"Bladesmile."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Howling Delve
5 Marpenoth, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)
Meisha came awake to total darkness and hands pressing her upper arms. She struck out, found a human throat, and dug her fingers into it. She heard a ragged cough and the smell of garbage hit her square in the nose. She relaxed her grip and heard Talal hiss, "Sune suck me, but you're a mean one."
"Why is it dark?" she asked. "I left a candle burning."
"I blew it out. We have to move, Lady," he said urgently, pulling her up from her pallet. "Don't," he hissed as she began chanting a spell. "No light. No damn fire. Give me your hand."
He took her down the passage out of the warrens toward Varan's chamber. Meisha could see a faint line of light beneath the wizard's door. "Where are we going?" she asked.
"Shh! They're coming," Talal whispered.
"The Shadow Thieves?"
"Them—Balram too. And his son. One big, happy clan again."
Meisha stilled. "Both of them? Why?"
"To make sure you're dead. We have to hide you. If they find out we kept you alive .. ."
"Wait." Meisha caught his arm, stopping him in front of Varan's chamber. "You said they never go in here. They're afraid of Varan."
Talal shook his head so vigorously Meisha felt it through his entire body. "He'll attack you again. They'll find your corpse, and it'll still be bad for us. Come on!"
"I won't touch anything. I won't disturb him." Voices drifted out to them from the warrens.
"They're gathering everyone together," Talal said, fear rising in his voice.
"Then we're out of time." Meisha hauled the door open. Ambient light from the room cast shadow pits on Talal's pale face. "I'll be fine," she promised. She reached out to ruffle his hair playfully, because she knew it would annoy him.
The boy darted away, snorting. "Oh, sure, rip my throat out then pet me like your lap dog. Don't fret, Lady, my manhood's unscathed. If you're going to do this, give me your boots before you go in."
"My what—why?"
"Just hurry!"
Rolling her eyes, Meisha pulled the buckles loose and braced herself against the door as Talal yanked off her thigh-length boots. Her stockinged feet instantly went frigid when they touched the floor.
"You're welcome," she muttered as the boy darted off down the passage in the direction of the voices.
Meisha pulled the door shut, sealing it securely from the inside. She stood a moment with her ear to the wood, listening for approaching footsteps, but she heard nothing. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the room and whatever doom might await her.
Varan was asleep. She'd looked in on the wizard from behind the door a handful of times since coming to the Delve, and each time he'd been awake and active, building his mysterious items. She'd never seen him at rest.
He lay in a half-slump in a corner, clutching sheafs of parchment in limp fingers, far away from the pallet Haroun had made for him. Meisha suspected he worked himself into exhaustion and simply collapsed wherever he happened to be sitting.
His pile of magic items had been depleted. Talal or one of the others had collected the tribute.
Moving along the wall, Meisha sat down a safe distance from the wizard. His breathing was deep and regular, but his arms and legs twitched erratically, like a dog in the throes of some disturbing dream.
"What are you seeing, Master?" she whispered aloud, knowing he could not hear her. "What is tormenting you?" Was it the fire beast? Meisha had always sensed a wrongness, a feeling of malevolence lurking at the edges of Varan's underground sanctuary, but remembering the ghost's warning and her own strange dreams, she felt the sensation intensify a hundredfold.
And now the Shadow Thieves were here. Meisha ran a hand down her back, over the ridge of healing flesh. She hadn't been strong enough to take them on when she was whole. She had no chance now. All she could do was pray to the Lady that Kall had gotten her message. The ghost had said only that he would deliver it. He hadn't appeared since to confirm or deny its receipt.
Sighing, Meisha traced a circle in the dirt and sediment in front of her. "Chareff." The familiar power kindled—the first spell she'd ever learned.
Always have a candle for the rats, Shaera had chided her.
She placed the tiny flame in the circle. Meisha lay down on her side, curling around the fire so she could watch Varan sleep.
He continued to toss and turn fitfully. Meisha bit her lip as she felt power stir anew, magic awakened by the wizard's violent trembles. It called to the sorcerous power within her, raking over her skin like hot coals. She shuddered.
Then why not end it? Give him a quick, merciful death.
The memory came out of nowhere, the words biting at Meisha's heart. The woman who'd spoken those words to Kall was unrecognizable to her now. She had no desire to be reminded of the person she'd once been.
"Kall," she whispered, feeling tears sting her eyes as she remembered the young man who'd stood defiantly in her path and watched his death smolder in her eyes. "I understand now."
She could never kill Varan. Even had she the magical might, she had no will for the task. Not when there was a chance he might be saved.
She closed her eyes against the memories, retreating instinctively into a meditative trance. Varan had taught her that, as well. She would need to conserve as much strength as possible for what lay ahead. She'd been wrong—she couldn't rely on Kall getting her message. Something had to be done to get the refugees out of the Delve before Varan became any more volatile. For if the fire beast didn't kill them all, Meisha knew, deep in her soul, Varan would.
* * * * *
Haroun walked beside Talal to the front of the warrens, where the refugees stood herded together. The crowd stood tense and wary, fighting desperately to keep the guilt off their faces as Balram questioned each about Meisha.
"I don't remember you." Balram held the back of his hand to his nose as he spoke to Talal, but the boy only grinned innocuously.
"I was smaller when you were here last, sir," he said. His voice was chipper and polite, as if he were trying to sell Balram goods on a street corner. "Cleaner too, I'll warrant."
Balram didn't answer but looked back to where Aazen leaned against a wall. "You're sure she was a Harper?"
Aazen shrugged. "She wore the pin. I left her body beneath the portal. Only the bloodstain remains."
"I see." Balram grasped a fistful of Talal's dirty hair. He didn't pull or shake the boy; he simply held the tender strands straight out behind his left ear, sifting them through his fingers. Talal stiffened, and the vacant smile on his lips slid away, replaced by a taut line as fear battled with anger.
Aazen waited. He'd been on the receiving end of this punishment when he was younger than Talal. He knew what would happen if the boy displeased his father.
"What did you do with the Harper's body?" Balram asked. "These people—your friends—say you're a scavenger. Did you scavenge her corpse? You don't look like a vulture, though you're filthy enough to be one." He leaned closer, still holding Talal's hair. He sniffed, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Your breath stinks of refuse. You'd eat your own droppings, wouldn't you, if you thought they'd nourish you. Did you eat the Harper too?" His eyes gleamed wickedly. "Are you so very hungry? But that's ungrateful. Don't we feed you well enough down here—provide for your every need? Only an animal eats its own leavings."