"It was divination put me on the trail," Marance said. "Casting the runes, peering at the stars, picking through the entrails of a beggar I killed, and all that sort of thing. The dark powers can tell you most anything, provided you know what to ask, though they hate to say anything straight out. The auspices kept pointing to Shamur as important to my schemes, and to a certain opera the Hulorn ordered performed a little over a year ago.''
Nuldrevyn frowned. "That thing by Guerren Blood-quill? I was present that night. Some magic woven into the music made strange things happen. It turned one fellow into a limbless thing like a snake." He shivered at the memory. "Fortunately, Shamur and that daughter of hers stopped the performance before too many people got hurt."
"And how did they do that?" Marance asked.
Nuldrevyn hesitated. "To be honest, I don't remember."
"Of course not," said the wizard, "for the music put the entire audience into a stupor. But I know, because last week I sneaked into the Hulorn's amphitheater and cast a spell to evoke a vision of the past. To rescue you and your fellows, Shamur had to wield a sword like a master of arms, climb like a squirrel, and blend into the shadows like one of Bileworm's people."
"Just one of my many talents," the familiar groaned.
Marance gave the spirit a sour glance. "If I were you, I'd strive to be inconspicuous for a while."
"Shamur fighting," Nuldrevyn said. "That's… interesting. Incredible, actually. But it still doesn't prove she's the same woman as the thief in the red-striped mask. There could be another explanation."
"You're a hard fellow to convince," Marance said. "Since you remember hearing of the rogue's exploits, perhaps you recall what happened on the night her true identity was discovered."
"She was rifling old Gundar's strong room when the dwarf himself, his guards, and his household mage burst in on her," Nuldrevyn said. "In the struggle that followed, she lost her mask."
"Correct," Marance said, "and once I suspected that the thief and Lady Uskevren might be one and the same, I decided to conjure up a phantasma of that occasion as well. It was a long shot, but I hoped I might observe something that would confirm my hypothesis, and I did. I saw Gundar's spellcaster sear the rogue's left shoulder with a lance of heat from a wand. Happily, the woman who stopped Bloodquill's opera tore her garments in the process, and while watching my previous vision, I'd noticed she had an old burn scar on the very same spot."
"Incredible," Nuldrevyn repeated, though he realized, that, in fact, he now believed it. "Do you think Thamalon was aware of the substitution?"
"The auguries say no, and it stands to reason. Would the Karns risk telling him his original fianc?e was dead, thus giving him the chance to back out of the betrothal?"
"And you think he still doesn't know?"
"Again, it's what my divinations indicate, and that too makes sense. If she didn't confide in him at the start, it would certainly be awkward to do so later."
"Gods above," muttered Nuldrevyn. "But how does it lead us to the destruction of the House of Uskevren?"
"Directly," Marance said. "Shamur is our weapon."
"How so? Are you planning to reveal the truth to the Old Owl and throw his household into turmoil? Expose Shamur's identity to the city at large in the hope that, even after all these years, the families she robbed will insist on her arrest?"
Marance chuckled. "Heavens, no. We don't want to make the Uskevren quarrel, fret, and waste their time in court. We want to exterminate them, and Shamur will begin the process for us by killing Thamalon."
"Why should she do that?" Nuldrevyn asked.
"Do you imagine she assumed her grand-niece's identity gladly? For the last three decades she's been acting a role that requires her to abstain from the escapades she loved. She must resent her husband, don't you think, this man who holds her captive in the prison of her dull, proper life and doesn't even know who she truly is, even if her predicament isn't actually his fault."
His human shape reconstituted, Bileworm rose to his feet. "You should never let fairness stand in the way of a good hate," he said, then sniggered.
"Shamur may detest Thamalon," Nuldrevyn admitted. "Gossip whispers as much. But if she hasn't seen fit to murder him in the last thirty years, why would she do so now?"
"Because I've nudged her along," Marance said. "I convinced her that her husband is indeed responsible for her unhappiness, because he poisoned her grand-niece and so made the substitution necessary. First, with a little help from Bileworm"-the living shadow made an extravagant bow-"the dying Lindrian Karn himself accused Thamalon.
Then the apothecary who allegedly sold the Owl the deadly draught confessed to the transaction. And earlier tonight, Shamur found a flask of venom among her husband's effects. I had a ward on the bottle, so, when in my trance, I could discern whether she'd touched it."
"How did you get the poison into the house?" Ossian asked.
"I intercepted one of the Uskevren servants wandering the city on his night off, cast an enchantment on him, and induced him to convey the flask into Stormweather Towers for me," the wizard said. "Child's play, really. The important thing is that my divinations indicated that Shamur would require three 'proofs' of Thamalon's guilt before she acted. Now she's got them."
Nuldrevyn shook his head. "When you promised to destroy the Uskevren, I never expected a strategy as convoluted as this."
"How many times have people tried to kill Thamalon over the years?" Marance replied. "In our youth, you and I rode against him with all the armed might of the Talendar at our backs. In later years, his other foes sent bravos and assassins to waylay him, and commissioned spellcasters to assail him with their sendings. And all of it to no avail, because our quarry is too canny."
"Yet you think your scheme will succeed where all others failed," Nuldrevyn said.
"Yes," said the wizard. "We can be reasonably certain that Shamur will try to kill Thamalon, because she slew her share of men in her youth, when she reckoned she had cause. And the Owl, shrewd as he is, will never anticipate his wife of thirty years abruptly making an attempt on his life. She's one of the very few people who can slip inside his guard."
Nuldrevyn nodded. "Perhaps it is worth a try."
Marance smiled. "I appreciate your confidence. After Thamalon is slain, I'll pick off the rest of the family. Given what we know of the children, it ought to be easy enough, although I would like some helpers who know which end of a sword to grip."
"Why don't you just whistle up some hobgoblins or something, the way you used to?" Nuldrevyn said, lifting his cup to swallow the last of his wine.
"I probably will, before I'm through," Marance replied, "and I trust I'll manage something more interesting than hobgoblins. But human agents have a number of advantages over summoned creatures. They tend to be more intelligent and less conspicuous, they don't disappear after a set interval, and a rival mage can't dispel them."
"Very well," said Nuldrevyn, "but you can't use Talendar guards."
The last few words of the sentence sounded peculiar in his own ears, and after a moment, he realized why. Bile-worm had spoken them in unison with him. The old man scowled at the mockery.
"I know," Marance said. "Even if the warriors didn't wear their uniforms, somebody might recognize one of them, and then our House would be held accountable for their actions. That's why I asked you to provide me a lieutenant who knows his way around the underworld." He gave an avuncular smile to Ossian, who, among his other responsibilities, was indeed his father's liaison to Sel-gaunt's criminal community.
"All right," said Ossian, a shade hesitantly, "I can hire a crew of ruffians for you. I suppose."
"Don't worry," Marance said, "I won't kill them when I'm done with them. Nobody will miss that apothecary and her friends, but I understand how desirable it is for we Talendar to maintain our secret alliance with the major outlaw fraternities of the city. Besides, I won't have any reason to slay my helpers. By the time I'm ready to dismiss them, there won't be anyone left for them to warn."