“Kill them! Kill them all!” There was a wild, half-mad quality
to his tone that set fingers of ice clawing at my spine, and I knew in that instant
that something was deeply wrong with Thauvik.
Behind him, the door reserved for the king burst open and a pair of the Crown Elite
came rushing through. They had weapons in their hand and spells uncoiling like curls
of glimmering fire at their fingertips. On either side of the Elite, the giant stone
dogs who familiared them slid silently up through the marble tiles of the floor, rising
from the cold ground beneath, where they had been lying concealed. Elemental creatures
of earth, the stone dogs could swim through dirt and rock as easily as any fish through
water. They left no marks on the tiles when they emerged.
Grabbing Maylien, I cried out with my mind,
Triss, shroud!
Darkness swallowed us as he spun himself into a cloud of blackness.
I expected the king to make his exit then, drawn away by his most loyal guards. But
he waved them off, remaining on his throne to watch the carnage. The last thing I
saw before night blocked my sight was the king’s half-mad grin when one of the Elite
blasted the Warden of the Blood aside with a spell that nearly tore the woman’s head
off.
Dragging Maylien with me, I rolled wildly away from the dais. I aimed for a gap in
the first rank of ivory chairs where a wild-eyed clan chief had cleared herself some
fighting room. We smashed into her shins and sent her staggering toward the dais,
and she stabbed downward in response, snapping her sword on the stones. She swore
and turned, obviously trying to spot what had hit her, but we had already moved beyond
easy reach. Without the forced awareness of contact, she would have a hard time spotting
us now.
Even one of the Elite—who were trained for such work—would have had difficulties picking
us out amid the swirling chaos of angry lords, jumbled furniture, and fallen bodies.
Still, I spared a moment to thank the memory of my goddessfor whatever magic made it so hard for people to spy a shroud even in relatively good
light. And another to hope that the Elite who had come in past the king hadn’t spotted
me before we went dark. There was lots of visual turbulence to draw hostile attention
away from a shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there, but it would be better if they
weren’t actively looking.
Maylien hissed, “What the hell’s going on, Aral?” for perhaps the fifth time as I
staggered to my feet and pulled her with me.
I finally had the attention to respond. “Enemy Blade,” I said. Then I scooped her
onto my shoulder. “You need to stay inside the shroud if you don’t want to go the
way of the duchess, so hug me tight.”
I dashed toward the nearest wall—where I could hopefully find a servant’s door—zigging
and zagging as I ran.
4
D own! Triss shouted into my mind, and I dove for the floor.
A chain of green fire lashed across the wall in front of me, shattering thirty feet
of teak paneling and sending out a shower of burning splinters. A narrow gap was revealed
a couple of yards to my left—that servant’s passage I’d been hoping for. Steep stairs
spiraled away into darkness in both directions.
“Aral, stop, we have to go back,” Maylien gasped—I’d landed on her pretty hard. She
pushed herself off my shoulder.
I rose onto hands and knees, covering her with my body and the shadow that surrounded
me. “Like hell we do.” The green chain fell somewhere off to my left, destroying chairs
and drawing screams. I hoped that meant that the lash that had nearly cut us in half
was a lucky shot then, not aimed.
“We’ve got to get my adoption papers,” said Maylien. “This whole disaster will be
pointless if we don’t.” And damn me if she wasn’t right.
“Bad idea,” said Triss. “There are more Elite comingthrough the king’s door right now, and an army of Crown Guard can’t
to his tone that set fingers of ice clawing at my spine, and I knew in that instant
that something was deeply wrong with Thauvik.
Behind him, the door reserved for the king burst open and a pair of the Crown Elite
came rushing through. They had weapons in their hand and spells uncoiling like curls
of glimmering fire at their fingertips. On either side of the Elite, the giant stone
dogs who familiared them slid silently up through the marble tiles of the floor, rising
from the cold ground beneath, where they had been lying concealed. Elemental creatures
of earth, the stone dogs could swim through dirt and rock as easily as any fish through
water. They left no marks on the tiles when they emerged.
Grabbing Maylien, I cried out with my mind,
Triss, shroud!
Darkness swallowed us as he spun himself into a cloud of blackness.
I expected the king to make his exit then, drawn away by his most loyal guards. But
he waved them off, remaining on his throne to watch the carnage. The last thing I
saw before night blocked my sight was the king’s half-mad grin when one of the Elite
blasted the Warden of the Blood aside with a spell that nearly tore the woman’s head
off.
Dragging Maylien with me, I rolled wildly away from the dais. I aimed for a gap in
the first rank of ivory chairs where a wild-eyed clan chief had cleared herself some
fighting room. We smashed into her shins and sent her staggering toward the dais,
and she stabbed downward in response, snapping her sword on the stones. She swore
and turned, obviously trying to spot what had hit her, but we had already moved beyond
easy reach. Without the forced awareness of contact, she would have a hard time spotting
us now.
Even one of the Elite—who were trained for such work—would have had difficulties picking
us out amid the swirling chaos of angry lords, jumbled furniture, and fallen bodies.
Still, I spared a moment to thank the memory of my goddessfor whatever magic made it so hard for people to spy a shroud even in relatively good
light. And another to hope that the Elite who had come in past the king hadn’t spotted
me before we went dark. There was lots of visual turbulence to draw hostile attention
away from a shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there, but it would be better if they
weren’t actively looking.
Maylien hissed, “What the hell’s going on, Aral?” for perhaps the fifth time as I
staggered to my feet and pulled her with me.
I finally had the attention to respond. “Enemy Blade,” I said. Then I scooped her
onto my shoulder. “You need to stay inside the shroud if you don’t want to go the
way of the duchess, so hug me tight.”
I dashed toward the nearest wall—where I could hopefully find a servant’s door—zigging
and zagging as I ran.
4
D own! Triss shouted into my mind, and I dove for the floor.
A chain of green fire lashed across the wall in front of me, shattering thirty feet
of teak paneling and sending out a shower of burning splinters. A narrow gap was revealed
a couple of yards to my left—that servant’s passage I’d been hoping for. Steep stairs
spiraled away into darkness in both directions.
“Aral, stop, we have to go back,” Maylien gasped—I’d landed on her pretty hard. She
pushed herself off my shoulder.
I rose onto hands and knees, covering her with my body and the shadow that surrounded
me. “Like hell we do.” The green chain fell somewhere off to my left, destroying chairs
and drawing screams. I hoped that meant that the lash that had nearly cut us in half
was a lucky shot then, not aimed.
“We’ve got to get my adoption papers,” said Maylien. “This whole disaster will be
pointless if we don’t.” And damn me if she wasn’t right.
“Bad idea,” said Triss. “There are more Elite comingthrough the king’s door right now, and an army of Crown Guard can’t
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