It had taken all ofRhendish's influence to have Mendor named to the Council of Adepts.Of all the alchemists Rhendish had trained, Mendor showed the mostaptitude for the alchemical weapons that had made Muldonny soeffective.
And unlike Muldonny, he hadlittle interest in exploring elven lore and magic. That was a pathbest left untrod.
Rhendish joined his captainat the broken wall. Below the curve of the cliff, dark water surgedand brooded, tossing white sprays over rocks that rose from thecoastline like jagged teeth. According to witnesses, both Fox andHonor had fallen when the explosion shattered the walkway. Rhendishdid not see how anyone could have survived the fall. But Honor had,so perhaps the thief lived. And if the solid stone filling theoubliette shaft was any indication, the dwarf had alsosurvived.
Volgo frowned and foldedhis arms, his gaze fixed on the old tower.
'What is it?'
'I talked to a dozen peoplewho saw a fairy shot out of the sky. Most of them claimed thearrows came from the tower.'
Rhendish immediatelygrasped his point. The tower door had not been opened since theraid, which meant that no archers had been stationed there thatnight.
'An illusion,' he murmured.'So it would seem the fairy survived, as well. We'll need to bringher in.'
Volgo snorted. 'I don't seehow. They say fairies can look like anyone.'
The adept did notappreciate his captain's insolent tone, but there was enough truthin his words to silence the rebuke that leaped to Rhendish'slips.
'I figured there was afairy about,' Volgo said in a tone ripe with disgust. 'All theseCity Fox stories. Wasn't natural, the way they caught on. Fairytales, the lot of them. '
An idea stirred and beganto take shape.'We might not know what the fairy looks like, but ifshe's behind the City Fox stories, one might reasonably assumeshe's been haunting storytelling venues. She may continue to doso.'
Volgo stroked his newlybeardless chin. 'There's sense in that. I'll have my men collectstoryspinners. Iron chains have a way of sorting the humans fromthe fey folk.'
'You can't arrest storyspinners,'Rhendish snapped. 'This is Sevrin. The people wouldn't stand forit. They need to gather of their own volition. We'll invite them toa festival in my manor.'
'You've never shown any interest instoryspinners before. They're likely to be suspicious.'
'Then tell them I have an honoredguest-a famous bard of some sort-who wishes to hear Sevrin'sstories and songs.'
'I don't see them buying that at theasking price, either,' Volgo said. 'They're going to know who thefamous bards are and where they're working.'
'My point precisely! Find out whomost impresses the storyspinners, get what information you canabout the bard. Create a plausible lie.' The adept held up a handto forestall Volgo's next argument. 'See to it.'
Some dark emotion flashed in thecaptain's eyes, but it disappeared before Rhendish could put a nameto it.
'As you wish,' Volgosaid.
'Begging your pardon,captain?'
Two of Volgo's men stood in thehall. The captain motioned them in.
'We found a man who says he pulledthe City Fox out of the water after the raid,' one of the men said.'Dorn, a fisherman.'
'That's good news,' Volgosaid.
'It gets better. The thief madecontact yesterday. He wants to hire Dorn to take two men and a girlto the mainland. Offered him a small fortune to do it.'
'Tell him to take the money and makethe arrangements. Send three men to pick up thethieves.'
'I doubt we have three willing togo,' the man said. 'Beorn and his men were found out behind awarehouse, deader than pickled herring. People are talking aboutthe City Fox again. They're saying-'
'I don't want to hear it. If youdon't think three men are enough to do the job, send four. Or five.Just get it done.'
The man responded with a crisp nodand strode off. His comrade, a young man whose stocky frame testedthe seams of his tunic, shifted uneasily from one foot toanother.
'Well?' said Volgo.
'We got the tower open, like yousaid. But the top room was empty.'
'Empty?' echoed Rhendish.
The man glanced his way. 'Somewooden cases, my lord, like they have in the curiosity houses, butnothing in them. There are a few small trees and bushes growing inbig pots. That's all. They're saying-'
Volgo took one menacing stepforward. The man fell silent.
'If I wanted gossip, I'd listen tomy wife. Do you see her here? Short woman, curly blond hair, twochins?'
The man's throat worked as heswallowed. 'No, captain.'
'And what do you surmise fromthat?'
'You don't want to heargossip.'
'Good man. But since you're set ontelling stories, I've got a job for you. . '
Nimbolk's palms itched for the feelof a dagger's hilt, and the need to kill sang through his bloodlike a wolf pack's hunting howl.
The wooden scaffolding in the hallbeyond the work room provided an ideal place to watch and listen.He'd spent the night clearing out the tower and the better part ofthe morning in the fortress, moving quietly along the timberrafters as he waited for Rhendish and Volgo to arrive. In Nimbolk'sexperience, humans seldom looked up.
The man who'd led the attack on theStarsingers grove was within Nimbolk's reach, and he had no choicebut to walk away. If he was to find this Dorn before Volgo's mendid, he couldn't linger. The Thorn, not revenge, had to be hispriority.
Volgo would die by his ownaurak-hilt sword, but not today.
Stories could be very useful things.The tiny island known as Faunmere might be a popular spot forsummer trysts and berry picking, but the first sign of sunset colorsent visitors scurrying for their boats. According to thestoryspinners, no place in all of Severn was as haunted, and noghosts as vengeful.
Thinking of the stories lifted thehair on the back of Fox's neck, even though he knew that Vishni has' improved' most of the tales almost beyond recognition.
He kept glancing at the foam thatgathered at water's edge, half expecting it to rise and take theshape of a drowned man. The soft clatter of branches shifting inthe wind brought to mind restless bones.
Fox shifted his perch on the treeand scrubbed one hand over the back of his neck, resisting the urgeto glance over his shoulder.
Dorn would be here soon, if he cameat all. Fox didn't think the fisherman would sell him to theadepts, but if he did, Fox would see the betrayal coming. From hisperch he had a clear view of the water between Stormwall andFaunmere, and the sheltered cove where the fisherman would drag hisdory ashore.
The moon rose over the silhouette ofMuldonny's fortress. Fox supposed it should be called Mendor'sfortress now, but he doubted the new adept's name would stick anytime soon.
A strong hand clamped onto thecollar of his tunic and pulled. Fox tumbled backward, armsflailing.
He crashed from one branch toanother. Once he managed to grab a handhold, but the slender branchbroke without slowing him down much. He landed hard and lay wherehe fell, too winded to do more than wheeze.
The tip of a dagger pressed againsthis throat. 'Where is the Thorn?'
Fox slid his gaze toward theassailant. Judging from his tree-climbing ability and his slenderbuild, he was a young man. The hood of his cloak cast deep shadowsover his face, but Fox felt fairly certain he'd never seen himbefore. Even so, there was something familiar about the way heformed his words.
He thought about denying knowledge,but suspected this would merely waste time. 'I don't haveit.'
The knife twitched. 'You lie.There's elf magic about you now.'
