She was beginning to hate that title. "I came to bargain with you, Wizard. I've heard of your power. If there's anything to know in this hell-hole, you know it. It's information I want."
His laughter fairly shook the walls. "Have I changed so drastically? Do I look like Hakiem the Storyteller, or Blind Jakob? Seek those for your information, woman. I'm no peddler of gossip. More important things occupy my time."
"Indeed? Well, occupy yourself with these!" She flung back her cloak and brazenly cupped her breasts. "Nearly a year ago a caravan bearing the Prince's wife and concubines was attacked in the Gray Wastes. The conspirators organized the attack from right here in Sanctuary. You have power, Enas Yorl, and you can find things out. You give me their names, and I'll give you the time of your life!"
The red eyes shone like twin coals. The wizard leaned forward to regard her with interest. "Why on earth, woman, would you offer such a bargain? Do you not know what I am, what my body is? Yes, I can give you what you seek, but do you truly know the price?"
Chenaya barked a short laugh. "You've seen my god's mark upon me, but do you know what it means? It means I can't lose-at anything. And that would get boring if I didn't find new and exciting ways to amuse myself." She unlaced her cloak and let it slide to the floor. "You're the most feared wizard in the Empire, and I decided when I first came to this city that it might be fun to crawl around in your bed. But the price of my flesh is the information I seek."
"But my body, Rankan," the wizard interrupted. "Do you know how it changes?"
"Of course," she answered with another laugh. "And I'll be very disappointed if you don't undergo some transformation while we're making love." She winked. "I told you, I'm always after a new thrill."
His voice took on a deeper, more lusty quality as he rose from his chair. "I have no control over the changes. I can't promise such a thing."
But he changed, even as he whispered in her ear.
Chenaya frowned in irritation as she hugged the cloak tighter about her shoulders and crept from shadow to shadow. It wasn't her normal way of travel. She preferred to stride the center of the streets and damn anyone stupid enough to block her path. But tonight was different. She had business, and there was no time for pointless altercations with any of the factions that governed the night.
The animal pens of Corlas, the camel merchant, were on the shore of the White Foal River just outside the Bazaar. According to rumor, it was one of the places to avoid these days. The war between the two witches, Ischade and Roxane, had made an unpredictable hell of the area, and half the residents had apparently chosen sides.
Games, games, she sighed. Everybody plays. And who could tell-if things got dull maybe she'd take a closer interest in the players. On the other hand, things were looking anything but dull. Enas Yorl had surprised her in more ways than one.
Unexpectedly, she heard voices behind her. She ducked into the nearest cranny and crouched behind a barrel. Slops, to judge by the odor. She held her nose and waited. A ragtag squad of men passed without noticing her. Most appeared to wear swords, though a few carried only clubs. There was nothing disciplined about them. They talked too loudly and swaggered as if they owned the night. She suspected they'd all been drinking.
When they were past she resumed her journey. Quickly, she reached the bank of the White Foal. The swiftly flowing surface caught her attention. Starlight sparkled on the waves. The gentle lapping had an almost mesmerizing quality. A strange emotion stole upon her, a mixture of fear and fascination, the same sensation that had overcome her when she set foot upon her first boat and sailed to Scavengers' Island. Again, she remembered the voice of Savankala and the promise that sealed her fate. Not by sword or by any hand of man, the Thunderer told her those many years ago. By water....
She shivered and forced herself to move on. So it had been when she sailed to the island. On the way back there had been too much to do, plans to make. And there was much to do now. She felt the water calling, calling. But she denied it.
A new odor permeated the air, almost as bad as the barrel's contents. She had spent enough time with Rankan bestiarii to know a camel when she smelled one. The odor was quite distinct. She moved silently and came, at last, to the pens themselves.
Daxus-that was the first name Enas Yorl had whispered in her ear. For several years the man had made his living standing night watch over Corlas's beasts. According to the wizard, however, he also made a little selling information about caravan cargoes to various raider groups such as the desert-dwelling Raggah. It was he, Enas Yorl claimed, who had arranged the attack on Daphne's caravan.
Chenaya fingered a folded length of gold chain that hung on her belt, and she licked her lips. Now Daxus would pay as she had promised Daphne.
The pens were built of wooden posts set close together and planted deep in the earth. The outer wall was a small fortification designed to foil would-be thieves. It would require a grapple to climb it. There was only one gate, and it would be barred from the inside. Because of the street disturbances, Daxus had taken to sealing himself inside with the camels.
Noiselessly, she crept around the walls, peeking through the frequent tiny gaps. The interior was sectioned into smaller pens. She listened for sounds. Even the camels seemed at rest. But ... was that the glow of a small fire?
She stole up to the gate and laid a hand against the rough wood. Only guile would open it without attracting half the rowdies in the city. And guile wasn't one of her more reliable talents. Daxus was a man, though, and if she'd learned nothing else, she knew she could count on his basest instincts.
She removed her cloak, then shed her tunic, careful not to mislay a thin metal probe secreted up her right sleeve. She hugged herself, wondering about her trousers and boots. Damn, it was cold! Already, she was covered with gooseflesh. Still, if Daxus was suspicious he might want a better look. Cursing silently, she gazed up and down the street and slipped off the rest of her garments. Lastly, she propped her sword against the wall close at hand.
Then she pounded frantically on the gate. "Help!" she cried in a tight whisper. "Please let me in! My husband will kill me! Help!" She beat the wood with the flat of her hand, shooting glances around, hoping no one else would hear.
A narrow portal slid open a bare fraction. No face appeared, but a voice whispered back. "Who's that? I don't want no trouble. Go away."
The portal started to slide shut, but Chenaya shoved her finger into the aperture. "Wait!" she begged. "You're Daxus. I've seen you before. Please, let me in before my husband finds me. He beats me, but this time I ran away. He chased me across Caravan Square, but I lost him. He'll catch up, though. Please, it's so cold!" That much was certainly true. "Hide me, I beg you!"
The portal opened wider; one eye peered through. "Is this a trick?" Daxus grumbled. "Stand back so I can get a look at you. Say, you haven't got a stitch on!"
She thanked the gods for her foresight. But it was freezing! It might be a good touch, she decided, if she sank to her knees, so she did. "I had a dress, but he ripped it off. Tried to rape me, the drunken oaf!" She hoped she was whining convincingly. Was Daphne really worth this kind of humiliation?
The portal slid all the way open, and the watchman poked his face out, glanced from side to side as far as the opening allowed, and licked his lips. Decision gleamed in his eyes as he grinned at her. "Well, I've got a fire that'll warm you, sweet. Warm you through and through."