withered, slim trunk of a tree that had somehow managed to endure the winds that blew in off the ocean.
Lorinda. Poor child. Pedric had not betrayed himself by word, look, or deed, but Damir had been in his mind tonight. He had tasted Lorinda's lips, had felt Pedric's love for the girl. And he had endured Pedric's fear of rejection when he was about to tell Lorinda that he was a thief. Slightly censorious, Damir thought that Pedric should have known better than to steal away so far from anyone else. Two young rich people, alone in a maze, were a tempting target for greedy thieves, and Pedric couldn't be sure that his 'fellow' thieves would recognize him in time. But Pedric was young, and the blood in his veins sang sweet and hot, and Damir was not so old as to have forgotten what that song did to one's judgment.
He scrambled over the rocks, nearly twisting his ankle. Normally when he came here, he was dressed for the excursion. Soft boots and hose were hardly appropriate for scrambling over rocks late at night.
At last Damir reached the spot. Though it was summer, the breeze off the ocean was chilly, and he shivered. He hadn't even brought a cloak. He physically steadied himself on the rock as he mentally steadied himself to call on his finest spy.
The song he had been taught was not for the ears or voice. Damir thought the notes, extended his presence, felt the song shudder through the stone, the sand, into the waters of the sea itself. And in his mind, he heard an answer.
A distance away, a dolphin broke the surface, leaped into the air, and crashed back down into the water. When it next emerged, it no longer looked like a sleek fish-mammal, but a man, albeit such a man as never walked the surface of Verold.
'This is not our night for meeting,' said Darshirin, his voice soft and velvety, scarcely heard above the eternal lullaby of the ocean.
'This is not a night for common talk,' rejoined Damir.
Darshirin's slanted eyes narrowed and he swam closer. Damir gingerly sat down on a rock.
'Your heart is sore troubled, my friend. You have called; I answer. What may I do to ease your pain?'
As always, Damir was touched by the sea-being's genuine concern. Many years ago, when Damir was but a lad, he had been on a fishing ship-one of his father's. The late Lord Larath had wanted both his sons to know from whence came their wealth; know and treat those who labored in their service with due respect. They had caught Darshirin, in his dolphin form, in their nets. The young Damir had insisted the creature be set free, even though it meant cutting and damaging the net. Later that night, while Damir was on deck, Darshirin sang a sea-song of gratitude, and was shocked that Damir could hear it. They had been friends ever since, and Darshirin had more than returned the original favor by providing Damir with vital information about the sailing habits of other countries.
'There is a girl who has been stolen from her people,' Damir told his friend. 'I hope you do not see her, for if you do, it will be in the ocean depths. She is tall, fair as we of the land reckon beauty, and full of laughter.' This last, he knew, would count the most in the eyes of one of the People of the Sea. These wise, gentle beings knew mirth far better than humans. He described Lorinda in detail, as well as what happened to her. 'If you see her or hear tell of her, come to me.'
Darshirin's shape bobbed with the rhythm of the waves. When he spoke, his voice was sad. 'Such violence among your own kind… I can hardly conceive. No wonder you do not live long.' Like the mysterious, elusive elves, the People of the Sea seemed to humans to live forever. 'I hope my search is fruitless, and you find your Lorinda safely among the land dwellers.'
'I do, too. Thank you, Darshirin.'
The being smiled, and disappeared beneath the glassy surface. From a distance he flicked his fluked tail in a farewell gesture, and Damir was alone.
He did not return at once to his waiting and no doubt chilled mare. He sat staring, and wondering at the peaceful natures of those who dwelt beneath the surface of the sea, and at the dark, bloodthirsty character of those he called his own people. At last he sighed and rose to his feet.
'Lorinda,' he said to the sea and star-filled sky, 'please come home safely.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
The lamb shall bleat, and cast up its eyes, but you must harden your heart, for its blood shall buy you favor in the eyes of the gods.
'Why in the Nightlands didn't you let me kill him, bitch?' grunted Freylis, shifting his burden as he spoke.
Marrika turned cold eyes upon her lover. Wait, she told herself silently. You need him. Wait just a little longer. Then…
'You do not understand vengeance,' she said icily. They walked alone in the night, their path paralleling the winding road that would take them from the Square and the Garden into the heart of the city. She'd feel safer there, among the back streets and dark ways that they both knew so intimately. This road was open, exposed, and although she and Freylis had scouted out a parallel path the night before, it was too close to the main road for her liking. It would not do to be questioned or stopped, not even by their fellow thieves, not with the unconscious body of the girl lying limply in Freylis's ox-strong arms.
They had wrapped her in a blanket, of course, and bound her hand and foot in case she awoke sooner than was convenient. A dirty rag shoved into her mouth made an effective gag. Still, Marrika's eyes flitted about nervously. This was what she had promised the Blesser, and that she could combine her own burning desire for vengeance with the sacrifice formed a pleasantly dark symmetry in her mind. But others would not see it so.
'What do you mean, I don't understand vengeance?' spluttered Freylis, panting a little at the rapid pace. 'I wanted to kill the little slug.'
'I don't want him dead,' she snapped, her patience finally cracking. 'I want him to suffer.' A muscle in her face twitched. 'He seemed fond of her. What we do with her will hurt him far more than a dagger in the gut. You have no subtlety about you, Freylis, none at all.'
Freylis growled menacingly. Time was when that tone would have frightened her, but that time was gone. Ahead and slightly below them, the city opened up, the street system becoming more convoluted. Marrika's heart lifted. Almost there-almost to safety. Not for her the open sky and road. She felt far more comfortable in close quarters, where she could get her back against a wall, or where she could hide in the overlooked corner or shadow.
Khem, known as 'Hound,' would be waiting for them at the first intersection. The dim moonlight revealed nothing so far. She waved Freylis on, following the deserted road-deserted for how long, she wondered-and moved toward the rendezvous point.
Now they saw a darker shadow in the shadows. Khem raised an arm and waved. 'There he is,' said Marrika. They were approaching safety now, albeit a safety that was unpleasant and arduous.
Khem was small and wiry, but the little muscles that knotted his arms and legs were powerful. He had a scar from a recent knife fight that zigzagged across his already ugly face. He flashed Marrika a yellow grin.
'Not sight nor sound of guards so far,' he assured her.
'Excellent,' approved Marrika. 'But let's not take any unnecessary risks.'
None too gently, Freylis put the limp body on the ground and went to help the sinewy Khem move aside the iron grate that opened up into Braedon's sewer system.
Few cities could boast a sewage system as fine as that of Braedon, and fewer still had one a third as old. Two centuries ago it was discovered, as the result of a tragic cave-in, that the city of Braedon rested atop an extensive natural cave system. Beneath the city streets, the ocean reached its long fingers well into the land. After the cave-in, in which an enormous sinkhole opened up to swallow the first Council site, Braedon rebuilt with an eye toward using this natural gift.
