Dodging rushed market-goers whose purchases were too pressing to wait for more clement weather, Sabira felt a sudden tingling at the nape of her neck, so strong that she actually slapped at it, thinking she might have been bitten by something. When her hand came back clean, she knew that prickle had a more menacing source.
She purposely stepped into the path of a harried shopper and used the resulting exchange of insults as a distraction while she glanced surreptitiously behind her. There were many cloaked figures hurrying about, but none stood out as the cause of her unease.
Apologizing absently to the woman she’d bumped into, Sabira moved on, unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched and followed.
She snuck glances back at every corner, but saw nothing. Still, the itchy sensation at the back of her neck refused to go away.
On a hunch, she detoured into the Jester’s Haunt, taking a right at The Rusty Nail. The road curved and then dead-ended; very few people had business here and it was the perfect place for an ambush. She slipped into a recessed doorway and pulled her urgrosh off of her back, waiting to see if someone else would follow her into the blind alley or if she was just being needlessly paranoid.
Long moments passed, and she was just getting ready to step out of the doorway when a cloaked figure paused in front of the Nail. The gray sunlight filtering through the clouds did not reach here between the close-huddled buildings, and as the figure stepped into shadow, he—she, it? Sabira couldn’t tell from this distance, but she had a gut feeling her stalker was male—moved to the side, presumably so that his eyes could adjust to the gloom. Then he started cautiously down the street, avoiding puddles and loose cobblestones that would give away his position. He was on her side of the alley, which meant she’d have only one chance to surprise him.
As silently as she could, she inched her way up the doorstep until she was standing with her back pressed up against the wood of the door, knees slightly bent to pounce. A tiny splash followed by a dripping sound and a soft curse alerted Sabira to her pursuer’s nearness, and she tensed. Whoever he was, he was obviously not native to Stormreach or he’d have known to avoid walking too close to the buildings during a downpour. Most had no rain gutters to speak of, and the chance of getting doused by roof runoff was at least as high as that of getting drenched in the street, and far more random. As her stalker had just discovered.
Well, that ruled out one of Sollego’s men come to collect early, or anyone from the Deneith enclave. She had time to wonder if she was simply dealing with a footpad who’d picked a most unwise target. And then he stepped in front of her hiding place, and it was time to act.
Even as Sabira sprang soundlessly from the doorstep, she realized there was something wrong about her hunter. Her low-centered leap should have taken him square in the stomach, knocking him backward and away, but instead she rammed hard into his shoulder just as he turned and saw her. As they crashed together onto the rain-slicked cobblestones, the man’s hood fell back, revealing the long braided beard and ruddy features of a dwarf.
They scrambled apart and Sabira gained her feet first. She lashed out, kicking him in the same shoulder she’d collided with and slamming him back down so hard that his head hit the street with an audible crack.
She placed one foot on his heaving chest and rested the dragonshard tip of her urgrosh over his heart.
“Now, dwarf, you’re going to tell me why you’ve been following me, or—”
“No, Saba, wait! Don’t!”
Elix?
Sabira looked up disbelievingly to see the Karrnathi Sentinel Marshal running down the street toward her, panic plain on his face. The dragonmark on his jaw glowed blue, blindingly bright in the shadows.
She shook her head, thinking for a moment that she had finally lost her mind and fallen headlong into the refuge of delusion. Then Elix—who was surely no specter, for what otherworldly apparition would drip sweat with every step?—clearly misreading the gesture, shouted again, and she felt a sharp stinging in her foot as a magical shield came into being around the dwarf’s inert form.
“Saba! Stop!”
What was Elix doing here? And why was he using his Mark of Sentinel to protect the dwarf?
Elix reached her side, panting, and Sabira looked from him to the dwarf and back again, pulling back her shard axe a hair’s breadth and no more.
“What are you doing here, Elix? And why in the name of Khyber are you protecting this dwarf? He’s a common cutpurse at best—maybe even a spy for the Aurum. Why would—”
“No, Saba,” Elix said with the throaty laugh she remembered so well. “He’s not any of those things. He’s the Mrorian Envoy to Karrnath. And he’s your next client.”
CHAPTER FIVE
This day just kept getting better and better.
Sabira stepped off the dwarf and held out a hand to help him up, which he pointedly ignored. Climbing to his feet, the dwarf attempted to clean the mud from his cloak, succeeding only in dirtying his hands in the process. With a growl, he finally gave up and wiped his be-ringed hands fastidiously on his pants. Only when they were dry did he turn to face Elix.
“Captain. Perhaps the Sentinel Marshals aren’t the best people for this job, after all.”
Captain? When had that happened?
“Please, Your Excellency. Let’s go to Sentinels Tower, dry off, and discuss this over a snifter of Onatar’s Blood, shall we?”
Sabira didn’t know whose manner put her off more—the dwarf’s, full of ire and contempt, or Elix’s, oozing suavity and placation. What had happened to him?
“Very well,” the dwarf sniffed after a moment, casting a dark look at Sabira.
“Good,” Elix replied, his relief almost palpable. “We’ll meet there at, say, the third bell?”
“Yes, yes, that’s fine,” the dwarf responded impatiently. “I will be there. Provided I am not attacked on the way to my rooms.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and strode down the street and out of sight.
“What’s he got to be mad about?” Sabira muttered, returning her shard axe to its harness. “He’s the one who was following me.”
“Saba.” Elix put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. The sun chose that moment to break through the cloud cover, brightening the gloom and making his face shine. “Let me look at you! Host, but it’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”
He pulled her into a rough hug, burying his face in her wet hair. “Too long,” he murmured softly, before releasing her and stepping back.
“It’s good to see you, too,” Sabira said and meant it. And it was. Just not here. Not now. “So, do you want to tell me what a Mrorian Envoy is doing stalking me through the streets of Stormreach? Or what you’re doing here? Or, for that matter, when you got promoted to captain and what happened to Jayce?”
Elix’s laugh was rueful.
“I’ll explain everything back at the House enclave. For now, let’s just get out of this rain, shall we?”
“I don’t think so, Elix.”
He cocked an amused eyebrow at her.
“So you like being sopping wet? That’s new.”
“I’m serious.”
His easy smile faltered, replaced by a look of confused concern.
“What is it, Saba? What’s wrong?”
“I’m guessing you two have been following me since I left the Phiarlan enclave. If you found me there, then you know why I was there. Because I’m not welcome at our enclave.”