Kall came to stand behind the druid. He lifted a hand as if to touch her long hair, but her tresses stirred in the wind, blowing out of his grasp.
You never asked me, Cesira said, turning to face him. You didn’t ask me to stay behind.
“I was afraid you’d say I was a damn fool,” Kall said with a laugh. “I thought I’d try an indirect approach to get you to do my bidding.”
As if you’ve ever had a problem convincing me of anything. And you’ve always been a damn fool. Getting some years on you doesn’t change anything, she said. Why do you want me to stay here? Even my charms—though considerable, I grant you—won’t be enough to save Morel’s name. Amn has seen through all our pretenses.
“It isn’t for that,” said Kall, frowning. “Don’t you think I would rather have you at my back down that snake hole than Dantane? Now which of us is the fool?”
Then why?
“Because Balram won’t stop us from entering the portal. He’ll find out about it, and he may put up a token resistance, but he wants us to get in. And once we’re inside, he’ll come in after us and bring all manner of Hells down on our heads. He’ll want to kill us all underground, where no one will see, then go about his business.”
Cesira laughed shortly. You fill me with such confidence, my lord. I may faint from it, she said.
Kall shook his head. “I’m not worried about a fight with Balram in the Delve. But if he tries to seal us in, if Garavin’s plan to get the refugees out fails, we need someone on this side who can blow that sealed entrance apart. You’re the only one I trust, and the last person I ever wanted to ask to do this.” He took her hand, folding her fingers around a small emerald.
Cesira looked at him questioningly. He showed her his sword. It rode at his hip as always, but the emerald in the pommel had gone. When Garavin took his gem down into the Delve, she could use her magic on the link between them to locate the hidden entrance, bypassing any concealing magic laid on the tunnel.
“Take rooms at an inn somewhere in the better districts,” said Kall. “Garavin will use his stone to call you, if something happens.” He grinned lopsidedly. “Believe me, if something goes wrong, we will call. I’m not too proud to ask for a rescue if I can’t dig myself out of a hole.”
But Cesira frowned, refusing to be distracted by the jest. Take rooms at an inn? Why would you ever think I would agree to hide, Kall? What are you protecting me from?
Kall hesitated. “This house won’t be safe. When Balram finds out who’s coming after him, he may send men here.”
And?
“And if he does, they’ll be out to destroy whatever is left of Morel. No loose ends this time. Balram won’t allow it.”
Then I hope he wont be too disappointed to find the lady of the house here to greet him.
Kall’s eyes narrowed. His lips moved, but no sound came out. What was that, my lord? Cesira asked teasingly. I am the one who lacks speech, remember?
Kall put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed, fighting the temptation to throttle her. “I said, you’re a stubborn, arrogant wench.”
And you’re a blind pigs arse, Cesira threw back, if you think I’m running away to hide.
“I can’t have him get to you.” Kall tried to steady his voice. “I won’t let it happen.”
Kall … Her anger gone, she seemed as much at a loss as he.
If anything happened to her, Kall realized, it would be the end of everything. He’d begun to build a new life the night he’d been hurtled through the portal to Garavin’s camp. Now the ashes of his old life threatened to destroy everything he’d come to cherish.
Kall stepped back, kneeling before Cesira. He lifted a hand toward her. “Come here. I want to show you something.”
Hesitantly, Cesira placed her hand in his palm. His fingers wrapped securely around hers. He guided her to the floor, splaying her hand beneath his against the rough wood. “Do you feel that—that catch?” he asked.
Cesira nodded and pressed. The false floor slid back to reveal a slender nook, no wider than their two arms but just as long. Arrows filled the pocket. Dust covered their fletching, but the points were still sharp enough to kill.
“My father feared attackers from every direction, even before Balram’s magic took his mind,” said Kall. He felt calmer now, and oddly detached as he spoke of the past. “He had dozens of these caches hidden throughout the estate. I don’t think I’ve managed to find them all, but there are weapons and traps—some of them wickedly ingenious. I’ve written the locations down, along with instructions for how to set the traps. Morgan and Laerin were very helpful in that area, as I’m sure you can imagine. You’ll want to go through everything step by step so you can remember where they are without looking for them.”
Cesira watched his face as he spoke. You knew I would insist on staying, she said.
“Yes.”
The druid forced a smile. Perhaps, she said, after all this is over, you’ll return to Mir with me? Unless, after you pull off your heroic rescue, Meisha decides to make you a Harper.
Kall groaned, a little of his old humor returning. “Gods forbid. Being a merchant was difficult enough.”
“Ye don’t need to be harping, anyway,” echoed Garavin’s voice from the stairwell. He appeared at the door, grinning. Morgan, Laerin, and Dantane trailed behind in the stairwell. “I’ve seen ye dig, and that’s fine enough work for any man.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever be able to stand upright again, after that first day,” Kall said with a mock wince.
“Ah, well, that was all part of my plan. Bent over, ye could hear me better. Young people are too tall for their own good—makes it harder for them to listen.”
Did you find what you needed? Cesira asked the dwarf.
“Aye, but it came at a high price.” He wagged a finger at Kall. “This little adventure had better hold my interest, young one,” he warned.
“Trust me,” said Kall, clapping the dwarf on the shoulder. “If Meisha’s message is any indication, it’s long past time the Delve’s secrets were brought to light. Dumathoin will approve.”
“And Abbathor’s fury will be unleashed,” said Garavin.
“What do you mean?” asked Dantane.
“Meisha’s Howling Delve is named for a dozen or so dwarf venturers who fell to the sway of the god Abbathor,” said Garavin. “The Howlings worshipped Dumathoin first, but greed corrupted them. They were banished from their clan and went into exile.”
“Into the Delve,” said Kall, “and into business with Amn. According to Dantane’s information, the ancestors of the current Bladesmiles made a substantial and secret fortune buying magic weapons and item components from the Howlings. They made the exchanges through a portal that connected the Bladesmile estate with the Delve.”
“Until the day the portal went dark on dwarf heels and never lit again,” said Dantane. “The Howlings disappeared and so did the supply of magic. Subsequent Bladesmile generations locked away the portal and removed its keys. If they couldn’t make money off it, they didn’t want their name associated with arcane magic. Except now the portal’s been reactivated.”
“By the Shadow Thieves,” Kall said, “in a quiet, no-questions-asked arrangement with the Bladesmiles.” He looked at Garavin. “We hoped you could tell us what this ‘beast’ is.”
“I couldn’t say, but Abbathor and Dumathoin have long been enemies. One is forever trying to draw faithful away from the other. Abbathor won a plump victory with The Howlings, yet this ghost ye spoke of wore Dumathoin’s symbol—with the gem sundered from the mountain. I’m suspecting the two gods are still at war over the Howlings. It could be on account of the beast the sorcerous lass hinted at—a prize for Abbathor, surely, and a secret Dumathoin wants bound to the earth. When we go down there, we’ll be caught in the middle of the fight.”