“It was nothing, my lord. And as Kieran had recruited me to serve, I felt it no more than my duty.”
“It was rather a great deal more as far as I’m concerned,” said Ankhor, “and I am pleased to display my gratitude. As it happens, my house is in partnership with that of Lord Jhamri, so you will be working for us both. And as your employer, I know you will be in need of housing here in Altaruk. A senior officer and his lady should have comfortable, private quarters, so it would please me if you accepted my offer of an apartment.”
“That is most gracious of you, my lord,” said Sorak, “but there is no need for you to trouble yourself on—”
“Nonsense,” said Ankhor, interrupting him. “The House of Ankhor maintains a number of apartments here in town, for visiting trading partners and dignitaries. At any given time, at least half are vacant. You would find the accommodations more comfortable than you could afford, and as one of your employers, I insist you accept.”
“Well, since you put it that way…”
“Excellent. I have just the place in mind. It is located in the shopkeeper’s quarter, on the Street of Clothiers. Anyone can tell you where it is. Look for the sign of the blue boot. It marks the shop of Lorian the Bootmaker. He will have the key. The apartment is above his shop. Once the shops close for the night, the area is quiet, and there is little traffic. I think you will find it preferable to the noisy apartments in the gaming district.”
“It sounds perfect, my lord,” Sorak said.
“You may as well go now and take up residence, before Lorian closes up his shop for the night,” said Ankhor. “Kieran and I have several matters to discuss pertaining to his new duties, and I would prefer to speak with him privately, as I’m sure you’ll understand. You may report to me at the House of Ankhor in the morning, and then we can have our talk.”
“Thank you, my lord,” said Sorak. “In that case, with your permission, I shall take my leave and see you in the morning.”
“Until tomorrow,” Ankhor said. He turned to Ryana and bowed. “My lady…”
“Well, it turns out there was no reason for concern, after all,” Ryana said as they walked away. “Lord Ankhor bears no grudges over the incident with Korahna and we now have a place to stay without having to walk all over town in search of one. A quiet apartment over a shop sounds nice. A real home for a change, after all those nights spent sleeping on the ground.” She smiled and took his arm. “It will be our first place together.”
“Our first place,” he said, hugging her close. “I like the sound of that. But don’t grow accustomed to the idea. There is no telling how long it will last.”
They asked directions to the Street of Clothiers, only a short walk away. It did not take long before they found the shop with the sign of the blue boot hanging over the entrance. Lorian was just about to close up for the day when they came in, and after they introduced themselves and gave him Ankhor’s message, he welcomed them effusively and gave them the key, telling them the entrance was through the alley to the right and up a flight of stairs.
“I know it may sound foolish,” said Ryana, putting her arm around Sorak’s waist as they left the shop, “because we may never be able to settle in one place for very long, but I still feel excited. This is going to be our first real home.”
“It is only an apartment above a shop.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Ryana as they turned into the alley. “It will be ours, a place you can come home to. Home to me.”
The attack came suddenly and swiftly. Sorak felt a sharp, glancing blow against the side of his head, and he went down, grunting with pain.
Instinct and years of training took over, and he rolled quickly to his feet, drawing his sword as he came up. They were rushed from both sides of the alley. Five came from behind, five from in front.
Ryana had been seized from behind by two of the attackers, but she stomped down hard on one’s foot, twisted away, and flipped the other over her hip. As he fell, she drew her sword, but before she could get it clear of the scabbard, a blade took her from behind. She gave a grunting, gasping sound and stiffened, arching her back sharply with the impact.
A bloody sword tip emerged from her stomach.
“Ryana!” Sorak screamed, and then they were on him.
He drew Galdra with his free hand and waded into them like a man possessed. They tried to seize him and wrestle him to the ground, but he broke away, slashing one elf across the throat with Galdra and driving his sword deep into another’s mid-section. He kicked the elf he’d spitted off the blade, backward into three other attackers, and they went down beneath the dead weight of their comrade.
Spinning like a dervish, Sorak laid about him with both blades, screaming his rage at the top of his lungs. Within seconds, four elves lay dead, and the remainder found themselves with far more on their hands than they had bargained for.
The Shadows had abandoned any notion of taking him alive. It was either him or them. But in the narrow confines of the alley, their superior numbers gave them no advantage. Sorak did not remain still for so much as an instant, and the elves found themselves only getting into each other’s way.
Fighting with a fury he had never felt before, Sorak parried, struck, slashed, kicked and slammed into his opponents, and they fell one after the other. In the midst of the melee, he caught a
