Eventually the fellow rose and exited the room to answer a call of nature. At once the angel gripped the wrought-iron grille and tore it away from the window so she'd be able to carry out her captive.
Yirtag's head snapped around at the squeal of tortured metal, but by that time Kotara was already swarming into the room. As he drew breath to cry out, she clapped her hand over his mouth, snatched him off his grimy pillows, and bore him out into the open air.
Kotara flew him to the apex of the domed, tiled roof of a nearby temple. When she let him go, he teetered precariously on the smooth, curved surface. Spreading her wings, she balanced without effort.
"What?" he whimpered. "What are you?"
"What do they say slew Multam?" she replied.
"Some creature," Yirtag said, crouching to lower his center of gravity. "Some roc or efreet that swooped down from the sky."
"I am that creature," she said, "sent to avenge Axdan Hajeen's murder."
"Please," begged Yirtag, "don't kill me. It was all Multam's idea. When we grabbed the boy, I didn't know he meant to knife him. I thought he was just going to knock him around a little."
"It doesn't matter," said Kotara, wishing that she didn't pity the wretch in his dread and desperation. "You still must answer." He had a dagger tucked in his sash. A paltry thing, but she wanted it in his hand. "Draw your weapon."
He shook his head. "Please-"
"Draw it!" she rapped. "Let's not protract this any longer than necessary."
His face gray and his hand shaking, he fumbled out the dagger and pointed it in her direction. With a beat of her wings, she darted toward him.
The blade flashed at her. She brushed it aside with her armored forearm and struck Yirtag a backhand blow across the face. The impact sent him tumbling helplessly down the side of the roof. The dagger slipped from his grasp and bounced clanking along beside him.
He screamed as he shot off the edge of the dome, where the curve met the sheer wall beneath. Kotara swooped, caught him, and bore him up. Twisting his head, Yirtag goggled at her in bewilderment.
"I'm sorry," she said, her opalescent wings beating at the chill night air, "but I couldn't simply let you fall. My master ordered me to give you a slower death."
Yirtag shrieked and thrashed, but his strength was as nothing compared to hers. She lit atop the dome, and holding him down, did with him as Sabul had commanded.
When it was over, and that portion of the roof was foul with spatters of blood, she crouched there weeping, quaking, remorse burning inside her like some excruciating poison. It took her half an hour to compose herself sufficiently for the flight back to the mansion of the Hajeen.
As she spread her wings, she noticed something curious. With her luminous feathers, she was accustomed to kindling a glow in any reflective surface she happened to encounter in the dark. Indeed, she saw smears of light swimming in the glazed tiles. They seemed strangely faint, as if the radiance of her plumage had dimmed.
It was an odd phenomenon, but as far as she could discern, of no particular significance. Very little seemed significant to her now, save for the brutal act she'd just committed. Sobbing anew, she soared away from her abattoir.
Ash still streaking his face and stubble darkening his chin, Sabul listened gravely to Kotara's account of Yirtag's demise. Unseemly as it was for an angel to harbor such a hope, she wished the Civic Guildmage would gloat over her description of her victim's agonies, because that might indicate he was satisfied, or at least becoming so.
But he never so much as smiled, just nodded thoughtfully, like a clerk checking an inventory of goods and finding it in order.
"You did well, " he said when she had finished.
Oh, yes, did well as his torturer! Had she not been bound to his service, she might almost have wished to strike him.
"Perhaps. But despite my efforts to slink about unseen, the Ilmieras know that something is slaying them. Moreover, they suspect that it's something inhuman, some' thing that plunges from the sky."
Sabul shrugged. "If you say so."
"Having deduced that much, surely they will in time surmise which magician sent the killer against them, whether they catch a glimpse of me or not."
Sabul smirked. "As a jurist, I can tell you that what they know and what they can prove to a magistrate's satisfaction are two different things. By the two moons, I think I'd enjoy being accused. Let them discover how it feels to watch your kinsman's slayer saunter out of court a free man."
"They might find a way to convict you," Kotara insisted, "and if they do, you'll go to the block."
"I risk it gladly."
"What of the risk to your family?" the angel asked, shifting her wings in frustration. Her feathers rustled. "If you're exposed, Tartesk and all your other relations will share in your disgrace. The scandal could ruin the Hajeen for all time."
Sabul grimaced. "Exactly what are you getting at?"
"The man who actually murdered Axdan is dead. So is his foremost accomplice. That's two lives for one. Be content with so much, and stop now, before you and your kindred come to grief."
He shook his head. "I can't. Anyway, you needn't pretend that you want to stop because you're concerned about my welfare."
"But I am. From the first moment I heard your voice, so full of suffering-"
"Rubbish. You're just squeamish."
"It's more than squeamishness! I'm suffering too, sorcerer, suffering in a way that-
"I don't care!" he snarled, though immediately afterward, for just an instant, she fancied she saw a flicker of shame in his eyes.
"Go, and return tomorrow night." He turned his back on her.
Her fingers half curled into a fist, then opened again.
Eskander Ilmiera had stationed a pair of sentries on the roof of his house and barred the shutters of his bedchamber. By flying low, Kotara evaded the scrutiny of the former, then made herself sufficiently intangible to slip between the latter. Once inside, she opened the panels to facilitate a hasty departure with her prisoner.
Stouter than most of his kindred, but sharing the usual Ilmiera long nose and wide, thin-lipped mouth, Eskander lay snoring beside his pretty young wife. The sight of the girl, snuggled close to him and smiling in her sleep, made the angel flinch.
Still, she had no choice but to proceed. She plucked Eskander from his bride's embrace, pressed her hand to his mouth, and hurried to the window. The slumbering girl gave a petulant little moan. The angel leaped out into the darkness, dove down almost to street level until she was a safe distance from the guards, then, her wings drumming, ascended. Eskander squirmed helplessly in her grasp.
She set him down on the roof of a warehouse. The plump young man looked utterly defenseless without his clothes, and indeed such was the case, for of course he had no weapon. The realization made Kotara's helly churn.
When she told him why she'd come for him, he said, "But I never laid a hand on Axdan! I only stood and watched!"
"It doesn't matter. My master ordered me to kill you, and I must obey."
"Please," he said, tears streaming down his plump cheeks. "I admit I'm at fault. I should have found a way to stop it. But all my life, I've always felt that I had to do as Multam wanted, not the other way around. Punish me if you must, but spare my life."
"I cannot," she said. "Put up your hands."