it was still lying flat on its back. Somehow, he had also come away with the kapak’s hatchet, and when the creature leaped to its feet, he swung it with all his might at the enemy.
Gredchen and her opponent circled each other. The kapak feinted to bluff her into thinking it was going to swing the axe. Abandoning all thought of self-preservation, she lunged at the kapak with the knife and her arm fully extended. She succeeded in poking a vicious hole in its shoulder, causing it to yelp and retreat a pace or two.
Theodenes’ axe had just connected with the kapak’s head. The gnome heard a sickening crunch and realized the hatchet hadn’t hit along its edge but on the flat. Regardless, the kapak clutched at its temples, hissing and screeching. Theo swung again, chopping into the kapak’s left wing and forcing it back. Unfortunately for the kapak, there was nothing behind it but open space.
Theo’s kapak fell backward, and with one wing badly mutilated, it could not arrest its fall. Theo gazed over the edge to see the kapak sprawled below, its death throes kicking in. The body of the draconian was engulfed in noxious smoke and noise as it broke down into an acidic sludge.
Gredchen glanced over at Theodenes and smiled-making the mistake of taking her eyes off her opponent at a crucial moment. Her kapak ducked, sidestepped, and brought its axe up along her leg and into her thigh.
The baron’s aide screamed and fell backward. The kapak leaped atop her and brought down the axe, once … twice … three times. Theodenes ran to help.
“Gredchen!” screamed the gnome.
The kapak spun about, hissing in Theo’s face. He could smell the acrid stench from the draconian’s toxic spittle. Ducking to avoid any poison aimed at his face, he weaved and sprang at the kapak, axe held high above his head.
The kapak threw itself out of the way. Theo had to avoid tripping over Gredchen’s fallen body but kept his footing and angled himself around to meet the kapak’s axe straight on with a loud
The kapak staggered away, screaming, trying to remove the knife from its face. It managed only three steps before it collapsed, dead, its body beginning to bubble and dissolve.
Theo grabbed Gredchen’s ankles and pulled her clear of the slowly growing pool of the kapak’s acidic remains. He tossed aside the axe, knelt next to Gredchen’s head, and looked over her wounds.
He gasped.
Although her tunic, sleeves, even her leggings were torn and ripped by the axe, her body was whole and unharmed. She opened her eyes and looked right at him.
“Am I alive?” she said weakly.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Vanderjack stared up at the kitchen ceiling and let the nausea slowly fade away.
He had descended from the tower roof, taken the path through the upper levels and along the balcony in the direction of the great hall. Before reaching the sitting room, however, he’d decided instead to duck into what he reasoned to be kitchens and dry heave again. He was dripping with perspiration, his hands and feet felt as heavy as lead, and his stomach felt like a portal to the Abyss. So he simply lay there and waited for it to pass.
“This is ridiculous,” he told himself. “I’ve been in the mercenary business for decades. I’ve fought in battles, killed ogres, and faced down dragons. My job is killing things for a living. I am not just a …” He rolled onto his side and retched again. “A pair of legs for a magic sword,” he muttered, wiping at his face.
He didn’t believe his own words. With the ghosts around to provide commentary and assistance, he had gained a reputation as one of the most proficient sword masters alive. Without them, maybe he was just an old man lining up for an exit interview with Chemosh, the god of the dead.
“Get up, old man,” he grunted, and pushed himself first to his hands and knees, then to his feet. He needed to find Cazuvel and get the sword back. Then it would all be as it was.
Vanderjack returned to the sitting room and slowly, with his foot, pushed open the door into the great hall. He peered in through a thin crack and saw only one end of the great hall. Nobody there, apparently, for the moment. He took a deep breath, and slid into the hall as quietly as possible.
Then he smelled something strong and pungent, like scalded leather; it was pervasive, surrounding almost everything with its smoky odor. He had smelled it once before, after a mage duel in Neraka. It was the smell of burned-out magic.
There was a huge cage in the center of the room-a huge, empty, steel-reinforced cage. On his way through there earlier, he could have sworn Star was lying on the floor of that cage, unconscious. The dragonne was gone.
No blood, Vanderjack thought. They hadn’t slaughtered the beast, nor had there been a fight. He walked farther into the great hall, checking behind stacked tables, crouching and looking for the booted feet of guards or draconians-nothing.
Then, crossing to the opposite side of the room, he realized that the door to the cage had been bashed open from the inside. So Star had broken free. Had they been keeping him under magical sedation, a spell that wore off? All he remembered was him slumbering earlier. If the spell had worn off, that would explain the aftermagic smell.
Surely the only way out of there-at least for a dragonne such as Star-was out the front doors. Vanderjack stepped out onto the landing on the upper balcony of the entrance hall. There was no sign of anybody there either-no wizards, no draconians, no huge dragon-tigers.
Vanderjack was almost halfway down the wide marble stairs that descended to the entrance hall when the front gates swung inward. He took a step back and braced himself for the worst. A rare feeling of relief washed over him when he saw that it was Gredchen and Theodenes.
Theo was ambulatory, so the paralysis must have worn off. Gredchen looked a lot worse than she had last he saw her; her tunic and leggings were cut and torn. Theodenes seemed to be supporting Gredchen as they limped in.
“Vanderjack!” Gredchen called out. She broke free from Theodenes and hurried up the stairs. The gnome scowled and followed at half the speed.
“Well, hello,” Vanderjack said, smiling weakly. “Nice of you to come back. Probably to get the painting, not rescue me, huh?”
“Vanderjack, I’m sorry. About the painting. About the whole contract. I should have told the baron not to do it, but he’s been wanting that painting for so long-”
The sellsword raised his hands. “Hold on,” he said. “Can we talk about this out of earshot of any surprise monsters or evil villains? And knowing Theodenes, I’ll bet he wants to put in a few words, once he catches his breath.”
The gnome, coming up behind her, nodded, panting heavily. The three of them walked around the balcony and into a side room filled with overstuffed chairs and a long, low table. It was the kind of room one sat in if one wanted to be served tarbean tea and sugared buttercakes. Vanderjack dropped into a seat, and the others followed suit. For a moment they all stared at each other. Then all three started to talk at once.
Theodenes launched into a diatribe about the way he had been treated. Gredchen complained that the highmaster had it in for her and never really liked her very much and not to blame the baron. Vanderjack tried to answer both of them, barely getting a word in edgewise, until finally he sat back and closed his eyes and just listened.
The girl and the gnome stopped, staring at him.
“I have a confession to make,” he said.
They just looked at him.
He opened his eyes again and looked at each of them in turn. “I’m working for Rivven Cairn now.”
Theodenes leaped out of his seat in a fighting stance, while Gredchen almost fell out of her chair.
