ciredor became brusque.
"Enough dawdling, boy. Do you want what I have to offer, or has this evening been a waste of my time?"
Ebeian could sense Rorsin's fear of Ciredor coming off of him like waves. His own mouth was drying out at the prospect of this bargain and what part he would have to play.
"I can't refuse such an offer, can I?" Rorsin astutely answered. "But what amount could I possibly pay you?"
Ciredor's easy smile returned at the sound of acquiescence.
"Don't trouble your blond curls at this moment, dear boy. One day, I will come for my payment, and have no doubt, you will be able to pay."
With that, he reached for the flask, covered it with both of his hands, and closed his eyes.
"A few words," he told Rorsin, "and this bit of Thazienne Uskevren is yours."
Ebeian could feel his bowels turn to water as he watched Ciredor close his eyes. The pain from his shoulder was already a memory. This was the moment, and there was no turning back, even if part of him might want to.
Ciredor had only spoken a word when the elf hurled himself from his hiding space. The double doors slammed open from the force of his explosive leap. Ebeian saw confusion register on both the faces of Rorsin and Ciredor, but surprise was his. Before Ciredor could react, Ebeian smashed the crystal flask from his grip. The momentum of that leap brought both necromancer and elf to the ground, upsetting the heavy teak table. The flask shattered on the floor.
Ebeian watched as gold wisps rose from the shards of the broken container, and he almost laughed aloud at the picture Ciredor presented, scrambling over to the pieces and his hands closing on empty air. The wisps stole their way to the fireplace and, in a deafening roar, they were gone through the chimney, extinguishing the flames in their wake.
"She's free," Ebeian whispered, forcing himself to his feet in the darkened room. He knew his moment was at hand, but he had given Tazi a gift no one else could.
Ciredor turned wildly in the elf's direction. He stretched out his arms, and two green balls of light exploded from his fingertips. Ebeian was helpless before the spell and was flattened to the ground under its weight.
In two angry steps, Ciredor was at the elf's side. Through a haze of pain, Ebeian saw Ciredor raise his hand in what was sure to be a killing blow, but he hesitated.
"What have we here?" asked Ciredor, almost gently, the glow from his hands having revealed the thief's pointed ears.
Ebeian could feel Ciredor's icy hands on his face. Between the suffocating weight of Ciredor's magic and the pain from his shoulder he was nearly unconscious, but the elf could tell that Ciredor had raised his head from the floor and was lightly turning it this way and that.
"It is almost too impossible to be true," came Ciredor's shocked response. "An elf in this city… and one who bears the mark of Fenmarel Mestarine?"
Ebeian watched as at the wave of Ciredor's hand the heavy table righted itself. He could see that Rorsin had finally found his feet and was nearly to the door to the outer hallway, clearly out of his element. Ebeian could have laughed at the sight the boy presented. He looked for the entire world like a child waiting for the punishment of a schoolmaster, if he could have made any sound at all.
Ebeian was rapidly losing consciousness. His thoughts drifted back to Tazi. He could see her green eyes and smiling mouth, and he could hear her joyful giggles.
"You have no idea how special you are," Ciredor said, "and what is in store for you."
Ebeian was startled awake from his dazed vision to see black eyes boring into him. Turning his head slightly, he realized he was stretched out on the heavy table. Almost against his will, tears slipped from his eyes to run their course into his pointed ears.
In a low, melodic voice, Ciredor began a heinous chant. Pain exploded both inside and out of the elf's body. Rorsin crouched in the corner, unable to look. Gut-wrenching screams tore from Ebeian's lips. Outside, the sickly fog swallowed all light and sound.
CHAPTER 1
"Dark and empty," Tazi spat out.
Her hair was plastered to her face, and the rain showed no sign of slowing. It was difficult enough trying to keep her balance on the taut rope but the winds added another element she had to compensate for. She couldn't even afford to wipe her hair away from her eyes. She needed her arms positioned right where they were for balance.
"This seemed like such a good idea a few hours ago," she shouted over the wind, to no one in particular.
The only thing Thazienne Uskevren was not concerned with was discovery. In such foul weather, no one in their right mind would be out, let alone looking up between the tallhouses of this quarter of Selgaunt. There was nearly no chance she would be seen, let alone heard, balanced as she was on a thin rope stretched between two of the more reputable buildings in the area.
She inched her way across the slick rope, with her night's reward clutched tightly in her right hand. It was her first theft in almost a year. The glass figure Tazi had pilfered was meant to be a gift but was quickly turning into useful ballast. With that in one hand, and her sack of tools in the other hand, arm outstretched for counterbalance, she was nearly to the opposite tallhouse and relative safety. Her lips began to curl upward in a slightly demented smile as her "wilding" neared its successful end. If the wind hadn't been howling so, she probably would have heard the telltale creak that rope makes just before it gives way, but she couldn't hear anything over the roar of the wind.