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the rope, and dumped Tarscenian to the ground. In a moment, Tarscen-ian was up and moving, but
his attackers were close behind.
Three goblins stood between him and the way to the treetop walkways. Kifflewit, behind them,
rained hoopak blows upon their heads and shoulders, but the blows glanced like raindrops off the
foul creatures' thick leather armor.
Tarscenian wheeled.
A dozen temple guards, flanking Dahos, stood before him. "And so do heretics come to their end,"
the high priest said with a smile.
"Take me to Hederick, High Priest," Tarscenian demanded.
"Of course," Dahos said. "I would not deprive His Worship of the joy of dispatching you himself.
He's wanted your head for years, Tarscenian."
"You know something of me, then?" Tarscenian asked, slipping his sword back into his scabbard. In
the same motion, he surreptitiously retrieved a pinch of herbs from one pouch and, beneath the
cover of his cloak, began to
weave his fingers in a discreet spell. His eyes swept the scene and noted a large puddle of stagnant
water near Dahos.
"Of course, Tarscenian," Dahos said with mock politeness. "You were the priest who brought
Hederick into the Seekers, years ago. I know, too, that you betrayed him and the New Gods by
deserting the Seekers for the lust of a woman."
"Ah," Tarscenian said. "And do you know who that woman was?"
"Some whore, long dead now, I suppose," the Plainsman said offhandedly.
"It was Hederick's sister, Ancilla, the mage who accompanied me in the courtyard today."
Dahos appeared startled. "Hederick, brother of a mage?" he murmured. Then the high priest
recovered his composure. "Lies! Had I not promised Hederick otherwise, I'd slay you myself this
instant for your blasphemy."
"Ask Hederick about her, High Priest. Unless you fear the response."
"I would not bother..."
"Fait recoblock!" Tarscenian shouted. "Jerientom benjin-charl"
Before the guards and Dahos could catch on, Tarscenian leaped high into the air. He bent in midair
and dove straight into the pool of stagnant water at Dahos's feet.
And disappeared.
An instant later, high above Dahos and the rest, Tarscenian leaned over the railing and watched the
confusion below. Though too exhausted to speak, he gave Mynx a wink. Kifflewit Burrthistle raced
up the steps, barely winded.
"That was great, Tarscenian!" the kender burbled.
"How did you do that? Dive into that puddle, I mean. And you're not even wet! Sweating a lot, of
course but not wet. Could you teach me? Or is it more magic? Not that I couldn't learn a simple
little puddle spell!"
"Not real magic. It's pure illusion," Tarscenian corrected. "I never disappeared because I wasn't
trapped by Dahos in the first place. I never left this staircase." "But I saw you!"
"Be still, little one, lest you bring all the guards upon us," Tarscenian cautioned. "They're not on to
us yet. From all appearances, they're going to spend quite a lot of time staring into that puddle."
"What a trick! Can you ..."
"Ahem." Tarscenian narrowed stern gray eyes at Kiffle-wit. "The ring, little friend." "Mmm?"
"Dahos's death's-head ring. The one you placed in your red pouch, right there on your belt, after you
'borrowed' it from the high priest."
The kender's face fell. "Oh. That." He rallied. "What a good thing I picked it up! He might have lost
it. I might have..."
"The ring, Kifflewit."
The kender produced the jewelry reluctantly, and Tarscenian handed it gravely to Mynx. "Present
that to your chief as a token of my sincerity. Now it's time for us to talk, Mynx. I want you to take
me to meet your fellow thieves."
Her dark eyebrows rose. "How did you know I... ?" He laughed, shortly. "Oh," he said, winking at
the kender, "I've known a few thieves in my time."
"I've known some, too!" chimed in Kifflewit, not wanting to be left out.
With somber brown eyes, Mynx regarded the balding, gray-bearded stranger. Then she nodded, her
long, lone earring tangling in her unkempt brown hair. She gestured for him to follow her.
She didn't know what Gaveley, the head of the thieves' ring, had in mind for Tarscenian. The tall
stranger seemed a decent enough sort, but appearances were nothing to count on these days. Her
own role in the scheme was simple: She was to carry out Gaveley's orders, and Gaveley would pay
her accordingly. It had gone off almost too easily, she mused.
What a piece of luck, she thought, that the selfsame Tarscenian who was seeking a ring of thieves
was, himself, being sought by just such a group.
Chapter 12
For some time, the three traveled southwest on the wooden walk-ways, making as little noise as
possible as they passed dark dwelling after dark dwelling. The tumult from the refugee part of town
receded behind them. They passed the Inn of the Last Home, a tavern that before Heder-ick's
installation would have rung with song and drink even this late at night, but now the Inn was still. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]