panted heavily, his breath rattling through his throat, as he dodged and slashed, side stepped and countered. As he fought, flames coursed along his limbs and his eyes burned.
“Here is the moment,” Sithe said. “Here-the void between life and death.”
Duulgrin punched Shadowbane in the chest. He fell back, gasping. When he raised his eyes, his face was wrought in an expression of both rage and utter focus.
The half-orc struck him again, but this time his fist slammed into gray radiance that suddenly surrounded Shadowbane. To Shanyi, it looked almost like … like
The flames blazing around his dagger turned bright red and with a roar to match Duulgrin’s, Shadowbane leaped forward to bury the blade in the half-orc’s chest. Fire surged forth to immolate the chieftain in hungry, dancing flames.
Duulgrin reeled back and the flames menaced what remained of the furniture in the chamber. The half-orc stumbled to the door and flames leaped from his burning body toward the other Dustclaws. One of them swatted Duulgrin back with a club. Stunned, the half-orc fell to his knees, and thence to the floor.
In his wake, silence reigned for what seemed like an hour. Then Shadowbane spoke.
“Hear me,” he said. “Until the kingmaking, Luskan is
Shanyi saw a burning shadow rise behind Shadowbane and terror seized her throat. She could not even scream a warning.
There was no need.
Sithe stepped through the girl, the length of the chamber, and Shadowbane as through mist and slashed through Duulgrin. The half-orc’s head flew across the room. His body, hands yet raised to grasp Shadowbane’s throat, lurched forward a step, then fell.
Shadowbane stood stunned a moment, then grasped the haft of Sithe’s axe in one hand and her throat in the other. The genasi’s eyes widened dangerously.
“I said
“Death
Duulgrin’s corpse quivered and shook, his soiled robes bulging outward around his midsection. Blood stained the silk, seeping through to slide down his distended belly. In a matter of heartbeats, the silk tore under the fangs of a hundred-nay, a thousand-spiders, beetles, and chittering, awful things. The swarm skittered down through the waterfall of gore and fell twitching and dying on the floor.
“Sithe,” Shadowbane said.
The genasi raised her axe and drew a wreath of flame over the corpse. The vermin burned with a sickly, putrid stench that filled the room.
“Sithe!” said one of the men in the hall. “Sithe! Sithe!”
Shanyi shivered. For better or worse, she was a Dustclaw, so she bowed. “Hail Sithe, queen of the Dustclaws,” she said.
The two warriors looked at one another, Shadowbane’s expression dubious and Sithe’s unreadable. The genasi’s black eyes flickered with stars.
5 FLAMERULE (NIGHT)
When he strode into her chamber-kicking one of her guards through the doors, in fact-Eden was hardly surprised. He must have bled from half a hundred wounds and borne twice as many bruises, but one would never know it from his implacable carriage. Her brother came before her as an invincible, conquering champion.
“Lord Shadowbane,” she said. “So kind of you to pay me the honor of a visit.”
She lay on her divan, toying with her platinum coin. She was a queen, after all, and it would not do to seem fearful-even if she did share the room with thirteen of her best bodyguards. Just in case.
Hardly seeming to notice the assembled toughs, Shadowbane raised his helm and fixed his pale eyes on her. “Two days,” he said, his voice tinged with weariness. “In two days, there will be-”
“A kingmaking,” she supplied. “So I’ve heard. How’s the shoulder, by the way?”
Kalen looked at his arm, which twisted oddly from his shoulder. He seemed not to have noticed. “Dislocated.”
“Shall I tend that for you? The Lady pro-”
Kalen crossed to the wall and slammed his body against the stone. His arm popped back into place. He turned back to her, his face blank.
“-vides,” Eden finished. “Well, I hear you’ve been quite busy today, making your wishes known in ‘your’ city. My fellow servants of the Lady-”
“Hired trash,” Kalen spoke in anger. “Moldering refuse too pitiful to matter.”
Her men grumbled and reached for their steel, but she waved them to silence. “My brothers in Luck,” she said, “tell me you’ll protect the city until this kingmaking of yours, and that any violence done will be returned tenfold. Is this so?”
Kalen nodded.
“Impressive, Shadowbane,” she said, careful not to name him
Kalen said nothing, only smiled slightly and laid his hand on the hilt of a dagger. Inspired by just that small threat, the shudder that passed through the room touched even Eden.
She started to believe he could truly do it.
“Me lady,” said one of her men-picked by the toss of her coin to replace one of her advisors. “Let’s kill this pissant now. Let’s-”
“No.” Eden raised her hand to stay her men. “I haven’t and won’t cross your reign, King Shadowbane, and then we’ll have our kingmaking. Luskan has been too long divided.” She sat back and flipped her platinum coin from one hand to the other. “But after a new king is chosen, you will no longer be welcome in Luskan. Your reign will end with blood.”
Kalen shrugged. “Two more days,” he said. Then he turned and walked away.
Eden’s men drew steel, but she waved again, stopping them.
The day would come-very soon-where steel would be the answer. Steel … and the scroll she kept rolled up and tucked into her bodice near her heart.
She could feel the plague’s hunger. It was so much more than a disease-so much more than a mere weapon. It held the keys to power in the city, perhaps in all Faerun. Keeping it restrained was like balancing a coin on edge: it took constant vigilance. But Eden was born for such a struggle. She wondered when misfortune would strike and her control would slip. The risk thrilled her.
“We wait,” she said to the faithful. “We follow Shadowbane’s edict of nonviolence and on the seventh day of Flamerule, the goddess will grant us a great blessing.”
The men looked dubious, but they knew better than to contradict her. They feared Eden more than any goddess.
Let him have his days of hard-fought peace-let him think his plan working. She controlled the plague and
