"You don't like that, eh?" Riven chuckled spitefully and laid Hov's tongue on Verdrinal's chest. "Well, he didn't like it much either. But he had it coming."
Riven's laugh made Verdrinal want to vomit. He thought about fighting back, but couldn't bring himself to move. Fear paralyzed him. He knew he was going to die, but he found himself unwilling to do anything that might speed the inevitable. He clutched desperately to every heartbeat that remained in his chest.
"Why?" he peeped at last.
"Why!" Riven leaned over him and looked him hi the face. "Because you're a liability, and I lost six men." All in one lightning fast motion, Riven stabbed Verdrinal through the cheek, withdrew the blade, and replaced the tip against Verdrinal's throat.
"Aargh!" In agony, Verdrinal kicked and flailed with his legs. Riven's blade forced him to keep his neck motionless.
The assassin grinned and cuffed Verdrinal across the face. Verdrinal, a nobleman of Selgaunt, began to cry. Riven cuffed him again, harder.
"Shut up. The fact that you didn't see this coming only makes my point-you're a liability."
Eyes watering, Verdrinal lay motionless. Blood ran down Ms face from the hole in his cheek and collected in a warm pool on his pillow.
"I've killed good men for less," Riven said. "Did you think I'd let this pass from you, an incompetent little puke?"
Verdrinal made no answer. Little puke. He hadn't been dreaming. Something dark had been hunting him, a shadowy thing that had called Him a little puke. Not the dread though, Drasek Riven.
The blade pressed harder into the flesh of his throat. He closed his eyes and waited for death. It didn't come.
Riven's free hand clamped painfully on Verdrinal's cheeks and jerked his head sidewise. Verdrinal looked into the assassin's eerily calm face, stared blankly into the hole where Riven's eye should be.
"I thought all night about what you said, about how the dread was doing our work for us, and how we would kill it afterward. But then I asked myself why Malix would leave the city without telling me and leave you in charge? Do you know what I realized?"
Verdrinal didn't make a move, didn't dare reply.
"I realized that he didn't tell me because I would recognize that explanation as dung! Malix doesn't know what to do, you idiot! That's why he went to Zhentil Keep. To get help. This demon is running rampant in the city and he doesn't have a godsdamned clue as to how to deal with it." Riven's voice lowered to a hiss. "So he left you in charge, because you're too stupid to see it."
Verdrinal would have protested but knew it would be futile. Riven's one black eye looked colder and emptier than the hole in his other socket. There could be no explaining to that eye. Verdrinal kept silent and tried to stop the tears from flowing down his face. He didn't want to die white crying.
Riven leaned in dose. "I lost six men because of Malix's idiocy and your incompetence. Malix will answer to me later. You'll answer to me now."
"The Zhentarim will force you out of "the organization," Verdrinal desperately whispered.
"Maybe," Riven conceded. "But I don't care."
A sharp stab of pain raced across Verdrinal's throat, followed fay a cascade of warmth that spilled down his chest and poured down his windpipe. He coughed and gurgled, but strangely, felt no pain. He reached for his throat and felt his life pouring through his fingers from the open gash in his neck.
I'm dying, he thought. Spots exploded in his head. He tried to squirm from the bed but his body would not move. He reached a weak hand up to grab at Riven but the assassin seemed too far away. His vision started to go black.
He heard himself gurgling away the last of his life. He felt the soaked sheets sticking to his body. Riven's voice carried across the void and filled his ears.
"I'm in charge now," he said.
Verdrinal tried to laugh, gurgled instead, then died.
The snow and wind had stopped. Breathless, Jak and Gale stood in the shadows of an alley beside Emel-lia's. The sounds of that most human of pastimes carried through the brothel's shutters.
"Not exactly shy, are they?" Jak observed with a soft chuckle.
Gale smiled despite himself. Now that they had begun to work, Jak seemed to have shaken his trepidation and regained his usual carefree sense of humor. Still, they needed to stay focused. Across Ari-ness Street was the guildhouse. The street itself was empty.
"I don't see any guards," Cale observed. "Didn't last time, either. You?"
"No. No one on the roof, either."
Cale continued to study the guildhouse, thinking. Assuming tilings had not gotten markedly worse, he knew what to expect in the basement. He also-knew from his combat with the shadow demon in Storm-weather that they would need enchanted weapons to destroy the demons. Jak had nothing but a luckstone. Cale had nothing at all. He rebuked himself for not keeping Thazienne's enchanted dagger.
"There's an armory on the first floor, toward the back of the building. The guild keeps a few magical weapons there, in case they are ever needed by a guild member for a job. They aren't very powerfttl. The Righteous Man kept anything of power for himself. But they'll be better than nothing."
Jak blew out a misty-frozen sigh and nodded. "Good idea. Well need magical weapons to face the demons." He turned and looked at Gale. "What's the play, though? How do we get in?"
Cale knew there to be only two entrances to'the guildhouse, the sewers and the front doors. Before, when he had come in by way of the sewer entrance, he had barely escaped with his life. While not superstitious, he would not go in the same way twice.
"We're walking through the- front doors," he said, and started across the street.
Halfway to the guildhouse's porch, he pulled his long sword from its scabbard. Beside him, Jak jerked free a short swordand dagger.
Come on, you bastards, he challenged the cold night air, but nothing happened. They gained the porch without incident and faced the sturdy double doors.
"The hairs on my arms are standing up," Jak softly observed. '"
"You're just cold," Cale said, though he knew the statement to be false. His hairs also stood on end. The ah* around the guildhouse tasted polluted. He felt an ominous prickling in his body that made him shudder. He tried to ignore the feeling and placed his hand on the door handle. If it was locked, even Jak would have difficulty picking it.
The handle turned. Cale and Jak blew out frozen breaths simultaneously. They shared a look.
"It opens in," Cale whispered. "To better expose as a target anyone trying to force their way in." Jak nodded. Cale began to push against the oak slab. It wouldn't budge. Something blocked it.
There's something on the other side," he said, and prepared to throw his body against it. "Ready?"
Jak sheathed his sword and dagger, drew three throwing knives, and positioned himself to the left of the door. "Ready."
With a grant, Gale slammed his shoulder into the door. Whatever blocked it slid dear and the door flew all the way open. Jak leaped into the opening behind Cale, daggers ready. Gale, long sword before him, slid sidewise to give Jak a wide berth to throw.
Enough light from the street spilled into the room to depict a scene of terrible destruction. Tables, chairs, beds, and piles of unidentifiable debris lay scattered about. A pile of four mildewed straw mattresses had blocked the door. A musty, rotten smell wafted from the door. The smell of smoke lingered in the air-the aftereffect from
"Stinks," Jak said. He sheathed his throwing knives and again drew his short sword and fighting dagger.
"Get used to it," Cale replied.
Jak stepped fully through the doorway and poked the mattresses with his short sword. "Why the mattresses? How*re they getting in and out?"