Silverfall: Stories of the Seven Sisters

shall lean close, and you shall whisper to me if any of them stood with Ridranus when he gave you coin. Fear them not. Thone shall protect you.'

He nodded his head at the surviving slyblade, who was holding a dagger ready in one hand, its hilt moving rhythmically back and forth as he fondled its tip between his thumb and first finger. Three drawn daggers waited in his other hand. Thone smiled and nodded his chin in her direction, but his eyes never left the line of reluctant men.

Who now, at Murpeth's gesture, stepped forward.

'Look well,' the Zhent leader commanded Talantha, who kept her eyes wide, frightened, and bereft of any recognition as they roved back and forth along the tense, silent line of sullen men.

They stepped back in unison at another signal from Murpeth, who then leaned over and murmured, 'Well?'

'The two closest to my feet,' the lady escort quavered, 'the one on the end, nearest my head, and the one three down from him-the one with white at his temples and the ring in his ear.'

Calivar Murpeth gave her a brittle smile and straight shy;ened up again to enthusiastically rid his force of four competent men who were guilty of no more than being recognized by Storm from her days of farscrying Manshoon. Veteran killers and practiced thieves, all of them, deserving of death a dozen times over that she knew of, and probably hundreds more that she did not, but no more guilty of assisting Maervidal to escape than Ridranus had been.

'Strabbin Stillcorn, Rungo Baerlan, Raelus Ustarren, and Worvor Drezil,' Murpeth said in cold tones. 'Step back.'

One of the men swore, another spun and started to run, only to stiffen, stagger a few steps, then fall heavily on his side with Thone's dagger in the back of his neck.

'Slay at will,' the Zhent leader told his slyblade calmly, drawing his own slender sword.

A dagger whipped out of Thone's hand even as he mur shy;mured, 'A pleasure, lord.' In the candlelight, it flashed end over end like a streak of dancing flame. Across the room, a darting man coughed out a sudden desperate sob, twisted around to claw vainly at the air, and fell, wallow shy;ing feebly in his own blood.

Even before his victim struck the floor, the slyblade was gliding forward to intercept the third and fourth men, who'd snatched up weapons from the scattering of dis shy;carded ones on the floor and charged Murpeth.

The Zhent leader hastily stepped behind Thone, and the two men instantly lost all enthusiasm for their attack, but almost as swiftly realized they were as doomed if they abandoned it as if they proceeded. First one then the other shrugged at the fate yawning before them, then, with savage yells, they came on again.

The slyblade ducked, moved his arms in a flurry of hurled daggers, re-arming, and guard thrusts, then lunged forward, both of the last pair of daggers in his hands buried to the hilts in the chest and throat of one foe while the other reeled, a dagger quivering in his right eye, and toppled slowly to the floor.

As Thone wrestled aside the body on his blades, another Zhent loomed up over Talantha. It was the man who'd slain Ridranus with his strangling wire.

There was a very large dagger in his hand now, and his face blazed with bright anger. 'I'll bet there's a lot more you could tell us, wench,' he snarled, 'if someone really made you want to talk.'

'Toarin!' Murpeth shouted. 'Stand away from her. Now!'

Unhurriedly the Zhent slayer reached out to slide his dagger up Storm's ribs to prick the underside of one breast. 'I can't hear you, Murpeth,' he said merrily. 'Per shy;haps it's the sound of my friends Strabbin and Rungo, crying out to me of their innocence. Why you let this bitch condemn us at random, I'll nev-'

'Toarin Klustoon!' Murpeth snarled. 'Stand away from that woman at once!'

'Toarin,' Thone said a moment later, his voice a quiet, warning promise.

The Zhent slayer snarled in wordless disgust and flung down his blade. It bit into the tabletop a whisper away from Storm's flank, where the blood from her breast was trickling down, humming with Toarin's fury.

The slayer whirled around again, and this time a poker from the brazier was glowing a sullen red in his gloved hands. 'Tell the truth, whore,' he said loudly, 'or I'll-'

He made a thrusting motion at her crotch, and several straying silver threads sizzled as they shriveled away from the heat. Wondering how much longer she should put up with this-after all, what of value were these men going to reveal? — Storm lay still and waited for real pain to begin.

Instead, as so often happens in the life of a Chosen, she was given something else.

Storm, dearest!

'Mother' Sylune, as I live and breathe. Have you been watching?

Aye, but not watching you. What befalls?

Flat on my back, as usual, here in the dale. I'm enter shy;taining some Zhents who think they're entertaining me. Affectionate fellows they are. We've reached the 'hot pokers to the womb' stage.

Sylune sent a flare of alarm, then, Need you aid?

No, no. These are just the local threaten-and-bluster boys. What aid can I render your way, though? I can tell when you're all upset, Softspoken, and you're upset right now.

Well, it is urgent. Lassra-at my urging, mind, not on one of her crack-Red-Wizard-bones-and-drink-their-blood moods-set out to slay a grand harvest of Red Wizards. She shaped herself into an imprisoning sphere, englobing them, and the spells they hurled have left her a-well, a dangerously weakened shell. Elminster is her refuge while she rebuilds herself. In the meantime, if the ever-adventuresome Storm could just take care of this little problem?

Certainly, provided you stop being coy long enough to tell me which little problem this might be. Names, faces, and deeds, please, sister. I'm not the Chosen who likes to slaughter every Thayan my eyes fall upon, remember?

Lassra smashed most of the sorcerous end of a cabal all six of your sisters have been tracing for a while now, but there's at least one of note left, one often easily tracked by those who can watch the Weave.

The crotch of the silvershot gown was truly aflame now, flaring up in front of Klustoon's furious face.

Sister, my nether hair is ashes and my flesh is beginning to cook. Get on with it!

Through the flame's rising, searing orange tongue, Storm could see the slyblade Thone, face dark with his own anger, almost casually holding back Calivar Murpeth with one hand.

Halaster! Sylune told her. We need you to track down the Mad Mage.

The Zhent murderer in front of her growled to get her full attention, and slowly drew back his arm. In a moment, he'd thrust the hot poker forward …

Well, at least you got around to telling me which mad mage. Later, sister!

Storm sat up, letting her flesh start the slide back into her own shape as she caught hold of the poker, twisting and yanking with a sudden surge of strength. The pain made her face go white, but in an instant the fire iron was hers alone, and Toarin Klustoon's chin was plowing help shy;lessly into her knees.

Through the sizzle and stink of her own burning flesh, Storm told the room pleasantly, 'I'd love to stay for more of these Heartsteel thrills, but I'm afraid more pressing matters have arisen.'

Toarin found balance enough to lift himself off her and grab for a dagger. As Storm's hair began to swirl out to its true length and turn to silver, the gathered Zhents fell back with a general murmur of recognition and fear. She smiled tightly as she bent the poker, the muscles of her arms and shoulders rippling, and wrapped it around her interrogator's neck. Toarin Klustoon screamed as the flesh of his throat sizzled, then burst into helpless tears as his howls and shrieks of pain rose swiftly to a deafening, wordless babble.

Storm regarded him sourly for a moment, then took hold of the protruding ends of the poker, put her strength to them-and broke the Zhent slayer's neck.

As Klustoon fell to the ground, wet bubbling spraying from his lips, a dagger flashed and winked as it came whirling through the air at Storm. She put up one ruined hand and caught it in deft fingers, twirling it for only a brief moment before she flipped it through the air on a side journey-one that ended in the throat of Calivar Murpeth.