down hard and fast. Sparks flew and metal screeched.
The blow slapped Lyraene's sword out of her hand. Keph drew Quick back, then jabbed out with delicate precision. Lightning crackled and Lyraene staggered against the rail, gasping as she clutched at the neat, smoldering puncture in her left hip.
Lyraene's cronies were shouting again, but their shouts soon turned to cries of alarm. Out of the corner of his eye, Keph could see Talisk and Starne menacing them with slashes of their own swords. Bracing himself against the swaying of the bridge, Keph raised Quick once more.
'Remember that cantrip!' he screamed. 'It's going to be the last spell you ever cast!'
He thrust Quick down into Lyraene's right armand held it there, the rapier piercing the flesh of her forearm and grating along the bone. Lyraene's shrieks almost drowned out the snap of lightning as it lashed through her. Her muscles twisted as they burned, warping her hand and wrist into a dreadful claw. Keph wrenched Quick free. Lyraene fell to the floor of the platform, twitching and screeching. Keph planted a foot on her shoulder to hold her still and took aim at her left arm.
'Halt!'
The command rolled over and through him like thunder, locking his arm and stopping his blow. Keph gasped and looked up.
A man in fine clothing was racing along the walkway toward the other end of the swaying bridge. In his hand he held a long, delicate sword that burned with cold white light. The magical illumination shimmered on his silvery-white hair and on the silver medallion he wore around his neck. Baret leaped out to confront him, but the man barely paused in his pace. His free hand thrust out, fingers spread wide.
'In Selune's name, I bid you go from this place!'
To Keph's eyes, the man seemed to shimmer with power. He could only guess what Baret saw. The cultist shrieked louder than Lyraene, turned on his heels, and fled in terror.
A priest of Selune! Keph cursed.
The silver-haired man's command was already fading and he could move again. He stumbled away from Lyraene, twitching Quick to point at the priest as the man paused before the end of the swaying bridge. Keph risked a fast glance over his shoulder. Lyraene's cronies had regained some of their bravado while Starne and Talisk were retreating, glancing uneasily between cronies and priest.
Keph whirled and fled toward them, vaulting from bridge to walkway with a hoarse shout. He crashed into two of Lyraene's friends, sending them sprawling, then scrambled to his feet. As the other two spun around in surprise, Starne and Talisk turned and fled. Keph sprinted after them, lashing Quick at the cronies to drive them back.
There were stairs down to the depths of the Stiltways nearby. They raced down them and down the next set, too. Only when they were two levels and a full street away from the vengeful priest did they stop.
'Dark,' panted Talisk. 'What happened? Where did he come from?'
'It doesn't matter,' Keph replied. He held up Quick. Lyraene's blood was still smoking on the metal. He kissed the blade. 'Hail Shar, Mistress of the Night,' he murmured, his voice thick with rapture. 'Thank you.'
– — ‹§) The old woman seated alone at a table for two pressed her hands to her cheeks as Mifano crossed the terrace of the Sky's Mantle.
'My dear,' she gasped, 'I was angry that you were so late, but I see that you must have reason!' She reached out and touched his doublet. 'Is that blood?'
'Not mine, madam.'
He sat down wearily and reached across the table for the decanter of wine. It was almost half empty and he gave the old woman a disapproving look.
'You are very late, Mifano,' she said.
He shook his head and poured wine into a goblet.
'I was late when I left Moonshadow Hall,' he explained, 'and a good thing, tooI took a shortcut and ended up interrupting a duel.' He gulped wine and shook his head again. 'No,' he corrected himself, 'not a duel. Something closer to torture. I was able to offer the victim healing and she may recover the use of her arm.'
'My poor, silver-haired dear!' The woman reached out and wrapped her fingers around his free hand. 'You're a hero!'
'It was nothing more than my duty,' he said, but smiled anyway and set the wineglass down. 'And a terrible duty it is to keep me a moment longer than necessary from the company of the charming Lady Monstaed!' He raised her hands and kissed them, then smiled again. 'And I must compliment you again on your fine new ring. So many other women of your station disdain amethyst as gaudy, but you wear it so well.'
'Oh, you tremendous flirt,' laughed Variance. She smiled with wrinkled lips. 'But tell me, what kept you at Moonshadow Hall? What has been happening there since we spoke last?'
CHAPTER 7
Feena leaned forward into the breeze that blew through the carriage window. Julith clicked her tongue in gentle disapproval, and Feena grimaced and sat back, swaying slightly with the carriage's motion.
'A high priestess isn't allowed fresh air?' Feena muttered under her breath.
'A high priestess can have fresh air,' Julith replied, ' but she should try not to mess up her hair.'
Feena wrinkled her nose and asked, 'How much longer?'
Julith peered out the window herself, but Feena noticed that she was careful to avoid the breeze.
'We're almost there,' the dark-haired priestess said. 'Now remember: watered wine only and drink it sparingly. Merchants and most nobles will bow to you, but you bow only to the Nessarch of Yhaunn, if we encounter him. Treat clergy as equals, whatever their faith or station. Only sit down to converse with someone who's already seated. Stick to minor topics. That's safest. If you really need to start a conversation with a scholar or a mage, ask about their research but be carefulthey can usually talk for hours. You don't need to discuss city politics or temple policy. This isn't that kind of-'
'I'm not going to remember all of this.'
Julith squeezed her hand and said, 'You'll do fine, Feena. Don't worry. If there's anything you need to know, I'll be right beside you.'
'I'd rather you were right in front of me,' Feena grumbled.
It was only half a jest. Her stomach was knotted. Julith had permitted her only a very light dinner that night, and Feena was grateful for that.
The carriage turned and its rattling progress slowed then stopped. Bright lights shone through the windows. Julith took a deep breath as footmen scurried outside.
'Are you ready?' she asked.
'No,' Feena grunted, 'but it's too late now, isn't it?'
The carriage door opened. Feena rose into an uncomfortable crouch, then stepped out as Julith had taught herhead and shoulders first, arm extended to take the hand of a waiting footman, then feet, down to the step-stool placed for her convenience, unfolding gracefully as she cleared the door.
She managed it all without tripping on her shoes or her dress.
'Well done,' murmured Julith from behind her as she stepped down from the carriage herself. 'Let's keep going.'
Feena nodded and moved forward. Small steps, she reminded herself. No need for long strides.
The white walls of the mansion of Ammanas Aum-leagarr, patron of Yhaunn's arts and host of the city's most lavish parties, loomed above them. Tall lanterns of glass and bronze lit the great entrance arch; within it, smaller lanterns marked a path up a broad flight of stairs. The sounds of talk, laughter, and music floated down from above. Other guests to Ammanas's party were drifting up the stairs as well. For a moment, Feena felt crushed, hemmed in like a sheep in a pen, even though she could have swung her arms wide without so much as touching anyone. She froze.
Julith took her arm and drew her gently onward.
As the stairs rose into the open again, she spoke to another footman. The servant cleared his voice and
