“Then that is why Caerzaal wanted me alive!”
“The vampire lord. Yes, when I realized just how much of a force he had drawn up around Taeris Mordel, I knew the Emerald Claw was desperate.”
“What would Caerzaal have done?”
“Bound you to him and the Claw. You would have become one of the undead. As Caerzaal’s slave, you would have been forced to use the horn. To give blood, dragon blood, to him and his vile army through the horn. Once you fill the horn with your blood, those who drink from it are empowered.”
Vaddi stared at the shirt bundle in horror. “Perhaps it should be destroyed.”
“Perhaps. But you cannot remain here in Pylas Maradal. A thousand eyes will be on you. Mostly enemies. Caerzaal would not dare set foot here himself, but the Claw has agents everywhere. I have seen them already.”
“Then I must leave with all haste. And you? Will you help me?” And come with me? he wanted to add.
“I will go back now. There are friends I must speak to, and I will arrange for us to leave Pylas Maradal secretly.”
“What of the others? Cellester and Nyam?”
“We can only wait for so long. If they are not here tomorrow, we’ll leave word for them with Kalfar. He can be trusted, but he does not need to know that you carry Erethindel! He would not take it from you by force, Vaddi, but he might think it would be safer with him.”
“Where should it go?”
“I am not sure, but it must never leave you.”
She rose slowly, stretching like a cat. He made to get up, but she put a hand on his shoulder, gently but firmly keeping him down. He reached for her fingers and touched them.
“Sleep now,” she said.
“Sleep? I cannot sleep, not knowing you are out there—”
She laughed, bent down, and brushed his lips with hers before he realized what she had done. At once he felt a warm glow, as if she had released a spell to calm him. Slowly, inch by inch, he slipped back into the folds of the cushions. He was asleep before she reached the window.
The sound of thunder woke him, then he realized with a start that it was the thick wooden door to his chamber. Someone was outside, knocking on it. As he got out of bed, he could still taste the swift kiss of the sorceress. She had imparted something with it, a breath of power, perhaps, that had entered his very blood. He could almost hear it singing in his veins. And something else … the shadow, the ever-present block that constantly held him in check. It was still there, but it had weakened.
“I’m coming!” he called, going to the door. Yes, there could be no doubt of it: he felt lighter of foot, clearer of head. Zemella had brushed him with power. Beyond the door, one of Kalfar’s servants stood.
“Lord, Master Kalfar desires your presence as soon as is convenient. We have a visitor, lord. One who is known to you.”
Downstairs, Kalfar waited, dressed no less magnificently than the previous evening—this time with a rich, purple turban encrusted with a burst of gemstones, as though he were the overlord of the city. Vaddi’s eyes went from the portly figure to the others in the chamber. In its center, flanked by two armed guards, their pikes hovering at his back, was Nyam, eyes blazing, beard bristling with indignation.
As Vaddi approached, the peddler waved his hat about, the feathers flapping in the air. “Vaddi, will you tell this lunatic who I am?”
Vaddi turned to Kalfar. “What has happened?”
Kalfar folded his arms over his broad chest and chewed his lip for a moment. “It seems that this fellow was caught lurking about in the street outside my home.”
“Lurking?” Nyam gasped. “Lurking? That is outrageous!”
“Lurking, skulking, creeping about … it’s all the same to me. An honest man would have come to the gates and called for egress.”
“Preposterous,” insisted Nyam. “I am in a strange city. These are perilous times. I am a cautious man, as any sensible fellow would be.”
“Pah! Let us dispense with deceit. Vaddi, this man claims to know you. Is he that same Nyam Hordath who lately fled with you from Karrnath?”
“Indeed, Kalfar,” Vaddi replied, trying to sound solemn, though he could not help but smile. “The very same. I am sure he is right about caution. We have both had good reason to go about our business carefully.”
“There!” said Nyam. “My identity is confirmed.”
Kalfar drew from its sheath a huge, curved scimitar and tested the sharpness of its blade. “Were I to remove that expansive bird’s nest of a beard, what other identity would be confirmed? Are there any clawfoot traders buried beneath that avalanche of hair?”
Nyam sustained his indignation. “Clawfoot trader? Do I look like one?”
“Are you a man of honor?” Kalfar snapped. “Well?”
Nyam looked to Vaddi. “I trust that Vaddi will vouch for me on that score.”
Vaddi stepped closer to the peddler. “The truth, Nyam. I have trusted you. Have you been to Pylas Maradal before under another name?”
Nyam drew himself up, preparing to unleash a stream of denials, but as his eyes met Vaddi’s, he instead released a huge breath, which seemed to reduce him to almost half his size. His hands flapped briefly at his sides.
“Ah, what is the point of deception?”
“You were once known as Tutos Munnermal?” said Vaddi, still unable to remove the smile from his face entirely.
“Possibly,” muttered Nyam.
“Speak up, speak up!” growled Kalfar.
“Oh, yes, yes. You have me at a disadvantage. Yes, I once used that name.”
“When you swindled me! You were supposed to bring me a string of thoroughbred clawfoots, and you duped me with creatures fit only to be boiled down for soup! I spent six months hunting you.”
“I can only offer my deepest apologies. I did it for good reason.”
“Good reason? Yes, to fatten your purse. Where did the string end up?”
“It was during the War,” said Nyam.
“I know that!” thundered Kalfar. “They were for the halflings!”
“There were others in the north who needed them more. People less fortunate, whose homes were being overrun.”
Kalfar was spluttering with rage.
He means his family! thought Vaddi. Their land, his wife, his sons …
“I am in your debt,” Nyam told Kalfar, bowing his head.
“Yes, indeed. Indeed you are. So how will you pay me?” The huge sword hovered menacingly.
“Kill me if you must, but I doubt that you’ll profit much.”
“No,” said Vaddi. “Kalfar—”
“You are bound to me, Nyam Hordath. A debt of honor. You agree?”
“How could I not?”
“Then you can discharge it. If you are honorable.”
“You have only to say—”
“The time of words is over. Time for deeds. Now you have a remarkable network. You must have to have evaded me for as long as you did. You seem capable of slipping in and out of every nook and cranny the length and breadth of Khorvaire. I want you to use that skill now. You see this young man? He needs to travel to Thrane, secretly, deviously. Who better to shield him and guide him but you? Do this, be his protector at all times, and your debt to me is discharged.”
Nyam looked at Kalfar in surprise. “Would Vaddi not be safer in the hands of a real escort, armed men, a warclan even?”
Vaddi was also looking askance at Kalfar.
“I think not. If you can move about so freely, so much the better for Vaddi. Armed warriors, elves or men, would stand out and attract attention from every eye. And as the agents of the Emerald Claw are also eager to get their talons on you, an armed parly would be like a beacon to them. So do we have a deal?”