He had already ignored the wish of Aoishenis-Ahare-Most Aged Father-and yet he could not leave well enough alone. He had not been told all and nearly spilled the blood of his people, even though it ran through the flesh of a halfblood mongrel. And the majay-hi would not keep company with a traitor. It was not possible.
As dusk settled, the half-blood renegade and his companions had entered the house across the way. Sgaile settled in to watch. For a while, nothing happened. Then a tall man ran from the house, carrying the gray-robed woman over his shoulder, and disappeared into a sewer grate. A short while later the renegade, the human female, and the small boy appeared. The boy ran off down the street, and now the armored woman went straight to the same sewer grate and disappeared below the city.
Sgaile waited longer, but the renegade half-blood did not emerge. Neither did the majay-hi. He slipped from his hiding place and approached the house, the front door half-open.
Snapping a stiletto into his right hand, he stepped inside and walked silently along the hall past the base of the stairs, watching in all directions. As he passed an archway to his right, he spotted a headless body upon the floor. The room was a shattered mess all around.
Sgaile froze in place, listening in the dark, but he heard no sounds in the house. When he turned back to the front door, he looked at the wall at the bottom of the stairs.
The wall had a crack in it.
More than a crack; it was a portal in the stone that had not been fully closed.
Sgaile pulled the door open and slipped inside and downward.
Chapter 19
Chane splashed along the dark sewer tunnel, carrying Wynn and following the ankle-deep flow toward the bay. At the city's low side, he could emerge into the poor district inside the third ring and disappear into the side streets. With luck, Toret would take his second death at the hands of the dhampir and the half-blood, and he would be finally free.
Wynn choked from either the stench or the pounding of his shoulder into her stomach as he slogged through the sea-water used to flush the city's bowels.
"Chane, please," she uttered. "Put me down."
He glanced behind but saw nothing except mortared stone walls, and so he carefully set her on her feet. She still clutched the glowing crystal in her hand.
"We must hurry," he urged her. "If Toret escapes and pursues us, he will kill you. Or order me to do so, and it is beyond my power to disobey his commands."
He gripped her wrist lightly, the long sword still in his other hand, and pulled her along. The quarrel wound in his chest still burned, as did the gashes on his leg from the hound's teeth. Wynn tried to pull away, and he tightened his grip, not allowing her to stop.
"What are you saying?" she asked, both frightened and confused. "Let go of me. I will only slow your escape."
He turned on her, as if by sheer will he could cow her into obedience, but then anger washed from him.
Her robe's hem was soaked, dragging at her with its weight, and in his grip, he could feel her shake. Chill water did not affect him, but she was alive and suffered from it. At the sight of her round, soft face, he knew the cold was only part of the cause.
Dried tear tracks marred her cheeks, and her small lips quivered with each short breath, expelling vapor into the dank air. Brown eyes stared back at him, but not as the visitor come to share intellectual curiosities, a hunger for knowledge, and a cup of mint tea in a quiet room, side by side.
She looked upon him with fear.
But Chane did not release his grip.
"The creature who attacked you on the stairs is my maker," he said flatly, "who made me his kin and slave, and I cannot refuse his commands. He can sense where his creation has gone-and track me. If he finds me, you will die, one way or another."
"So you… are a vampire?" Wynn asked softly. "You killed those people… did those things?"
"To survive," he answered. "Toret raised me to this state because he needed money and protection. I could offer both. I never asked for this, but I accept what I am, as does any other being."
"So it is not your fault?" she said.
Could she understand?
"A matter of perspective," he responded. "Something for the philosophers among your guild."
He looked back along the tunnel, feeling urgency take hold again, and resumed his flight. Wynn tried to keep up with him now.
"You could put me up the next grate," she suggested between panting breaths. "Please, Chane, let me go."
"Toret, or even Sapphire, may still try to catch up," he answered, "It is too dangerous yet."
"But you said if Toret finds you, you must obey him." When he did not answer her, she cried out, "If you are a killer, then why are you protecting me?"
Chane pulled her faster through the filthy water.
"Because your life is not wasted in mindless drudgery," he growled, as if the answer were all too obvious. "Most mortals are little more than cattle, and their loss affects nothing."
She jerked back, surprising him enough that he almost stopped.
"You saved me because I'm a sage?" she asked. "Because my head is full of knowledge you find useful?"
"Of course," he responded.
But this was a half-truth, and the rest was not appropriate for the time or place. When he looked back again, the tunnel was not empty. A light flickered in the distance.
"A torch," Wynn said. "Would Sapphire or Toret carry a torch?"
"No," he replied.
"Then it is either Magiere or Leesil, or both. Release me and flee."
Chane glanced at Wynn.
He could let her go, and that might slow the dhampir or the half-elf for a short while. But they would not turn back now, even if they found Wynn safe and unharmed. It had not occurred to him to use Wynn as a tool or a hostage, but such a ruse might soon be necessary.
Chane pulled Wynn after him until he reached an intersection where the tunnel connected with a wider passage. It looked to be one of the main flow routes down to the bay with elevated stone walkways along its sides. At one far corner was an iron ladder mounted into the stone that led up a vertical shaft. It likely led to a grate in one of the city's streets. Chane lifted Wynn onto the walkway to the left of where they had come out and stepped up beside her.
"Be silent," he said. "And put the crystal out of sight."
"Chane, do not do this," she urged.
He shot her a glare and held up the long sword between them. Wynn cowered back against the wall and tucked the crystal into her pocket. Chane settled in front of her near the corner, watching the far wall of the tunnel they'd come down for reflections of light that would tell him the pursuer drew near.
So far, this dhampir had proved less than effective in his scheme to destroy Toret. He was through with schemes.
Toret dropped out of the cellar's passage and down into the sewer tunnel. He looked both ways through the dark but couldn't detect any sign of Sapphire. She had a good start, and he now had a decision to make.
He could head toward the poor districts of the outer ring or closer to the exits to the bay. But which way had Sapphire taken? He'd told her to head for the sea, but she could be… unpredictable.
As her maker, he could sense her presence for a limited distance. His powers had never developed like Teesha's or Rashed's, but he could almost "feel" where Sapphire was if he focused.
Toret closed his eyes, pictured Sapphire-and felt nothing.
Sapphire wouldn't head toward the poor side. She liked the rich districts after nightfall. He'd hoped she might try for somewhere with fewer people out and about. Perhaps the middle merchant district, where most shops would be closed for the night. He turned south along the tunnel.