"At dawn, then," she said and ducked through the low doorway.
Hasheth listened to the faint sound of her boots on the narrow stairs and marveled anew that she did not stumble and fall in the darkness. The door was hidden in the stone of the hearth that warmed his room on chill nights, and the tunnel itself was chiseled into the thick walls of the palace. He wondered what his fattier, the pasha, would say if he knew that an assassin of Arilyn's rank could enter the palace almost at will.
Nothing good, Hasheth concluded with a tight smile. He closed the door and began his hasty preparations for the journey ahead. Of late, the pasha had not had many good words to spare the restless young man and had not been pleased with Hasheth's request to enter the service of Lord Hhune, yet in time he agreed to arrange it simply to silence his troublesome younger son.
It amazed Hasheth that his father could not see the importance of such men as Hhune, or the potential threat that their ambitions posed. He remembere^ the
warning Arilyn had given him, and he nodded his head in grim agreement. Pasha Balik's short but spectacular reign would soon come to an end.
And that was as it should be. From his first encounter with Arilyn he had learned an important lesson: know your enemies. If Balik could not recognize his, then he deserved to fall from power.
And he, Hasheth, would find a way to benefit from this eventuality. Perhaps, he concluded as he slipped beyond the palace gates, he would even help to bring the inevitable to pass.
In the lush gardens that surrounded the palace grounds, nearly invisible among the branches of some exotic flowering tree, Ferret watched as the half-elf crept along in the shadow of the palace wall.
Arilyn lifted the vines that sheltered a section of wall and ran her fingers over the smooth stone. A door opened where none had been a moment before, sliding noiselessly to one side. It closed after her, and the vines fell back into place. Even to Ferret's keen eyes, there was no apparent outline, no sign that the hidden door was there.
Perched in her tree, Ferret waited patiently until the half-elf had finished her meeting and slipped away into the night. And then she waited a bit longer. The mystery that was Arilyn Moonblade could not be solved in direct confrontation. Ferret would have to piece it together as best she could. She wanted to see who else emerged from the palace.
To her surprise, the half-elfs contact was not a palace guard or a half-elven maidservant, but one of the lesser sons of the ruling pasha. Ferret remembered the lad from his ill-fated attempt to learn the assassin's trade. Now that she thought of it, she remembered that Arilyn had entered the guildhouse shortly after Hasheth had left. She had not made a connection between the two; apparently, she should have.
Ferret crept along after the young prince. Following him was easy, for in this part of town lavish gardens were the norm, and the exotic flowering trees that lined the broad streets were so closely planted that their branches entwined. She was able to follow him for several blocks without her feet once touching the ground.
At length he turned into a stable, emerging in moments on the back of a fine Amnish stallion. Ferret grimaced. She herself did not like the idea of riding upon horses, but if the boy had far to go, following him on foot might prove to be difficult.
The assassin climbed down to the street and crept into the stable. She silenced the stablehands, then quickly selected a likely-looking mare. She wrapped the animal's hooves to muffle the sound, and then, as quietly as she could, she led the horse from the stable. She climbed onto its bare back. She would ride if she had to, but no power beneath Hie stars could compel her to shackle an intelligent creature with saddle and bridle!
Ferret seized the horse's mane and leaned forward, whispering a few words to her in the centaur language. Apparently the mare understood the gist of it, for her ears went back and she set off at a brisk pace in pursuit of Hasheth's stallion.
As the long night slipped away, the deep shadows of the forest began to fede to green, heralding the coming of dawn. The elven warriors who had survived the raid picked up their pace, for the death that pursued them would travel more swiftly with the coming of light.
Exhausted, heartsick, bearing the marks of battle ae well as their dead and wounded comrades, the elves retreated into their forest home. Their progress was slow, for they would not abandon their wounded take to the trees, and they feared what use might be made of the slain elven folk. Word had reached them that Sparrow's body had been placed among the slaughtered humans of a northbound caravan and that his arrows had been used against the merchants.
The distant yapping of hunting hounds lifted into a triumphant, baying howl. They have found a blood trail," Korrigash noted grimly. He shifted the limp body of an elven male that he carried across his shoulders, as a hunter might carry a slain deer.
Foxfire nodded, and his eyes fell upon the face of the girl he carried in his arms. Hawkwing, her name was, a new name Tamara had bestowed upon the girl to mark her acceptance into a new tribe. It suited her well; she had fought like a cornered falcon and brought down several of the humans before a coward's dagger took her through the back-from the back.
She would survive, Foxfire repeated silently, staring into her pain-bright black eyes and willing her to live. The tribe had need of courage and spirit such as this child possessed. Tamara had claimed Hawkwing into the Oakstaff clan. She would raise the girl, but Foxfire would train her. He knew a war leader when he saw one.
Hawkwing stirred in his arms and met his intense gaze. "Put me down," she said in a barely audible whisper. "Flee! We are too few to fight, and the People cannot bear to lose more this night than have already fallen."
"She is right," Korrigash said softly.
But Foxfire shook his head. Quickly he took stock of the forces remaining. The prospects were not good. Twenty-and-four of the elves from Talltrees could still run or fight, but only two of the rescued elves could walk without assistance. The elves carried three dead and several who were gravely wounded. There was not one among them who had escaped injury entirely. They could not stand and fight. Not as they were.
He turned to Tamara. "You are the fastest among us.
Take word to Talltrees. We need as many warriors as can be spared to meet us in the fen lands south of here."
The female nodded, seeing at once the wisdom of this plan. The elves needed to rest and treat their wounded, and no nearby haven was better for this than the low-lying fens. Always dark and cool, in this valley the forest lay under a thick mantle of mist. The massive trunks of several ancient cedars-trees that no longer lived and grew, but whose roots still held firm-had been hollowed out to make emergency shelters. Healing plants grew in abundance. And if the humans followed them so far, they would find a battleground not at all to their liking. The soil was soft, in some places dangerously boggy, and the ground was densely covered with large, fernlike plants large enough to reach an elf s shoulder.
"We must do what we can to hold back pursuit," Foxfire added. "You, Eldrin, Sontar, Wyndelleu-take to the trees and circle back. Hunt down the dogs. Stop them, and you have stopped the humans. Harry the men and herd them toward the north. Green arrows only," he admonished them.
"And you, Tamsin," he said, turning to the young fighter whose leathers were dark with blood, none of which was his own. Foxfire dared not send this one after the humans-after this night's battle, Tamsin was as blood-ravenous as a troll. "Go straight north, into the caves that lie beyond the ashenwood. Awaken the young white dragon who slumbers there and lure her out after you. Lead her to the humans; see that she is fully engaged with them. Then take to the trees and return to us."
A savage grin spread across the younger elf's face as he visualized the results of his leader's plan. "And I will leave bundles of wintermint in the dragon's lair, that she may later cleanse the foul taste of the humans from her tongue!"