were on high alert for footpads as well as for his quarry. Fortunately, this particular warforged hadn’t been created for stealth, and Kalev, silent in his soft-soled boots, had no trouble following Sheroth’s thudding footfalls as the warforged stomped over cobbles and packed dirt.
Abruptly, the lumbering footsteps ceased. Kalev skidded to a halt at the corner of a sagging timber and brick warehouse. Dagger ready, he eased himself around the corner.
Someone whimpered. Kalev’s eyes darted left to see a pile of tattered darkness shifting on the other side of a darkened threshold. Kalev peered more closely and saw a slender girl staring back at him, tightly clutching a bundle of rags.
“Don’t go back there,” whispered the girl.
“Why?” Kalev stepped up to the threshold and crouched down in front of the girl. “What’s back there?”
The girl drew a huge breath.
“Idiot!” cried a familiar female voice.
Kalev was snatched from behind and once more tossed against the wall. This time his head connected with the filthy bricks and stars exploded across his vision. When his eyes cleared, he saw the woman from the duke’s study barrel past him and collide with the girl, knocking them both into the darkness of the warehouse.
“Don’t!” cried the girl as she groped backward one-handed, clutching her bundle more tightly.
Kalev found his feet. The warforged filled the narrow alley juncture. Inside the warehouse, the woman…
The woman blurred and changed. Then there were two girls, one in rags, one practically swimming in the tunic and trousers the woman had worn. The first girl stared, eyes bugging out.
Then, that ragamuffin also blurred, and also changed, becoming an orc with heavy arms and a wide, grinning mouth, but still with the bundle of rags clutched in one clawed hand.
The second girl shifted, and then the orc faced an elf, slim and golden haired.
“Don’t just stand there,” rumbled Sheroth from behind Kalev.
Kalev gaped at the warforged, who wore a broadsword on his back and a morningstar at his hip. “What about you?”
“Too big.” Sheroth looked down at him with glowing eyes. “Not too big to get you, though.”
Kalev swallowed. It had not been his night.
Inside the warehouse, the two… beings… shifted and shifted again, becoming human, monster, male, female, beautiful, hideous, by turns. Two things did not change-the bundle of rags held by the one, and the clothing of the other. Which gave Kalev his target, whom had now shrunk to become a bearded dwarf in full armor.
Kalev gritted his teeth, hefted his dagger, and charged.
Kalev hit the dwarf with his shoulder and they went down together, rolling and grappling. Despite what Kalev’s eyes told him, his hands felt no mail, or hair, just muscled flesh. Nails raked his face.
WHAM!
The building shuddered around them as Sheroth-a living battering ram-slammed against the doorway. Praying the warforged didn’t bring the aging building down on top of them, Kalev stabbed down at his opponent. The pseudo-dwarf howled as the dagger struck home, and he kicked straight into Kalev’s belly with both feet. The wind left Kalev in a rush and he catapulted backward. A second figure leaped over him, slim as a girl but with white skin and ivory hair tinged with lavender. The being wore the woman’s tunic, trousers, and jewels, and wrapped its bare hands around the other shapechanger’s throat. The shapechanger choked and growled, and reverted to a bundle of dark sinewy limbs and snarling hatred.
Wheezing hard, Kalev forced himself back into his fighting stance. The shapechangers spun round, grappling. Sheroth pounded the narrow doorway, making a deafening thunder over the fight. Kalev looked frantically for an opening as they rolled on the floor, snarling and screaming, and found none.
But he did spot the bundle of rags lying on the ground.
Kalev snatched up the bundle. It was heavy, and about the size of a loaf of bread. Gold gleamed under the tattered sacking.
“Who wants it?” Kalev held the bundle high.
The shapechangers froze and Kalev found himself facing two pairs of eyes, one murderous and dark, one furious and shining amethyst.
“Mine,” croaked the skulk. “Mine or I kill it!”
Kalev had no time to make an answer. The other combatant took advantage of the skulk’s inattention and gouged at its eyes with hooked fingers. The skulk bellowed and threw the other backward so hard she flew through the air and hit a pile of empty barrels with a cry.
“Vix!” Sheroth slammed its bulk once more against the doorframe. The whole building groaned. Wood and brick gave way with a splintering crash. Sheroth rocketed into the low-beamed space.
The skulk howled and leaped and Kalev found himself tumbling head over heels. He stabbed out, then felt his dagger catch and be ripped from his hand, followed by the bundle.
His arms were empty and the skulk was bounding for the much-enlarged doorway. Sheroth planted himself in its path, but it dived straight between the warforged’s massive legs. Kalev tried to scramble after it, but tumbled over one of the barrels dislodged by Vix’s impact and turned another undignified somersault to slam up against Sheroth’s shins.
The skulk vanished into the night.
Sheroth shook his head and set Kalev on his feet. Then he shuffled past, almost on his knees he had to crouch so low.
“You all right, Vix?”
“Just about.” Vix sat with her head in her hands, her wild white hair sticking out in all directions. When she looked up, she caught Kalev staring at her.
“You’re a changeling,” he said.
“And you’re a fool.” Vix spat blood and dust and wiped her pale mouth.
Kalev shrugged. “Possibly.” He reclaimed his dagger and sheathed it. “But my name is Kalev.”
She glowered at him with her bright amethyst eyes. Kalev knew some changelings didn’t think of themselves in terms of human gender, but he couldn’t make himself think of the pale being in front of him as a “he,” much less an “it.”
“Do you want to tell me what this is about?” Kalev gestured around the warehouse.
Vix shifted her weight uneasily and glanced up at Sheroth. Sheroth shook his heavy head.
“I’ve already saved your life,” Kalev pointed out. “You at least owe me an explanation.”
Vix eyed Sheroth. This time Sheroth only shrugged, the plates that formed its shoulders grating together.
Vix slumped forward, resting her forearms on her knees. “It’s not that complicated. A piece of property was stolen. It was traced to Duke Arisor. I was… hired to get it back. Quietly.”
“Hired?” Kalev arched his brows.
“More or less.” The changeling rubbed a smear of cobweb from her pale forehead.
“And would I be correct in assuming this piece of property is more than just an ugly statuette?”
Vix studied her fingertips a moment before she met Kalev’s gaze. “It’s called the Memory Eye and it’s a magical artifact. Other than that, I don’t know, and I’m dead anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.”
Kalev arched his brow. “Dead?”
“Metaphorically speaking. I hope.” Vix got to her feet, using Sheroth’s arm to steady herself. “I can’t believe I let it get away!” With surprising gentleness, the warforged laid a hand on the changeling’s slim shoulder.
“Do you even know what that was?” asked Kalev.
“It was a skulk. Foul thing.” Vix spat again. “Must have been a mesmerist. That kind can cast an illusion on its victims. A lot of people think they’re shapeshifters, which just makes life more difficult for those of us who truly are.”
Kalev nodded. A lot of people did not like or trust changelings, believing that their ability to change form made them inherently devious.
“But skulks aren’t thieves,” said Kalev. “They’re predators. Why would this one give up the chance for a kill for this… what did you call it? Memory Eye?” Arisor had been involved in some shady dealings, but according to Kalev’s information, he’d never dealt in magical artifacts.
Vix cocked her head toward him. “You know a lot for a sneak thief.”
