The Alabaster Staff (32 page)

Demok left, heading into the rain without acknowledging her request.

Demok recovered his horse and rode back to Wing’s Reach, taking a circuitous route in hopes of avoiding the house guards. The horse balked at galloping in such dim light, but Demok’s continued prodding kept its pace high. He was concerned that Ekur, thinking his cover blown, might try to assassinate Massedar.

He reached Wing’s Reach, left his horse in the stable, and struck the stable boy to awaken him.

“Saddle,” he barked, and strode into Wing’s Reach.

He vaulted up the stairs three at a time to the third floor, where he went directly to Massedar’s quarters. He pounded loudly on the doors.

“Whatever it is, it shall await the morning,” came a sleepy and very irritated voice. “I have had my fill of interruptions.”

“Demok, sir,” said he. “Important!” he added, then pounded again.

Massedar muttered as he arose, the emotion, if not the exact words, clearly audible through the doors. At last the door creaked open and Massedar’s face, at least a vertical quarter of it, appeared at the door.

“Speak thou thy tidings,” he commanded.

“Ahegi, sir,” said Demok, in a low, urgent voice. “Kehrsyn has proof he’s a Zhent. The traitor we’ve suspected.”

Massedar’s sleepy eyes awoke at once, burning with fires of indignation. He pulled the door open wider and
looked as if he was going to shout but fought back the impulse. Instead, he closed his eyes, clenched his fist, and drew in a deep breath through his nose.

“Ahegi …” he said, in a voice of resignation.

“Kehrsyn says he’s Ekur of Shussel. Ex-Gilgeamite overlord.”

“Truly is she more … more valuable than pearls.”

“Where there’s one priest, could be others.”

“No,” Massedar said, “there are no others.”

“Certain?”

Massedar nodded and said, “Ahegi hath been in my employ these … thirteen, fourteen years … from the beginning. The others have I myself recruited, and none be so lettered as he.”

“Best to keep quiet, anyway,” said Demok.

“Well spoken, for perhaps he hath adherents of his own.” Massedar shook his head, clenching and unclenching his fist. “He, a traitor. That provideth how the thief so well knew where to uncover the Alabaster Staff. Surely the black hand holdeth it now. Would that I knew what other poison and slander he hath spread amidst this house. He hath betrayed everything. The memory of his deity incarnate, the future of his people, and the trust of his benefactor. All these hath he yielded up to the hunger of a foreign god. Such bitter news must I endure. Where is Ahegi at this hour?”

“Hunting Kehrsyn.”

“Seeketh he to still her tongue ere it can uncover his treason. Thus hath he pronounced his own doom,” said Massedar, and though his voice was calm Demok noticed that his body trembled. “Find thou him, Demok. Do thou whatsoever thou must, to slay this wayward kin-seller who playeth the harlot to foreign gods in our ancient empire. Slay thou him ere his tongue might wag, seeking to poison thee against this house, even me. Only ensure thou that the head remaineth attached to the body, and the mouth
and brain save thou undamaged. The fate of the rest I leave in thy hands and whims, if they be fast and sure. When thou hast finished, then shalt thou bring the body unto me. Thence shall we divine where his cabal hath placed my Alabaster Staff. Go thou now, to the kill.”

“Pleasure, sir,” said Demok, bowing ever so slightly as he turned away.

Kehrsyn huddled by the fire, wrapped in her blankets. Occasionally she turned her clothes over or rotated them around to expose fresh portions to the fire. She smiled as she saw them slowly drying. They would feel good to put on, nice and warm and dry.

A knocking at the front door sent her scrambling for her rapier before she realized that, of everyone she’d seen come and go, only Demok would have the consideration to knock. She chuckled in relief and embarrassment, quickly gathering her blankets around herself as he entered.

“Hi,” she said. “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” said Demok with a dangerous smile. Though his cloak hung limp and dripped rainwater, his eyes had a satisfied gleam like that of a cat. “I am to kill Ekur.”

Beside the fire, Kehrsyn closed her eyes in thanksgiving. Massedar had heard her story, and her life had been spared.

“Well,” she sighed, “I for one won’t shed any tears when he dies.”

“Need your help.”

Kehrsyn’s eyes popped back open. “You need my help?” She laughed nervously. “I’ve never killed anyone. Well … one, but I didn’t have a choice and I didn’t want to and I can hardly remember any of it anyway, it was so fast. I don’t see how I can be much help to a warrior like you.”

“Ekur has guards,” Demok said.

He looked Kehrsyn in the eye and waited.

“You want me to draw the guards away from Ekur so you can kill him?”

Demok nodded once.

Kehrsyn looked back into Demok’s eyes, steely and penetrating above the determined set of his craggy face.

“I can do that,” she said, for his confident demeanor bolstered her courage against the fear that clawed at her heart.

“Good,” said Demok. He stood and started to walk out of the room. “Get ready. We’ll catch him while he’s still out.”

Kehrsyn grimaced as she turned back to the fire.

“And my stuff was almost dry,” she grumbled, reaching for her clothes.

Demok waited outside for Kehrsyn to prepare, speaking gently to his horse beneath the slim shelter of an overhanging roof. He saw Kehrsyn open the door, her figure silhouetted by the reflected light of the fire. He mounted up and rode over to the base of the ladder. He held his hand out to help her up behind him.

She took his hand and paused.

“So what do I do?” she asked.

“Mount up. Talk as we ride.”

“No, I mean, how do I get up there?”

“Never ridden?”

Kehrsyn shook her head with an embarrassed look.

Nimbly sliding off the horse, Demok stepped behind Kehrsyn, gripped her by her slender waist, and lifted her onto the horse with one mighty heave. Kehrsyn squealed in mixed fear and delight. Once she was up, Demok mounted behind her and took the reins.

Through the rain-washed city streets they moved, Kehrsyn riding in front of Demok, gripping his arms to stabilize herself. She seemed glad to hold onto the rock-steady soldier, and, for his part, he did his level best to ignore it.

They discussed the plan as they rode, Demok constantly alert for the sights or sounds of any of the Wing’s Reach guards.

“Can’t I have the horse?” asked Kehrsyn. “That way I’d be sure to get away.”

“No,” said Demok. “Can’t change. Left with a horse, have to ride back on one.”

“You could say I took it from you,” said Kehrsyn, turning over her shoulder to look at Demok. In answer, all she got was a wry smile.

They continued to search, crisscrossing the city streets and gradually moving closer to Wing’s Reach.

“That’s them,” said Demok. “Lie down.”

Kehrsyn lay low against the horse’s back, one arm reaching forward to grip the front of the horse’s harness, the other arm held close to her body with the hand tightly gripping the horse’s mane. She hid her head to one side of the horse’s large neck. Demok slung his cloak over her to conceal her form as well as he could. For the rest, he would rely on the poor visibility and his cleverness.

He rode up to a pair of guards carrying a lantern.

“Ho there,” said one. The other sneezed.

“Ahegi?” asked Demok, casually steering away from the two, so that Kehrsyn’s head and reaching arm remained on the far side of the horse. He kept his mount pacing forward, both to imply urgency and to help keep Kehrsyn concealed behind the motion.

“Yonder, two blocks out,” said the guard in answer, pointing. “He’s a slave-driver. The gal’s long gone, but he’ll have us out here searching every nook and rat hole, block by block, until dawn comes or we catch our death of the flux.”

“Whichever comes second,” added the other guard.

Demok waved and continued forward. He circled around to the far side of Ekur, to place Kehrsyn and himself between the former priest and Wing’s Reach, then he turned his horse back toward where the guard had indicated Ekur would be found.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I guess,” she replied, and he helped her dismount. “Ooh, this is cold,” she grumbled as she moved away.

Demok watched as she glided down the side street in front of him, reached the end, and looked around.

She slid back and said, “This’ll do. Just be sure you pass me first.”

Demok nodded, and she moved off again. He waited until she was in position at the head of the side street, where it connected to the main thoroughfare. He walked his horse down the side street as well. As he approached Kehrsyn’s position, he could hear her teeth chattering.

The horse passed her hiding place and trotted out into the street.

Ekur and a few aides and senior guards stood forty yards away, well lit by a cluster of lanterns. Demok noted with scorn that one fawning aide held a parasol over Ekur’s head, despite the fact that the latter had a rain cloak and wore his hood up.

“Ahegi!” bellowed Demok, cupping his hands to his mouth to be heard over the heavy rain.

Three bull’s-eye lanterns swung around to illuminate the horse and rider. A mere heartbeat after Demok became fully illuminated, Kehrsyn bolted from her hiding place nearby, knocking over a barrel and shovel. She fled down the street. The sudden racket drew the bull’s-eye lanterns’ glare.

As soon as their beams alighted on Kehrsyn’s fleeing back, Ekur’s shriek carried through the night: “She’s heading back to Wing’s Reach. Stop her! Catch her and kill her.”

The portly old priest gesticulated wildly in the rain, his sheer hysteria whipping his followers to immediate action. With a clatter of steel weapons and cleated boots, everyone around, even the bearer of the parasol, rushed after the fleet young woman, their lanterns jostling in the rain like fireflies caught in a waterfall.

Within the span of a tenbreath, the street was vacant except for Demok and Ekur, the latter bearing a staff that glowed with a powerful, magical light.

“I thank thee for flushing the quarry,” said Ekur as Demok rode up to him.

“She is not the problem,” said Demok as he dismounted.

“She is more than trouble enough,” said Ekur.

Demok stepped closer, reaching beneath his cloak to pull a small item from his vest.

“I have a clue to the turncoat in Wing’s Reach,” the warrior said.

Ekur drew back slightly and assumed a more commanding stance.

“Hast thou?” asked Ekur.

Demok nodded, held out one hand, and said, “This was in the quarters of one of our people.”

He placed a small silver brooch in Ekur’s palm, and the aged former priest brought his lighted staff closer to inspect the item. He gasped when he recognized the intricate design worked into the brooch. It was a gasp that, Demok noted, was at once both relief and alarm, as when one dodges an asp only to step upon the tail of a lion. Ekur turned the brooch over in his pudgy hand, his breath quickening in fear.