One of the men put a heavy hand on Lewan's arm and tried to turn him. "Come along."
Lewan shook his arm free. "No! You don't understand. I-"
"No," said the leader. "You don't understand. Now you can walk back or be carried. Your choice."
"Master," said Ulaan. "Please. Let's go b-"
Lewan's left arm shot out of his cloak. After shrugging off the guard's arm, he'd reached for the hammer and pulled it from his belt. The guard was reaching for him again, but Lewan swung the hammer and brought its heavy head down on the man's wrist as hard as he could. He heard the bones shatter like eggshells, and the man screamed.
"Ulaan, run!" said Lewan.
She turned to run but the guard grabbed her, catching her sleeve and pulling her toward him. Lewan brought the hammer back and started toward her, but the other guard and the leader rushed him. The leader reached him first, and Lewan swiped at him with the hammer.
The leader stepped back. "Stop this! Stop this now or you are dead, guest of Lady Talieth or not."
Lewan raised the hammer again. His other hand, still holding the unstrung bow in its bundle, he waved before him to ward off any strikes. "Let the girl go."
"Wrong answer," said the leader, and he came at Lewan, this time with his sword ready.
Keeping most of his attention focused on the man's blade, which he held low, Lewan struck the sword with the bundled bow, knocking it out of the guard's hands. He swung the hammer at his face, but the man ducked, reached out, and caught the haft with his free hand. A quick twist, and he yanked the hammer out of Lewan's hand. Lewan lashed out with the bow, but the guard caught it, yanked it from Lewan's grasp, and tossed it onto the pavement.
"Little bastard broke my wrist!" said the guard whom Lewan had struck.
The leader hefted the hammer, seeming to enjoy its weight in his hand. "An odd weapon," he said, "but effective." He retrieved his fallen sword, sheathed it, and looked to his injured man. "Have at him, Dayul. Don't kill him. But he's earned a hard lesson."
"No!" Ulaan shrieked, but the man holding her yanked her away.
Dayul stepped forward, cradling his broken arm against his torso. His other hand held a dagger. "You hold still," he said, "and I won't use the sharp part."
The man struck. Lewan saw it coming and tried to dodge, but Dayul was far too quick. The brass pommel of the dagger smashed into Lewan's cheek, tearing the skin. He went down onto the wet gravel, a dozen orbs of light dancing in the world around him.
"Get up," said Dayul. "I didn't hear a bone break. You broke me. I'm going to break you."
"No!" said Ulaan. "Leave him alone! Please. Please, I'll take him back to his room."
"You stay out of this," said the leader. "Your new master earned this."
"Get up," said Dayul, "or I'll kick in your ribs right there."
Lewan took a deep breath and began to push himself back to his feet. He didn't even have a knife. The hammer and bow had been his only weapons, and they had been taken from him with ease. He knew that any one of these men could best him easily. They were trained assassins. Out in the wild with a bow, Lewan might have stood a chance. Here, outnumbered in the dark, the best Lewan could hope for was to take his beating and sneak away once they'd finished with him. He stood up.
"Leave him alone!" Ulaan cried.
"Quiet!" The man holding her yanked her arm.
Ulaan twisted in his grasp and slammed the heel of her hand into the man's nose. Lewan heard a crunch as his nose shattered, but he kept his grip on Ulaan. She used it, pulling him close. In three quick motions her hand shot forward, grabbed the man's knife from his sheath, and plunged it into his side just above his belt. He screamed, releasing her, and fell back.
Ulaan turned and dropped into a practiced fighting stance, the bloody knife in her hand. She glanced at Dayul, then fixed her gaze on the leader. "I serve the Lady Talieth," she said. "You fools are interfering with her orders. Dayul, you will apologize to Lewan, then Master Lewan and I will leave. Anything else, and I'll kill you all. Right here. Right now."
The man she'd stabbed was pushing himself up with one hand, the other grasping his side. Blood leaked between his fingers, and his face was a grimace of pain. "You're no servant girl."
"I serve the Lady Talieth"-Ulaan gave Lewan a look full of apology — "in many ways."
"You're one of her personal blades," said Dayul.
"I am." She gave a curt nod but did not relax from her fighting stance. "Which means I don't give idle threats. Dayul, if the next words out of your mouth are anything but an apology, you are a dead man."
Dayul stood before Lewan. He looked down on Lewan, saying nothing, and Lewan could read the reluctance in his stiff stance. But there was fear as well. Now the only question was whether the fear would win out in the man's mind-or his pride.
Behind Dayul was only the darkness between two buildings. The man took a deep breath, but before he could speak, the darkness behind him took form and struck. Whatever it was, the dim light revealed no features other than a slight green sheen. It grabbed Dayul's cloak and pulled with such force that the clasp snapped and the heavy cloth flew away, pulling Dayul onto his back. The man cried out as his injured arm hit the ground, then it turned into a full-throated scream as hands reached out from the darkness and pulled him in.
"What-?" said the man Ulaan had stabbed. At the same time their leader said, "Inside! Get inside!"
Lewan turned, intending to grab Ulaan and run, but what he saw stopped him. Dark shapes, vaguely humanlike but moving with grace and dexterity beyond any human, were scuttling down the brass pillars of the building-some of them head first, clinging to the wet metal like spiders.
The stabbed man pushed himself to his feet. "What are they? Gods, Weilus, what are they?"
But Weilus-the leader who'd been doing most of the talking-turned and ran, heading for the hedge that marked the boundary to the garden where only days before Lewan and Talieth had seen Sauk and his men gathering the remains of slaughtered assassins.
"Weilus!" the guard called, but Weilus didn't even make it halfway. A half-dozen of the shapes charged him, quick as leopards, and the man went down screaming.
Ulaan ran to Lewan's side. She still had the bloody knife in her hands, but she looked up at him, fear in her eyes, and said, "I… I'm sorry, Lewan. I-"
"Later."
The two remaining guards stood back to back, their eyes wide, their blades trembling in their hands. "What do we do?" said Ulaan.
Lewan looked around. He could not make out any distinct features on the creatures, just a vague glimmer of green where the light reflected off them, and eyes that burned with a cold light. He stooped to retrieve the bundle with Berun's bow, but couldn't see where the hammer had gone. "Be ready to run," he said.
The creatures struck, avoiding Lewan and Ulaan altogether, and swarmed the guards. One of the men lashed out with his sword. Lewan thought the blade struck home, but the creature didn't even slow. Both guards went down shrieking, and Lewan could hear the sharp snap of tendons tearing and flesh being ripped from bones.
Lewan's face ached where Dayul had hit him, and he felt his cheek swelling. The pain snapped Lewan's fear. Part of him knew that he and Ulaan were about to die, but the pain triggered a primal need to survive.
"Back to the room," he said. "Run. Run and don't look back. Go!"
He grabbed Ulaan's arm and ran. After seven or eight strides, they came up against a wall of the creatures. Heart pounding in his chest and breath coming in ragged gasps, Lewan pulled Ulaan the other way-right into more of the creatures. They skidded to a halt on the wet gravel.
The dark shapes crouched before them, their posture and slight movements more like animals than people. They made a slight chittering sound, not unlike Perch sometimes did. A few of them came closer, nor charging like they had against the guards, but hesitant and slow. Curious, almost. The faint light from the brazier still reflected from them more green than orange, and Lewan thought their skin-or was it their clothes? — had the texture of leaves. Two stopped, still crouched low, and sniffed the air. One kept coming until it was only an arm's length away. Its scent washed over Lewan. Even in the damp air, it was strong-the scent of gentle rain over new spring blossoms. But wafting through it was a darker aroma, as if the blossoms grew over a predator's den.