Kiril sprinted back up the slope, her sword's fire pumping her limbs with boundless energy.
Sathra spoke anew, her voice a series of unfathomable vocalizations that smoked into reality, her hands frantically waving in rhythm with the foul syllables. Kiril recognized enough spellcasting to identify the cadence of a magical escape.
Sathra wasn't quick enough.
The career of the most-feared crime lord of Laothkund ended in the snowy eaves of the Yuirwood.
* * * * *
An interminable sea of discomfort slowly focused, finally shrinking to the size of his skull. Dull throbs, the stings of scrapes and cuts, and three sharp pinches told him the position of his body; he lay in a splayed posture, facedown on a hard surface. He tasted dirt and bark in his mouth.
He yet lived! Gage throttled his first instinct to groan. Better not to reveal that life hadn't fully departed if enemies lurked nearby. He opened one eye the merest slit to reconnoiter the situation.
Stolsin lay not far from him, cut into three or four bloodless pieces. Closer stood Kiril, tending a small fire. Her pet construct perched on her shoulder. He sucked in his breath when he recalled his last few conscious moments. The elf's head turned. She gazed at him, one eyebrow going up in speculation. She said, "You awake?"
Gage considered. Better not to dissemble, just in case. He let out a loud groan and let his eyes flutter open. When the pain redoubled, he realized he wouldn't have to put up much of an act.
"What happened? That damn walking corpse clipped me with his hammer. Last thing I remember." He levered himself up so his back was supported by a log. A very familiar log. A log much the worse for wear. He'd be happy to see the last of it.
"I'll tell you what happened. A whore came out of nowhere and tried to kill me—which is pretty flecking odd since you told me Sathra was dead!" Kiril moved until she stood a foot from Gage, her eyes narrowed and wild. Xet flew up from her shoulder, chiming a rebuke at her sudden movement.
The thief held up his left hand. "Hold on! You think I lied to you? I thought Sathra was dead—I left her as good as. How could I know someone would pull her out of the sewer and fix her up?" It was as compelling a scenario as he could invent on the spot. He was good at it, but would the enraged elf buy his story? More importantly . . .
"Did you ask her the questions you wanted, Kiril?" Gage asked, anxiety straining his faked credulity. "Did you ask about Nangulis?"
The elf clenched both her fists, neither of which, luckily, was wrapped around her sword. She yelled, "Blood, no!" and slammed a fist down on the log next to Gage. He winced despite himself.
The swordswoman took a deep breath, visibly getting hold of herself. She continued. "No, she came upon me too strong. The only way I could stand against her was to kill her. That, and Angul got the better of me."
"Yeah," agreed Gage, "I know how that goes." He watched her clench her fists and eyes, her mouth a tight line, as she decided to believe his story. He relaxed fractionally.
The fact was, he was having second thoughts about his involvement. How could he have known, when he agreed to steal the blade, that Angul was far more than a simple piece of enchanted steel? How could he have known the sword was Kiril's entire reason for living?
Gage had committed petty larceny, and not-so-petty larceny, from the vaults of the fabulously rich and probably crooked. He had killed, but only those whose hands were stained with years of evil—he'd never knowingly cut the life from an innocent. By his own lights, he was a moral person, one whose skills allowed him to tread the edges of the law, but one whose actions, in the balance, wouldn't endanger his soul's final destination.
He didn't spend all his money on whores and hounds, as did some of his companions, nor did he use his strengths to take advantage of the weak and credulous.
In short, Gage didn't think of himself as a bad guy. Which was an image he found increasingly under siege as he continued supporting the facade he'd created to interact with Kiril...
He shivered and put the unpleasant topic from his mind. He'd deal with the ramifications of his actions soon enough. Not a strategy most people would recommend for success, but one that had served him well enough in the past. Him, but rarely those around him.
"So, what now?" he ventured.
"Now we get you fixed up and continue to Stardeep. We're not far from the Causeway. I'll have my answers soon."
Gage almost told her the truth then. Instead, he nodded and said, "First, let me collect my daggers. Wouldn't want to run low later."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Aglarond, City of Emmech
The Umber River flowed down from the heart of Thay, splitting the Dragonjaw Mountains between its tall and rugged ranges to the north, and the bare-sloped griffon nesting peaks to the south. The river plunged into the wide Tannath gap, passing the great Aglarondan fortress at Emmech before emptying into the Sea of Fallen Stars.
Emmech was a large, ramshackle town with a military air, its rough stone buildings huddling around a far older castle, Fortress Emmech. The fortress bristled with towers and parapets, and its wide hollows housed a significant portion of Aglarond's Army of the Lion; the last Thayan invasion down the Umber River wasn't so long ago that fear of the Red Wizards had passed, despite recent trade agreements. The fortress's most important structures were the two strong towers on either side of the Umber, which could raise from the river floor an ensorcelled chain to bar the passage of watercraft.
Raidon first saw Fortress Emmech in hazy evening light, as the caravan cleared the last descending limb of the Tannaths, and the river valley opened into the distance. They traveled the so-called "Umber River Road," a pitted, crumbling ribbon of rarely level, often snow-packed ground bordered by unscalable cliffs on one side and a river-filled chasm on the other.
Quent told Raidon that morning that the river was an oft-traveled trade route of late, for those willing to pay the Thayan tax. On the other hand, the adjoining "river road" was too dangerous for regular business. Unless your name was Quent and you wanted to shortcut the competition and avoid said tax, the caravan chief boasted. Even if that meant potentially facing the wrath of Red Wizard patrols.
The monk was certain two lives lost to river raiders was too high a price to pay for avoiding the Thayan river levy, but he held his tongue.
The caravan wound its way down the slope to the river gates, such as they were. The real defense of the town obviously lay behind the towering fortress walls, not here at the periphery, though a few token guards stood to attention when the caravan moved to gain entry. The guards looked over the wagons, then asked for a perfunctory trade fee in return for being allowed inside. Quent paid and asked, "Does Lord Demelin still command the fortress?"
One guard spit and replied, "Sure." Another nodded, but the rest were already moving back to the guard house. Interest in the caravan lapsed once it was determined Quent wasn't sponsored by any concern out of Thay.
Inside, the caravan quickly found the bazaar. This late, traffic was sparse, and many trade carts and temporary shops had already shuttered their wares behind lengths of dark tarpaulin, sail cloth, or wooden planks. Some merchants swept up while others packed away goods. Here and there, wily Emmechers wrangled for day-end deals.