Slowly, so as not to give alarm, Azriim reached into an inner pocket of his cloak and withdrew something wrapped in a silken handkerchief. Cale's stomach churned.
When Azriim unveiled the severed fingers that lay within, the half-drow's grin widened. He cast them to the road, near Cale's feet. The easterner smirked, though his gray eyes remained hard. Vraggen showed no emotion but his cloak pin, shaped like a jawless skull, seemed to leer.
'Those are three of his fingers, Cale,' the mage said. 'Next time, it shall be his tongue. After that, only Savras can say. But you should know that I can maintain his life for some time even while removing substantial amounts of flesh, which I will do, if necessary. And after that, I will come for you.' Vraggen fixed his gaze on Cale. 'Do not trifle with me, Cale. Is it clear to you that I am in earnest?'
It was, but Cale would not give the bastard the satisfaction of an acknowledgement.
'You were leaving, I believe,' said Cale.
Vraggen looked past Cale to Riven and said, 'You could join me, Drasek. We were both Zhents once, allies even. I could use you now, and I can pay you well.'
Riven sneered, 'You couldn't pay me enough. Self-important dolts like you are the reason I left the Network in the first place.'
Vraggen's eyes went hard. His lips twisted into a contemptuous smile.
'I frightened you the last time we met, did I not, Riven? Probably left you teary eyed in the street, bawling like a babe. Next time you won't come back from that place.'
Riven started toward the wizard and said, 'Frighten? Let me show you how frightened-'
Cale grabbed Riven's cloak and stopped the assassin's advance. Riven didn't take his eye off the wizard.
'Take your hand off me, Cale.'
Cale could feel the tension in the assassin's body.
'Not now, Riven.' He shook him once, hard. 'Not now. But that time will come.'
Riven looked at him, let his body relax, then looked back to Vraggen.
'You're already dead, mage,' the assassin said. 'And you'll never see me coming. After this little bit with the sphere is over, you'd better sleep with one eye open.'
Vraggen stared holes at them and said, 'After this is over, I won't sleep at all.'
Cale had no idea what that meant, but he'd had enough.
'Leave,' he ordered.
Vraggen looked to Cale, smiled, and nodded at Riven.
'It is well that you can control your dog, Cale,' he chuckled. 'But, as you said, we were leaving. Azriim, gather up our dog and let us be on our way.'
Cale thought Vraggen wanted Azriim to retrieve Dolgan's corpse, but to Cale's utter amazement, Dolgan was still alive. The big man's leg twitched. He gave a. wet groan. His armor and tunic were stained dark with enough blood to fill a well bucket but somehow he still breathed. Cale couldn't believe it. His blow would have felled an ogre.
'Trickster's hairy toes,' Jak breathed, and he shrank away from the big man.
Azriim sheathed his blade, stepped forward without a hint of wariness-Cale or Jak could have stabbed him through the chest-and helped Dolgan to his feet. Inexplicably, the wounds Cale had dealt the big man had already stopped bleeding.
'Hurt?' Azriim asked him.
'Yes.' Dolgan gave Cale a leer. Blood caked his teeth and mouth. 'But it's a good hurt.'
'Mind the clothes,' Azriim said, and he held the big man at arm's length to keep Dolgan's bloodstained tunic away from his finery.
In that moment, Cale thought with certainty that Dolgan must be insane, or a worshiper of Loviatar, or perhaps both.
Azriim and Dolgan backed off-Azriim eyeing Jak darkly-until they stood beside Vraggen and the little easterner near the mouth of the alley. Jak slid nearer to Riven and Cale.
'Two days, Cale,' Vraggen said. 'For the guard's take, do not be late and do not attempt any trickery.'
'You bring him to the Twisted Elm-intact-and you'll have your sphere, intact.'
Vraggen nodded. Azriim gave a graceful bow.
'A pleasure, gentlemen,' said the half-drow, 'and I use that term casually. I'll look forward to our next meeting.'
'As will I,' said Cale, and promised violence with his gaze.
Riven pointed his swords at the easterner and added, 'And if you step between me and your pet wizard again, maybe we'll have our dance after all, eh?'
The easterner said nothing, merely spat, sheathed his blade, and glared.
'Until then,' Vraggen said, and he removed from his robes a teleportation rod similar to that used by the attackers in Stormweather Towers.
Each of the mage's team removed a similar rod. A few turns of the bronze devices and all but Azriim were gone.
The half-drow delayed a fraction of a heartbeat, and in that moment, his laughing voice sounded in Cale's head, What do you think of my new pants?
Then he too was gone. But for Dolgan's blood on the ground of the alley, the combat might never have occurred.
Cale, Riven, and Jak stared at one another in silence for a long moment.
After a time, Jak summed up all of their thinking.
'Dark,' he cursed. 'Dark and empty.'
Cale agreed. Who were these bastards?
'Your hand,' he said to Jak.
'Huh? Oh.'
Jak sheathed his punch dagger, took out his holy symbol, and intoned a prayer to Brandobaris. The skin of his hand closed completely. He flexed it, seemed satisfied.
'Now I need a smoke,' the halfling said. He took out his pipe and popped it in his mouth, though he didn't light it.
'You?' Cale asked Riven, and indicated the slash the assassin had taken on his forearm.
'It's shallow. Save the spell.'
Cale didn't argue. The thought of using a healing spell on Riven made him uncomfortable anyway.
The assassin held the sleeve of his cloak against the wound and pressed hard to stop the bleeding.
'Let's get out of here,' Cale said. 'Nothing has changed. We still head for Jak's contact.' He kneeled, repacked the half-sphere in his pack, and used a handkerchief-he habitually carried one; once a butler always a butler, he supposed-to pick up Ren's fingers. They would serve as Cale's talisman until he brought the young man back safely.
'Your sage is going to have two days,' Cale said to Jak. 'I want to know what this sphere is before the meet at the Twisted Elm.' He looked at each of Riven and Jak in turn. 'Whatever it is though, our priority remains getting Ren back safely. Agreed? He's just a boy, caught up in this by Beshaba's own ill luck.'
'Agreed,' said the halfling.
'Agreed,' said Riven, managing to sound only a little reluctant.
Cale sheathed his blade.
'That doesn't mean we're giving Vraggen the sphere,' he added. 'That only means we're getting Ren back alive. Either way, we hunt them down and kill them all afterward. Agreed?'
Riven sheathed his sabers, smiled hard, and said, 'Agreed.'
Jak said in a softer tone, 'Agreed. But…'
Cale looked at him and asked, 'But?'
'Did you see how fast they healed, Cale?' Jak tapped the stem of his pipe on his chin the way he did when thinking hard. 'Both the half-drow and the small one. And that big one with the axe? No one should have lived through that. Look at all the blood.'
Cale looked to the pool of blood congealing on the cobbles of the alley-Dolgan's blood. He thought the same thing.
