“I think there’s more to that sword than meets the eye,” said Singe. He poked through Chain’s gear.
Dandra leaned over to look at the pile. It contained a short sword, several small knives, a flat case that Singe opened to reveal lock picks, gloves, a spindle of cord spun with some metallic fiber, a few small pouches that gave off a rank odor, a couple of greasy sticks, and a small dark glass bottle. She added the man’s cudgel. Singe raised an eyebrow at the sight of it.
“A densewood cudgel, tanglefoot bags, smokesticks, irontwist cord-you’re well-equipped, Chain,” he said. He picked up the bottle, frowned at it and pulled out the stopper to sniff carefully at its contents. He blinked and snorted as he closed it again. “It smells like week-old tea. What is this?”
“Gaeth’ad essence,” said Natrac as he, Bava, and Orshok come up the stairs into the studio. “Bounty hunters use it to keep their prisoners docile until they can get them locked up. They say it’s especially good for keeping spellcasters restrained.”
Singe’s eyes narrowed as he set the bottle down. “Really? I think it’s time we started asking some questions.” He sat down in front of Chain. “I doubt you carry shackles and gaeth’ad essence around on a regular basis. Someone hired you to find us. Maybe to capture us. Who was it?”
Chain glared at him and said nothing. “I’ll take a guess,” Singe continued. “Vennet d’Lyrandar? Half-elf with long blond hair, gray coat with big silver buttons, dragonmark on the back of his neck, captain of an elemental galleon called Lightning on Water?” He tilted his head. “Maybe a man named Dah’mir? Tall, green eyes, wears a black leather robes with dragonshards set along the sleeves?”
Chain’s eyes flickered, but he kept his mouth closed and his face remained hard. Singe pressed his lips together and looked up at Dandra. “I don’t suppose you can do that thing Medala did and inflict pain on someone through their mind?
Dandra blinked. He knew she couldn’t duplicate Medala’s vicious power-just as she knew the wizard wouldn’t want it inflicted on someone else. Medala had tormented him with waves of phantom pain too many times when he was a prisoner of the Bonetree. He was trying to intimidate Chain, she realized. She shook her head, acting along. “No. I could burn him, though.” She reached for whitefire and the droning chorus of her fiery power throbbed on the air.
Chain’s ears twitched at the sound and he swallowed-but his lips twisted into a self-assured smile. “Maybe you could,” he said. “But you wouldn’t. I know when I’m being played.”
“Singe,” said Bava coldly, “let me do this.” The artist’s face was pale with rage and for the first time, the accent of the Marches was strong in her voice. She went over to the heap of Chain’s gear and selected two knives, examining their glittering edges as she pulled them from their sheaths. She turned around and looked down at Chain. “No one threatens my family.”
She flipped one of the knives through her fingers with a frightening dexterity, then reached out to prod off the lid of a pigment jar. The knife dipped into the jar and emerged dusted with a green powder used for making paint. Bava wiped one side of the flat of the blade against her forehead, turning the paint into a savage smear, then stalked across the studio, knife held out.
If she was playing Chain, she was doing a very good job of it. Dandra looked to Singe and Geth, but the men were frozen, their eyes nearly as wide as Chain’s. Ashi looked uncomfortable-the hunter was a fearless warrior, but Dandra knew she preferred offering her enemies a clean death. She didn’t like torture. “Cheo do doi, Bava?” she asked.
“Doa at harano,” Bava said.
At Dandra’s side, Singe whispered a translation. “I do it for honor.” His face was taut. “Twelve moons, I don’t like this.”
Ashi’s face took on a grim cast. She stepped back out of Bava’s way. The large woman moved close to Chain and brought the knife close to his forehead. The bounty hunter’s hard expression trembled and his eyes crossed, trying to look up as Bava pressed the knife against his brow, marking him the same way she had marked herself.
Then she took hold of one of Chain’s ears and stretched it away from his head. She settled the blade of the knife against the flesh where ear met scalp-
“Vennet d’Lyrandar,” said Chain. His voice was steady but his body was tense. Dandra could tell it was taking all his willpower to maintain a cool demeanor.
Bava’s knife didn’t rise from his ear, but she didn’t force it any lower, either. Chain’s eyes darted briefly sideways and up to where Bava stood. “Vennet hired me to track and find you,” he added quickly. “He introduced me to Dah’mir at the docks, but nothing more. As soon as Vennet approached me and described the people he wanted me to find, I recognized you. He didn’t know I’d already met you. I thought it would be easy money, but he’s not paying me to take torture.”
“You could just be repeating names to keep us happy,” Singe pointed out. “Answer another one: why would Vennet hire you when he could look for us himself?”
“He and Dah’mir were leaving Zarash’ak. After Vennet introduced me to Dah’mir, they both got in shallow-draft boat and put out into the river.”
Dandra felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Dah’mir had left Zarash’ak. She saw Singe glance at Geth, however. The shifter’s eyes were narrow. “They left Zarash’ak?” he asked suspiciously. “Without looking for us?”
“That’s what they hired me for,” snapped Chain. His voice rose into a sharp yelp as Bava gave a tug on his ear.
“How did you find us here?” Dandra asked.
Chain lifted his manacled arms to point at Natrac. “He introduced himself when we met, didn’t he? It was easy to find his house. An old servant there told me where to find you.”
“Urthen!” Natrac curled his hand into a fist. “Dol Arrah turn away-Bava, save me an ear!”
“No,” said Singe sharply. “No one’s going to cut anything off. Bava, let him go.”
Bava released the bounty hunter with an obvious reluctance, twisting his ear hard and smacking him on the back of the head as she let go. “Come near my family again and no one’s going to save you,” she spat at him.
Chain’s face twisted. “You don’t know who you’ve just made your enemy!”
“Neither do you.” Bava flung down the knives. They stuck, quivering, in the floor on either side of Chain’s knees. She turned away. Natrac went after her. After a moment, Singe leaned forward.
“I don’t suppose you’ll take more money to abandon the contract?” he asked.
Chain glared up at him, his face hard, and snarled something in Goblin.
“I didn’t think so.” Singe glanced at Geth and Dandra and flicked his head to the other side of the studio. They moved away from Chain, leaving Ashi and Orshok to watch him, and gathered around the table with the heap of the bounty hunter’s gear.
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Dandra asked. She couldn’t keep the hope that Dah’mir was gone out of her mind. Tetkashtai was almost singing at the news.
“About Vennet hiring him, yes,” the wizard murmured. “Maybe about Dah’mir leaving, too. The question is, what are we going to do with him? He’s not going to give up.”
Dandra grasped his meaning immediately. “If we leave him here, he’s just going to come after us.”
“We could kill him,” said Geth. Dandra and Singe looked at him in unison. The shifter shrugged. “Or we could let Bava kill him.”
“Nobody is killing anybody in cold blood.” Singe ran a thumb through the whiskers on his chin. “We were lucky that Chain didn’t tell Vennet and Dah’mir he’d just met us. He won’t make that mistake again. If they meet him when they get back to Zarash’ak, you can bet he’ll tell everything this time-and he knows we’re looking for the Spires of the Forge.”