Natrac watched as Benti unfastened a wide leather bracer on her right arm and held her arm out for Vennet’s inspection. The bright colors of a dragonmark traced the pale skin on the inside of her forearm. The half-orc stared at it. Half-elves could only bear one of two dragonmarks-and he’d never heard of a bearer of the Mark of Detection standing at a helm.
But half-elves also manifested the Mark of Storm, the mark of House Lyrandar.
The same mark that Vennet bore. Natrac frowned. If Benti carried the Mark of Storm, but not the name of Lyrandar, she might be a renegade from the house. But so was Vennet. Why did he need someone else with the mark? Why was he concealing his own power?
Vennet’s lips twitched, a look of pity and disdain flitting across his face. “A poor thing, but it will do,” he said, sitting back. Natrac saw Vennet’s shoulders, where his own dragonmark was located, shift in discomfort. Vennet reached up to scratch himself as if unaware he was doing so. From above, Natrac caught a glimpse down the back of his shirt.
He spat his fingers out of his mouth in disgust and horror. At Tzaryan Keep a month before, it had seemed as if the skin around Vennet’s dragonmark was reddened and irritated with scabs in spots. Now it was utterly raw, the colors of the mark marred with big patches of crusted blood and yellow-white infection.
If Biish or Benti could see it, they gave no sign. Benti seemed more put-off by his dismissal of her dragonmark. “It will have to do,” she said, fastening the bracer around her arm once more. “You don’t have anyone but me.”
Her voice was smooth but with an edge to it, like a purring cat or a fine knife. Vennet just gave her a fleeting smile. “As you say,” he said. “And the second part of the operation?”
Biish’s ears twitched and stood up. “Leave,” he said with a glance at Benti. She nodded once and walked out of Natrac’s field of vision. A moment later, the door of the meeting room opened and closed. From a pouch at his belt, Biish produced a piece of folded paper and smoothed it out. “There are a lot of them,” he said.
Vennet’s expression darkened. “If you tell me that you can’t handle it, I’m not going to be happy. It won’t be any more difficult than the other three.”
“I’m not saying I can’t do it. It’s just going to take longer.” Heavy fingers sketched on the tabletop. “If we start with a few at various locations, the rest will gather at a central spot to defend themselves and once they’re there …” He looked at Vennet intently. “We’ll need to adjust the timing. We’ll have your help as before?”
“Of course. You don’t even need to take all of the targets on the list as long as you get most of them. We need seventeen.” Vennet raised an eyebrow. “You’re certain it will work?”
Biish bared his teeth. “I’ve had some experience at this. Humans and goblins usually run around in confusion during a raid. Halflings go to ground. Hobgoblins and dwarves move to a perimeter.” His ears stood up. “Kalashtar cluster together.”
Vennet laughed. “Storm at dawn! After tonight, Biish, your name will be known far beyond Malleon’s Gate!”
It felt to Natrac as if the air in his lungs had turned to sand. He didn’t dare even to breathe. Kalashtar? Tonight? Dol Arrah’s mercy, he thought, what is Dah’mir up to?
Biish only grunted, but his ears bent forward, betraying his excitement. Vennet rose to his feet. “Your people have been scouting Overlook over the last few days, Biish? They all know the district? We only have one chance at this. Nothing can go wrong.” He leaned across the table and the madness in his eyes found its way to his voice. “Nothing.”
But Biish rose as well. “Nothing will go wrong,” he snarled.
“Let’s be sure of that,” said Vennet. “Let’s you and I go up to Overlook together and have a last look around. Whatever you were busy doing when I arrived, I’m sure it can wait.”
Biish said something in Goblin that Natrac didn’t recognize. He couldn’t tell if Vennet did or not. The half-elf simply stood up, utterly calm and stepped away from the table and out of sight for a moment. When he reappeared, he wore a wide-brimmed hat that hid his face entirely from Natrac’s view. “If you don’t want to go together then, I want a report before it all begins. When you’re ready, come and see me. You know where to find me.”
Whether it was some expression on Vennet’s hidden face or merely his words, Natrac couldn’t tell, but Biish’s ears lay back in unease. He hesitated for a moment. “We’ll go to the upper city together.”
Vennet chuckled. “I thought you’d find that a more attractive idea.” He adjusted his hat like a dandy. “Here’s to an evening that will reward both of us, Biish.”
He stepped past the hobgoblin, heading for the unseen door of the room. Biish followed him and a moment later the door closed behind both men. Natrac heard Biish bellowing for Dabrak the bugbear.
And finally he could breathe again, though the air burned in his throat. Slowly, he closed the cavity so that the section of plank that hid it blended seamlessly with the floor once more, and pushed himself upright. His joints ached from lying motionless and tense for so long. Vennet and Biish were moving to kidnap kalashtar from Overlook that very night. The Dark Six only knew what would happen to them afterward. Vennet hadn’t mentioned Dah’mir’s name, but Natrac had heard the dragon in his voice as surely as if he’d been in the room.
The danger that he, Singe, Dandra, and Ashi had come all the way to Sharn to warn the kalashtar about was ready to break like a storm-and he was stuck in a cell, unable to do anything about it! He put his hand across his forehead and groaned. “Kuv shek, kuv shek, kuv shek!”
Not that there’d been any doubt about it before, but there was even less now: he had to get out. There had to be some way. He rose and turned to examine the door once more.
Benti stood at the barred window, watching him in silence.
The shock of her unexpected presence and the urgency of what he had discovered ground together inside him. He choked and fought for speech. She beat him to it. “So Biish didn’t know all your secrets after all.”
Natrac just stared at her as he tried to collect himself. There was a faint glow, paler than moonlight and plainly magical, shimmering from a ring on one of her fingers-probably just enough light for her to see in the dark chamber without alerting him. The faint shadows that it cast gave her face a calculating look, as if she was sizing him up and trying to determine how best to use what she had just discovered.
In that moment, two ideas flicked through Natrac’s mind. One was insanely desperate: throw himself on Benti’s mercy and beg her to warn the kalashtar. Biish had sent her out of the room as he and Vennet had talked. She might not know everything the two men had discussed. She was still, however, one of Biish’s people. She almost certainly knew something of what was coming already, and it probably didn’t bother her.
The second idea caught and lingered. If she was looking for a way to use what she had seen, maybe he could find a way to use her. He looked at Benti and tried to think like she must have been thinking, like a young and ambitious criminal with a secret her chib didn’t know.
It was easy. He’d been there once himself. Natrac thrust his jaw forward to show his tusks and smiled around them. “It’s a good spot to listen,” he said. “And to watch.” He tapped the inside of his right forearm meaningfully. Benti’s eyes flickered, and he saw her turn her right arm, the one with the dragonmark, away slightly. He just kept his smile steady, fighting the need for escape, and asked, “Maybe you want to know what they talked about after you left?”
“I can find that out easily enough-although it must have been significant to make Biish leave you.” The outer door of the chamber stood very slightly ajar-Benti had probably left it that way so the sounds of its closing wouldn’t give her away-and Biish’s shouts rumbled through the gap. Benti’s gaze remained on Natrac. “I came up here to talk to you before Biish did, but it looks like I didn’t need to hurry. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll come back to you eventually. He has a long memory.”