"We are going in, or I am."

I moved. No way he was leaving me alone. I needed this if I were not to be d.a.m.ned to poverty forever, a patron with no influence or money and one ex-slave as a client. A disgraced exile living on charity in a foreign land. It took a while to get up. My whole body was stiff and complained at me and my head throbbed, my stomach threatened to rebel. I could hear the dogs faintly, whimpering and whining in their sleep. Thank G.o.d they were asleep. I still needed a drink.

"Now?" I asked blearily.

He pointed. Torches lit the night, a procession of men were crossing the bridge, a throng of them waiting to follow. No one was checking them, no one was pa.s.sing them. They were going in en ma.s.se and were expected. I nodded. Easy to tack on the end and just walk in.

"Now," I agreed, and we went.

Torches lit the scene, the flames reflected in the dark water of the moat, pooling round each torch bearer, dancing on the walls of the stronghold. As the barbarians walked across the bridge in single file the crowd cl.u.s.tered at our side of the bridge was slowly thinning. We tacked ourselves onto the back of the group that waited their turn without incident, and stepped out onto the bridge when it came around to our turn. Ahead of us they pa.s.sed through the small gate one at a time, torchlight dancing inside and fading, dancing and fading, until it was our turn to pa.s.s inside, Sapphire ahead of me and no one behind apart from four bored guards who had eyed us disinterestedly. The bridge was wide enough so that one man could walk without difficulty, but not so wide that two could pa.s.s or walk together without risk of being pitched into the dark waters only five feet or so below. I was relieved to make it to the end of the bridge.

A long corridor stretched away from the door, and to either side narrow but tall pa.s.sages led inside the wall, all lit by torches paced at twenty foot intervals. It must have been fifty or sixty feet away, the doorway where Sheo stood facing us in the broad doorway, watching the new arrivals impa.s.sively, our gazes meeting for an instant. He didn't react but I froze for a moment, a thrill of antic.i.p.ation running through me, before I stepped out of his line of sight. No half-expected shout of alarm followed me. I tried to imagine what he would do, tried to guess what he was thinking; was Kukran Epthel here? Was Sheo still in thrall to him? Would Sheo send men after me? I strode after Sapphire, my heart hammering in my chest, nerves frayed. He had moved silently into one of the side pa.s.sages and ghosted along the corridor ahead of me, moving fast, pa.s.sing in and out of light and gloom; and I followed, less a.s.sured, head pounding and belly rebelling. Our own shadows danced around us. He turned a corner and I sped after him. Sheo is here, I wanted to yell. He saw me! But yelling didn't seem like a brilliant idea under the circ.u.mstances so I hurried to catch him, holding in the fear, aware that Sheo had not instantly raised the alarm, hoping he was free of Kukran's influence, an ally, biding his time, or perhaps that Kukran was destroyed and Sheo here for some other reason. The fear of the unknown was almost worse than the fear that we would be discovered and find ourselves back in the power of the lich. The thought of that made me shudder. Dubaku was not invisibly near to save us. This time we would face Kukran alone.

When I turned the corridor, Sapphire's forearm was locked around the throat of an Alendi, his free arm gripping a wrist to keep that one from reaching his knife. Red faced and eyes bulging the Alendi struggled and failed to break free.

"Where is Tahal Samant?" Sapphire hissed the question fiercely in the man's ear. "Tell me and live, keep silent and die. Where is he?"

"Vaults," the Alendi squeezed the words through his closed throat, "In the vaults."

Instantly Sapphire release his grip, hands moving with smooth precision, one hand cupping the Alendi's bearded chin, the other coming to the back of his head. He wrenched fast and hard and a sound like a green branch breaking rang out, echoing dully from the walls. Sapphire caught the man as he fell and dragged him a few yards to the bottom of a stair well and dropping the body. Grabbing the lolling head he smashed it three times in quick succession against the stone floor. Despite myself, I winced, stalled where I had been following. I shuddered at the calm indifference with which Sapphire handled the body and I reached for the bottle. As I downed a good swallow of the fiery liquid, Sapphire briefly examined his handiwork; satisfied he grabbed the man's legs and heaved the body into the stairwell, leaving it looking as though the man had fallen, legs and arms twisted randomly awry.

"Sheo is here. He saw me," I remembered to say. It was important, though I didn't know what we would do about it.

Shadows danced across Sapphire's face as he looked at me, face calm as stone, cold gaze locked on mine. "We split up," he told me. "Look for the vaults. If you are captured I'll get you out."

He s.n.a.t.c.hed the bottle from my hand, poured some grotesquely into the corpse's mouth and ghosted up the stairs. After three steps he dashed the bottle on a stair, discarding it and its contents, and then was gone.

I stared in shock at the broken bottle, gla.s.s shards winking in the wavering light and precious liquid dripping on the stairs. He'd broken it. He'd thrown away my whiskey. And it was the last bottle. What had he said? Find the vaults. Right. I looked at the corner round which I had come, then turned away and lurched down the corridor. Easy to say, find the vaults, but what was I going to do? Ask someone? Well, I thought, why not? Barbarians would need to know the way more often than spies and infiltrators, surely?

If only I could remember what clan we were, just in case I was asked.

A drunk can get away with anything, I decided. No one expects them to be coherent or sensible. All they saw was a wasted Alendi about some business he was not fit to complete. They smiled in sympathy or snorted in derision, either way not seeing me as a threat.

I'd grabbed a door frame, leaned drunkenly into a room full of men taking their ease, lifted a jug of ale and taken a swig while the owner protested, then asked where the vaults were.

"If you're going to the vaults, you can get your own beer," one of them told me.

"Under your feet, where do you think?" Another had called, contemptuously.

"Get off my beer," The nearest had growled.

I nodded sagely, let him have the jug, wiped my mouth with one hand, feeling the beard growing there, and straightened up. "I will," I said with exaggerated care. Beard, I thought. When had that happened? I couldn't remember the last time I had shaved. How drunk had I been? I'd grown a beard and not noticed. I was looking up and down the corridor, still leaning on the door frame.

"That way," one of them said, s.p.a.cing the words as though talking to a drunken fool, which I suppose he was.

I nodded sagely and went.

"Vaults?"

The Alendi jerked his thumb over his shoulder and carried on walking, his companion eying me in disgust. I nodded thanks and carried on walking. Next set of steps down, I decided.

It wasn't far to the stairs.

I found Sheo and four Alendi at the bottom and froze.

"You're drunk," he said, seeming to appraise me.

I guess I just hadn't decided what to do. I had a sword, but I didn't reach for it. Doubtless Sapphire had a plan, but I didn't. I hadn't thought it through, so I just stood there at the bottom of the stairs, gaze locked on Sheo as he looked me up and down as I stood there wavering, his four companions unmoving but alert.

"Are you alone?"

I shook my head, then tried to make it look like I was just confused. Not too difficult under the circ.u.mstances.

He shook his head, his expression disappointed.

"Come with me," he said.

So I did.

As the guards moved close around me and reached for my sword I acted, but it was far too late. There were four of them and they were not surprised or unready or drunk. They overpowered me, took my sword and dragged me after him. I struggled and fought and cursed to no avail. Part of me couldn't believe they had taken me so easily and part of me was defeated and not surprised in the least by my abject failure.

"Whose side are you on?"

Sheo looked at me as though trying to a.s.sess my sanity but didn't answer.

He stopped before a door, one of the four, unlocked it and they threw me in.

"Stay here," Sheo told me, as though I had a choice.

Doubtless Sapphire would have sprung into action at once, effortlessly killed all five and moved on rapidly to find our target, picked the lock that held him captive, clothed him in barbarian gear and escorted him promptly from captivity with the minimum of fuss. I wondered why I had not? Why had surprise shocked me into inaction? How drunk was I exactly?

I stood there staring at the door as it closed and locked, knowing that part of my inaction was the result of not knowing if Sheo were ally or enemy. I still didn't know. The door had a small grille and I pressed my face against it shouted, "Sheo, he has the last King's amulet!"

His voice drifted back down the corridor, mildly irritated. "Shut up, Sumto."

So, I thought to myself, my face pressed against the grille, now what?

I stood still for what seemed a long time, still a little bewildered by the ease with which I had been captured, disarmed and thrown into a cell. I hadn't been ready to act, not ready for violence. I reasoned that it was because I knew I was surrounded by hundreds of Alendi in the keep and thousands outside it. Violence wouldn't work, I had a.s.sumed. Guile and stealth were the way forward. An image of the Alendi lying on the stairs, his neck broken, flashed in my mind. Violence worked well enough for Sapphire, I thought.

"Yes," I said to myself softly, "but I'm not Sapphire."

"Who are you then?"

I started, banging my head on the door and spun around. I had not realized I was not alone. There were two beds in the cell and on one of them, sitting with his back against the wall and looking at me with mild curiosity, was a man of the city. He studied me with casual indifference, as though he had been waiting for a servant to bring him a plate of tidbits and was mildly puzzled as to why I had been brought instead. I could tell that he was a patron by his dress, by the fact that he was clean-shaven, and that he was looking at me in contempt and had asked the question with the mild curiosity of one who does not really care to hear the answer, as I was bound to be a social inferior and therefore beneath notice.

"Tahal Samant," I said.

"No, that's me." He sighed when I did not respond, judging me a man of little wit no doubt. "I asked you first."

"Sumto Merian Ichatha Cerulian," I said.

"The drunk," his lips curled in mild contempt. "Just as I imagined you."

"I came to rescue you."

"Oh, thank the G.o.ds, I'm saved," he gestured airily, looking to the heavens.

He was beginning to irritate me. "Orelia asked me to come and get you."

He sighed. "How like her. And what are you going to do now you have found me? Pour me a drink? Sing me a song? Dance a drunken reel? Tell me a ribald joke and laugh uproariously at your own surpa.s.sing wit?"

That's when I lost my temper.

Tahal was sulking.

I gave him his due. He'd been keen enough to fight, coming up off the cot as I took two quick steps toward him, but the first kick in the face had smacked the back of his head against the wall and that had taken the fight out of him. It had been more or less a one way beating after that. I felt bad about it, but not very. I'd made sure he wouldn't drown in his own blood and then made myself comfortable on the other cot.

When he woke up he lay on the cot glaring at me, nose broken and eyes blackened. "b.a.s.t.a.r.d," he's muttered at last, the epithet mumbled through swollen lips.

"Best remember that and keep the insults to a minimum," I'd told him.

After a very long silence, during which I stared at the door and tried to think, he said something else that I didn't catch.

"What?" I asked.

"Is that a stone in your forehead?"

I nodded. I had also been toying with the ten carat stone that was still on my finger and that Tahal had obviously not seen. I knew that Sheo would not have overlooked it, would not have left me with it by accident. I just nodded absently and he was quiet for a while, evidently thinking.

"You don't have any magic do you?" It was an accusation, tone rising in surprised mockery.

"None worth talking about."

He snorted, then winced in pain. "Typical."

"Shut up," I told him absently. I was trying to think.

He was silent for a good while but couldn't let it go.

"I do. Let me attune it and I can get us out of here."

I thought about it. It wasn't easy to think, as hung over as I was. The dogs had begun to bay some time ago, picking up my scent as I sobered. I could almost feel them getting closer, slowly getting louder. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh no," he muttered. "Far better to stay and rot in here."

"You tried to escape then?"

He didn't answer until I looked at him grimly and made to move.

"Yes, yes, I tried." He sounded angry to cover his fear of me. He was in no shape to go another round and knew I had it in me to beat him b.l.o.o.d.y. "I pretended to change allegiance," he sighed, deciding he had better explain and not knowing where to start. "There is a necromancer," he began patiently.

"Kukran Epthel, " I nodded.

"No. Ishal Laharek. He..." Tahal hesitated, deciding how much to tell.

"Tortured? Intimidated?"

He sighed, expression falling into tired and bitter lines. "Tried to persuade me to join his cause. Kept hammering on about freedom, the evils of the city, slavery, how he and his would put us down and make a new free society in our place. As if any society could be more free!"

He paused and I supplied a nod of agreement, though my ideas were doubtless a little better conceived than his.

"There were other persuasions. Examples of what other ways I might serve. I pretended to relent. I was afforded some measure of freedom until I tried to escape; yesterday I think, or the day before, it's hard to tell time in here."

"What did he have you do?"

He frowned at me. "Write letters. Try and gain support for the cause among the knights. Give false information to the patrons. I doubt anyone paid much attention to them. I worded them carefully."

I nodded. I knew what he meant. Our grammar is a little complex and the language subtle. One clue at the end of a letter would let you read it and interpret everything anew, gaining a whole new meaning.

"And?"

"Information. I told him a lot of truth, some of which will lead them to underestimate us. Numbers of our army, and so forth."

I nodded again. The truth is that we have an army of four legions, and right now they were far away and engaged in another war. The fact that we could raise armies quickly was another matter.

"You did okay," I told him.

His face twisted in contempt. He didn't need or want my approval. Or anyone's. He was a patron of the city. No further vindication was needed.

I let it pa.s.s and ignored him for a while, listening to the dogs baying in my head. I had really gained only one thing from what he had told me. There were more Necromancers.

"Is he a lich?"

"What? Who?"

"Never mind," I told him.

So, Ishal Laharek was not a walking corpse like Kukran Epthel. Not so advanced in the hierarchy? How many where they? How dangerous was Ishal? Had he acquired that mode of thought, that inertia which colored Kukran's actions? Why was I thinking about this? Because Sheo had left me with a ten carat stone, that's why. He had a plan, and I didn't doubt that in some way I was part of it. Or perhaps he just left me with a way out, with Tahal's help.