have a weak spot, a vulnerability that Cyric could exploit. What was it? the thief wondered. Ahead, Slater reached for the prism earring, caressing it gently. The thief smiled. Perhaps there was a simple way of finding out.
An hour later Tyzack was off chatting with the commander of a fifty-man contingent from Tasseldale that was located somewhere near the rear of the sizable Zhentish advance. Ren had gone with Tyzack. Cyric moved up through the line and motioned for Slater to join him a few lengths ahead of the Zhentilar. Willingale, one of the Zhentish operatives from Harrowdale, had taken point a few hundred yards ahead of the troops, and Cyric told the others that he and Slater were going to replace him for a while.
'Why are we replacing Willingale on point?' Slater asked as she rode next to the thief. Cyric hesitated, and the flesh of the woman's eyebrowless forehead wrinkled as she flashed her eyes wide open in a gesture that was meant to emphasize her confusion. 'What is it you really want with me?'
'Am I that obvious?' Cyric asked as he looked away from the Zhentish soldier.
Slater grinned. 'Don't ask if you don't want an answer,' she said.
Cyric chuckled softly as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. 'By the gods, it's hot!'
Slater frowned and tapped her fingers on the stock of her crossbow. 'If this of your idea of small talk, I think I'll take my leave,' she grumbled.
'I was merely making an observation,' Cyric snapped, turning to the fighter. 'And I was wondering how observant you have been.'
The woman's eyes narrowed, and she looked at Cyric with mistrust. 'In what regard?' Slater asked.
'I wish to know more about the Scorpions,' Cyric stated flatly, looking straight at the woman.
'I can guess why,' replied Slater, running her hand across her horse's mane. 'It's Tyzack you really want to know about, right?'
This one's brighter than I suspected, the thief thought. 'Aye,' Cyric admitted, trying to look as innocent as possible. 'His actions confuse me. So do yours, for that matter.'
Cyric saw that Slater was intrigued. 'Explain yourself,' she said abruptly.
'You recommended me for second-in-command, when you certainly could have had it yourself. Why would you do such a thing?' Cyric asked, wiping more sweat from his brow.
Slater grinned maliciously. 'Survival. People in that position do not seem to last terribly long in the Scorpions.'
Though Cyric tried to appear shocked, he was actually quite pleased. It seemed that Slater needed very little prompting to tell the truth. That could be a very useful little quirk. 'Yes…,' the thief said at last. 'I thought that something was odd about Croxton's death. Was there someone before him?'
'Yes,' Slater said casually, swatting at a fly that was buzzing around her. 'His name was Erskine.'
'What happened to him?'
'Dead,' Slater stated flatly. 'What else?'
'Tyzack killed him?' Cyric gasped, perhaps a bit too melodramatically. 'Why?'
The warrior shook her head and shrugged. 'Who's to say? We were on our way back from Haptooth Hill. Tyzack, Erskine, Ren, and Croxton had gone off to forage for dinner. Everyone except Erskine returned. We were told that it was an accident. They had separated to cover more ground, and Ren placed a shaft in Erskine… by mistake. They buried him in a shallow grave, and we moved on.'
This time, they left Croxton for the crows with the dead Sembians, Cyric thought. He didn't even merit a shallow grave. 'Maybe they were telling the truth,' the lean thief suggested.
Slater bit her lip, then let out a deep breath. 'Erskine was a troublemaker. He had known Tyzack for many years, even before the formation of our company. The man was loud and stupid, and he took liberties no one in the company would ever dream of risking. Erskine courted death until, one day, it came to collect him. We were all glad to be rid of him.'
'Why are you willing to tell me all this?' Cyric asked after a moment. The thief felt he knew the answer, but he wanted Slater to say the words aloud and commit herself to the course of action they would imply.
The woman looked at the thief for a moment, then glanced back at the Zhentish following them. 'Because Tyzack is weak,' Slater stated without emotion. 'He's not a warrior. His dreams consist of a comfortable place somewhere in the bureaucracy of the Black Network. His reticence to engage in battle has cost us days of travel. By the time we reach Scardale, the war may be over. If not, our task will be to protect Tyzack's life at all cost.
'The other Zhentilar, the ones who follow brave leaders, will be awarded the glory and honor of conquering our enemies for Lord Bane. If I can help it, I will not be denied that opportunity,' Slater growled and put her hand back on her crossbow's stock.
'What do you mean to do?' Cyric said, again trying to look innocent.
'Don't be coy!' Slater hissed. 'Your talents do not lie in the art of deception, no matter how much you believe they do.'
Cyric looked ahead. They would soon catch up to Willingale, the point man.
'I know you, Cyric. You're a thief. You're a murderer. And you're ambitious,' Slater growled. 'Lie to the others, if you want. Not to me. I can help you… and help myself by doing so.'
The warrior gripped the mane of her horse as she said, 'The time to act may not come until we are in the thick of battle in Scardale. All we may have to do is allow ourselves to be distracted long enough for an enemy sword to take Tyzack's head off.'
'Good,' Cyric said, dropping his facade of innocence. 'And if the opportunity comes sooner?'
The woman narrowed her eyes again and looked at the thief as if she was seeing him for the very first time. 'Then we will take it,' Slater said. 'Afterward, you will give me my own command. Thirty good soldiers would do. That way, if your blood turns out to be as thin as Tyzack's, we will not find each other in opposition. I will take my soldiers to battle. You will do whatever you wish. Agreed?' The Zhentish soldier looked directly at Cyric's eyes now, waiting for his reply.
'Agreed!' Cyric said after a moment, returning Slater's stare.
Willingale was almost within hearing range, so Cyric let the conversation die. And as the Scorpions approached, the heavyset Zhentish soldier turned and signaled them to hurry to his side. 'Glad you came out here, sir,' Willingale said to Cyric. 'You've saved me the trouble of coming back to report.' He pointed. 'There's something on the horizon.'
The thief followed Willingale's finger and saw a bright, steady light in the distance. The pitted, mountainous rise to the right flank of the Zhentish forces provided no cover for the troops from whatever was creating the light. In fact, there was absolutely no sign of natural protection within three hundred yards in either direction.
'It could be a trap,' Willingale said, scratching his chin. 'Our enemy could be waiting in the ribs off the spine of that rise. The rifts could hold a hundred men or more.'
'Perhaps,' Cyric answered. 'But why alert us to the danger? Why not just lie in wait, then take us by surprise? There must be some other explanation.'
'It could be just some natural reflection of the sunlight… or even some manifestation of the chaos in nature,' Slater noted, reigning in her horse. 'The light never seems to change.'
'We'll ride back and inform Tyzack,' Cyric said to the point man. 'Keep watching, and let us know if you see anything else, but don't go any farther. When the company catches up to you, you'll get new orders.'
Willingale nodded as Cyric and Slater turned and rode back to the main body of the Zhentish army. The female soldier remained silent for a moment, then noted, 'An ambush would give us just the opportunity we're after, Cyric.'
'At the expense of how many of our fellow Zhentilar, or even our own lives?' the thief asked gruffly. 'There will be better opportunities than this. Besides, we have another problem — Ren. He blends into the background so well that I hardly notice he's around. Yet he seems to be Tyzack's true second-in-command, no matter who holds the actual title. Any plans we make will have to take his interference into account.'
The thief and the warrior arrived at the front line of the Zhentish advance. Tyzack and Ren were waiting for them. The leader of the Scorpions trembled with barely controlled rage.
'Would the two of you like to explain yourselves?' Tyzack screamed. The dark-haired man waved his fist in the air as if he were shaking dice.
Cyric looked to Slater, then back to Tyzack. 'I don't understand. What did we do that requires explanation?'
'Spare me,' Tyzack growled. 'Word came to me that the two of you left the ranks, and so I was forced to
