No! he thought. Not even Thamalon could forgive such a lie.
With a conscious effort of will, he swallowed the temptation and instead said, 'Yes, Lord. Forgive my presumption, but my cousin remains in some minor difficulty. I wonder if I might have leave to use one of the old carriages and the tallhouse on Lurvin Street for the next two days.'
At that, Thamalon sat forward, eyes intent, his bushy brows narrowed in thought. 'This must be a serious matter for you to put yourself out so, Erevis. Perhaps I can be of some help.'
'No, Lord,' Cale quickly replied, even while loving Thamalon for the offer. 'I must do this alone. I cannot risk the Uskevren reputation by having the doings of my cousin associated with the family. This is a matter to be kept between him and me.'
'Hmm.' Cale saw discernment in Thamalon's gaze and knew the Owl suspected the story to be false. Yet his lord respected his privacy and probed no further. Cale loved him all the more for that.
'Very well then, Erevis. The carriage is yours, as is the tallhouse.'
'Thank you, Lord.' Cale unfolded his tall frame from the chair and rose. 'Lord Uskevren, I do not know how this business will play out, but-'
'Erevis,' Thamalon cut him off, eyes aglow with worry, 'will you not let me help? I see that you are distressed. You of all people need keep no secrets from me. I have trusted you utterly for years. Will you not trust me with this?'
Cale choked on the bitter taste of his own lies. He lowered his head to hide his suddenly welling eyes. I have trusted you utterly. He did not even trust himself enough to reply.
After an uncomfortably long silence, Thamalon sighed and nodded. 'I understand. We all have our secrets. Take care of yourself then, Erevis.'
'Yes, Lord,' Cale managed to mutter, and hurried from the library.
Overcome with guilt, he stumbled to his quarters. After lighting a candle on the night table he collapsed into his reading chair and held his head in his hands. He sat that way a long while, inhaling the smell of his deceptions. It had been his idea to plant a guild spy within House Uskevren. It was he who had arranged for the previous butler to die in a street robbery. His doing, all of it.
That was before I knew them, he rationalized, before I changed He had left his door open, and a soft knock on the door-jamb snapped his head up.
Framed in the soft glow of the candlelight, Thazienne's beauty stole his breath. Tight-fitting leather breeches and a laced jerkin highlighted the sleek curves of her figure. She wore her raven hair cut short, Cormyrean fashion, accenting a smooth complexion and shining green eyes. She somehow managed to look both naive and self- possessed all at the same time. That beauty-that fearless innocence-drew Cale to her like a lodestone to iron.
'I heard you come in,' she said with a playful smile, 'and saw that your door was open-' When she saw his face, her smile vanished into a look of worried concern. 'Erevis, what's wrong?' She rushed across the room and sat on the arm of his chair. Her light touch on his forearm sent his heart spinning. Her smell, of lavender and rose oil, intoxicated him.
She is beyond you, fool, he reprimanded himself. Ten years your younger and the daughter of your lord. What would she have to do with a fraud and liar like you?
His internal protestations melted in the warmth that came off her body.
'Erevis, what is it? Has something happened?'
He got a firm grip on himself before looking into her eyes. 'Are you going out?' He made a gesture that took in her thieving leathers.
She shot him a look that would have done her mother proud. 'Do not change the subject, Erevis Cale. I asked you if something has happened.' Despite her stern tone, her soft eyes glowed with concern. Cale wilted.
'Yes, Thazienne. Something has happened. Something… terrible. I have to go away for a while. I hope… I hope to come back soon.'
She sat bolt upright. 'Hope? What do you mean? Where are you going?'
He shook his head. 'I can't tell you, Thazienne-'
'Is this some task my father set you on? If he is putting you in danger…' She jumped to her feet and looked as though she might storm off to find Thamalon on the instant.
'No, no, it's nothing like that.' He brushed his fingers across her arm to turn her around. Her skin was so smooth. 'It's nothing like that,' he said again, the feel of her flesh still tingling on his fingertips. 'It's personal business.'
'Personal? Then tell me what it is. Maybe I can help.' She pulled back her jerkin to reveal a dagger at her belt and Cale caught a tantalizing flash of skin. 'You know I'm no amateur to our kind of work.'
Our kind of work. Thazienne knew that he could handle himself in the shadows but nothing more about his past. He had played down his skills and explained them as the result of a wild youth.
'No,' he conceded, 'I know you're no amateur.' He studied her eyes, seeking her soul. She stared back for only a moment before turning shyly away. Despite her 'wilding,' he was confident that her hands remained free of real bloodshed. He wanted them to stay that way. 'This is a different kind of work.'
'You think I can't handle it?' Her stance and the hard set of her jaw told him only one answer was acceptable.
'No, it's not that. I have to do it alone.'
'Why?'
'Damn it, Tazi, I can't tell you why!'
She gave a start at that. He never called her Tazi, only Mistress Uskevren in the presence of others, or Thazienne when they were alone. She shook her surprise off quickly and said, 'You mean you won't tell me why.'
He hung his head, frustrated but unwilling to give in to anger. Not when this might be the last time he ever saw her. 'I just can't, Thazienne. Please? I can't.'
She huffed and considered him coolly for a long moment. 'Very well then, Erevis Cale. Have it your way.' She spun on her heel and stomped for the hall. Her steps slowed as she crossed the room, as though with each step she took her anger dissipated fractionally. When she reached the doorway she stopped, quivering, her back to him. 'You be careful, Erevis,' she said without turning. 'Whatever this is, be careful. You take care of this the same way you take care of everything, all right? Then… come back.'
Cale could hear the tears in her voice, but before he could say a word, she pulled the door shut and hurried down the hall.
'Goodbye, Tazi,' he whispered through welling eyes.
A fitful sleep came with difficulty and he rose before dawn.
The red wax dripped like blood onto the parchment, sealing the letter, likely sealing his fate. Cale had written it earlier in the morning, his light script an ironic counterpoint to the weight in his soul. Tonight, the letter read. Tenth hour. Drover's Square. Minimal Guard. A simple letter with a message that would be meaningful only to Riven-but its delivery would change Cale's life. Or end it. This letter would set everything into motion, and make his choice irrevocable.
All choices are irrevocable, he chided himself. That's why you're in this fix in the first place.
He had made most of the necessary preparations before dawn, while the Uskevren still slept. He thought it best to act quickly so that Riven would have minimal time to assemble the hit team. Without explanation, he had informed the staff of his upcoming absence and set the household affairs in order. He had personally readied the carriage and loaded it with a locked wooden trunk taken from his quarters.
Like a coffin holding a long dead corpse, that trunk entombed the trappings of his past life: enchanted leather armor taken from the bloody body of a rival, Selbrin Del, on a wharf in Westgate; the still keen-edged blades, both long and short, with which he did his work; and the deadly, magical necklace and the potion of healing given him by Amaunt Corelin, a grateful mage. He had hoped to leave that trunk locked forever, the contents never to be exhumed, but circumstances had made that impossible. The old Cale had to be resurrected.
Smiling mirthlessly, he rose from the walnut desk and strode across the parlor to the orange uniformed messenger boy standing in the doorway.
