Boult told them. “She had red hair, but she was badly decomposed.”
“Red hair?” Zo asked, looking over his shoulder at Majida. “That doesn’t sound like one of ours.”
“You’ve seen husk dwarves before?” Boult asked.
“They sent a husk dwarf into the Domain to spy on us,” Majida said. “Our home has been secret for centuries. It took several days before we realized that he wasn’t who he said.”
“How did you figure out what he was?” Verran asked.
“Husks that are made from a spellcaster’s blood are easy to spot because the copy cannot cast spells,” Majida explained. “It’s harder to spot non-casters, like Brill. You have to look for subtler clues.”
“Majida noticed that Brill liked foods that he didn’t before,” Zo said. “None of us would have noticed, and the husk would have led the Ermine straight to us, had we not cut the husk’s head off before he had the chance.”
“You killed him?” Kitto asked.
“He was a spy,” Zo said.
“But… It wasn’t his fault,” Kitto protested.
“He was a spy,” Zo repeated. “A mockery of the natural order.”
“Did you find the dwarf… Brill?” Harp asked. It was very dark in that part of the tunnel, and Harp felt it was an awkward place to stop and have a conversation. Presumably all sorts of skitter-critters used the short cut through the mountain even if the serpentfolk had not discovered it.
“No, he was dead. They killed him when they took his blood.”
“Is that what they did with Liel?” Harp asked bluntly. “Do you think she’s dead?”
“I don’t think so,” Majida said, shaking her head. “But you said
…”
“They usually take the blood and kill the original, yes. But they had other plans for Liel, so they kept her alive.”
“How do you know?”
“I was the last one to see her.”
“When was that?” Harp said in surprise, jerking his head to look at Majida and banging it against the rock ceiling.
“Three days?” Majida said thoughtfully. “No, it has been four days.”
“What!” Harp asked, feeling a jolt of hope at the unexpected news. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I’m telling you now, if you’ll listen,” Majida said patiently. “She had escaped from the cavern with the flesh machine. She was weak from the bloodletting. She said that the Ermine, or Practitioner as you call him, had learned the location of the Torque. She wanted to stop him before he reached it.”
“Did she tell you where she was going?” Harp asked, blinking at the sunlight when they reached the other side of the tunnel.
“She did. And she told me other things as well.”
S@- ‹§› SSS
The wail was animalistic, almost innocent in its desperation and confusion, even though it came from a man who was far from blameless. With her back pressed against the wall of the hut, listening to the sounds of the mercenaries being slaughtered outside, Liel found herself contemplating the nature of guilt and justice. It was easier to think about such philosophical questions in a detached manner rather than listen to the incessant pleas for mercy and sickening sword strokes outside the window. Liel wasn’t one to weep, and she had no love for the mercenaries. But even with all ” the foul acts they had committed in their lives, they didn’t deserve to die like this.
As if he were a glass statue, Cardew had stood motionless. in the middle of the room since the attack started. Liel stared at him, feeling the hatred for him curl inside her belly.
“Why do you do nothing?” Liel hissed, peering over her shoulder through the open window although she couldn’t see much in the darknessjust the flash of a blade in the moonlight, or the submissive crouch of a man as he fell to his knees in supplication before his death.
“What would you suggest I do?” Cardew said dully. There was no anger in his voice. No cocky directive or thinly veiled threat either. The arrogant man who had dominated life in the colony for monthsand restricted her every movementwas gone. Her husband simply sounded defeated.
“They’re your men. Why don’t you help them?” Liel knew that what she was saying was ridiculous. Without her spell to protect them, she and Cardew would be killed just like the mercenaries in the camp.
“They’re not my men. You know that.”
“No, I don’t,” Liel said angrily. “I don’t know anything.”
“Liel, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“I don’t believe you,” she hissed as another sobbing cry of pain rose up in the courtyard.
“Killing the men was never the plan.”
“What was the plan?” Liel demanded.
“We were supposed to be gone. With the Torque.”
“We who? You and me? Or you and them?”
“All of us.”
“Your life is a farce, and you are fraud, Hero of the Realm,” Liel scoffed.
“I saved Ysabel,” Cardew said, his voice shaking.
“Poor, sweet Ysabel. Take care that she never finds out what you’ve been up to in the jungle. She might not idolize you in the same way.”
Something slammed up against the thin wall of the hut with a wet smack, jostling Liel away from her position by the window.
“Is your spell holding?” Cardew asked worriedly.
“Yes, but it won’t stop them from hurling corpses at us. It’s just your basic keep-the-coward-safe spell.”
“I’m not a coward,” Cardew shouted, and Liel took pleasure in having made him angry enough to yell. “I stayed married to you, didn’t I?”
“You bastard. You expect me to thank you for that?”
“Liel,” Cardew said, his voice softening. “You know that my patron is part of the Branch of Linden. For me to be married to an elf… Well, you can imagine what they thought about that.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel bad for you?” Liel said incredulously.
“No, it’s supposed to make you understand how much I love you,” he said, taking her hands in his. “Don’t you remember how it used to be? In Darromar? Weren’t we happy? I still love you, the way I did before.”
Liel jerked her hands away. “Is everything that comes out of your mouth a lie? Tell me one thing that is true. Just one thing.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“The Branch of Linden exists to hurt me and all my kind. How can you say that?”
Outside, the screams of the men were growing less frequent.
“Listen to me” Cardew began.
“No, you listen to me,” Liel said angrily. “You wanted me to make the portal so we could bring the Torque back to Tethyr. Who wants the Torque?”
Cardew shook his head. “I can’t tell you, Liel. But he’s coming. You can’t let him find you.”
“How do you know he’s coming?” Liel demanded.
“As soon as all the men are dead, he will come. You have to be gone. Please, Liel. There’s no reason for me to lie about that.”
“Where exactly do you want me to go? We’re in the middle of Chult, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“You’re clever. I know you’ve been out in the jungle many nights. The guards told me. I don’t know how you’re doing it exactly, but you have to do it. Quickly.”
Liel wasn’t going to admit it to Cardew, but she couldn’t do the spell and transform the way she had so many times before. It took time to become the ocelot, a cream-colored cat with dark-brown rosettes that she had encountered when she first came to Chult. With its grace and speed, the ocelot quickly became her favored animal form, and she had used it on many nights to steal out of the camp and wander freely through the jungle.
“Why did you even bring me to Chult?” she demanded. “Why couldn’t you have left me in the Wealdath? I wouldn’t have stopped you from marrying anyone you wanted.”
