that he might hear her swiftly fading voice. 'I go to my ancestors,' she said, 'or, rather, they come to claim me. Such is always the way, great lord. The past cannot be denied.' 'Perhaps,' he murmured.
'But it need not be a trap.' The raunie looked up at the Wanderers, who stood in somber array behind Soth. Inza was there, too. The girl's green eyes were hard, her face an unreadable mask.
'My child will help you prove that,' Magda continued. 'Swear you will protect her as you vowed to protect me.'
The death knight bowed his head. 'As master of this cursed land, you have my word.'
'In return, I lift the curse my grandmother laid upon you on the night you entered these dark domains,' Magda said. A fit of coughing took hold of her, and it was a moment before she could speak again. 'For killing my family, Madame Girani damned you never to return to your home, though it always be in view. For vowing to preserve my family, I remove that curse and wish you safe journey.'
Had Soth's withered heart been able to beat, it would have thundered in his chest. 'Can you grant me passage from this place?' he asked.
'No,' Magda said. 'But there are others…' Her eyes fluttered closed, and she reached up a trembling hand to the death knight. In her bloody fingers she clutched a single white rose. 'She comes for you.'
With that, Magda Ilyanova Kulchevich died. Lord Soth plucked the rose from the corpse's fingers. As he took that fragile bloom in his hand, something marvelous occurred. A white moon joined unseen Nuitari in the nighttime sky. Its lovely light shone down on Sithicus, bathing the land in a radiance that made everything seem at peace, if only for a little while.
'Solinari,' the death knight whispered. 'The white moon of Krynn.'
The people of Sithicus interpreted the moon's appearance in myriad ways. Some thought it a harbinger of doom, others a sign that the time of troubles had ended. To Soth, though, the meaning of that pale white orb was clear. He was one step closer to home.
'What will you do about Malocchio?' Inza asked, interrupting Soth's musings.
The death knight regarded the girl coolly. 'You think him responsible for the assassins?'
'Who else could it be?' Inza looked to the other members of the troupe. They remained silent, just as she had expected.
Soth didn't notice. He had started across the camp, to the spot where Sabak's corpse lay. A salt shadow protruded from its open mouth, struggling to free itself from the body. The death knight withdrew the dagger from the hound's skull. Quickly the shadow slithered up the nearest vardo's wheel and into the open window.
'Whose wagon is this?' Soth asked.
'Mine,' Inza replied. 'As is the knife.'
Soth studied the dagger for a moment. 'Impressive,' he said as he handed the weapon to her. He presented it handle first. As the girl took it, the blade's needle point scored the fingers of the dead man's gauntlet.
Soth did not ask for permission to enter the vardo; like all things in Sithicus, the wagon was his property.
He was startled to find the interior so similar to the cluttered wagon kept by Madame Girani. A high stack of manuscripts collected dust in one corner. A cloth-covered table held a heap of trinkets and small boxes crammed with charms. Cages housing all manner of strange birds hung from the rafters; they chittered and chirped nervously at the death knight's passing.
'Why would the shadow hide here?' Inza asked from the doorway.
Soth tossed aside the carpet covering an ornately carved chest hidden toward the back of the wagon. Salt was scattered on the floor all around the box. 'Because this is where it, and all the others, had been hiding for days,' Soth rumbled.
He threw open the box. The shadow hung on the underside of the lid like some monstrous spider. It dropped onto the salt heaped in the chest, trying to bury itself. Soth snatched the thing up and slowly crushed it.
Inza crowded close. The chill of Soth's presence didn't seem to bother her in the least. 'How did Malocchio hide the shadows in there?' she said.
Soth slammed the chest shut. 'It wasn't Malocchio who sent the assassins. It was Azrael.'
Seven
Azrael should have realized something was wrong when the voices at the Lake of Sounds went suddenly silent.
When it happened, the dwarf was listening to the dark describe what his kingdom would be like. There were other things he should have been tending to-the hunt for the White Rose, eavesdropping on Soth or the Wanderers-but those were tedious, empty pursuits compared to the construction of the new Sithicus, even if only in his mind.
As always, the dark had been describing his realm with the stolen words of others:
'You've never seen such a look of terror.'
'It will be easy to get her to leave.'
'All of this needs to be cleaned up.'
'It was Azrael'
Somewhere at the back of his mind, the dwarf dimly recognized that last voice. He had no time to identify the speaker, though. A hush had settled over the lake, a fear-thick pall that seemed to make the purple twilight tremble. Azrael's white brows knitted together in consternation. 'What's going on?' he murmured.
The question had not died upon his lips when the answer came. A hand gauntleted in ancient, fire-blackened armor gripped Azrael's shoulder. 'Traitor,' said a hollow voice. The word reverberated across the still, black water. A heartbeat later that sound was joined by the dwarfs groan as he slammed against the cavern's salt-crusted wall.
'Mighty lord,' Azrael gasped, scrambling to his knees before Soth, 'what have I done to offend you?' Soth did not answer, merely traced a symbol in the air. The glyph hung there, burning with the same orange fire that lit the death knight's eyes. It appeared an instant later on Azrael's forehead. The brand flared, then vanished.
The dwarf stiffened, and a strangled cry of agony rasped from his throat. Rivulets of blood trickled from his snout and ears.
The death knight clamped his hands to either side of Azrael's head and lifted the dwarf from the ground. Slowly, he began to tighten his grip, pressing his palms together like the jaws of a vice. Azrael howled in pain. With fingers ending now in a badger's thick black claws, he tore at Soth's arms. 'Mercy,' he cried.
'You showed Magda no mercy,' Soth replied coolly. In his hands the dwarf's face shuddered, bones sliding into their hybrid configuration. In response, the death knight shifted his thumbs up from Azrael's cheeks to the dwarf's tearing eyes.
'I did it to protect you!' The werebeast thrashed like the captured animal he was. He clawed at Soth's helmet, kicking his armored chest 'She'd joined the Thorns,' he snarled. 'Allied with the White Rose. She was plotting to destroy you!'
Soth's grip went slack, and Azrael dropped to the cavern floor. He writhed there for a time, retching from the pain. The ringing in his skull made him claw at his temples. Finally he slumped back against the cavern wall.
'Proof,' Soth said. 'Convince me of what you say, or you will die.'
'After the meeting with Aderre, Magda went off alone into the Iron Hills to find the White Rose,' Azrael replied. He wiped the vomit from his muzzle. 'She must not have thought you capable of protecting her. Or maybe she had been in league with the Rose all along.'
'Conjecture,' Soth rumbled.
'No,' Azrael said quickly. With one clawed hand he indicated the vast and silent lake. 'This place allows me to eavesdrop on her and on almost anyone in the land. Magda wouldn't speak of her mission to her people, or tell them she doubted your ability to protect her, but she whined about those things incessantly to that flea-ridden hound of hers as they traveled to the hills.'
'What did the White Rose say to her? What was their plot against me?'
Azrael shifted uneasily. 'I, uh… cannot hear the White Rose's voice, or that of anyone within her presence.'
