Nyam turned to Vaddi. “Have you decided on a course?”
Vaddi nodded. “My family must be avenged.”
“Very well,” said Nyam. “I promise to undertake this.”
The momentary silence was broken by a discreet cough. It was Abdas and he held a letter. Kalfar nodded and the steward handed the missive to his master.
“This is for Vaddi. An educated hand.” Kalfar passed it to Vaddi.
Vaddi opened if, surprised by its message. “It is from Cellester. He has been delayed. He seeks aid for us, but it will be a week before he is able to join me here. He urges me to prevail upon you, Kalfar, to host me until then.”
“Does he indeed? You may stay in my house as long as you wish, but I am not so sure that is wise. Your enemies are bound to learn you are here.”
“Since you have bought my service,” said Nyam, again inflating himself. “I should begin at once. I know a safe house or two in the city.”
“Yes,” agreed Kalfar. “Move quickly. What of this … Cellester? Is he to join you?”
Nyam looked at Vaddi. “It’s your decision.”
“I am unsure of him,” said Vaddi, “but I will not abandon him. Not yet anyway.”
“Then when he comes,” Nyam said to Kalfar, “tell him to find word of me at the Black Mare’s Nest.”
“Ha!” Kalfar guffawed. “That poxy rat hole! I should have known. I doubt that there’s a rougher, more run-down, shoddy pit on the entire waterfront! It’s a brave man who ducks his head under those beams.”
“It has its advantages.” Nyam grinned. “Shall we go?”
Vaddi embraced Kalfar, who muttered something about not even bothering to stay for breakfast.
“Tell Cellester where we are, and if Zemella should seek me—”
“Of course, my boy.” Kalfar grinned enormously. “Of course.”
An hour before dawn, before Vaddi had awakened, Pylas Maradal fell quiet, though not altogether silent, for there were always those who prowled its streets on secret errands or on dubious business. Dark bargains were struck and strange, exotic commodities exchanged hands while the majority of the Valenar slept. Fortunes were won and lost at the turn of a blade.
Weaving cat-like through the alleyways near the docks, the girl blended with the shadows, well used to the mysteries of her city. Many of the remaining night prowlers did not even see her, but those who did pretended not to notice. This was not an hour for conversation.
Zemella was conscious, however, that she had attracted the attention of someone. More than one of them, she sensed. She slipped her sword from its scabbard, ready to use it. It would not have been the first time she had fought her way out of an alley scrap. A smile played on her lips. A little exercise before dawn would not be unwelcome.
The smile dissolved as she saw the three figures slide from the shadows ahead of her. They were no common thieves. Nor were they Valenar. But they were elves—faces painted deathly white, hands equally as pale, swords at the ready. She eschewed any discussion and launched herself at them, her own blade a blur. The air hummed and she could taste the sorcery in it.
Behind her, others closed in, mouthing spells. She wove her own net of magic about her, but these creatures were powerful and the air continued to crackle, drowning out the clash of blades. Ordinarily Zemella would have been more than a match for any skulking band of cutthroats and they would have been dead or maimed in a matter of moments.
Not so this dark brethren. They kept her at bay, front and back, but drew her onward down the alley to a low doorway that opened into darkness. Zemella could smell deeper sorcery within. Spells like thick spider webs threatened to engulf her, her blade forced to weave an even tighter protective circle. She wounded two of her opponents, but others stepped into their breach. They said nothing, wide eyes fixed upon her.
She redoubled her efforts, her blade whirling, drawing thin blood on more than one opponent, but the combination of numbers closed in like the coils of a serpent. A sudden bolt of light burst over her shoulder, blinding her. Dazed, her arm went numb and her blade clattered to the cobblestone. At once she fell swords at her throat and a knife held against her midriff.
“Come with us and live,” said a sibilant voice through the haze of the spell.
Gripped by their twisted power, she had no alternative.
“Kalfar Munjati is as parsimonious as they come, relative or not!” Nyam snorted between mouthfuls of hot broth and freshly baked bread.
He sat opposite Vaddi in a cramped booth in the notorious dockside inn, the Black Mare’s Nest. Although it was still the breakfasting hour, the inn was stuffed with sailors, travellers and others of questionable trade and disposition. The morning pipesmoke curdled overhead among low beams, mingling with the remnants of the previous night’s.
Vaddi, eyes streaming, concentrated on his food, which was good, and closed out the reek and the noise around him. “Why do you say that? We could have eaten with him.”
“Aye. But he has spared his purse by hiring me. At no cost. Whatever family ties he has with you and whatever obligation he might feel toward you, he has discharged cheaply! Cleverly done.”
“He owes me nothing.”
“He’s an Orien!”
“Only by marriage. He’s no heir. So what was all that about clawfoot trading and swindling him?”
Nyam looked sheepish. “It’s a long story. I did put one over on the old skinflint, it’s true, but it was no more than he deserved.”
“Well, I won’t hold you to your agreement with him.”
Nyam chewed hungrily, watching Vaddi, frowning.
“I can’t expect you to tie yourself to me and my cause,” said Vaddi.
“You have doubts about returning to the north?”
Vaddi’s look hardened. “Those who murdered my family will be brought to account.”
“I will do as I promised and stay with you. To protect what you carry.”
“Tell me, why did you come to his house? They caught you outside it. You must have known you would be in trouble with Kalfar if he saw you.”
Nyam chuckled. “Thought my beard would fool him. But I wanted to give you some news. After I left you last evening, I thought I’d find out what the cleric was about.”
“You followed him?” said Vaddi, surprised.
“Up to a point. Then I had some friends of mine keep an eye on him, I would like to believe he is your ally, but his knowledge of that undead … thing disturbs me. We have saved each others’ lives, yes, but it was in his interest, too.”
“I cannot be sure of him either.”
“My contacts will be here soon. More food?”
“No, thank you. That’s another thing. I have no money.”
Nyam patted his robe and it jingled. “That’s no problem. I found a little something on that airship.”
“You stole it?”
“Dead men don’t need coins.” Nyam laughed. “I can see I’ve a lot to leach you if you’re to survive, especially in this part of the world. I’ve deflected half a dozen grasping fingers already. Pickpockets. Pylas Maradal seethes with them.”
“So where are we to go now?”
“After we have seen my contacts, I suggest we consider passage on another airship. We can travel as traders. This time we’ll take some support so that we’ll deter any of Caerzaal’s minions from open attack.”
“We travel today?”
Nyam grinned. “Why? Is there someone you wish to see first? A certain sorceress, by any chance?”
Vaddi was about to retort but sat back with a laugh. “Yes, all right. You know I like her—”
“Like her? Is that what you call it!”
“Nyam!” said Vaddi, flushing and looking around at the press of bodies, expecting to see everyone grinning at him. “Of course I like her. I can’t just walk out of here without seeing her.”
Nyam leaned forward, his grin for a moment set aside. “You are sure? Safer if we slip away like mist.”