Tanis's head was starting to spin, but he urged the boy on. "There was rumors all over Kern," Wode said, " 'specially when the Valdane's parents—that is, the parents of the current Valdane, who was a boy then—died right after the bloodlink—the one we think was set up—was set up. But it's death to talk about it in Kern, so don't repeat anythin' I said if you ever go there." He stopped for air.
Tanis nodded, so thoroughly bewildered that he couldn't have repeated a word of what he had just heard. He sorted through the youth's jumbled sentences. "What's a bloodlink?" the half-elf managed to ask, remembering to lower his voice.
Wode managed to look self-important and surprised at the same time. "Where you been living, half-elf?" he finally choked out.
"I grew up in Qualinesti," Tanis replied.
Wode pursed his lips and nodded, as though that explained everything. "Ah. A rustic. Well, a bloodlink—which may or may not exist, now, y'understand, except everybody in Kern believes it does because—"
Tanis interrupted. "What is it?"
Wode cast him a reproachful look but, swelled with importance, went on. "They link two people, usually one of 'em a mage and the other one someone from the nobility. The lower one—usually the mage—takes the knocks for the highfalutin one." Wode nodded haughtily, then continued irritably when it became apparent that the half-elf still didn't comprehend. "All right, say you and I got a bloodlink—if there is such a thing, but I bet there is . . ."
"All right," Tanis said a little dispiritedly, "say we have such a link."
"Well, if I'm the one with the power, then anything bad that's supposed to happen to me happens to you."
Tanis lifted one brow. Wode released a heavy sigh. "All right. Say a hobgoblin belts me in the gut with his mornin' star." The half-elf waited. "I ought to be practically dead, right? But you suffer the injury instead, and I get off without a scratch. Or so the story goes. There's some that says it's just a myth, but I think . . ."
He continued to rattle on. No longer heeding the youth, Tanis leaned back against the bar. If Wode's blather was to be credited, a bloodlink with a mage would give a nobleman quite a powerful edge in the world, to say nothing of a considerable hold over the wizard. No wonder the Conclave of Wizards had banned such practices. Wode said this Janusz had been a boy when the bloodlink was set up. Assuming, of course, that the bloodlink even existed . . .
Tanis shook his head; he was starting to think like Wode. The half-elf focused again on Kitiara and Caven. They were leaning confidentially on the table, starting their third pitcher of ale, talking furiously at each other. Neither appeared to be doing much in the way of listening.
Tanis was in no mood to stay up all night listening to stories of camaraderie between Kitiara and Caven. Tanis and Kitiara's room at the Seven Centaurs, thankfully paid for in advance, seemed more inviting than a smoky tavern in the bowels of Haven. Kitiara knew how to get back to the inn on her own.
He left the Happee Ohgr without saying good night.
Caven grunted. "Tell 'im to put it on a bill. I'm good for it."
Kitiara laughed too loudly, then watched with a lopsided grin as Caven winced. "You tell him, Mac-kid. It's time for me to leave." She stepped over a sprawled dwarf and headed for the door, avoiding the nastiest spots on the floor.
"Where're you stayin'?" Caven shouted back, his face red. "You're not getting away without paying me, y' cheat!"
At this time of night, in such a place, such epithets were routine terms of endearment. The few patrons still conscious paid little attention to what no doubt seemed to be a typical lovers' quarrel.
"The Masked Dragon," she lied. "I'll see you there in the morning."
"I'm going with you. It'll be a lot better than sleeping in the stable with Maleficent." While Kitiara wondered whether such a remark was worth a challenge, Caven leaned on his arms and straightened. When his focus returned, he gazed slowly over the room. "Where's Wode?" he snapped. "That lazy—"
"Wode left an hour ago with the barmaid. Or rather, the blonde cow left and the boy followed."
"Hot on her trail," Caven said, satisfied. "Good lad. Which reminds me . . ." He maneuvered carefully over the dwarf, nearly falling headlong when the sodden creature hiccupped and rolled over. The room stank of stale things—food, beer, and breath. "I'm going with you," he repeated. "To the Masked Dragon."
"Tanis is already there. I doubt there's room for three."
"Then tell 'im to leave," Mackid said mulishly. "I can flatten any elf any day."
"Half-elf," Kitiara corrected. "And don't count on it."
Caven gestured magnanimously, which threw him off balance. "Tell him to get lost, then go along with me." He winked. "I'll generously forgive your debt." He caught his balance against the doorjamb.
Kitiara looked up, eyes skeptical but clearer than most others in the room. Caven Mackid was a splendid physical specimen of a man, but not exactly irresistible in his current state. And she wasn't tired of the half-elf yet.
"I'm leaving, Mackid." She turned away and walked up the three steps to the street.
It was raining. The cobblestones, slippery even in dry weather, were oily slick. Kitiara put one hand on the wall of the Happee Ohgr and moved quickly down the street,
