flick of his dragonfly blade. The woman collapsed, holding her mauled hand and howling in shock. Iahn spun and saw the halfling advancing on Ususi. Eined cowered behind the wizard.
The halfling wielded a short sword forged of black iron. Red glowing runes swirled on the blade. Not good, Iahn judged. The tempo of his heart increased. He lunged, weapons ready to dispatch Ususi's assailant. Before the halfling reached her, and before the vengeance taker could confront the halfling, the wizard pointed a finger at her attacker and uttered a sharp incantation. As if discharged from a thunderhead's swollen belly, a jagged electric lance briefly connected Ususi's finger and the halfling's head. Blinking away the afterimage, Iahn saw Ususi casually blow a slender remnant of smoke from her finger. Of the halfling, all that remained was a charred smear and a few smoking oddments of the little man's equipment. The short sword still gleamed evilly in the sun. Iahn kicked it over the edge of the pier, and heard it splash into the water. Ususi nodded at the vengeance taker, turned to Yonald, and said, 'Sorry about the… interruption. If I recall, Iahn quoted you a price we'd be willing to pay.' She pointed at the steward with the same finger she'd just used to fell her attacker. 'Does that work for you?' Yonald gulped and nodded. Iahn rubbed his chin. The wizard knew how to imply a threat nearly as well as someone of his discipline. Of course, as a wizard of Deep Imaskar, Ususi had the power to back up her warnings. Soon enough, they were aboard. The crew cast off, and the ship sailed northeast across the Golden Water, toward the port city of Huorm.
Eined said it was their first stop on the journey to the mine.
Yonald gave Ususi and Eined his cabin for their use. No doubt he booted some lesser crewman from his or her cabin, who in turn booted another sailor. Ususi retreated to the small berth as soon as they boarded. Her invisible uskura followed her, as it always did when left without specific commands. Yonald's cabin was of the sort Ususi appreciated-neat and tidy, with every article stowed efficiently. She found a slender drawer that contained a few sticks of incense, and she lit one. The glow of the small taper soothed her. The blanket on the cot was clean, too. She massaged her temples and sat down. The passage would take a little less than a day, but she was tired from the recent excitement. What she really wanted was a nap. Her head felt heavy and full-a sign that a headache might rise up to torment her. Sleep sometimes quelled the pain before it came home to roost. Sleep claimed her almost instantly, but lightly. She dozed, aware of the gentle rocking of the boat and the shouts and calls of a crew seeing to the ship's needs. As sometimes happens on the edge of wakefulness and sleep, Ususi imagined she could see what was going on outside her room. No doubt her imagination painted the scene from the sounds she heard, but nevertheless the vision seemed real. She saw two crewmen in the stern repairing a sail with thick thread. Four men crawled in the rigging, cursing and tying stays and furling sails. Another, the lookout, sat higher yet, calling out landmarks. Two officers smoked pipes on the main deck as they discussed their route, supplies, and crew schedules. Ususi saw Iahn at the prow, gazing across the Water with his icy, penetrating, but impenetrable eyes. What was the vengeance taker looking at? A cloud hovered on the horizon, dark with rain. Ususi realized the cloud might be the vanguard of a savage storm, for it quickly swelled and billowed forward, blotting out more and more of the heavens. The cloud was like an eclipse, but of the entire sky. Iahn continued to stare forward, as unresponsive to the sight as a statue. The lookout did not cry a warning; the officers did not cease their smoking. What was wrong with them? Couldn't they see the danger to the ship? Shouldn't they be striking the sails, battening hatches, or something? The darkness rushed forward, accelerating and growing as if some death god were pulling a grave shroud across the firmament. Darkness, absolute, thundered down on the wizard, and all sound and light were instantly quenched. Ususi cried out, but her voice was mute and her limbs apparently shorn from her.
The more she struggled, the less she could feel her own presence. She was drowning in night. As the formless, churning void clutched her, a slight sensation trickled back into her extremities. Some new force drew her, accelerating her through the nothingness. The silence was shattered by awful sounds that smashed at her eardrums, followed by a vague, grim hum that promised an unutterable fate. Screaming, she plunged toward a blot of even more concentrated void. Before Ususi could be pulled into the bizarre singularity, she saw a flicker of light. Like a flood victim finds temporary deliverance from the torrent by grasping a passing branch, Ususi caught herself by focusing on the glow. Within the glow was a woman who looked like Ususi. But the woman's eyes were empty, hollow orbits. It was her sister, Qari.
Qari reached out from the glow into the darkness where Ususi trod and said, 'Take my hand, Sister. You shouldn't be so afraid of the dark, you know. Darkness is my constant companion. It doesn't terrify me.
I've learned to make a friend of it.' Ususi strained toward the hand.
She struggled to rediscover her missing limbs. Or should she just will herself forward? She yelled, 'Qari, where are we? What's going on?'
Qari swiveled her head so that the shocking emptiness of her missing eyes was indisputable. Qari said, 'You need to embrace the darkness, as I have.' So saying, she reached up with her other hand and pointed at the sunken, cavernous pits where eyes should have looked out. 'No!'
Ususi screamed, and she woke. Sun streamed in through the edges of the small porthole. No storm of darkness thundered outside. She heard once more the yells of the crewmen as they went about their duties. Nothing but a dream… but the taper she'd lit before lying down was dead, its tiny glow snuffed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kiril Duskmourn's legs ached as if she'd ridden the stone destrier for days. Because she had.
Thormud insisted they always travel at night, avoiding villages and cities. They'd just passed a sizable town that Thormud had called Sezilinta. Normally, the fewer people Kiril saw, the better. And traveling in the dark usually suited her just fine, given her star elf heritage. But not tonight.
Tonight the sky was uncharacteristically heavy with clouds that veiled both moonlight and starlight. A constant spit of fine rain fell, slowly wetting every surface and penetrating every covering.
After just a quarter day's travel, Kiril's hair was matted with moisture, and water continually dripped into her eyes. Her sodden clothes were cold and clammy, even in the desert. She could hardly see more than a few yards ahead through the misty rain. And the stone seats that at first had seemed reasonably comfortable now worked at rubbing her skin raw. Plus, the seats were cold. Once, she mentally compared the seats to tombstones, then she couldn't banish the image.
She was more miserable than usual. And given her normal demeanor of low-grade irritability, that was a feat.
Worse yet, the old dwarf was in a talkative mood and kept badgering her with questions about her past. He should know enough not to pry, she thought. But maybe he was feeling the effects of the cold rain, too, if he was willing to rouse her ire by questioning her-and she'd given him clear signals that she'd rather be left alone. Was Thormud actually trying to get a rise out of her, just for some diversion on the long journey?
'So tell me again,' Thormud asked Kiril from his seat ahead of her, 'how old did you say your sword instructor was? Seven hundred?
That's old even for an elf, I hear.'
Perversely, she decided not to give in to the geomancer's pestering with her usual stream of invectives. She merely grunted.
'And what about the human you were working for right before I employed you-he looked like he was ninety if he was a day. For humans, that's standing with one foot in the grave.'
Kiril shrugged, knowing the dwarf couldn't see her. Her silence was answer enough. Another drop of water splashed into her left eye, and she roughly wiped it out.
'And me-I'm no dwarf lad in my first hundred. In fact, I'm probably in the last fifty years of my career.'
'So?' Kiril finally asked.
'It's just that I wonder if you know anyone who isn't old.'
Kiril grunted again. She said, 'You know how I hate most people?'
'Yes…'
'I pick all my acquaintances old so they don't live long.'
Thormud paused for a moment, then, 'Ho ho! I've discovered my companion has secret aspirations to entertain, after all these years!
