“Is that a threat?” asked Ankhor.
“A statement of fact. I did not come here alone, in case you’re thinking of doing something foolish,” Edric cautioned him. “I have brought some of my people with me. If I do not return, they will see to it that all of Altaruk knows who it was who hired us to rob the caravan.”
“Very well,” said Ankhor. “Let’s get down to business. What do you want? Reparations for your losses? Name your price.”
Edric considered. “Fifty thousand in gold.”
“Done,” said Ankhor. “Anything else?”
Edric snorted. “I should have asked for more. But yes, there is one more thing. I want the Nomad.”
Ankhor shrugged. “Take him. He does not concern me.”
“I beg to differ,” Edric said. “He happens to be yours.”
“Mine?” Ankhor frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Kieran has hired him to be his lieutenant in your house guard,” Edric said. “The two of them are thick as thieves, and it would be difficult to seize him while he is under your protection.”
Ankhor chuckled.
“You find that amusing?” asked Edric, scowling.
“Yes, frankly, I do,” said Ankhor. He smiled. “The Nomad and I seem fated to cross paths in fascinating ways. The first time, it was to my benefit. The second, to my loss. But this time, there is more at stake. I do not want him getting in the way.”
“Then we will be pleased to take him off your hands,” said Edric. “In addition to the gold, of course.”
“You will have your gold,” said Ankhor with thinly veiled contempt. “As for Sorak, I will make it easy for you. I’ll greet the caravan when it arrives, as a show of gratitude for his assistance in foiling the attack. To prove I hold no grudge against him for the royal twit, I will offer him the use of one of our apartments in the shopkeeper’s quarter. It is on the Street of Clothiers, above the shop of Lorian the Bootmaker. The house is marked with the sign of a blue boot. The entrance to the stairs leading up to the apartment is through an alley to the right of the shop. I’ll see to it that Kieran is otherwise engaged tonight, with the remainder of the house guard, so they cannot interfere. The rest is up to you. Will that be satisfactory?”
Edric pursed his lips and nodded. “It will do.”
“Good. And though it is not my habit to give rewards for failure, I’ll arrange a discreet payment of the gold, through our usual intermediaries, as a gesture of good faith. I expect no problems with the Shadows on any future shipments in my caravans. I do not expect to be seeing you again. Our business is concluded. Feel free to have another drink before you leave.”
Edric picked up the crystal decanter and carried it with him to the secret panel. “Just see to it the gold is delivered promptly.”
“Of course,” said Ankhor. “And in the event you should decide it is not enough to buy your silence, be mindful that any difficulties you may try to cause me will be countered by the full resources of the House of Ankhor. Should you renege on our agreement, within a month all of Athas will know the Shadows do not bargain in good faith.”
“A bargain is a bargain,” Edric said. “But this has been a most unhappy business, all around. Good-bye, my lord.”
“Goodbye,” said Ankhor curtly.
The panel opened, Eric stepped through, and it closed again behind him.
Ankhor snorted with disgust and grimaced. “It seems one cannot buy good help these days.”
* * *
As Edric reached the bottom of the stairs inside the secret passage, he saw a dark-robed figure waiting for him in the tunnel just ahead. He paused, his right hand going to the knife tucked into his belt.
“Stay your hand, Edric, unless you wish to lose the use of both your arms.”
Edric allowed his right arm to drop casually back to his side. “Greetings, Templar Livanna,” he said. “Forgive me, I did not know it was you.”
“Who did you think I was?” the templar asked.
Edric shrugged. “Some lackey of Lord Ankhor’s, perhaps, bent on treachery. I expected trouble, not a chance meeting with you.”
“I leave nothing to chance,” Livanna said. “I felt your presence close by, even as I now feel the pain of your wound.” She touched her left arm, which hung limply at her side. “I came to heal you so that I would not feel your pain. I find it distracting.”
Edric’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How is it that you feel my pain?” he asked warily.
“Have you forgotten? When we agreed to terms, you made your mark in blood,” Livanna said.
“I see,” said Edric. “I thought it was no more than a ritual to seal our bargain. I’ll have to be more careful of that sort thing in the future.”
Livanna examined his arm. “What happened?”
He told her about the failed raid. As he spoke, she listened and concentrated at the same time, grasping his arm firmly. He felt a tingling sensation at first, followed by a gradual warmth spreading up his arm and into his wounded shoulder. It grew hotter, to the point where it started to burn, and then the templar released him, and he felt the heat fade gradually. He moved his arm and shoulder experimentally. It felt as good as new.
“My thanks,” said Edric. “I had no time to seek a healer before coming here. But I’m curious. What would you have felt had I been killed instead of merely wounded?”
“I would have felt your death,” replied Livanna. “The sensation would have been brief: your death would have canceled the spell. How did Ankhor react to your report?”
“He was not pleased, but he took it reasonably well, all things considered,” Edric replied. “After all, I could not be held entirely responsible. He had
