little Soolabax had no temple of Kelemvor and that in the absence of doomguides, other clerics had to learn how to prepare the dead for their funerals.
Still, despite the plotters’ best efforts, it was entirely possible the dragonborn would realize the man lying before him wasn’t Aoth. Or that he was no longer alive and therefore this must be some sort of trap.
But it didn’t happen that way. As soon as the dragonborn had the corpse uncovered to the waist, he whipped out a poniard, drove it into his victim’s heart, then turned and headed for the door. He was eager to finish his task and get well away before anyone discovered his handiwork.
Too late, thought Aoth. I’ve got you, you son of a whore.
He gave the assassin time to exit the temple. Then he ran through the building, startling yellow-clad sunlords who were astonished to see him up and around and fully armed. He plunged out into Cera’s garden. Aware of his need through their psychic link, Jet swooped down in front of him.
Aoth swung himself into the saddle. “The dragonborn didn’t spot you, did he?”
“He shouldn’t have,” said the familiar, “but I can’t be sure because I still haven’t seen him.”
“Go,” said Aoth. “Stay high and be quiet.”
Jet grunted. “I know how to hunt.” He loped forward, beat his wings, and carried Aoth aloft.
Once they were well above the rooftops, the griffon flew in a spiral search pattern. At first Aoth couldn’t see any sign of their quarry and feared that somehow the dragonborn had already gotten away. Then he spotted a robed figure hurrying down a narrow, crooked alley.
Got him, said Jet, speaking mind to mind. Now that his master’s fire-kissed eyes had spotted the assassin, he could see him as well. I wonder where he’ll lead us.
Gaedynn considered himself proficient at evading pursuit. But in the past, his goal had generally been to leave the enemy far behind as expeditiously as possible. It was trickier when he needed to stay just a little way ahead so they wouldn’t get discouraged, give up, and go back to their captive dragon. Trickier too, when he was fleeing with a living beacon to draw his pursuers on.
Fortunately, it wasn’t necessary to have the fire spirit constantly burning at his side. He could make her disappear when his foes drew as near as they were now. He held out his hand.
The elemental’s features were a vague, inconstant blur, but he thought he saw her pout. Then she thinned to a long sliver of flame, which leaped into his palm and vanished. The contact stung for an instant-further evidence, perhaps, that she didn’t want to go.
He slipped between two stands of brush, on a course at right angles to the one he’d been following before. He climbed a steep hillside, then looked around.
Dark figures stood clustered together not far from the point where he’d started his ascent. As usual he couldn’t really hear shadar-kai voices, but he suspected they were trying to figure out what direction he’d taken. The elemental’s abrupt disappearance had confused them.
Well, Gaedynn thought, maybe I can help them out with that. He nocked an arrow, drew it to his ear, and let it fly. One of the shadar-kai reeled and fell.
Without even pausing to check on him, the others swarmed up the slope. Gaedynn turned and scurried into a tangle of gnarled, scabrous-looking oaks.
Something whispered from behind one of the trees. A slim, shadowy hand beckoned. It filled him with a yearning so keen that when he strode on anyway, it was like tearing free of a barbed hook. His would-be seducer giggled after him.
He didn’t think the haunt was an ally of the shadar-kai. It was just one of the many small perils infesting the Shadowfell. In fact, for an instant as he peered around, he wondered if he was leaving the chase too far behind. Then a pair of gray-black figures skulked out of the gloom.
Naked, genderless, and hairless, virtually identical, at first glance they looked less like creatures of flesh and blood than living sculptures-and unfinished ones at that. They had empty pits for eyes and a vertical groove to suggest both a nose and a mouth. Otherwise their heads were featureless bulbs.
Gaedynn had seen such things in the company of the shadar-kai. But he had no idea exactly what they were or how they went about attacking a foe, and he hoped to avoid finding out. He snatched out an arrow and drove it into the nearest creature’s chest.
The dark thing frayed apart to nothing. Maybe it was its nature to dissolve when it died, or perhaps the black arrows carried an enchantment that made them particularly deadly to such beings. Pleasantly surprised that the kill had been so easy, Gaedynn pivoted toward his remaining foe.
It was gone. And when it suddenly rematerialized, it was standing right in front of him. Its empty sockets stared into his eyes.
Pain ripped through Gaedynn’s skull. His guts churned. His legs buckled and dumped him to his knees. The faceless creature grabbed his bow, jerked it out of his hand, and tossed it aside.
Hard as it was to think with his head throbbing, Gaedynn realized it was his enemy’s gaze that was hurting him. He tried to avert his eyes. The creature caught his chin in cold, leathery fingers and held his head in place. He struggled to grip its forearm and break its hold, but could only paw and fumble feebly.
He held out his hand and the fire spirit leaped into existence. The dark thing automatically turned its head to track the apparition.
Gaedynn still felt weak and sick, but not quite so much as before. He yanked an arrow from his quiver and stabbed it into his enemy’s stomach like a dagger.
The creature didn’t fall down or break apart, but its grip on Gaedynn’s chin loosened. He knocked its hand away and scrambled to his feet. The ground tilted beneath him, but then he caught his balance.
The dark thing’s head turned back in his direction. Making sure not to meet its gaze, he pulled out another arrow and thrust, aiming for the spot where a human would carry his heart.
Made of a substance that resembled polished obsidian, the black point punched into his adversary’s chest. The creature stumbled backward, but he had the feeling it still wasn’t ready to drop. He drew his scimitar and slashed three times. That made it fall down and start unraveling too.
He just had time to grin. Then a cold hand grabbed him by the wrist of his sword arm and jerked him around.
He could tell from the arrow still sticking out of its chest that it was the first faceless creature, not slain after all. Even though strips of its body had dissolved all the way through from front to back and it was impossible to understand how the remaining pieces maintained their proper positions with nothing but empty air between them. Its eyeless gaze reached out for his own and, startled as he was, he waited an instant too long to start resisting.
He felt compulsion take hold of him. He was going to look, and the fire sprite, now simply standing and watching the struggle from several paces away, wouldn’t save him a second time.
He shifted the scimitar to his off hand and cut at the dark creature’s head. At the same instant, its power blazed into his eyes, and the world exploded into agony.
When the pain ebbed, he was sprawled on his belly. He looked around. The faceless thing was gone again. For good this time, he hoped.
Suddenly the nausea he was suffering became irresistible, and he retched up the contents of his stomach. It left a foul taste and burning sensation in his mouth and nose, but even so he felt better afterward.
Not well, though. He supposed it would take time for the faceless things’ poisonous influence to work its way out of his system completely.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t wait. Sick or hale, he had to move or more of his pursuers would catch up with him. He sheathed the scimitar, retrieved his bow, and loped onward. The living flame fell into step beside him.
Though it was difficult to be certain from high above, Aoth thought that he and Jet were looking down at an apartment house. The assassin slipped through the easternmost in a row of doors.
Aoth decided to descend. Sensing his intent, Jet furled his wings, swooped, and set down lightly in the
