forcing me to choose between you and our brothers.'
'Radu! Have I not been your good and faithful confidant? Have I not shared your own dark secrets with sympathy and fidelity?'
'You are my brother,' said Radu, 'but I will not permit you to endanger Laskar and Pietro. They have remained innocent of our business, and we must keep it that way.'
'Why must the burden fall on us alone?' whined Stan-nis. 'Surely we deserve some indulgence. All I desire is our deserved revenge against those who abandoned our mother.'
'You cannot murder the son of Thamalon Uskevren,' said Radu. 'There's nothing to be gained from it, and far too much to lose.'
'What of the men you have slain, dear brother? What's one Uskevren to a few dozen guild members?' Darrow was only slightly surprised at the implication that Radu had slain so many people, but Stannis said it so casually that he wondered whether the brothers even remembered they were not alone. 'Besides, I said nothing about murdering the poor boy.'
'What else would you do with him?'
'Our friend Rusk is not merely a cleric of the Beastlord,' said Stannis. 'He is a lycanthrope.'
'What?'
'A nightwalker,' said Stannis. 'A skin-changer. A werewolf.'
Radu stared at his inhuman brother. His features remained composed, but Darrow saw the faint line of a vein begin to form on his brow. When he spoke, his voice was cool and quiet. 'You planned to turn him into a werewolf?'
'A delicious thought, is it not?' squealed Stannis. 'But he is already a werewolf, I'm afraid. We can hardly call such a charming coincidence our own revenge. What we must do is take advantage of his condition, use Rusk to bend Talbot to our will.'
'You will stop this mad scheme at once,' said Radu. 'Send Rusk away, and leave the Uskevren alone.'
'But brother, it is-'
'I will hear no more of this,' said Radu.
'What of your sparring partners?' asked Stannis. 'If we are to cower in this hovel like frightened hares, not daring to attract the- attention of the hounds, then I suppose I must stop fetching them for you.'
Radu waved a hand dismissively. 'Unlike you, I can deny myself if the risk is too great.'
'What a pity,' said Stannis. 'Then you shan't be wanting the new arrivals. After all your talk of bladesingers…'
Radu raised an eyebrow, apparently intrigued by his brother's remarks but unwilling to inquire further. 'As long as you acquire them outside the city, the risk is negligible.'
Stannis pressed his fingers together, rising magically from the water to glide slowly toward his brother. Before he could rejoin the argument, however, Radu turned to Darrow as if noticing him for the first time. 'Where is the other one?'
It took Darrow a moment to realize Radu was speaking of Pons. He bowed an apology and said, 'He's dead, master.'
'Put the body in the carriage,' Radu said to Darrow.
'I could send my minions-' began Stannis.
'Keep your filthy spawn off the street,' said Radu. 'In the bay or within these walls, I do not care, but they are not to be seen outside.'
'As you wish,' said Stannis contritely. 'Still, I would be only too glad to dispose of your problem personally. It would save you the trouble-nay, the risk-of taking it to Selgaunt Bay.'
Radu's eyes narrowed, but he said, 'Very well. Bring the body here, then wait for me by the carriage.'
Darrow felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. He knew he had seen and heard far too much. Radu would kill him rather than risk his gossip.
Salvation came from an unexpected source. 'I presume you intend to terminate this young man's employment, brother?' When Radu did not reply, Stannis said, 'I have need of a servant.' 'You have your creatures.'
'Dull, tedious things,' said Stannis. 'They are good for fetching, but little else. Besides, they frighten our guests, your sparring partners. No doubt that accounts for their disappointing performances recently.'
Whatever Stannis intimated made Radu scowl. 'Besides,' persisted Stannis, 'it is lonely here, and you visit so very rarely. Don't be so cruel as to deny my craving for… conversation.'
'He is no courtier,' said Radu. 'His father was a sheep farmer.'
'So long as he can speak in sentences and laugh at my jests, he will be an improvement. What do you say, my dear boy? Would you like to serve another Malveen?'
'I should like that very much, Lord Malveen.' Darrow made the best bow he could muster, imitating the noblemen who greeted ladies disembarking from a carriage.
'Did you hear that, brother?' Stannis giggled and clapped. 'Did you hear what the precious young man called me?' 'You mentioned new arrivals.'
'A matched set,' said Stannis. 'I hope you will adore them as I do. They require some mending, I'm afraid. In a month, perhaps, they should prove entertaining.' 'Very well,' said Radu.
Cool relief washed through Darrow's body. A day ago he wouldn't have believed his good fortune. To serve such a one as Stannis was far more than he deserved. 'What are you called, my boy?' asked Stannis. 'Darrow, if it please my lord.'
'It pleases him,' said Stannis, wheezing with amusement. 'It pleases him very much.'
Chapter 2
Hammer, 1371 DR
Talbot Uskevren stood in the parlor of his tallhouse when the callers rapped at his front door. He turned slowly to check the room one last time before letting them in.
To his right, the door to the small dining room remained slightly ajar. The room beyond was dark, the draperies drawn against the afternoon light. Human eyes could not penetrate the gloom, but Tal nodded to himself as his increasingly keen sight detected the shape he expected there.
Behind him, tiny sconces of continual flames lit the hallway to the servants' quarters and the study. Between the sconces, the polished cherry doors gleamed above a rich camel-hair carpet.
Across from the kitchen, fresh logs rested in the fireplace. Above the unlighted hearth, twin candelabra cast flickering light upon the high, arched ceiling. Above the mantle, a portrait of Perivel Uskevren gazed down at Tal. Perivel's hands were set firmly on the pommel of a gigantic sword. Tal shot a wink to the uncle he'd never known, wishing he felt as confident as Perivel looked.
Beside the front door stood a tall oaken wardrobe, a stand for walking sticks beside it. A pair of stuffed leather chairs, a velvet couch, and two small tables ringed the round Thayvian rug that lay in the center of the room. On one of the tables rested a delicate porcelain tea set.
'All right,' said Tal to the room. 'Here they come.'
He opened the door just as the callers rapped a second time. One of them stumbled forward as the knocker was pulled from her hand, nearly falling into the room with a gust of cold winter air. Tal reached for her arm but checked the habitual gesture before he touched her. It took slightly more effort to restrain his smile at the woman's loss of composure. Beneath her woolen hood, she scowled.
Both visitors were almost a foot shorter than Tal. That wasn't unusual, but at first glance the women looked almost identical. Their deep blue cloaks were clasped with silver brooches in the form of a crescent moon. The woman who had stumbled was slightly more slender than the other, but their cornflower blue eyes were perfect reflections of each other.
'Feena, Maleva, come in,' said Tal, a little too curtly to be polite. He covered his ungallant tone with a
