“Where do you think he is?” asked Orshok. “Word of Vvaraak, why hasn’t he come after us?”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to take to the sky over a crowded city,” said Ashi.
Or, Geth thought, maybe he couldn’t. The dragon’s stiff movements, the haggard look of pain on his human face … maybe Dah’mir couldn’t fly. Tiger’s blood, he wondered, how badly did I injure him?
He kept the thought to himself. If Dah’mir was somewhere behind them, they couldn’t led their guard down. Vennet and his men were still following, their shouts echoing along the twists of the street-once they lost them, they could worry about Dah’mir. Geth glanced down each of the alleys that split off from the street, but without exception, they were all even narrower than the street itself-and now was not the time to risk blundering into a dead-end.
Assuming that the twisting street wasn’t itself a dead-end.
As they skidded around a final corner, though, the buildings that had hemmed them in fell away. The crooked street opened up, merging with other streets to make a plaza along the side of a broad canal. To their left and ahead, wide streets ran off through the city. To their right, a bridge leaped across the canal. The plaza was busy-ordinary people going about their day’s errands, merchants strolling and talking, porters plodding under massive loads of goods. A strange smell like a hundred crushed plants mingled together made Geth’s nose twitch.
“That’s the herb market!” Orshok panted. The orc was running heavily, out of breath. “It’s close-on the other side of the canal. Singe and Dandra will be there. They can help us!”
A chill rolled along Geth’s back. “No!” he said, slowing in the middle of the plaza. “We can’t lead Vennet to them. Dandra’s vulnerable to Dah’mir’s power.”
“What do we do then?” asked Ashi. She swung around to face him-and her eyes focused on something high and behind him. Her mouth opened to shout a warning, but Geth was already spinning-
— as five black herons with acid-green eyes came swooping out of the sky, practically on top of them. He flung up one arm to shield his face and flailed wildly with his other, trying to bat the birds away. He smelled a greasy, coppery stink as one of the birds struck. Pain raked along his arm. As the birds flapped back up into the air, he glanced at his arm. The heron’s sharp talons had drawn blood even through his tough hide!
He spun around. The birds were beating for altitude again, coming around. People across the plaza were shouting and turning to look. Ashi was helping Orshok to his feet. There were long slashes in the druid’s sleeves and bloody scratches on his forehead. Geth jumped to his side, teeth bared. “I’m really starting to hate those damn herons!”
There was anger in Orshok’s eyes. “Then let’s give them something to worry about besides us!” He thrust his hands-his hunda stick clenched in one, the fingers of the other spread wide-toward the sky and spat a prayer.
Nature stirred and answered his call. In the sky above the wheeling herons, the afternoon light seemed to fold and part. With a chorus of brittle shrieks, four eagles burst out of the air and hit the herons in a flurry of feathers and talons. One of the herons fell to the wooden plaza almost immediately, its neck broken. The others scattered, pursued by the eagles.
The display of magic drew even more attention to them, however-some of it distinctly unwelcome.
“Geth!” shouted Vennet. “Ashi, you treacherous bitch!
Geth turned to see the half-elf standing in the mouth of the crooked street they had just left, his dim-eyed crew spreading out around their captain. He recognized many of them, including a formerly friendly, steadfast sailor named Karth. If Karth had been turned to hunting them down, Geth knew, something had definitely taken control of Vennet’s men.
He also knew that they couldn’t just keep running. He crouched down, a snarl tearing itself from his throat and reached for his sword. Ashi was at his side, her hand on her weapon as well. The bystanders closest to them pulled back swiftly.
Then Orshok’s voice rippled through the air in another desperate prayer. The afternoon light vanished in the roiling cloud of thick mist that took shape all around them.
“Grandmother Wolf!” Geth’s curse was lost in the shouts of alarm from the people around. The shifter reached out and grabbed the dim shape that was Ashi and pulled her with him toward Orshok. The young orc loomed out of the mist like a ghost.
Geth grabbed him, too. “Move! This isn’t going to stop Vennet!”
“He can’t see us.”
“He can’t see us yet,” Geth told him. The fear of the crowd gave him a desperate idea. The body of the heron killed by Orshok’s eagles lay nearby. Pushing Ashi and Orshok toward the right side of the plaza, he scooped up the dead bird and hurled it off through the mist in the opposite direction. There was dull thud and a startled shout as it hit someone.
An instant later, the mist across that side of the plaza vanished in a howling rush of wind as Vennet, drawn by the sudden cry, unleashed the power of his dragonmark.
The blast of wind drew out more cries from the startled people in the plaza. Abruptly, the shifter, the hunter, and the druid weren’t the only ones running away from Vennet. Geth kept a tight grip on Orshok and Ashi, keeping them ahead of him as bodies packed around them in the remaining mist. “Stay low!” he said. “Keep moving with the crowd!”
He heard splashes nearby as people fell off the edge of the plaza in their haste to flee, but up ahead the shouting crowd actually seemed to be condensing. He guided the others that way, pushing his way through the noisy crush to take a place just in front of a wide-eyed porter jogging along with a tall basket strapped to his back. Two merchants squeezed him on the left, a ragged beggar on the right. The mist lightened as they approached the edge of the cloud, then thinned and vanished as they broke clear.
They were in the middle of the bridge over the canal, just part of a frightened throng fleeing magic and the threat of violence in the plaza.
Geth felt Orshok stiffen. “Geth, this is the way to the herb market!”
“I know,” said the shifter. “Brace yourselves and keep moving.” He glanced at the men around him, then leaned toward the closer of the two merchants. “Sorry for this,” he said.
The man barely had time to give him a curious look before Geth hooked a foot around his leg and swept it out from under him. The merchant flailed and went down, clutching at his companion and pulling him off balance as well. Geth kept moving even as the porter staggered to avoid the fallen men, knocking another person to the ground and leaving his tall load swaying. The porter tried to right himself-and failed. His basket tipped and fat green melons flew out, bouncing on the bridge and tripping still more people. Those who could see what had happened tried to slow down and dodge around the fallen people, but the press of the crowd didn’t let up. New shouts of confusion and fear rang out.
Geth caught Ashi and Orshok and pushed them on through the milling mob and off the bridge, then, as the street opened into the edge of a vast market, out of the crowd and into the shadow of a merchant’s stall. Safe for a moment, he took a deep breath. “Did it work?” he gasped.
Ashi peered cautiously back the way they had come. “Rond betch, what a mess! Vennet’s not going to get through that fast!”
“Where is he?” asked Geth.
“The mist is lifting.” She paused, then added, “He’s still on the plaza, looking like he’s trying to decide what to do.”
“Herons?”
Ashi’s eyes turned to the sky. “None close.”
Geth sagged back. He released his hold on the shifting and its rush of invincibility bled out of him. The sting of the scratches inflicted by the heron’s talons faded, eased by the fading power. Geth let his breath out in a grateful hiss and looked at Ashi and Orshok. The hunter was still tense, her hand hovering close to her sword. The druid was drenched in sweat and trembling, his fingers gripping his hunda stick. Geth nodded to both of them. “Easy,” he said. “I think we’re safe-”