"You're right, Mannus." Arietta secured her scabbard on her hip, opposite her quiver, then added, "It is not your place to decide anything. And I order you to come with me."

Still holding her bow, Arietta hurried from her chambers into the central tower, the Turret of Heavens, and began to descend the long flight of stairs that spiraled down the outer wall. The turret was open all the way to the Golden Hall on the ground floor, and looking over the bal.u.s.trade, Arietta could see a steady stream of servants carrying armfuls of linens.

She began to call down, "Shadovar on the bridge! Sound the alarm!"

Mannus and Suther added their voices, shouting commands to prepare the house. By the time Arietta had reached the second level, heaps of abandoned linens lay strewn across the marble floor, and the bang of slamming shutters echoed from every corner of the house.

Arietta reached the bottom of the stairs to find a grizzled sergeant-the very sergeant who had told her father about her adventures as a tavern minstrel-waiting with half a dozen armored men.

"Lady Arietta, the Wave Wyvern will depart as soon as we're aboard." The sergeant extended an arm to his left, in the direction of the walled yard that protected the ship's mooring. "Your father has sent me to escort you."

"Thank you, Carlton," Arietta stepped directly toward him-then bent backward at the last possible moment and ducked under his arm. "But we both have more important things to do."

"My lady!"

Carlton spun and grabbed for her, but she was already slapping her bow tip into the helmets of two men, using it to startle them apart before she pushed between them.

"Lady Arietta!" Carlton roared. "Your father has ordered me to bring you to the ship!"

"Then you'll have to catch me." Arietta broke into a sprint, racing out of the Golden Hall and into the swirling gray seascapes of the Corridor of the Kraken. She called over her shoulder, "And be quick about it!"

"Be ... quick?"

A cacophony of clanking and yelling broke out as the twelve guards took up the chase, with Carlton threatening all manner of dire consequences if Arietta did not stop immediately. The more he threatened, the more determined she became. If the choice lay between obeying her f.e.c.kless liege and serving the people, then Siamorphe's will seemed clear. Arietta would not offend her G.o.ddess-not when a brave man was out there on the bridge alone, doing what her father should have been doing-leading the fight against the Shadovar.

Carlton's threats faded into the general din of the house as Arietta rounded a corner and entered the Hall of the Sirens. Halfway down its length, she turned abruptly and ducked down an intersecting corridor, crossed a small foyer, then raced out into the carriage court used for domestic deliveries and casual access.

Thirty paces away, the gate that opened toward High Bridge Road hung closed and barred. A pair of square watchtowers rose to either side of it, and Arietta counted two guards on each one, looking away and peering toward the action on the bridge. Knowing Carlton would soon reappear, Arietta yelled up at one of the towers.

"You there!" she cried, still running. One the guards glanced back into the yard. "Open the gate!"

The double-chinned guard gaped at her in surprise. "Lady Arietta? Is that-"

"Now!" Arietta commanded, halfway to the gate. She slowed just long enough to make her point clear. "My mother will have your heads if something happens to that woman. She's a dear friend of the family!"

The guard's expression grew alarmed. He relayed her command to the others, then stooped and disappeared. An instant later, the remaining three guards were shouting warnings down into the street, and the double-chinned guard had entered the yard from the tower. To Arietta's relief, he rushed straight toward the heavy wooden gate, putting his hand on the crossbar to lift it.

And that was when Carlton emerged from the house behind her, still shouting her name and demanding that she stop. The double-chinned guard-Fiske, she remembered he was called-looked up and scowled, one hand still resting on the bar.

"Carlton, come quickly!" Arietta yelled. Praying to the G.o.ddess to make her voice loud enough to drown out her pursuer's, she swung her bow toward the gate, as if urging Carlton and his men to follow her. "They're bound to be on her by now!"

Outside the gate, Arietta heard the clang of iron bolts ricocheting off cobblestones, followed by m.u.f.fled cries of surprise. She looked up and saw that her father's guards were not aiming their crossbows at the Shadovar on the bridge. Instead, they were shooting straight down, in front of the gate. It seemed they were attempting to clear the area so no commoners would be tempted to seek shelter inside the house.

Another of her father's orders, no doubt.

Still ten steps from Fiske, Arietta nocked an arrow and raised her bow, ready to pin the man's hand to the wood if need be. But the guard was merely being cautious, peering out a spyhole before he drew the bar back.

"Now, Fiske!"

Arietta let fly. Her arrow thunked into the wood at the base of the gate, and Fiske looked up, his thick-lipped mouth hanging agape. Arietta nocked another arrow.

"Open it now!"

Fiske lifted the crossbar and pulled his side of the gate open, just far enough for Arietta to slip out. She had to pause in the alcove between the towers, for the scene in the street was madness. A panicked mob was fleeing the fight on the bridge, trying to squeeze through a maze of toppled handcarts and spilled possessions. Her father's guards were shouting down from their towers, warning people to stay clear of the gate-and reinforcing their orders by pinging iron crossbow quarrels off the cobblestones below.

Arietta looked up the street toward the ca.n.a.l, where the watchman was at the center of the bridge-bloodied, but his greatsword slashing back and forth as he executed a very slow retreat. She counted three Shadovar against him, the nearest pair harrying him with wedges of flying shadow while the third tried to dart past along the bridge railing.

As she watched, the watchman's sword lashed out, and the third Shadovar's dark head went tumbling into the ca.n.a.l. The other two countered with an onslaught of sword-work, their blades whirling and slashing as they pressed the attack.

The watchman blocked and parried, then retreated a step.

One single step.

If the man wasn't a knight, he soon would be. Arietta would see to that herself-a.s.suming he survived, of course.

Knowing that Carlton and his men would soon come through the gate behind her, Arietta took a deep breath, then stepped out into the street and looked up at the tower guards.

"You up there! Stop that!" She used her bow to point toward the battle. "Come with me to the bridge!"

The rain of quarrels diminished, and the eldest guard, a long-faced brute with a drooping mustache, leaned over and frowned back at her.

"What, are you mad?" he called down. "Your father would have our ears!"

"Yes, but he'll have your heads if you let me go out there alone." She smiled sweetly, then shrugged. "The choice is yours, of course."

Arietta heard the gate creaking open behind her, but she did not look back. She was already charging up the street.

CHAPTER 3.

IT WAS ALMOST TOO EASY. BY ALL RIGHTS, KLEEF SHOULD HAVE been dead by now. His boots were slipping in his own blood, his arms and legs ached with the ice-cold burn of shadow-inflicted slashes, and his shoulders had grown so weary he could barely swing his sword. Yet somehow, he was still holding the bridge, alone, against an endless stream of shades. It made no sense.

The enemy arrived in twos and threes, rushing in behind flurries of umbral magic and slashing blades, attacking so fiercely Kleef dared not look away. He had no idea what had become of the red-haired woman or the mysterious archer who had come to his aid, and he had long ago lost track of the Shadovar leader-the one with the steel-blue eyes. And yet, his foes never seemed to press so hard that he would be forced to flee, as though they wanted to kill him on Deepwater Bridge or not at all.

At first, Kleef had attributed their caution to Watcher. The agate on the sword's crossguard continued to glow whenever Shadovar drew near, and they tended to cringe and dodge when it shined in their direction. But the blue light never seemed to cause any injury that would explain their reluctance to mount a full charge, and, he had eventually decided that his opponents were simply trying to keep him from seeing what was happening behind him.

Kleef retreated three quick steps, hoping to buy a moment to look behind him and see what had become of the red-haired woman. Another hissing disk came flying from the right and a cloud of black darts from the left. He ducked the darts and used Watcher to deflect the disk, and his latest trio of foes came rushing in behind a flurry of kicks and slashes.

Kleef stood his ground for two heartbeats, then blocked and pivoted, sending the middle shade flying with a knifehand to the throat. He brought Watcher around in a single-handed chop that buried the sword deep in the collar of the one on the left. He spun away, ripping the blade free and leading with a heel sweep that would prevent his last attacker from slipping in behind him.

Then Kleef glimpsed a yellow streak flying in from the south end of the bridge. He drew up short, just in time to see an arrow take the last shade in the side of the head. The impact lifted him off his feet and sent him flying.

Kleef quickly beheaded all three of his downed foes, then was astonished to look up and find no more Shadovar charging in to attack. For the moment, at least, they had run out of warriors.

Kleef glanced behind him, toward the south end of the bridge.

Twenty paces away, a tall, fair-skinned woman was racing toward him, her blonde hair flying over the shoulders of her ornate hunting armor. She came to a stop ten paces away, nocking a fresh arrow and looking for another target. With pale blue eyes and a wide, full-lipped mouth, she looked vaguely familiar-and entirely out of place charging into battle against the Shadovar.

When she saw Kleef staring at her, the woman c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sorry," she called. "Did you want to kill all of them yourself?"

Kleef frowned. "What?" Then, recognizing her sarcasm, he quickly added, "No."

Leaving it at that, he shifted his attention to the street behind her. The crowd was too dense and churning for him to spot the red-haired woman, or much of anything else. But at least he saw no obvious battle snarls to suggest the Shadovar had found her.

The blonde archer cried out, "Drop!"

Kleef obeyed instantly. He still hadn't hit the ground when her arrow sizzled past, barely a hand's width from his ear, and thudded into its target. He looked up to find another trio of shades almost upon him. A fourth lay behind them, clutching at the arrow in his chest and writhing in pain.

Kleef rose to one knee and swung his sword into the dark tangle of legs coming toward him, and the air erupted into screams. He switched to a one-handed grip and sprang back to his feet, then blocked, ducked, and shouldered forward between two of his attackers. He spun around behind the one on the left end and sent the shade's head flying, then saw a geyser of dark blood erupt from the middle one as an arrow tore through his throat.

The one on the right end was already five paces past Kleef, halfway to the archer. Holding her bow in one hand, she drew a slender sword and blocked his initial attack, then brought the bow tip around to harry her attacker's feet. The shade leaped back, then forward again, and only a timely pivot saved the archer from having her armor sorely tested.

By then, Kleef was within striking range. He brought Watcher around high and sent the shade's head flying.

A gout of dark blood arced from the neck stump, spraying the woman's golden hair and the left side of her face. Her blue eyes went wide.

"Uh, sorry," Kleef said, kicking the body away before it could fall on her. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's quite all right," she said, forcing a smile between lips curled in revulsion. "You were only trying to help."

Seeing her up close, Kleef felt even more certain he recognized the woman from somewhere-but now was hardly the time to figure it out. He merely nodded, then turned to see whether a fresh wave of attackers had arrived.

And they had. This time, there were more than a dozen, standing in two murky ranks about two-thirds of the way across the bridge. When they did not advance, Kleef began to fear they were simply giving themselves enough room to unleash an onslaught of shadow magic.

Then he began to hear boots pounding up the bridge behind him, and he glanced back to find at least ten men-at-arms charging from the direction of House Seasilver. Their white tabards bore a pale purple wyvern-the sigil of Duke Farnig's household guard-and they quickly began to gather around the blonde archer.

Kleef stepped over to a gray-bearded man wearing the crimson shoulder-braid of sergeant of the guard, then warned, "Don't cl.u.s.ter-not against shadow magic." He waved a hand across the width of the bridge. "Form a battle line here."

The sergeant's expression turned resentful, and his men-at-arms frowned.

Then the agate on Watcher's crossguard flared to life again, and the gazes of all ten men-at-arms dropped to the blue stone. They began to stand a little straighter, their faces started to harden with determination, and Kleef found himself trying to hide his confusion. Clearly, there were a few things about Watcher his father had neglected to tell him.

Finally, the sergeant barked, "You heard the man. Single rank!" He glanced at Kleef, then added, "No one pa.s.ses!"

The guards responded with a spirited cry and a.s.sumed their positions in front of Kleef, their hands filled with daggers and swords. The woman stepped to Kleef's side, her sword back in its scabbard and a fresh arrow nocked on her bowstring.

Kleef stole one last glance over his shoulder, searching for any sign that more Shadovar might be emerging from the shadows to attack from behind them. At first, he didn't see anything except the continued mayhem of too many people fleeing up High Bridge Road. But his eye was soon drawn to movement near the Bridge Gate of House Seasilver, and he glimpsed a flash of red hair as it disappeared through the narrow gap of the closing gate.

"The enemy is in front of us," the archer said. "And you're welcome, by the way."

It took Kleef a moment to catch her meaning. "Uh ... right." He looked back to the Shadovar and was alarmed to find them swirling their hands, creating shields of raw shadowstuff. "Thanks for your help."

"Think nothing of it." Given the sarcasm of a moment before, the woman sounded surprisingly sincere. "Your stand has been an inspiration to us all."

As she spoke, the second rank of Shadovar began to rub their hands together, drawing wisps of darkness from their murky auras and packing them into pulsing b.a.l.l.s of shadow. Unable to locate the steel-eyed leader, Kleef simply pointed at the middle of the second rank.

"That one. Second rank, center."

"That one what?" asked the archer.

"Kill him," Kleef said. "Now."

The woman brought her bow up and loosed the arrow in the same smooth motion, and an eye blink later, her target went stumbling backward with an arrow sprouting from his chest. The ball of shadow seemed to melt in his grasp and began seeping through his fingers, dissolving everything it touched. By the time his body hit the bridge, his elbow was gone, and the rest of his arm was draining into the dark cracks between the cobblestones.

The warriors to either side of him raised their arms, preparing to hurl their b.a.l.l.s of shadow. Kleef called for a charge and started forward, the archer and Duke Farnig's men-at-arms running at his side.

The shadow orbs came flying.

The torsos of two guards melted into darkness as they took the hits full in the chest. Kleef brought Watcher around, Helm's Eye flashing as he deflected two of the dark b.a.l.l.s, sending them arcing over the ca.n.a.l. A third orb managed to slip past him, and he turned to see the archer trying to pivot away from it.

No time. Kleef kicked the back of her heels. Her feet flew out from beneath her-and her head dropped out of the shadow ball's path half a heartbeat before it streaked past.

The woman landed on her backplate, and Kleef was glad to see she had the good training to tuck her chin to prevent her head from hitting. They had already fallen five paces behind the charge, so he grabbed her by her bow arm-and finally recalled where he had seen her face.

"I know you."

"I shouldn't be surprised," she said. "Though I hardly-"

"You're that minstrel who used to sing at The Old Oak," Kleef interrupted, yanking her to her feet. "Elver ... Elberta ..."

"Elbertina." The woman's tone was irritated. "But that was my stage-"

A tremendous battle cheer sounded behind the Shadovar, and it was quickly answered by Duke Farnig's men-at-arms. Kleef looked up to see nearly a dozen halberds swaying in the air behind the Shadovar lines. The Ma.r.s.ember Watch had arrived.

"Reinforcements!" Elbertina raced after Farnig's guards. "Now we have them!"

But the shades were in no mood to continue the fight. They broke toward both sides of the bridge, flinging lines of shadow around the bal.u.s.trades. As their ranks parted, Kleef was surprised to see that the "reinforcements" were his own men, with Jang leading the troop.

The shades began to leap off the bridge, trailing their shadow lines behind them like ropes. As they hit the ends, they swung back and disappeared under the belly of the bridge. Kleef reached the bal.u.s.trade half a step behind the last warrior, but by the time he leaned out to slash the dark line, the fellow was already dropping into the murk beneath the span. Kleef did not hear a splash.

Elbertina reached his side, leaning over the bal.u.s.trade to peer into the empty waters. "Where did they go?"

"Good question," Kleef said. He turned and looked back toward House Seasilver. "I have a feeling we won't like the answer."

Joelle Emmeline stood just inside a small carriage court, peering through a narrow gap between two barely open gates. She was looking back toward the bridge where the battle had been, studying the big watchman who had just saved her for the second time that day. With rugged features and dark hair curling out beneath his helm, he was as handsome as he was deadly, and she could not help thinking that the Lady had sent him to her. He certainly appeared capable of protecting her. And if he proved to be as talented in the gentler arts as he was in combat? Well, then-the long journey ahead might even become a pleasure.

"Have you gone mad?" demanded a nasal voice beside her. "You will let in the ... shadows!"

The gates banged shut, and Joelle looked over to find her companion with his hands pressed to the oaken planks. Dressed in a drab gray robe and exuding a foul odor that seemed impossible to scrub off, the little round-headed man looked more like a beggar than one of her fellow Chosen. For the hundredth time, she found herself questioning whether he had truly been sent by the G.o.ds to help her save Toril.

"Aren't you curious about him, Malik?" Joelle asked. She helped him slide the heavy crossbar back into place. "Not the least little bit?"