| SORCEROUS SIGNALS |
| Written by J.R. Tomlin / Artwork by Lee Kuruganti |
| Make a donation to this writer |
| Assassin's Mark |
When Molanya walked into the ramshackle inn, the man she'd been ordered to kill sat near the back door. His black leather
armor and the sword at his side marked him, but even more so the way his eyes locked onto her the second she stepped
into the room. To some, his gray hair and weathered face might make him seem decrepit. To her, it only meant he was
dangerous enough to have reached such an age. His name was Taurnil, a legend among assassins.
He wasn't the only one in the common room. She dismissed the two gaffers, bending over their ale stood at the filthy bar,
and the young sailor at a table, head hanging almost into his mug. But she couldn't mistake Taurnil sitting with his back to
the corner.
A sharp winter wind blew in through the door until she banged it closed. The place stank of stale liquor and unwashed
bodies. The warped floorboards creaked underfoot as she walked past the bar where the lamps threw small circles of
light, doing little to break the murkiness of the room. A weasel-like schrif wound its way through the chairs of the inn,
prowling for rats.
She stepped toward Taurnil, hands held at waist level, palms outward.
When she was about two strides away, he said, "Don't come any closer."
"There is a squad of the Watch on their way here."
He snorted. "Why are you telling me this?"
"There's no time to talk. Six of them are too many for you to handle alone."
The door flew open with a crash. A Watchman stood there; his leather and mail sleeveless uniform displayed his bulky
muscled form. Behind him, she saw the shadows of his fellows.
Taurnil shoved his table out of the way, toppling it as he ran for a back door. Molanya followed close on his heels.
Cold wind like a dagger cut at her face when they reached the outside. Heavy black clouds blanketed the night sky. She
slid as she dashed across the frozen mud toward the corner of the building. Black shadows under the crazily leaning
hovels darkened the road even more, and a smoky stink hung in the air. Somewhere in the distance, at Belerg's order,
another town harboring a fugitive Malin had been put to the torch.
"Halt!"
The Watchmen were a pace behind. Their cloaks, blazoned with Belerg's dragon device, flapped in the wind around them
as they hurried through the icy street. With a rasp of metal on metal, the guards drew their swords.
"This way," Molanya said, darting into an alley. She ran without pausing through the dark, glancing once over her shoulder
to be sure he followed. She couldn't afford for the Watch to capture him now. She took a sure path through the fetid
labyrinth. A lighter patch of gray before them showed the end of the back street. She stepped into the broad quay-side
where a few galleys were tied up with quiet, empty decks.
A shove sent her stumbling forward. She ran a few steps, partly to get away from whoever was behind her and partly to
keep from falling. She heard the clash of blades nearby, but she had her own problem to deal with. Whirling around, she
drew her sword to find herself looking into the face of a Watchman, the tip of his blade a handspan from hers. He swung
with a quick fury, the steel of his blade flashing as he lunged. As soon as he moved, she brought her own sword up with a
sliding step to the side to dodge his blow. He swung his sword around for a skull-splitting strike. She moved in and rolled
her wrist to drive her blade under and deep into his armpit. He went down, blood frothing from his mouth to drown a
shout he had waited until too late to make.
She spun to see Taurnil slide a dagger into a second guard's chest, angled up to pierce the heart. The man dropped without
a sound, his fall pulling the dagger from his body.
Molanya bolted down the empty walkway, almost choking on the stench of rotting fish that overlay the salt tang of the
sea. A run up a shell-studded slope brought them to another long back alley. Once through that, she felt easier as she
neared her own lair.
"Now," Taurnil growled. "You tell me why."
"I know why you've returned to Dhurion. I can help you."
"You know nothing."
She leaned toward him and lowered her voice to a whisper, "I know you're here to kill Belerg. I know because he told me
so. He sent me to kill you first." She motioned with her chin ahead to the houses. "Wait"
She continued for a hundred paces down a narrow cobblestone street to a doorway in the middle of the block.
Mismatched houses elbowed each other under a run of uneven slate roofs. The entire street had an air of age and
inattention. She stared into the darkness, but nothing moved except a scrap of sodden cloth blown in the wind. She walked
up to the door, hand on her sword hilt, while Taurnil fingered his sword in its sheath.
She slid a key into the lock and opened it a crack before she stepped into the oppressive darkness. The door opened
straight into an empty room, a dark curtain half pulled across the narrow window. When Taurnil had followed her in, she
pushed the bolt into place. An entrance to a kitchen was beyond, the space mostly taken up with a table. The air smelled
musty and stale, a combination of disuse and the constant miasma of burning and warfare hanging over the entire city.
Molanya went to stand pressed against the wall, checking the street outside before she pulled the curtain, shutting out the
night. Even in the dark room, she still could see his shape as he slid down the far wall to sit with his arms propped on his
knees, a dagger loosely held in one hand.
"Whose house is this?" he asked.
"A friend's. He lets me borrow it from time to time."
His disbelief was so clear in the pause, she laughed softly. "No, it's not mine. I'm not so stupid as to put my name on
anything that might lead someone to me."
She used her flint to light a candle sitting on the mantle over the cold, empty fireplace. Bending, she set it on the floor so
they could see each other, but the light wouldn't show in the window. The empty house was frigid, and, in spite of her
heavy black cloak, she had to suppress a shiver.
Molanya eased her way onto the floor, out of Taurnil's reach, her back propped against the wall and the candle between
them. The faint light barely broke the intense dark, but she could see its reflection in his eyes.
"So why the Watch? And why tell me?"
"The Watch was to get you away from the inn, of course. I needed to get you somewhere alone so I could deal with you.
It worked, didn't it?" She gave a humorless smile.
"Did it, girl?" He tilted his dagger a finger's breadth so it pointed toward her throat. "I'm still alive."
"And you can stay that way, old wolf, and get what you want. I want it, too. I want free of Belerg, and I want him dead. I
know that's what you want, too."
He narrowed his eyes. She sat motionless, feeling as though she were letting him look into her soul. She rather hoped she
didn't have to kill him.
"Why should I believe you?"
"Because you can see I'm telling the truth. I heard you ran for five years after you betrayed him, all the way to that farm in
the back of beyond where his Coursers finally tracked you. Was it worth the price?"
His eyes gleamed with rage, and she thought she might have to kill him, dropping her hand to the hilt of her sword.
His teeth bared in a snarl. "Shut up. You know nothing about it."
"No? I know why you came back after him. Because he found you and got to you by having them kill that Malin woman,
the one you betrayed him for. That's how Belerg plays. He destroys what he can't have." She gave a low, harsh laugh.
"Sometimes he destroys what he can have, just for the joy of it."
"That much is true. I betrayed him and his lord to save her. She was all I ever cared about." Those eyes fastened on her
again, his fury plain, challenging her to object to his love for one of the fair-skinned foreigners they were sworn to destroy.
She shrugged and spread her hands. Politics was for lords and priests, not the people who did their killing. She'd never
seen anything to hate in the Malins.
"Why turn on him? Why not just kill meor try." Taurnil's smile became almost gentle as he turned the dagger in his hand.
She stared into the flickering candle flame. She hadn't intended to tell him anything, to let him into her mind, but she
should have known this wouldn't be easy. He had survived by not trusting anyone. He wasn't going to change now. She
ran a finger over the scar on her right cheek, the lightning sigil Belerg had carved into her face.
"I have reason enough to hate him. My early years I spent in an orphanage, you see, one run by the Priests of Gralot." Her
mouth twisted in a bitter memory. "I spent a lot of time locked in the cellar and being whipped with cords. They weren't
big on forgiveness, and I was a fighter from the day I was born."
She shrugged. "Anyway, that's where Belerg found me when I was twelve winters. He had me trained, and I wasn't easy
to train. Turned me into a dagger for his hand."
Taurnil made a low sound in his throat, and she looked up to stare into the face of the killer across the room from her.
"But then he lied to me one too many times, and I found out. He was the one who killed my parents. Making me into his
killer amused him--to use me like that. I swore he'd pay--whatever it costs me.
"It's wheels within wheels with him. He never stops. But I don't know how to get to him. He doesn't trust anyone to get
close to him past his guards, and definitely not me. I figure you must know a way, or you wouldn't be here, so I'll help
you if you'll let me." She fingered the hilt of her sword.
"I see." He sat staring into the dark for a few breaths. "I'll let you help me then, girl. That doesn't mean I trust you."
"We understand each other."
He pulled his legs under him and stood in a smooth motion that belied his gray hair. "One question. Is Belerg's bedroom
and privy chamber unchanged?"
"They've never been changed. You must know how they're guarded. No one gets in or out."
"I know a way once we're inside the castle, but the ways into the castle have changed. I've been gone too long. Get us
inside, and I can get us to Belerg."
She pondered her choices and nodded. It was a risk, but a risk she came here to take. And the Watch was looking for
him. Who would he betray her to? "I know how we can get there without being seen."
She pinched out the candle. Closing her eyes for a minute to make sure she could see in the dark, she patted the daggers in
each of her boot tops and the one strapped to her wrist. She checked that her lockpicks were safe in the pocket on the
inside of her cloak.
"Come." She walked through the kitchen and slid out the back door, a dark ghost in the blackness of the cold winter night.
Taurnil dropped his hand on her shoulder. "My name will show clear on this killing. But they'll chase down both of us."
"I know."
She pulled the hood of her cloak up so the smoke from her breath in the icy air couldn't be seen. Clouds scudded across
the sliver of moon as they slipped through alley after alley, taking a zigzag path toward the castle squatting in the center of
the city. Left behind were the hovels of the poor district. Here the houses were solid and luxurious, the homes of Belerg's
nobles, with heavy wooden doors bolted against the scum who might try to get in.
"We have to get past the outer wall," she whispered. A running jump and she grabbed the balcony of the house they stood
next to and pulled herself up. Taurnil followed her onto the balcony, and they climbed to the roof. She led the way along
the sharp pitched roofs, leaping from one to another. Sweat soon beaded her face, soaking her leather tunic in spite of the
cold, as she ran along the circular route that would take them to the outer wall of Belerg's defenses, watching for broken
roof tiles that might trip her into slipping off one of the high buildings. They stopped at the edge of a slate roof,
overlooking the wall on the other side of the road.
It was no more than twice a man's height and a pace across, but crenellated along the top. Two guards were pacing below
them. Taurnil put his hand on her shoulder as they stood quiet until the two were out of sight.
"There's no way but to jump," she said.
Taurnil backed up a few steps then ran to the edge of the roof and leaped into the darkness. Molanya watched him sail
across the gap to land with a thud on top of the wall. Taking a deep breath, she followed. As she hurtled across, she knew
she wouldn't make it. She slammed into the edge, biting back a cry of pain as she felt a rib crack and grasped hold of the
edge. She felt herself slipping. Taurnil reached down to grab her wrists and haul her up.
He gave her a scornful look, and she grimaced as she wrapped an arm around her waist. She led the way to where they
could jump down next to the moat.
The castle loomed over them. The water of the moat gave up a rank stink that made her eyes burn. "This way," she
whispered. They eased into the icy water, careful to not make any telltale splashing. It came to her armpits. At the far side,
she slipped out of the water and stood with her back to the wall, dripping and shivering. She gave Taurnil a brief nod.
The walls of the castle made a complex pattern of battlements and towers, ramparts and walls. Molanya heard the sound
of marching footsteps, loud in the still night. She waited with her hand on Taurnil's arm, barely breathing until the footfalls
of the guards faded into the distance.
A pace and they stood in front of an iron-banded postern gate, set deeply into the wall. She squatted to work on the heavy
lock with her picks. It turned with a snick.
She opened the gate no more than a crack for them to slip inside, sliding the bolt that she had left open earlier in the day
into place. Standing utterly still, they waited for a sound, but the night was silent.
"This is as far as I can get us."
"Follow," he whispered; his mouth next to her ear.
A hundred paces and Taurnil stood in front of a cesspit with only a handspan between its open top and the wall. He ran his
hand over the stones then started to climb--notches no more than finger span in size were spaced randomly up the wall.
He grunted a little with effort as he clung with his fingers and the tips of his soft leather boots. Molanya waited, pressed
against the wall, watching for guards and with the smell of dung so strong she could taste it. A rustling came from inside
the pit like the scurry of rats. Every breath stabbed from when she had fallen. But once Taurnil was above her head, his
black leather let him fade into the night against the dark gray of the stonework.
She glanced uneasily down into the pit at her feet. A sigh escaped her, and she started to climb. A slight sliding noise like
stone on stone from above made her start, but she kept climbing, inching her way up the wall. Sweat ran down her back
and face, and she sucked in her breath from the pain lancing her ribs. Near the top she looked up, surprised to see a
square of faint light. Then she was able to put her arms over the edge of the latrine where Taurnil stood, staring at the
closed door of the garderobe.
She blew out a relieved breath. It had seemed to her she might never finish that climb. Moving slowly so as to not make
even the slightest noise, she put her leg over the rim and levered herself into the tiny room.
Taurnil put his hand on the door, pushing it open, sword drawn.
"You die tonight, Belerg," Taurnil said in a soft, cold voice as he went to the door and slid the bolt home.
Torches set in ornate gold brackets, between tapestry wall hangings, lit the room with flickering light, reflecting off the
polished black marble of the floor. Logs crackled and popped in an immense fireplace. On all of the walls hung trophies of
the hunt, dead eyes gleaming in the light of the flames. In front of the fireplace stood Belerg, both lord and scourge of this
land.
The big man stood eerily still, cold blue eyes smiling into hers. They sent a chill through her. He was tall and broad
through the shoulder. Black hair, grayed at the temple, hung almost to his shoulders. His beard, carefully groomed,
emphasized the smirk of his lips as he looked at them. He was simply dressed, black tunic tucked into black breeches. He
had no weapons except for a curved scimitar in a gold scabbard, hanging from a belt woven of gold wire. He glanced
toward the bolted door once and shrugged.
"Well met, Taurnil. I was sure Molanya would succeed in bringing you to me."
"Were you?"
"Killing your woman was bound to bring you here; and I'm very confident in her. I've trained you well, have I not, my
pet?" Belerg stepped close enough to stroke the scar on her cheek with a finger.
She slapped his hand away. "Don't call me that!"
"Now she has something to show you, Taurnil." Venom was shot through his low, taunting voice. He reached into the
neck of her black leather tunic to grab a chain and give it a hard jerk. She started away from him with a gasp of surprise.
He held something up twisting and turning in the light. It was a hawk carved from some white stone, shot with streaks of
gold glinting in the light of the room.
"Recognize it, old man?"
Taurnil turned on her with a growl of rage. "How did you get that?"
She backed up a step, putting her hands up, mind racing with confusion. She shook her head. "Remember who you're
dealing with, Taurnil. He gave it to me. It was a gift for--for a job well done."
Taurnil's eyes narrowed to slits. "What job?"
"Nothing to do with you--someone I killed for him here in the city." She backed up another step; hand on the hilt of her
sword. "Think, Taurnil. He's playing you for a fool--what he always does."
Without realizing it, she had backed into Belerg's reach. She cursed herself for a fool as he backhanded her. Her head
smacked into a wall then everything went black--it must only have been a second, she thought, as she looked up at Taurnil
standing over her, eyes boring into hers.
"I laughed when you told me how the woman died, didn't I, my pet?"
She turned her eyes to Belerg, and she wanted to kill him more than she ever wanted anything. She wanted to feel his
blood gush as she slit his throat. Her hand went to her hilt, and the sword came out of the scabbard with a sound lovely to
her ears. She rose to her feet with one motion.
"Which do you want more?" taunted Belerg. "Me or the one who killed that woman of yours--the one you betrayed me
for."
She moved toward Belerg. He had his scimitar in his hand now, turning to keep her in front of him as she circled, light on
her feet.
"You're a liar, Belerg. You always have been. But if Taurnil kills me, I swear I'm taking you with me. I'll see you in the
hells, and it can't be worse than the life I've had here."
Belerg raised his blade to protect himself, then slashed across. She would have had the point of his sword in her guts, but
dove to the side to roll out of the way.
She looked up to see Belerg's sword meet Taurnil's in a harsh clash of metal. The blades slid until the guards locked fast.
He threw Belerg back with a heave. He swung but Taurnil wasn't waiting, sweeping his sword down on Belerg's, forcing
it away, the same movement taking his sword up and into Belerg's face. Belerg stepped back, balanced on light feet,
raising his sword to protect himself.
"So what was she like, your Malin whore I had killed?" Belerg spat.
Taurnil smiled as he slashed. Belerg twisted his blade down Taurnil's, leaving a line of blood dripping down his sleeve.
They broke apart and moved in a circle, blades low and ready. Molanya crouched, looking for an opening, but Taurnil
blocked her way.
Belerg slashed up and around. Taurnil ducked, moved and would have had the point of his sword in Belerg's belly, but he
changed his swing to a downward smash. Their swords caught fast again, both leaning into the blades, muscles taut.
Belerg brought his scimitar up to hack downward; in less than a breath Taurnil spun out and around, bringing a sweeping
cut in from the side to hack off Belerg's head. A stream of blood spurted across the room once as he fell.
She looked up at the killer into implacable eyes. "I didn't do it. I swear. I would have...if he had ordered it. But this was
more to his liking, to deceive us both."
Taurnil just looked at the body before he sheathed his sword. "I don't know that I believe you. But that pile of dung was
the one I came for."
When she looked down at Belerg, his eyes were open as though in surprise.
"Best we get out of here," Taurnil said as he twisted a cloth around the slash on his arm.
Molanya walked toward the garderobe to go out through the privy the way she had come, and the irony twisted her mouth.
armor and the sword at his side marked him, but even more so the way his eyes locked onto her the second she stepped
into the room. To some, his gray hair and weathered face might make him seem decrepit. To her, it only meant he was
dangerous enough to have reached such an age. His name was Taurnil, a legend among assassins.
He wasn't the only one in the common room. She dismissed the two gaffers, bending over their ale stood at the filthy bar,
and the young sailor at a table, head hanging almost into his mug. But she couldn't mistake Taurnil sitting with his back to
the corner.
A sharp winter wind blew in through the door until she banged it closed. The place stank of stale liquor and unwashed
bodies. The warped floorboards creaked underfoot as she walked past the bar where the lamps threw small circles of
light, doing little to break the murkiness of the room. A weasel-like schrif wound its way through the chairs of the inn,
prowling for rats.
She stepped toward Taurnil, hands held at waist level, palms outward.
When she was about two strides away, he said, "Don't come any closer."
"There is a squad of the Watch on their way here."
He snorted. "Why are you telling me this?"
"There's no time to talk. Six of them are too many for you to handle alone."
The door flew open with a crash. A Watchman stood there; his leather and mail sleeveless uniform displayed his bulky
muscled form. Behind him, she saw the shadows of his fellows.
Taurnil shoved his table out of the way, toppling it as he ran for a back door. Molanya followed close on his heels.
Cold wind like a dagger cut at her face when they reached the outside. Heavy black clouds blanketed the night sky. She
slid as she dashed across the frozen mud toward the corner of the building. Black shadows under the crazily leaning
hovels darkened the road even more, and a smoky stink hung in the air. Somewhere in the distance, at Belerg's order,
another town harboring a fugitive Malin had been put to the torch.
"Halt!"
The Watchmen were a pace behind. Their cloaks, blazoned with Belerg's dragon device, flapped in the wind around them
as they hurried through the icy street. With a rasp of metal on metal, the guards drew their swords.
"This way," Molanya said, darting into an alley. She ran without pausing through the dark, glancing once over her shoulder
to be sure he followed. She couldn't afford for the Watch to capture him now. She took a sure path through the fetid
labyrinth. A lighter patch of gray before them showed the end of the back street. She stepped into the broad quay-side
where a few galleys were tied up with quiet, empty decks.
A shove sent her stumbling forward. She ran a few steps, partly to get away from whoever was behind her and partly to
keep from falling. She heard the clash of blades nearby, but she had her own problem to deal with. Whirling around, she
drew her sword to find herself looking into the face of a Watchman, the tip of his blade a handspan from hers. He swung
with a quick fury, the steel of his blade flashing as he lunged. As soon as he moved, she brought her own sword up with a
sliding step to the side to dodge his blow. He swung his sword around for a skull-splitting strike. She moved in and rolled
her wrist to drive her blade under and deep into his armpit. He went down, blood frothing from his mouth to drown a
shout he had waited until too late to make.
She spun to see Taurnil slide a dagger into a second guard's chest, angled up to pierce the heart. The man dropped without
a sound, his fall pulling the dagger from his body.
Molanya bolted down the empty walkway, almost choking on the stench of rotting fish that overlay the salt tang of the
sea. A run up a shell-studded slope brought them to another long back alley. Once through that, she felt easier as she
neared her own lair.
"Now," Taurnil growled. "You tell me why."
"I know why you've returned to Dhurion. I can help you."
"You know nothing."
She leaned toward him and lowered her voice to a whisper, "I know you're here to kill Belerg. I know because he told me
so. He sent me to kill you first." She motioned with her chin ahead to the houses. "Wait"
She continued for a hundred paces down a narrow cobblestone street to a doorway in the middle of the block.
Mismatched houses elbowed each other under a run of uneven slate roofs. The entire street had an air of age and
inattention. She stared into the darkness, but nothing moved except a scrap of sodden cloth blown in the wind. She walked
up to the door, hand on her sword hilt, while Taurnil fingered his sword in its sheath.
She slid a key into the lock and opened it a crack before she stepped into the oppressive darkness. The door opened
straight into an empty room, a dark curtain half pulled across the narrow window. When Taurnil had followed her in, she
pushed the bolt into place. An entrance to a kitchen was beyond, the space mostly taken up with a table. The air smelled
musty and stale, a combination of disuse and the constant miasma of burning and warfare hanging over the entire city.
Molanya went to stand pressed against the wall, checking the street outside before she pulled the curtain, shutting out the
night. Even in the dark room, she still could see his shape as he slid down the far wall to sit with his arms propped on his
knees, a dagger loosely held in one hand.
"Whose house is this?" he asked.
"A friend's. He lets me borrow it from time to time."
His disbelief was so clear in the pause, she laughed softly. "No, it's not mine. I'm not so stupid as to put my name on
anything that might lead someone to me."
She used her flint to light a candle sitting on the mantle over the cold, empty fireplace. Bending, she set it on the floor so
they could see each other, but the light wouldn't show in the window. The empty house was frigid, and, in spite of her
heavy black cloak, she had to suppress a shiver.
Molanya eased her way onto the floor, out of Taurnil's reach, her back propped against the wall and the candle between
them. The faint light barely broke the intense dark, but she could see its reflection in his eyes.
"So why the Watch? And why tell me?"
"The Watch was to get you away from the inn, of course. I needed to get you somewhere alone so I could deal with you.
It worked, didn't it?" She gave a humorless smile.
"Did it, girl?" He tilted his dagger a finger's breadth so it pointed toward her throat. "I'm still alive."
"And you can stay that way, old wolf, and get what you want. I want it, too. I want free of Belerg, and I want him dead. I
know that's what you want, too."
He narrowed his eyes. She sat motionless, feeling as though she were letting him look into her soul. She rather hoped she
didn't have to kill him.
"Why should I believe you?"
"Because you can see I'm telling the truth. I heard you ran for five years after you betrayed him, all the way to that farm in
the back of beyond where his Coursers finally tracked you. Was it worth the price?"
His eyes gleamed with rage, and she thought she might have to kill him, dropping her hand to the hilt of her sword.
His teeth bared in a snarl. "Shut up. You know nothing about it."
"No? I know why you came back after him. Because he found you and got to you by having them kill that Malin woman,
the one you betrayed him for. That's how Belerg plays. He destroys what he can't have." She gave a low, harsh laugh.
"Sometimes he destroys what he can have, just for the joy of it."
"That much is true. I betrayed him and his lord to save her. She was all I ever cared about." Those eyes fastened on her
again, his fury plain, challenging her to object to his love for one of the fair-skinned foreigners they were sworn to destroy.
She shrugged and spread her hands. Politics was for lords and priests, not the people who did their killing. She'd never
seen anything to hate in the Malins.
"Why turn on him? Why not just kill meor try." Taurnil's smile became almost gentle as he turned the dagger in his hand.
She stared into the flickering candle flame. She hadn't intended to tell him anything, to let him into her mind, but she
should have known this wouldn't be easy. He had survived by not trusting anyone. He wasn't going to change now. She
ran a finger over the scar on her right cheek, the lightning sigil Belerg had carved into her face.
"I have reason enough to hate him. My early years I spent in an orphanage, you see, one run by the Priests of Gralot." Her
mouth twisted in a bitter memory. "I spent a lot of time locked in the cellar and being whipped with cords. They weren't
big on forgiveness, and I was a fighter from the day I was born."
She shrugged. "Anyway, that's where Belerg found me when I was twelve winters. He had me trained, and I wasn't easy
to train. Turned me into a dagger for his hand."
Taurnil made a low sound in his throat, and she looked up to stare into the face of the killer across the room from her.
"But then he lied to me one too many times, and I found out. He was the one who killed my parents. Making me into his
killer amused him--to use me like that. I swore he'd pay--whatever it costs me.
"It's wheels within wheels with him. He never stops. But I don't know how to get to him. He doesn't trust anyone to get
close to him past his guards, and definitely not me. I figure you must know a way, or you wouldn't be here, so I'll help
you if you'll let me." She fingered the hilt of her sword.
"I see." He sat staring into the dark for a few breaths. "I'll let you help me then, girl. That doesn't mean I trust you."
"We understand each other."
He pulled his legs under him and stood in a smooth motion that belied his gray hair. "One question. Is Belerg's bedroom
and privy chamber unchanged?"
"They've never been changed. You must know how they're guarded. No one gets in or out."
"I know a way once we're inside the castle, but the ways into the castle have changed. I've been gone too long. Get us
inside, and I can get us to Belerg."
She pondered her choices and nodded. It was a risk, but a risk she came here to take. And the Watch was looking for
him. Who would he betray her to? "I know how we can get there without being seen."
She pinched out the candle. Closing her eyes for a minute to make sure she could see in the dark, she patted the daggers in
each of her boot tops and the one strapped to her wrist. She checked that her lockpicks were safe in the pocket on the
inside of her cloak.
"Come." She walked through the kitchen and slid out the back door, a dark ghost in the blackness of the cold winter night.
Taurnil dropped his hand on her shoulder. "My name will show clear on this killing. But they'll chase down both of us."
"I know."
She pulled the hood of her cloak up so the smoke from her breath in the icy air couldn't be seen. Clouds scudded across
the sliver of moon as they slipped through alley after alley, taking a zigzag path toward the castle squatting in the center of
the city. Left behind were the hovels of the poor district. Here the houses were solid and luxurious, the homes of Belerg's
nobles, with heavy wooden doors bolted against the scum who might try to get in.
"We have to get past the outer wall," she whispered. A running jump and she grabbed the balcony of the house they stood
next to and pulled herself up. Taurnil followed her onto the balcony, and they climbed to the roof. She led the way along
the sharp pitched roofs, leaping from one to another. Sweat soon beaded her face, soaking her leather tunic in spite of the
cold, as she ran along the circular route that would take them to the outer wall of Belerg's defenses, watching for broken
roof tiles that might trip her into slipping off one of the high buildings. They stopped at the edge of a slate roof,
overlooking the wall on the other side of the road.
It was no more than twice a man's height and a pace across, but crenellated along the top. Two guards were pacing below
them. Taurnil put his hand on her shoulder as they stood quiet until the two were out of sight.
"There's no way but to jump," she said.
Taurnil backed up a few steps then ran to the edge of the roof and leaped into the darkness. Molanya watched him sail
across the gap to land with a thud on top of the wall. Taking a deep breath, she followed. As she hurtled across, she knew
she wouldn't make it. She slammed into the edge, biting back a cry of pain as she felt a rib crack and grasped hold of the
edge. She felt herself slipping. Taurnil reached down to grab her wrists and haul her up.
He gave her a scornful look, and she grimaced as she wrapped an arm around her waist. She led the way to where they
could jump down next to the moat.
The castle loomed over them. The water of the moat gave up a rank stink that made her eyes burn. "This way," she
whispered. They eased into the icy water, careful to not make any telltale splashing. It came to her armpits. At the far side,
she slipped out of the water and stood with her back to the wall, dripping and shivering. She gave Taurnil a brief nod.
The walls of the castle made a complex pattern of battlements and towers, ramparts and walls. Molanya heard the sound
of marching footsteps, loud in the still night. She waited with her hand on Taurnil's arm, barely breathing until the footfalls
of the guards faded into the distance.
A pace and they stood in front of an iron-banded postern gate, set deeply into the wall. She squatted to work on the heavy
lock with her picks. It turned with a snick.
She opened the gate no more than a crack for them to slip inside, sliding the bolt that she had left open earlier in the day
into place. Standing utterly still, they waited for a sound, but the night was silent.
"This is as far as I can get us."
"Follow," he whispered; his mouth next to her ear.
A hundred paces and Taurnil stood in front of a cesspit with only a handspan between its open top and the wall. He ran his
hand over the stones then started to climb--notches no more than finger span in size were spaced randomly up the wall.
He grunted a little with effort as he clung with his fingers and the tips of his soft leather boots. Molanya waited, pressed
against the wall, watching for guards and with the smell of dung so strong she could taste it. A rustling came from inside
the pit like the scurry of rats. Every breath stabbed from when she had fallen. But once Taurnil was above her head, his
black leather let him fade into the night against the dark gray of the stonework.
She glanced uneasily down into the pit at her feet. A sigh escaped her, and she started to climb. A slight sliding noise like
stone on stone from above made her start, but she kept climbing, inching her way up the wall. Sweat ran down her back
and face, and she sucked in her breath from the pain lancing her ribs. Near the top she looked up, surprised to see a
square of faint light. Then she was able to put her arms over the edge of the latrine where Taurnil stood, staring at the
closed door of the garderobe.
She blew out a relieved breath. It had seemed to her she might never finish that climb. Moving slowly so as to not make
even the slightest noise, she put her leg over the rim and levered herself into the tiny room.
Taurnil put his hand on the door, pushing it open, sword drawn.
"You die tonight, Belerg," Taurnil said in a soft, cold voice as he went to the door and slid the bolt home.
Torches set in ornate gold brackets, between tapestry wall hangings, lit the room with flickering light, reflecting off the
polished black marble of the floor. Logs crackled and popped in an immense fireplace. On all of the walls hung trophies of
the hunt, dead eyes gleaming in the light of the flames. In front of the fireplace stood Belerg, both lord and scourge of this
land.
The big man stood eerily still, cold blue eyes smiling into hers. They sent a chill through her. He was tall and broad
through the shoulder. Black hair, grayed at the temple, hung almost to his shoulders. His beard, carefully groomed,
emphasized the smirk of his lips as he looked at them. He was simply dressed, black tunic tucked into black breeches. He
had no weapons except for a curved scimitar in a gold scabbard, hanging from a belt woven of gold wire. He glanced
toward the bolted door once and shrugged.
"Well met, Taurnil. I was sure Molanya would succeed in bringing you to me."
"Were you?"
"Killing your woman was bound to bring you here; and I'm very confident in her. I've trained you well, have I not, my
pet?" Belerg stepped close enough to stroke the scar on her cheek with a finger.
She slapped his hand away. "Don't call me that!"
"Now she has something to show you, Taurnil." Venom was shot through his low, taunting voice. He reached into the
neck of her black leather tunic to grab a chain and give it a hard jerk. She started away from him with a gasp of surprise.
He held something up twisting and turning in the light. It was a hawk carved from some white stone, shot with streaks of
gold glinting in the light of the room.
"Recognize it, old man?"
Taurnil turned on her with a growl of rage. "How did you get that?"
She backed up a step, putting her hands up, mind racing with confusion. She shook her head. "Remember who you're
dealing with, Taurnil. He gave it to me. It was a gift for--for a job well done."
Taurnil's eyes narrowed to slits. "What job?"
"Nothing to do with you--someone I killed for him here in the city." She backed up another step; hand on the hilt of her
sword. "Think, Taurnil. He's playing you for a fool--what he always does."
Without realizing it, she had backed into Belerg's reach. She cursed herself for a fool as he backhanded her. Her head
smacked into a wall then everything went black--it must only have been a second, she thought, as she looked up at Taurnil
standing over her, eyes boring into hers.
"I laughed when you told me how the woman died, didn't I, my pet?"
She turned her eyes to Belerg, and she wanted to kill him more than she ever wanted anything. She wanted to feel his
blood gush as she slit his throat. Her hand went to her hilt, and the sword came out of the scabbard with a sound lovely to
her ears. She rose to her feet with one motion.
"Which do you want more?" taunted Belerg. "Me or the one who killed that woman of yours--the one you betrayed me
for."
She moved toward Belerg. He had his scimitar in his hand now, turning to keep her in front of him as she circled, light on
her feet.
"You're a liar, Belerg. You always have been. But if Taurnil kills me, I swear I'm taking you with me. I'll see you in the
hells, and it can't be worse than the life I've had here."
Belerg raised his blade to protect himself, then slashed across. She would have had the point of his sword in her guts, but
dove to the side to roll out of the way.
She looked up to see Belerg's sword meet Taurnil's in a harsh clash of metal. The blades slid until the guards locked fast.
He threw Belerg back with a heave. He swung but Taurnil wasn't waiting, sweeping his sword down on Belerg's, forcing
it away, the same movement taking his sword up and into Belerg's face. Belerg stepped back, balanced on light feet,
raising his sword to protect himself.
"So what was she like, your Malin whore I had killed?" Belerg spat.
Taurnil smiled as he slashed. Belerg twisted his blade down Taurnil's, leaving a line of blood dripping down his sleeve.
They broke apart and moved in a circle, blades low and ready. Molanya crouched, looking for an opening, but Taurnil
blocked her way.
Belerg slashed up and around. Taurnil ducked, moved and would have had the point of his sword in Belerg's belly, but he
changed his swing to a downward smash. Their swords caught fast again, both leaning into the blades, muscles taut.
Belerg brought his scimitar up to hack downward; in less than a breath Taurnil spun out and around, bringing a sweeping
cut in from the side to hack off Belerg's head. A stream of blood spurted across the room once as he fell.
She looked up at the killer into implacable eyes. "I didn't do it. I swear. I would have...if he had ordered it. But this was
more to his liking, to deceive us both."
Taurnil just looked at the body before he sheathed his sword. "I don't know that I believe you. But that pile of dung was
the one I came for."
When she looked down at Belerg, his eyes were open as though in surprise.
"Best we get out of here," Taurnil said as he twisted a cloth around the slash on his arm.
Molanya walked toward the garderobe to go out through the privy the way she had come, and the irony twisted her mouth.
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