Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [32]
Thus it was that Nightshade was able to steer clear of the sheriff’s deputies and concentrate on his search for one of the Beloved in order to set a trap for it.
He was, unfortunately, successful.
Three days after their meeting, at about midafternoon, as Rhys was dicing potatoes, Gerard shoved open the kitchen door and thrust his head inside.
“Brother Rhys?” he called, peering through the steam. “Oh, there you are. If Laura can spare you, I’d be glad of your company.”
“Go along, Brother,” said Laura. “You’ve done work enough for six monks this day.”
“I will be back in time to help with dinner,” Rhys said.
Gerard cleared his throat. “Uh, no, you won’t, I’m afraid, Brother.”
“We’ll make do,” Laura said. As Rhys was removing his apron, she frowned at Gerard. “You take care of him, Sheriff.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Gerard, fidgeting while Rhys hung up his apron and rolled down his sleeves.
Laura wiped her face with a flour-covered hand. “I’ve seen you, Sheriff, and my brother, Palin, with your heads together, talking in whispers. You’re up to no good, sir, both of you, and I don’t want you dragging the Brother here into it.”
“No, ma’am,” said Gerard. “We’ll be careful.”
Latching onto Rhys, Gerard hustled him out of the inn.
“Everything’s ready,” he said, as they hurried down the long flight of stairs. The kender and Atta stood waiting for them at the bottom. “Nightshade’s found a candidate. We’ll set the trap tonight.”
Rhys felt chilled. He would have much preferred being back at his work in the kitchen. “What does Palin Majere have to do with this?” he asked sharply.
“Well, aside from the fact he’s the Lord Mayor of Solace and it was my duty as sheriff to inform him of any danger threatening our city, he is—or was—one of the most powerful sorcerers in Ansalon. Before that he was a White Robe mage. I wanted his advice.”
“I’ve heard he renounced the magic,” said Rhys.
“That’s true, Brother,” Gerard said, adding, with a wink, “but he hasn’t renounced those who practice it. Here we are, Nightshade. Where are you taking us?”
“Over to the bridge stairs,” said Nightshade. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Sheriff, but he’s one of the Vallenwood Guards. You probably know him. His name is Cam.”
“Cam! Damnation!” Gerard swore, his brow darkening. “Are you sure?”
Nightshade gave a solemn nod. “I’m sure.” He rested his hand on Atta’s head. “And so is she.”
Gerard swore again. “This is going to be hard!” He frowned at the kender. “I hope to heaven you’re wrong.”
“I hope so, too, sir,” said Nightshade politely, then added in a mutter beneath his breath. “But I know I’m not.”
“What is a Vallenwood Guard?” Rhys asked to distract Gerard, who was taking this news very hard.
“They guard the stairs that lead up to the walkways,” Gerard explained, pointing overhead to the narrow bridges that ran from tree branch to tree branch. This was a busy time of day and crowds of people were walking the bridges, either going to and from their treetop homes or frequenting the businesses that were built in the trees.
“With the city growing so rapidly, there came to be too many people tromping about on the bridges. They weren’t built to carry such a load. Boards came loose and fell down on people’s heads. One of the swinging bridges almost collapsed. Several ropes gave way, causing the bridge to sag suddenly. People were hanging on for dear life.
“We decided to limit the number of people who go up there. Either you have to own a house up top, in which case you’re given a pass, or you have to prove that you have business up there. The guards man the bottom of the stairs and keep track of who goes up and comes down.”
They came within sight of the wooden stairs that led up into the tree branches. Two young men, both wearing green uniforms marked by an embroidered vallenwood