“So do I,” said Kieran. “Now, tell me more about this vision that you had just now.”
Sorak described what he had seen, in as much detail as he could recall. When he was finished, Kieran nodded.
“Dressed in black from head to toe, eh? With black breastplates and black arrows. You are sure about the arrows?”
Sorak nodded. “Is that important?”
“It is the trademark of the Shadows,” he said.
“Who are the Shadows?” Sorak asked.
“You do not know? I am surprised. It is a tribe of elves, one of the oldest in existence, but the Shadows are no ordinary tribe of nomads. Once, many years ago, they were, but they have since evolved into a society as dark and secret as their name. Little is known about them, other than that they are masters of espionage, extortion, theft, and assassination. Especially assassination. They are divided into groups called talons, each led by a talonmaster. Each talonmaster commands a group of subcommanders known as shadowmasters, each of whom leads a smaller group known as a claw. Each claw has its own specialty. Some claws are devoted solely to magic, others to theft, assassination, raiding… And in command of all is the grand shadowmaster. Who that may be is anybody’s guess. If the raiders you saw in your vision are indeed Shadows, we’ll have our hands full.”
“Perhaps Grak may be of help,” said Sorak.
Kieran snorted. “Oh, I doubt that,” he said. “I would not even bother asking.”
“But he is a friend of yours,” said Sorak.
“An old acquaintance,” Kieran corrected him. “But Grak’s first loyalty was and always shall be to Grak. He might consider lending us some mercenaries to escort us into Altaruk, but he would insist on a share of the cargo in payment, and I am not authorized to make such a bargain. I doubt Lord Jhamri would approve.”
“Would he rather lose the entire shipment?”
“No, he would rather I protect it,” Kieran said. “And it would make a poor beginning if I started my new job by admitting I could not do it properly, which is how he would see it. No, we shall have to take care of this ourselves.”
“You may count on me,” said Sorak. “And on Ryana.”
“I did not doubt that.” Kieran frowned. “The Shadows are a cut above ordinary raiders,” he said. “And even common raiders usually attempt to place at least one agent in a caravan, to learn the nature of the cargo and the disposition of the guards.”
“Edric!” Sorak said abruptly.
“The bard?”
“I had a strong intuition about him from the start,” said Sorak. “I thought, at first, I just disliked him, but I could not help feeling he was up to something.”
“You may be right,” said Kieran. “He joined the caravan in South Ledopolus, and who would suspect a mincing bard traveling with a dancer? You think Cricket may be in on it as well?”
Sorak shook his head. “I don’t know. Somehow I doubt it.”
“Well, there is one way to find out,” said Kieran. “Let us go see your friend, the priestess. If you’re right, we’ll know for sure before the night is out.”
Chapter Ten
It was shortly before dawn when they saw Edric leave his tent and make for the oasis pool. He walked casually, with no appearance of stealth, sauntering slowly with his cloak draped over his shoulders and a short clay pipe clamped between his teeth. He looked as if he had simply risen early and was out to enjoy a short walk and a smoke and refresh himself at the pool. Sorak and Kieran followed at a distance, staying low and keeping to the shadows, mindful of the fact that elves had good night vision.
If Edric was concerned about being watched, he gave no outward sign. He simply continued down the slight slope to the pool, where he stopped by a stand of pagafa trees and broom bush at the water’s edge. He crouched and gently tapped out his pipe with the heel of his palm, then set it on the ground beside him. On his knees, he leaned forward with hands cupped and splashed some water onto his face, then dried off with his sleeve, took a drink, and sat back to refill his pipe from a small, rolled pouch. Just an early riser taking his ease.
“There!” whispered Sorak, grasping Kieran’s upper arm as they lay beside each other on the ground, watching from about thirty yards away. He pointed. “By the broom bush. Do you see?”
Kieran shook his head. “Your elfling eyes are better than my mine,” he said in a low voice. “What do you see?”
“A dark form crouches in the bushes to the bard’s right,” Sorak said. “Well concealed, but I can just make him out. Edric isn’t looking at him, but I think they’re talking.”
“As I thought,” said Kieran. “A final conference before the attack.”
“Very bold,” said Sorak. “The raider managed to get inside the walls and sneak right up to the camp.”
“Not as bold as you may think,” said Kieran. “Grak will allow anyone within the walls, so long as they pay the toll and cause no trouble. He probably came in just after we arrived and mingled with the crowd.”
“There, he’s moved,” said Sorak. “Can you see him now?”
Kieran squinted, staring intently. “Yes, I see him now. But if I didn’t know just where to look, I’d never spot him. He’s a Shadow, all right. He’ll probably leave right after we depart and ride out to join his friends.”
“You want to take him?”
Kieran shook his head. “No, let him go. If we take him now, the Shadows will know we’ve been alerted. That might prevent the attack, but I doubt it. You saw it in your vision. And unless your vision played you false, that means it will take place. Better to let them think they still have the advantage of surprise. Come on, we’ve seen what we came to see. You were right about the bard. We’d
