"Oh? His name?"
"Tartesper."
The Masked chuckled, causing both Telcanor and Ahrkholm to look at him sharply. "What's so amusing, Nirmathi spy?"
Tantaerra couldn't see The Masked's face, but his voice was gleeful as he replied, "I think you know, Nirmathi spy."
Ahrkholm's laugh was short and scornful. "I'd abandon any clumsy attempts to mislead, if I were you. You're truly caught now; your career is over."
"And how often have you uttered that triumphant little phrase and been wrong, Nirmathi spy?" The Masked asked, his words a sneering challenge.
Tantaerra wished she could see The Masked's face. Did he truly know this Ahrkholm? And other spies, of Molthune and Nirmathas and the gods knew wherever else?
For that matter, was the man of so many masks she'd hired a Nirmathi spy, or a spy for Molthune or someone else? Was Ahrkholm?
And whatever answers she got, from either of them…how could she be certain of the truth?
A door beside Zreem opened, and a black-robed man strode through it. He was short and burly, his jaw fringed with a curling line of ginger beard. He had a pockmarked face, and eyes as hard as two deep brown nails. "Lord Telcanor?"
As he rasped out those two words, Tartesper's gaze swept across everyone in the room-and Tantaerra shivered. This one would kill you as soon as look at you. To him, everyone was a tool to be used. Everyone.
The noble turned quickly. "Ah, Tartesper! I need your wise counsel, to be sure." He lowered his voice to a murmur and drew the sage aside. Zreem shielded them both from Ahrkholm, giving the self-proclaimed High Investigator a stern warning scowl.
Ahrkholm stayed right where he was.
It seemed a very long time before the two men broke off muttering, and Tartesper strode closer to the two chairs and gave their occupants both a long, level look. Tantaerra could read nothing in the cold, dead eyes that locked with hers. No triumph, no contempt, nothing. He did keep his gaze on hers, though, never looking below the chain stretched across her throat.
Then the advisor turned his head to regard Ahrkholm, and it felt like he'd slashed a taut cord binding her to him. Yet even as she slumped in sighing, sweating relief, Tantaerra saw something different had surfaced in the sage's face as he looked at Ahrkholm. These two men knew each other, but were pretending not to. Why? Was it just that Tartesper was a spy for the General Lords, too? Or something more?
Likely something more, because I don't believe Ahrkholm is working for Molthune at all. No Molthuni would have done what he did to those soldiers in Halidon.
Abruptly the advisor spun on his heel and strode back to his door, pausing beside Lord Telcanor to mutter something that made the lord frown and look at Ahrkholm. Zreem held the door open for Tartesper to depart, and firmly closed it again after him, coming forward to flank his lord.
Who smiled broadly, dusted his hands together, and announced to his prisoners, "I have decided to let you live. Freed and unharmed, too! There is, however, a condition."
He fell to pacing back and forth in front of them again, his head lowered between his shoulders as if to shelter from a bitter wind. Cunning was now written across his face-and obvious glee at being able to demonstrate his cunning.
Tantaerra was interested to note that Zreem had moved to face Ahrkholm, and dropped his hands to the hilts of his sword and his dagger. What was going on?
"You two," Telcanor said, "must perform a service for me-something I doubt any true special agents of Molthune would shirk, being as it will benefit our country at the expense of vile Nirmathas."
He turned, smiled broadly, and paced back the other way. "I'm letting you live on the condition that you go to Nirmathas and retrieve something for me."
He spun around and went back to The Masked, thrusting his face forward again. "Well?"
"Speak on," the man chained to the chair replied flatly.
The noble straightened up, simpered, and went to Tantaerra. "Lady halfling, have you ever heard of the Shattered Tomb?"
Tantaerra found her mouth suddenly dry. She licked her lips. "I–I've heard of many," she managed to say. "Which particular shattered tomb do you mean, Lord?"
Telcanor beamed at her. "This one," he said smugly, starting to pace again, hands clasped behind his back, "belongs to a long-dead wizard named Mahalagris. All Nirmathi should have heard of him-but then, you claim to be of Molthune, of course."
Tantaerra had heard of him, but only as a name attached to a passing tale about a mighty spellcaster who'd turned to evil-and there were so many of those.
"I need you to go to his tomb, which I'm told stands at the heart of the ruins of Hurlandrun, in Nirmathas." The noble spun back toward The Masked. "You know where Hurlandrun is, I trust?" The man chained to the chair smiled thinly. "It's a small, abandoned town near the headwaters of the Deepcut River. Abandoned by people, that is, and roamed by beasts. If I can trust the words of a certain veteran agent, back in Canorate, that is. I've never been there."
"Neither have I, but what you've said about it is what I've been told, too." The noble started pacing again, passing in front of Tantaerra now. "In that tomb is something I need you to find and bring here to me, surrendering it without demand or price, and not using any of its powers against me or mine."
"Powers?" The Masked asked quietly.
"Powers. It is a famous thing of magic. The Fearsome Gauntlet, once worn by the Molthuni war hero Korlhar Rahoring, before Mahalagris slew him. A metal gauntlet such as Zreem here is wearing-but this one can blast foes with magic."
"Lord Telcanor," Ahrkholm erupted, "I cannot believe what I'm hearing! You have in your power two enemies of Molthune, and you're setting them free? On some wild treasure hunt they'll forget all about the moment they're out of your reach? What's to stop them just disappearing into Nirmathas? And if they find this gauntlet, what's to keep them from turning it over to their masters in Tamran? I forbid you, in the name of the Imperial Governor-"
Lord Telcanor whirled to face the man who'd shattered his skylight, drew himself up to his full height, and bellowed loudly enough to make Tantaerra's ears ring. "Who are you to forbid me anything? I am Krzonstal Telcanor, and you are a stranger-an intruder into my home-who claims to speak for the Imperial Governor. Well, so do these two prisoners, here in my power!"
Tantaerra blinked. Gods! What had that advisor said to Telcanor to change his attitude to Ahrkholm so utterly and abruptly?
Suddenly the noble let his shoulders, swelling chest, and volume all drop, smiled sweetly, and added, "And as for what's to stop them abandoning their task and just fleeing Molthuni justice-you are. You shall accompany them and watch over them …and when their work for me is done, you can have them, to do with as you will."
Ahrkholm flung out an almost imploring hand. "But-"
"But, sir," Telcanor purred, "I have only your word that you are the Imperial Governor's High Investigator and they are Nirmathi spies. One of them-we all heard him-calls you a Nirmathi spy. Who then am I to believe? A loyal and prudent Molthuni must proceed with care, for we have only the one country to hazard-and possibly, if we are too rash, lose. And I am a loyal and prudent Molthuni. One of you is lying, the other telling the truth. As long as I send both of you, there will be at least one true investigator there to watch over Molthune's interests."
He started to pace again. "So I am firm in this-" He glanced at Zreem, who gazed expressionlessly back at him …but had the bodyguard given his master the slightest of nods? What was going on?