Yet one of his teachers had told him that any wizard had a chance of unmaking the mystical creation of any other, so long as he performed the banishment perfectly. Accordingly, the trader picked himself up, took a deep breath, and gave it his best effort, enunciating the words of power as clearly and sweeping his cane through the passes as crisply as possible.
It worked. Power groaned around him like a note from a giant's cello, until the air suddenly cleared. The small man felt a pang of delight in his own prowess, cut short by the realization that, with the fog gone, he was once more in danger of being recognized. He shielded his face with his cloak and scurried on toward the edge of the square and safety.
It was too late to block the battle-axe. Not even the Dark Father Abbott of Sefris's monastery could have managed it. She flung herself backward, and it saved her life. The mighty cut, which would otherwise have cleaved her shoulder and plunged on deep into her vitals, simply ripped flesh and tore free in a shower of blood.
It was a bad wound anyway, and Kesk realized it. Grunting like a maddened boar through his broken fangs, pressing the advantage, he drove in hard. The axe leaped at her again and again.
For a moment or two, as shock threatened to overwhelm her, it was difficult for Sefris to parry or dodge and almost impossible to strike back. Her training braced her, carried her to a place beyond pain, weakness, or fear, into a cold, clear state of mind vaguely suggestive of the perfect peace that would endure forever once all vile created things passed into nothingness. Strength and agility surged back into her limbs, and she hooked a punch into Kesk's side. A rib cracked. She was in too close for him to chop at her, so he lifted the axe high and rammed the end of the handle down at the top of her skull. She slipped the blow and whipped an elbow strike into his jaw.
The way the tanarukk's head sat atop his massive shoulders, he scarcely seemed to have a neck. Otherwise, the blow would probably have snapped it. As it was, the fire in his scarlet eyes seemed to dim, and when he tried to retreat and give himself room for another axe stroke, he stumbled. She leaped into the air and thrust-kicked him in the center of the chest. He fell on his back and lay motionless while she stamped on him.
That ought to have killed him, even as tough as he was. In other circumstances, she would have paused to make sure, but she wanted to start after Aeron without further delay. She didn't think he'd tried to lose her, not with his father still up a tree in the middle of the square, readily available for recapture, but she wasn't certain. The rogue was too tricky for her to feel confident of predicting his every move.
When she turned, her fog was gone. Though the wizard was nowhere to be seen, he'd evidently dispelled it before fleeing. A good many of the Red Axes had disappeared as well. They must have groped their way out of the square. Maybe they'd been afraid the mist would make them sick, like the poison vapor the magician had conjured back in the mansion, or perhaps they'd seen little point in stumbling around in the murk until the Gray Blades arrived in force, an event which was sure to happen eventually. In any case, even though Sefris would have taken a certain satisfaction in striking them out of her path, their departure ought to make life easier.
She sprinted toward the mouth of the alley where Aeron had promised to meet her. Up ahead in the darkness, a man cried out.
CHAPTER 18
Bow in hand and an arrow on the string, Miri crouched in the shadowy gap between two snarling gargoyles on the gabled roof of Griffingate House. She peered at the thick white fog in Laskalar's Square and the folk who periodically stumbled out of it and fled down the alley. She strained her ears in an essentially futile effort to interpret the confusion of shouts and other noises emanating from the midst of the cloud.
Where was Aeron? Her nerves were taut with waiting, and it seemed to her that it was taking him forever to appear. True, the mist had materialized as he'd said it would, which indicated a part of the plan had gone off properly, but it didn't necessarily mean he hadn't come to grief.
The vapor disappeared. She scowled in dismay until Aeron dashed down the passage. For a moment she imagined everything was all right, then a man and a limping orc came chasing after him. They'd apparently spotted him when the fog vanished, just scant seconds too soon.
Miri's fingers fairly itched with the urge to draw her bow, but Aeron had told her that no matter what happened, she wasn't to do anything that would reveal her presence prematurely. She was still hesitating when the human Red Axe whirled a sling and let the bullet fly. Aeron didn't duck or dodge, maybe hadn't even realized that the cutthroats were behind him. The lead pellet slammed into the back of his head with a thud audible even high above the ground, and he pitched forward onto his hands and knees.
When Aeron had first hatched the scheme of using Sefris to rescue his father, Miri had thought him insane, but gradually he'd talked her around. She still wasn't quite sure how, except that he was right about one thing. As a sorceress and expert practitioner of the Dark Moon's esoteric style of combat, Sefris possessed capabilities they lacked. Moreover, Kesk and his wizard partner wouldn't expect the monastic to join forces with Aeron, which gave her a good chance of taking them by surprise.
One difficulty with recruiting Sefris, however, was Aeron's alliance with Miri. It was inconceivable that the Shar worshiper would take anything the rogue said at face value if she believed the partnership was still in effect. An even bigger problem was what to do with her once she'd outlived her usefulness. Aeron and Miri were both able combatants with their respective weapons, but even so, they doubted they could defeat Sefris in anything even vaguely resembling a fair fight. The monastic simply outclassed them.
Aeron conceived a single ploy to solve both dilemmas. He contacted Melder, with whom he'd had some sort of shady dealings in the past, and bribed him to take part in the charade of Miri's capture and imprisonment. Despite her partner's assurances, she herself participated with considerable suspicion and reluctance, for after all, the innkeeper actually had sent the yuan-ti slavers after her. But Melder kept his part of the bargain, making no effort to molest her or detain her when it was time for her to go.
That left her free to climb to the top of Griffingate House and lie in wait for Sefris to appear. For all the Dark Moon agent's prowess, surely a well-aimed arrow could kill her if she never even saw it coming. Miri didn't much like the idea of striking down a sister human being in such a fashion, but she accepted that it was necessary. Sefris deserved extermination as much as any goblin or troll Miri had ever battled in the wild.
But Aeron was down, not quite unconscious but plainly stunned. The Red Axes were hurrying toward him, the human in the lead and the orc hobbling behind. They were going to capture or kill him unless Miri deviated from the plan and intervened.
She didn't see she had a choice. She loosed an arrow, which drove through the human Red Axe's torso. He cried out and collapsed.
The orc whirled, peered upward, and oriented on her. The night could do little to hamper its dark-adapted eyes. It thrust out its leather-gloved hands like a wizard throwing a spell.
She recoiled, and a spear of lightning sizzled past her. The magic didn't burn her, but the glare made her squinch her eyes shut.
It also shrank her pupils and carved a streak of afterimage across her vision, leaving her partly blind. She couldn't let that stop her. She had to kill the orc before it hurled any more lightning, either at Aeron or at her. She stared down, believed she glimpsed her adversary, and shot by instinct as much as sight.
It was good enough. The shaft took the orc in its upturned face, and it fell down on its back.
Miri sighed with relief-and something lashed around her, pinning her arms against her body. Blinking, thrashing uselessly, she perceived that the moon-cast shadow of one of the gargoyles had warped into a tentacle, reared up, and grabbed her.
In the mouth of the alley, Sefris looked up at the result of her spell. She'd evidently arrived while Miri was fighting the Red Axes, and waited to pick off the victor.
The monastic swirled her hand through a mystic pass. Almost invisible in the night, jagged black blades hurtled upward. Immobilized, Miri couldn't dodge. The magic pierced her flesh without breaking the skin, yet even so, the flare of pain was ghastly.
Dazed, Aeron noticed a curious thing. His wounded forearm and the back of his head were throbbing to the same beat. For a moment, he lingered on his hands and knees, hypnotized by that tempo of shock and pain, then
