“I’m familiar with it,” Natrac said. He didn’t look away from her, but his mind was racing. She hardly seemed more than intrigued by the hidden compartment. Maybe she was bluffing. Maybe she had some other way of listening in to Biish’s private conversations already. The only criminals Natrac had ever encountered who weren’t interested in knowing what their bosses were up to were either terrified or stupid, and Benti didn’t seem to be either. He changed his tactics. “He’s not much more than a thug with luck and a little brain. What brings someone like you to work for him?”
Benti’s delicate eyebrows arched. “Motive. Opportunity. The right talent at the right time.” Then, to his frustration, she changed the topic. “Did you know that the Sentinel Marshals still have an active warrant for you, Natrac?”
“Do they?” Natrac asked. It was a struggle to keep himself calm. Benti knew he wanted to escape, he was certain of it. He was also certain that she knew she had all of the power in their unspoken negotiations-she was the one on the other side of the door. She was toying with him.
There had to be something she wanted though, especially if she’d come up here so quickly after leaving Biish’s side. Natrac stepped right up to the bars. “I suppose you’re wondering why an old ganglord who fled both a rival and the Sentinel Marshals would risk coming back to Sharn.”
“Actually, I was wondering what you knew about our Lord Storm.”
Natrac tried to conceal the surprise that passed through him, but Benti smiled at the slight widening of his eyes. “You want out, don’t you, Natrac? Help me and maybe I’ll help you.” She didn’t wait for a response. Her voice dropped slightly. “Biish was so excited at getting his old nemesis in his hands that he didn’t think to try and find out what you’d been doing in Malleon’s Gate. I asked a few questions though. You were busy last night, Natrac. I don’t know who this green-eyed human you were asking about is, but the half-elf you were looking for sounds a lot like Storm. If you saw my dragonmark through your peephole, then you saw Storm. Is he the one you’re looking for?”
Natrac watched her for a moment, suspicion and mistrust pooling in his belly, then nodded slowly.
Benti’s face tightened. “I know he’s from House Lyrandar-I would have known even without his joke of an alias-but that’s as far as I’ve gotten. Who is he?”
She was holding something back, he knew. Biish hadn’t seemed to care who Lord Storm really was, and Natrac had to admit to himself that if someone using an alias had come to him with enough gold while he’d been in Biish’s position, he wouldn’t have cared either. And Biish wouldn’t be happy if he discovered his captive had escaped, but Benti was still willing to risk it to find out Vennet’s identity. Natrac ground his teeth together, then thrust his jaw forward. “Why do you want to know?” he asked.
Benti looked into his eyes, her face utterly expressionless, then turned away. The floor seemed to fall out from under Natrac as she walked to the door of the outer chamber.
“No!” he shouted and flung himself at the cell door, clutching at the bars of the window. “Benti! Benti, come back! I’ll tell you. Let me out! I need to get out!”
But the chamber door closed behind her and didn’t open again.
CHAPTER 10
Dandra had hoped to go to Nevchaned’s and examine Erimelk early in the morning-as early as was polite and possibly even earlier. Unfortunately, by the time Singe and Ashi had returned and relayed the tale of their brush with Mithas d’Deneith and their discovery of Natrac’s past, the night was almost over. They’d decided to sleep for just a little while, to give Natrac a little longer to come back from his mysterious errands, before going to Nevchaned’s house.
A little while had turned into a long while. The sun stood at noon, blazing directly over Sharn’s heart. The new day was as bright as the previous day had been dark. Natrac had still not returned.
“Should we look for him?” Ashi asked.
Dandra shook her head. “Where would we start?”
“He could be in trouble.”
“We’re in trouble too,” said Singe. “Natrac will have to wait.” He put away his spellshard-a fist-sized dragonshard imprinted with the arcane texts of his magic-and stood up. “I’m ready.”
The time he took with the spellshard when she wanted to be gone rubbed at Dandra, but the wizard argued for the necessity of studying more sleeping spells in case they needed them against Dah’mir’s herons. Dandra hoped they wouldn’t need the spells. She knew her hope was probably misplaced. Before they left the apartment, she slid her short spear into the harness across her back.
The people in the streets of Fan Adar seemed no less on edge in the bright light of early afternoon than they had in the gloom of evening or the dark of night. Now that she knew what was happening, Dandra could feel the way that they hung back, not just from strangers but out of wariness born by the unpredictable violence of the killing song. Dandra couldn’t blame them. Had the council of elders done the right thing by concealing the killing song? Would knowing that a song lay behind the madness and murders in the community ease Fan Adar’s fears or just make them worse?
She, Singe, and Ashi walked with their heads raised, scanning the skies and high places for the black herons. Nevchaned did good business with the other inhabitants of Overlook district, and his home and shop were just beyond the limits of Fan Adar. Once they were beyond the Adaran neighborhood, the herons might be less of a concern, but until then, they had to be careful. Maybe Dah’mir wasn’t watching for them in particular, but there was no point in taking chances. Dandra was so focused on keeping her eyes open for the birds that she didn’t see Hanamelk until he was right in front of her.
“Dandra?” he said.
The soft word startled her as much as a shout, and she stumbled. Singe and Ashi closed around her, but she gestured them to ease as she recognized the lean, scholarly elder. “What are you doing here, Hanamelk?” she asked.
“I was on my way to look for you. I’ve been waiting with Nevchaned. We expected you earlier.”
If he noticed her embarrassed blush, he said nothing. Instead, he looked at Ashi and Singe, recognizing them from the memories she had shared through kesh. Dandra introduced them properly. The elder’s eyebrows rose slightly.
“Natrac isn’t with you?”
“He’s making inquiries of his own,” Singe said. He still had one eye on the skies. “If we’re going to talk, we should find somewhere covered.”
Hanamelk smiled. “Are you worried about Dah’mir’s herons? We’ve found a solution to them.”
“What kind of solution?” asked Dandra. “Selkatari didn’t convince the elders to kill them all, did she?”
“She came up with a more clever solution.” Hanamelk looked into the distance and pointed. “Look there. Do you see on that tower with the green windows?”
Dandra looked and picked out the ragged form of a heron just coming to perch on a ledge. It had barely settled, however, before it rose again with a screech and flurry of greasy feathers. Down on the street, a cheer went up from a group of children, and they ran to follow the harried bird.
“The children of Fan Adar,” Hanamelk said, “have a new game today. We should still be cautious, but we don’t need to be as afraid of being watched.”
He led them onward. “The other elders have also been busy. I went to the shrine of il-Yannah this morning.” He nodded toward a tall, elegant tower that rose up above the buildings a few blocks away. “The shrine is tended by my mentor, the seer Havakhad. He bends his thoughts toward seeking out Dah’mir.”
“Has he had any luck?” asked Dandra.
“Not yet, but he seems confident.” A wary smile grew on Hanamelk’s lips. “I believe his words were ‘Every dragon in Sharn believes he moves unseen.’”