Temple Hill (8 page)

Alone, she came over and sat at the table. Corin hesitated, then took bis own seat.

“A lot of good dancers here tonight,” she said, not expecting a response. She didn’t get one. “You can tell a lot about a man by the way he dances,” she said absently, still trying to get a rise out of Corin. “A few of them are more than a little appealing.”

“Don’t worry,” she added after a long pause, “I’ll be careful not to invite any Mask assassins back up to my room.”

“You remind me of Olear.” Corin’s answer was delivered in a voice completely devoid of emotion.

“Olear?” Lhasha said, curious. “Who was he? An old friend?”

“A client.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Lhasha rose to the bait. “Tell me about Olear, Corin. I know you want to.”

The warrior shrugged indifferently, but he did resume speaking.

“Before I joined the White Shields I did some mercenary work. On one job I was hired to guard the son of a merchant involved in a particularly nasty commerce war with a rival family.”

“And Olear was his son?”

Corin nodded. “Flamboyant. Reckless. Had to be the center of attention. A lot like you.”

Lhasha was about to give a light hearted protest to the not altogether inaccurate representation, but Corin never gave her the opportunity.

“He liked female company, even if he had to pay for it. And he hated having us stand guard outside his door while he was with his companions. Just like you.

“One night he sneaked away from us, determined to have a private evening with a very special lady of the night. She was a professional, but not the kind he imagined. We found him the next morning. What was left of him. Several pieces were missing and his body had been butchered and defiled with unholy magic, just to make sure he couldn’t be raised.”

Lhasha tried to laugh the tale off, but her guffaw sounded forced and artificial to her own ears. The story had been delivered with such emotionless simplicity, she couldn’t help but believe it to be completely true.

“A trite morality tale, Corin,” she said, putting up a bold front. “Save it for scaring children, instead of your clients.”

She knew her voice lacked conviction. Despite her many outstanding promises of continued dances, and her more private intentions concerning the companionship of one handsome and charming young man in particular, when the band returned Lhasha went up to her room alone, except for the taciturn bodyguard who followed her up the stairs.

“Let me check your room,” Corin said, once they reached Lhasha’s door.

The half-elf sighed. “Corin, this isn’t necessary right now. That dagger in my pillow was a message from the Purple Masks. Join them or leave town. When they find out I’ve moved out of my room at the Wyvern’s Pipe, they’ll just assume I’ve left Elversult for good. Until I pull . a few jobs, they won’t even be looking for me.”

Lhasha knew she was right. There was no real danger, not this soon, but Corin persisted. “You need to get into the proper mindset,” the warrior explained. “If you want to survive, we have to start forming good habits right now.”

With a shrug, Lhasha handed the warrior her key— this wasn’t worth fighting about. Corin opened the door cautiously, letting the light from the hall spill into the darkened room. Sword drawn, he peered in every corner and took a quick check under the bed.

Lhasha couldn’t stop a soft giggle from escaping her throat. The warrior turned with a scowl, and Lhasha laughed again.

“I’m sorry Corin,” she said after catching her breath. “You just look so funny peeking under my bed. Fendel used to do that when I was a little girl. Said he was looking for bed trolls. It always made me laugh.”

Corin slowly got to his feet. “All clear,” was all he said.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Lhasha replied with a smile.

The warrior went over to the door that separated

their adjacent rooms. “Don’t lock this,” he said, undoing the latch.

“Can I at least keep it closed,” Lhasha asked sarcastically, “So I don’t have you staring in at me all night?” “Close it if you must.”

As soon as Corin stepped through to his own room, she did just that.

Ś€>

Lhasha slept late the next morning, Corin didn’t hear her get up until almost noon. He himself had spent the night standing guard at the threshold of the door between their adjacent chambers.

He knew the chances of anything happening were low. It was still too soon. But he wanted to get used to staying up nights, and sleeping when it was light. Lhasha should be safe during the daylight hours, as long as she didn’t stray beyond the relatively secure walls of the Golden Staff.

When he heard signs of life in the room beside him, he went over and knocked on the door.

“Just a minute,” Lhasha called out. It was closer to five minutes when she finally opened the door. Corin wasn’t thrilled to see she had again chosen a bright, eye catching outfit.

“Don’t you have anything less conspicuous you could wear?”

“No,” Lhasha said, “so don’t even waste your breath asking again.”

Before Corin could come up with a suitable reply, Lhasha asked him a question of her own.

“Didn’t you get any sleep? You look terrible.”

The warrior shook his head. “When you sleep, I stand guard. Ill get some sleep now, as long as you promise not to leave the inn without coming to get me first.”

Resigning herself to the situation, Lhasha said, “I guess that’s a sacrifice I have to make, isn’t it? Well, at least I can go down to the tavern to pass the time.”

Corin would have preferred her to stay upstairs, but he already knew his charge well enough to realize that wasn’t an option.

“IH meet you for supper,” Corin said. “The same time as last night.”

“Sleep tight,” Lhasha said, closing the door between their rooms.

ŚŠ•

“Many of the young men are asking about you,” Tebia, the halfling waitress, told Lhasha as she cleared away the supper plates. With a mischievous smile she added, They want me to find out if you’re going to be dancing with anyone in particular this evening.”

“Not tonight,” the half-elf answered. “I think 111 just turn in early.” Seeing the sour, accusing look the young server shot Corin, Lhasha quickly added, Tm just a little tired. I’ll be back out on the dance floor tomorrow—I promise.”

Seemingly satisfied, the halfling finished clearing the table. “Sleep well, Lhasha,” she said as the half-elf went up the stairs to her room, Corin only a few steps behind.

Tm glad to see you showing some restraint,” the warrior said as they climbed the steps.

“Well, I’ve got to work sometime,” Lhasha explained. “If I don’t go out and earn some gold, we won’t be able to stay here very long.”

Corin waited until they had reached the rooms before responding to her comment. He followed Lhasha into her chambers and closed the door behind him before saying, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should keep a low

profile for a while. Maybe the Masks will forget about you if you disappear for a month or two.”

Lhasha shook her head with a rueful smile.

“We both know they won’t forget, no matter how long I wait. And I need to earn some coin. Don’t worry. Ill be careful.”

The warrior could only hope she spoke the truth. He wouldn’t be able to follow her on her mission. He lacked the skills, and limbs, necessary to scale walls, climb through windows, and sneak silently through the shadows. If he went with her, he’d only attract attention, and increase the likelihood of her getting caught in the act.

“I’ll be waiting here for you when you get back,” he said, taking a seat on the chair by her bed.

“I don’t mind you waiting in my room for me to return,” Lhasha told him, “but do you mind stepping out for a minute while I change clothes? Unless you want me to go out wearing this.”

Hopping to his feet, Corin silently cursed himself for his stupidity. Of course Lhasha had no intention of leaving the building clad in the eye catching ensemble she had worn down to supper.

“Ill let you back in when I’m ready to go,” the half-elf assured him as he marched back to his own room.

Twenty minutes later Lhasha knocked at the door separating their adjoining rooms. After a brief pause, she opened it and stepped through. She was clad head to toe in a black, form-fitting outfit. Her long, delicate fingers were covered by thin black gloves, and a wide belt hung with a variety of tools and pouches encircled her tiny waist.

“What do you think?” she asked coyly. “Like my work clothes?”

“Very … practical,” Corin said at last, arching an eyebrow.

“Gond’s hammer,” Lhasha exclaimed, “I think that just may have been a joke! There’s hope for you yet, Corin.” With that she was gone, slipping out the window to her own room and gliding down the wall to the street two floors below. She disappeared into the gloom, becoming one with the shadows of the night.

As the young man waited for his superior to arrive, he began to wonder if it was all worth it. The life of a Harper was never easy. The road was hard, the demands relentless. Family and friends were often neglected or left behind in the course of doing one’s duty. Death hounded a Harper’s every step.

In Elversult, that life was particularly harsh. In addition to the usual difficulties, there were a wide variety of concerns peculiar to the area. Infiltrating the Purple Masks. Maintaining Yanseldara’s rule of law in a city that was, until only recently, controlled entirely by criminals. Plus, Elversult had always been a flashpoint for the ongoing war between the Harpers and the Cult of the Dragon.

For this particular young Harper agent, all the other dangers paled in comparison to the anxiety he felt over the impending meeting with Vaerana Hawklyn, the leader of the Elversult Maces.

Just then the ranger burst into the room, her long legs never even breaking stride as she kicked the doors open and crossed the hardwood floor until she stood right beside the young agent, towering over him. It was almost as if the

mere thought of Vaerana’s name had conjured her out of thin air.

To call the woman responsible for the security of Elversult, as well as Lady Lord Yanseldara’s personal protection intimidating was the grossest of understatements. It wasn’t the gleaming armor she always wore, or the savage array of weapons belted on her waist and strapped across her chest. Her wild mane of honey blonde hair and the way her muscles flexed as she moved were imposing to say the least, but even these were not the cause of the sudden trembling in the young man. With Vaerana, the most frightening thing about her was something intangible—her blunt, straightforward, some would say rude, manner. She had a seemingly permanent scowl etched upon her face and hard, unblinking eyes that bore right through you.

“Well,” she demanded sharply of the already nervous young man, “what do you want? I’m in a hurry.”

Somehow the agent was able to speak without stuttering. He was, after all, a Harper. “I’ve brought news of the Cult of the Dragon.”

“So spit it out already and quit wasting my time.”

The young man was smart enough not to further annoy Vaerana by apologizing.

“There is a mage—Azlar is his name—who is rapidly growing in power and importance among the ranks of the dragon worshipers. He has just arrived in Elversult, accompanied by a platoon of elite guards.”

The scowl on the ranger’s face became even more angry, if that was possible.

“What’s he here for?”

Shaking his head, the Harper agent replied, “We don’t know. His mission has been shrouded in secrecy. All of our usual contacts in the cult have come up with nothing.”

“What’s the use in giving me a report if you don’t know

anything?” she demanded. She didn’t wait for an answer before continuing,. “If they’re being that close-mouthed about what this wizard is up to, it must be something big. Very big. I don’t like not knowing what those scaly Black Caps are up to. It’s never good.”

“Never,” the spy agreed, instantly regretting his decision to open his mouth.

Vaerana fixed him with an angry glare. “Well, don’t you think you better find out what’s going on, instead of standing here chatting away the day with me?”

“Uh … yes. Of course. Right away.”

And with that the ranger spun on the heel of her boot and stormed out of the room. The young man breathed a sigh of relief.

ŚŠŚ

A full tenday had passed since Lhasha had formed her strange yet practical partnership with the taciturn soldier. Their relationship had already begun to settle into a familiar pattern. Every other night Lhasha would slip out to perform a burglary, returning after a few hours with a pouch full of coins. The rest of her evenings were spent dancing into the late hours while Corin relentlessly scrutinized the crowded tavern for non-existent enemies.

It didn’t take many days for Lhasha to realize that Corin was always on duty. The warrior’s vigilance never failed, it never flagged, it never let up. He was constantly on alert, every sense attuned to his surroundings, his thick muscles occasionally twitching in their perpetual readiness. On some level, Lhasha admired such dedication. But for the most part, she simply found it disturbing and unnatural.

Corin needed to relax, or he was going to explode. He had no outlet in his life, no way to ease the pressures of

the world. That was probably what had driven him to waste his money and life on alcohol, but he didn’t drink anymore. Not since she had hired him. Not even a glass of wine.

He didn’t socialize either. Unlike Lhasha, he hadn’t made friends with the staff. He barely even spoke to her. All her efforts to learn more about Corin, to turn the conversation to his past or his personal life before their business partnership, were met with cold silence.

Lhasha was certain that if she could just get him to open up a little bit their cold relationship would thaw. As it was, he was focused solely on his role as a soldier and bodyguard. When he wasn’t hovering over Lhasha like a vulture over a fresh kill, he was in his room honing his already formidable martial skills with drills and practice. In Lhasha’s mind, such obsession couldn’t be healthy.