The question hung in the air. The easterner's mouth twisted, he bit down on his tongue so hard it bled. He shook his head, sweating, breathing heavily.
Abruptly, Cale's spell ended. He knew it because the easterner's eyes cleared; his expression turned from fearful to defiant.
Cale grabbed him by his cloak and shook him.
'What are you?' he pressed.
'The abyss take you,' the easterner said.
Riven slammed a dagger into the man's hand, pinning it to the barrel and eliciting a scream of agony.
'Wrong answer,' the assassin hissed. He replaced the gag and reached around to pick up a hammer and several nails from his black bag. 'I'll begin with your kneecaps.'
Cale halted him with a hand on his wrist and a shake of his head.
Riven glared at him, his eye hard, and said, 'He knows more, Cale.'
Cale knew, but he couldn't get it, not that way. He shook his head again.
Riven gave way. With an angry snarl, he turned to the easterner and thumped him in the temple with his hammer. Not a killing blow. The man groaned and sagged, unconscious.
'You'll regret this,' Riven said, and began to gather up his implements.
Maybe, Cale thought. But he knew he would have regretted the alternative more.
When he and Riven emerged from the barn, he saw that the rain had stopped at last. Behind them, the bound easterner lay unconscious on the wood-planked floor. Cale was pleased that they had not resorted to … other methods. The spell-enhanced interrogation had revealed enough.
The halfling saw them coming. He hopped off the trough upon which he sat. Even in the dark, Cale could see that the color had drained from Jak's face.
'Is he …?'
'No,' Cale said. 'Just unconscious.'
Jak started to walk past them for the barn. Cale stopped him.
'It didn't come to that, Jak.'
Jak looked him in the face, judging the truth of Cale's words. He nodded.
'What would you do anyway, Fleet?' Riven spat, contempt heavy in his tone. 'Comfort him?'
'Ignore him,' Cale said. He guided Jak back to the trough, sat him down, and sat down beside him.
To get the halfling's mind on other things, he went right into what they had learned.
Jak's eyes went wide.
'Shade!' the halfling exclaimed. 'Like the Netherese? Burn me, Cale! Those dark hearted bastards aren't even human. I've heard …' He stopped and shook his head. 'Why?'
Cale shrugged. 'Immortality. Power. Something else. We don't know. In the end, it doesn't matter. This isn't over just because we got Ren back. We're going to stop the mage, and we're going to kill him.'
Jak nodded, pulled his pipe from a belt pouch, and twirled it between his fingers. His eyes went to Cale's pack.
'How does the sphere fit into this?' the halfling asked.
Cale shook his head and answered, 'Not sure of that either. Maybe it tells him when to enter the temple, or when to perform the ritual. Maybe something else altogether. But at least now we learned the where and the what. We know where to start looking. And in the morning, we take the sphere to Sephris and find out the when.'
'The morning. .' Jak said, nodding, and his gaze went distant. He sat silent for a time. 'What about him?' he asked at last, indicating the barn.
'It, you mean,' Riven said. 'That's not a man, Fleet. His wounds start to close the moment they're made.'
Jak looked at Cale sharply.
'Only a couple,' Cale explained. 'Just to knock him out.'
Jak accepted that.
Riven said, 'Only one thing to do with a creature like that. We cut him into pieces and burn the remains. Not even a troll comes back from that.'
Riven said it so matter-of-factly that even Cale blanched. Jak went pale.
'That a problem for you, Fleet? The Harpers didn't teach you how to get your hands dirty?'
'Piss off,' Jak barked. 'I know what you wanted to do in there. I know what you are.'
Those words reminded Cale of Tazi's rebuke. I know what you are. He felt covered in filth and was not sure that he could ever get it off.
Riven stepped toward Jak and eyed him coldly.
'You don't know a thing, little man. You never leave enemies alive behind you. Never. You'd see that if you stopped thinking like a woman.'
Jak bristled. His hand went to his short sword.
'Enough,' said Cale, and he grabbed Jak's wrist.
In his heart, Cale knew that Riven was right. They couldn't leave the easterner alive. Jak couldn't yet see that, but he would. He just needed some time. Cale was going to have to cover Jak's soul in filth too.
'Let me think about it,' Cale said, and he put a subtle emphasis on the word 'me' while he eyed Riven. To Jak, he said, 'You do the same.'
'Cale …' Riven said.
'Leave it alone,' Cale snapped, and Riven did. Cale took a deep breath. 'We can't take him back into the city, so we'll have to sleep here tonight.
'In the barn?' Jak asked, obviously appalled.
Riven sneered.
'No,' said Cale. 'The rain has stopped. Outside. Here. Find a dry spot and we'll light a fire. We've all done it before. We keep a watch on the easterner throughout the night. We'll decide tomorrow what to do with him. Agreed?'
He looked each of Jak and Riven in the eye, saw no overt disagreement, and decided to be satisfied with that.
The dying embers of the fire provided Serrin's current form little warmth. He lay on his side on the damp ground, his arms and legs tightly bound with cord, his mouth gagged with a strip of cloth. Through slitted eyes, he watched the halfling. The little creature watched Serrin wearily through bloodshot eyes. The other two humans slept nearby-the one-eyed assassin and the bald priest. They had threatened Serrin with pain; soon he would teach them all the true meaning of the term. Already he could imagine the sticky sweetness of their heartsblood on his tongue. He savored the thought of the taste. He had fed on humans before. Like most of his broodmates, he preferred the creamy consistency of brains.
For a time he feigned sleep and listened to their breathing-deep and regular. He knew that the time to stop that breathing was approaching. After that, he would return to Azriim and his brood.
The fact that Azriim had abandoned him bothered him little. Serrin would have done the same. He and Azriim were broodmates, nothing more. Their kind did not waste time on idle sentimentality. Existence offered only two alternatives, Serrin knew: pleasure and pain. Power was the sole means of gaining the former and administering the latter. There was nothing else to life. The emotions supposedly 'felt' by humans only obscured that basic truism.
Besides, saving Serrin would have taken time, created risk, and possibly compromised the Sojourner's cause. And Serrin and Azriim's ultimate loyalty-indeed, the ultimate loyalty of the whole brood-was to the Sojourner. It was the Sojourner who had bred them from chaos. It was the Sojourner alone who could give them what they craved: freedom from service and the transformation to gray. In short, the Sojourner offered them power.
But first, Serrin thought, he would administer some pain.
He opened his eyes wide and stared at the halfling. The small creature returned his gaze without blinking but Serrin could smell the unease in his sweat. He grinned around the gag and the halfling went pale. His hand went to his paltry blade. He started to stand.
With only a thought, Serrin effected a spell that would hold the halfling immobile. The small creature gave a
