Aoth turned back to Cera just in time to see blood flow from under the stained linen bandages wrapped around her brow. Cursing, she pressed her hand against the dressing.
Do you need help? he asked.
She snorted. What kind of a healer would I be if I didn t know how to apply pressure to a cut? she said, cocking her head. She studied him, and her expression softened.
It s nothing, I promise.
But you almost lost your eyes, he thought, and, maybe partly because he himself had once been blind, the thought appalled him. She was right, though, there was no point fussing about it, especially when so many of their allies had fared far worse.
Fair enough, he said. Is your magic coming back?
Trickling back, she said. I ll start helping those who are hurt the worst as soon as I can.
Good. And I need to do my own work, he said as he hugged her, and their armor clinked together.
Aoth made his way across the vault. Corpses most conspicuously, the gigantic, burned-smelling carcass of the glabrezu littered the floor. Berserkers sat huddled and shivering, waiting for the sickness that followed their fury to run its course. Meanwhile, stag warriors guarded the arches leading to the tunnels. Jhesrhi had attended to that. Apparently the degenerate fey were taking their orders from her.
Aoth wondered what they thought they recognized in her, and what the durthans she d put to flight imagined they d perceived. He told himself they were merely overreacting to the fire flowing inside her. With his spellscarred eyes, he could see it, too, but it didn t mean anything beyond the obvious. Although, of course, the obvious was strange enough.
When she saw him coming, Jhesrhi gave him a nod. Is your magic coming back? she asked.
The question of the moment, he said, smiling.
Yes, and what about yours?
Yes, she said, returning his question with a quick smile. I take it we re going to need it.
I hope you are, Vandar said.
Aoth turned to face the man who d come up behind him. Though he looked as spent and as shaky as any of his lodge brothers he was leaning on the red spear like an old man leaning on a staff Vandar s eyes glared, and his lips were twisted in a sneer.
What does that mean? asked Aoth.
I thought the glabrezu had killed both of you, the Rashemi said. But now I see that you just gave up on trying to kill it.
Aoth felt a stab of anger and took a long breath to quell it.
Fighting the demon was important, he replied.
But other things were happening that were just as important, and Jhesrhi and I and Cera had to go and deal with them. We didn t want to leave you berserkers to handle the glabrezu by yourselves, but it was necessary.
Vandar grunted. Whatever you say, he said.
I I mean, my brothers and I managed to kill the thing without you. What I want to know now is why we re dawdling. We need to get after the enemy to crush them once and for all.
Of course, Aoth said, I agree with you. And I mean to give chase as soon as we re able. But we ve had this talk before. You don t want to lead your brothers into more fighting before they re ready.
No, said Vandar. But what if the durthans are getting away?
We have a way of checking on that, remember? said Aoth. I ll do it now. He reached out to Jet, and, through the familiar s eyes, saw the night sky. Sel ne was rising in the east and trailing her haze of shimmering tears behind her. Fresh white snowflakes drifted on the frigid, moaning wind.
There s still nobody coming up out of any tunnels, said Jet. You should have taken me along with you. You could have used me when the patchwork man was tearing you apart.
You may be right, but it s too late now. Stay on watch.
I will. But I m going to kill a wild hog, too. I saw some awhile ago, and I m hungry.
Aoth fixed his gaze on Vandar. Jet says there s no sign of undead and such aboveground, he said. So they must still be down here with us. He smiled. Come on, relax. Surely the master of the Griffon Lodge trusts the word of his totem.
Vandar didn t smile back, but said, Be ready as soon as you can. Then he turned and strode off toward some of his lodge brothers.
I don t like this, Jhesrhi said. He was always headstrong and touchy, and he never liked you much. But now he s different.
I agree, said Aoth, and I don t like it, either. But in spite of everything, we ve got the foe on the run. Let s finish this, collect our reward, and go home to the Brotherhood.
Dai Shan stood at the bow of the Storm of Vengeance and gazed out at the vague black face of the benighted land below. It was an interesting sight, simultaneously majestic and mysterious, but it still afforded no sign of the Fortress of the Half-Demon.
Leaning on the rail beside him, Mario Bez said, We re almost there.
Are you sure? Dai Shan asked.
The sellsword arched an eyebrow.
Dai Shan bowed. A thousand apologies, most sagacious of navigators, he added. Of course you are.
Right, said the captain. And because I am, it s time for you to do some more spirit traveling and figure out what we re going to find when we arrive.
Inwardly, the Shou sighed. Perhaps it had been a mistake to let Bez know that he in any sense possessed that capability. Certainly there was an element of risk attendant upon entering a trance in the mercenary s presence. What if Bez had inferred that, his assurances to the contrary notwithstanding, Dai Shan still intended to claim the wild griffons for himself? What if the Halruaan decided to take advantage of a rival s diminished capacity by sticking his rapier in him or tossing him over the side? It was, after all, what Dai Shan might well have done in Bez s place.
But only after said rival had outlived his usefulness. Dai Shan hadn t, and he judged that his companion was shrewd enough to realize it.
So he said, I have every confidence that your timing is impeccable, my valiant ally, and it will be my privilege to glean whatever information I can.
He moved to the center of the forecastle, sat down on the deck with his legs crossed, closed his eyes, and breathed slowly and deeply. When he felt centered, he reached out to the shadow that, tendays before, he d cast to spy on the Griffon Lodge. Unless something had happened to it, it had followed the berserkers north to the Fortress of the Half-Demon and was stalking them still.
Yes. It still existed. He could feel the ache of emptiness, the strange mix of malice, cunning, and dullness, and the absolute need to serve him that passed for its mind. He told it to give up everything it had and was, identity and existence themselves, and become him.
Perhaps the shadow resisted or regretted, but if so, only for an instant. Then it was gone, and Dai Shan stood in its place.
Of course, he was still sitting in the bow of the Storm as well. But for the moment, the original Dai Shan was content to empty his mind and vicariously experience what his counterpart experienced.
The active Dai Shan found himself in a tunnel whose darkness was, of course, no impediment to his sight. Peering about to make certain no one was in his immediate vicinity, he inferred that he was in the notorious tangle of dungeons beneath the Fortress of the Half-Demon. Off in the distance, the wavering yellow lights of torches moved to and fro, men called out to one another, and, to his surprise, sleigh bells, or something like them, chimed.
He surmised that Aoth Fezim, Vandar Cherlinka, and their allies must have won an initial battle with Falconer, his fellow undead, and their servants. That seemed to be the only way the living humans could have gained access to the vaults. But what else was happening?
There was one way to find out, and Dai Shan supposed he needed to get on with it before the impermanent incarnation of himself ran out of life. He whispered a charm, and a cool tingle ran over his skin as he became
