important. Take the crystal band when I am finished. Use it more often than Ner has. When it is possible, help will be sent to you. Do you understand?'
'Yes,' Ashi said automatically, then added quickly, 'No. Why is Hruucan being placed over Ner, Medala?' There was no response. 'Medala?' she asked, stepping closer to Ner.
The huntmaster's eyes rolled back. A thin gurgle broke out of his throat and before Ashi could even reach for him, he collapsed. Ashi stared down as a trickle of blood came dribbling out of his nose. His eyes stared directly up at the sun.
'Ner?' she whispered.
Hruucan tilted back his cowl to stare at her. She caught a glimpse of the burned, dead skin of his face. 'Ner failed Dah'mir and the Dragon Below,' the dolgaunt said harshly. 'You have your instructions. Take the web.'
Ashi bent woodenly and tugged the band from Ner's head. The light that flashed from the crystals seemed cold. Handling it as little as possible, she reached down and stuffed it into Ner's hip pouch, then tugged the pouch off of his body. She met Breff's gaze again as she stood. His eyes were wide. 'Su Darasvhir,' he said in stunned voice.
For the Dragon Below.
'The trail grows cold,' said Hruucan. 'Do you need any supplies?'
'No,' grunted Ashi. 'I have everything I need.' Her hand tightened on Ner's sword.
CHAPTER 7
Yrlag lay along the south bank of the Grithic River, a deep, cold waterway that marked the border between the Eldeen Reaches and the Shadow Marches. In actual truth, there was little to distinguish one region from the other-low, harsh scrubland rolled across either side of the Grithic, wild and ungoverned. The only reason that Yrlag existed at all was trade. The wilds of the Eldeen, the uplands of the Shadow Marches, and even the barrens of Droaam came together along the Grithic. The river was the gateway to Crescent Bay and the sea coast. With no other cities easily accessible, traders and outlaws of every race and morality passed through the town, exchanging the goods of the wilderness hinterlands for the luxuries of the wider world.
Geth had seen a lot of tough towns in the years he had served with the Blademarks of House Deneith. He had seen more in the years between Narath and his return to the Eldeen. Almost none were as tough and dangerous as Yrlag. Dandra, Singe, and he rode across the decrepit bridge that spanned the Grithic in the company of a mixed band of mangy gnolls and smelly humans. Bandits without a doubt. Dandra stared at them. Singe kept one eye on them. Geth rode in relaxed calm. The band looked like they were returning from whatever raid had taken them into the Eldeen. They were in a good mood and on their way into Yrlag to sell their stolen plunder. There was nothing to fear from them at the moment.
When Singe wasn't keeping watch on the bandits, he was staring at the bridge beneath them. About halfway across its span, with the din and stench of Yrlag growing in their ears and noses, he guided his horse close to the low rail at the edge of the bridge and peered over. When he straightened, he glanced at Geth.
'The footings on this bridge are massive,' he said in wonder. 'They look much older than the road surface, but they're in better condition.'
'They are older,' Geth said. 'Adolan-' He grimaced. The druid's name lay across his tongue like the collar of black stones lay around his neck. 'Adolan told me once that Yrlag is built on the ruins of a hobgoblin town from the time when the Dhakaani Empire spread across the whole south of Khorvaire. Yrlag was its westernmost outpost. New bridges have been built on top of the old hobgoblin footings ever since.'
He turned away from the Aundairian and slouched down in his saddle. A week's travel had taught both Singe and Dandra when he wanted to be left alone. If the footings of the bridge still interested Singe, he kept his curiosity to himself. Geth forced his mind into the unthinking blankness that had become more of a companion to him in the last week than either the wizard or the kalashtar.
There had been too much time to think on the journey to Yrlag. None of the trio had felt much like talking. Geth almost wished that the Bonetree hunters had caught them-simple, mindless fighting would have been good- but there had been no sign of pursuit. Every night after Singe had cast the spell that created a simple, featureless black dome to give them shelter, Geth had backtracked along their trail, setting snares to catch the next day's food and watching the darkness. When he rose in the morning to collect his catch, he watched the empty landscape. By dark or by day, there was nothing to see. The Bonetree clan might almost have given up their hunt-but his gut told him they hadn't.
An old central street ran through Yrlag from the great bridge down to the deep pool cut into riverbank that served as a waterfront. Geth suspected that the pool, like the bridge, had been created by the ancient hobgoblins, an enhancement to the already deep riverbed. As they came off the bridge, he scanned the makeshift booths and stalls that lined the street, pulling the bundle that contained his great gauntlet from the back of his saddle and holding it protectively. Yrlag pickpockets would steal anything they could get their hands on.
In a niche between two booths, a tall figure draped in a badly fitting cloak caught his eye. From under the hood of the cloak, a woman's lean face stared back at him, framed by dark gold hair woven with beads and pierced through the lower lips with two small hoops.
Geth twisted around so sharply in his saddle that his horse whinnied and pranced in alarm. Singe cursed and reached out to grab the animal's bridle, bringing it back under control. 'Geth! Watch what you're doing!'
'Singe, it's the Bonetree hunters! I saw one of them!'
Geth spun back to stare at the niche-and saw only a ragged old cloak hanging from a knotted post and shifting in the breeze. Geth blinked and rubbed his eyes. Singe followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow.
'I saw her!' Geth insisted. 'The big woman.' He dredged up the name the old hunter had called out during the fight at the Bull Hole. 'Her name is Ashi.'
Singe pressed his lips together. 'The hunters couldn't have passed us, Geth. We would have seen some sign. We're well ahead of them. Come on. We need to find a ship and you need to rest.'
The wizard released Geth's horse and urged his own through the crowd. Geth stole one last look at the hanging cloak, then glanced at Dandra. She shrugged and turned her mount after Singe. Even after a week's riding, it was clear that she wasn't comfortable on a horse.
After a moment, Geth followed as well. He kept his eyes open as they rode, though, scanning the shifting crowd. Maybe Singe had been right, he thought. How could the hunters have moved quickly enough to pass them? He probably had made a mistake. Still, he couldn't shake feeling that he had recognized Ashi.
Ahead, both Singe and Dandra reined in sharply. 'Twelve moons!' Singe gasped. 'I was hoping to find a fast ship, but this is Olladra's own luck!'
Geth looked up. Docked in the nearest berth was a sleek ship easily eighty paces in length. She sat low in the water with the weight of her cargo but still looked like she could outpace anything else on Yrlag's waterfront. Deep blue paint shot through with bright yellow trim ran around her hull in a wide band below her rails and the name painted proudly on her bow was Lightning on Water.
The ship had, however, no masts and no sails. Instead, massive wooden beams reached out from its stern to clutch a pale blue ring of enormous diameter that hung above and behind the ship's hull. Geth stared at it, then squinted. There was a strangely translucent quality to the ring. He couldn't tell if it was carved from wood or forged from metal-or maybe even cast from some heavy glass.
'What kind of ship is that?' he asked in amazement.
'It's a House Lyrandar elemental galleon,' said Dandra. 'I watched them docking in Sharn. Il-Yannah, I wouldn't have expected to find one here!'
'They'll go wherever there's a profit to be made,' Singe said. He bit his lip. 'There's nothing faster on the water, but-'
'But-?' asked a salt-hoarse voice. 'But nothing! I'll bet you a silver ring there's not a ship west of Sharn that's faster than Lightning!'
Geth twisted in his saddle and glared at a slim, fair-haired man standing with a sheaf of papers in his hand beside a stack of barrels. The man gave him a sharp smile. 'Nervous?' he asked. 'I've noticed Yrlag tends to do that to be people.'
