Mistress of the Night - Don Bassingthwaite [13]
"-this is impressive. Beautiful workmanship, isn't she?" He glanced up the length of the thin blade. "I call her Quick. She came from the forge of a master weapon-smith, Mandel Oakhand in Iriaebor. The sapphire in the hilt was found in Amn and was cut specifically for her." He looked Lyraene in the eye. She had her sword, still shining with feeble light, up. Her cronies were trying to get through to her, but the other patrons of the Mantle, struggling at the same time to stay back from the impending fight and get closer for a good view, were hampering them. Keph gave Lyraene a thin smile. "And in fact, my father did give me something." He lifted the rapier close to his face and whispered, "Storm's lash!"
With a crisp snap, blue lightning crackled once along the blade then subsided, though deep within the metal, sparks seemed to dance. Keph cocked an eyebrow at Lyraene.
"Do you still want to do this?" he asked. "More than ever," Lyraene replied-and slashed her blade at him.
Startled, Keph dropped Quick down. Lyraene's attack was hard and fast, slapping against the rapier in a flare of blue sparks. Her blow hammered Quick out of Keph's hand and sent her skittering away. Spectators stumbled back from the crackling weapon.
Keph stared down in shock at the point of Lyraene's sword as it hovered in front of his chest.
"Nice sword," she said. "I've heard about it before. It doesn't do you much good when it's lying over there, though, does it?" Her blade rose and fell, traveling between his throat and his groin. "You know, Keph, you've got a reputation, but without your magic sword and that big ox Jarull to back you up, you're not that tough."
"Who says he doesn't have me to back him up?" rasped a deep voice.
Out of the corner of his eye, Keph saw a dark form bull through the crowd. As Lyraene half-turned to meet the charge, he ducked under and around her sword to come up at the half-elf s side and twist her arm back, pulling her sword down. Before she could even cry out, Jarull was out in the open and swinging heavy fists.
A jab snapped Lyraene's head back. Keph let her go and a heavy hook caught her, spinning her around and leaving her sprawled out on the terrace floor. Jarull reached back and snatched up Quick, tossing her to Keph.
"We need to go," he growled.
"I can't argue with that!" Keph shot back.
The Mantle's hulking peacekeepers were closing on them from one direction while Lyraene's friends were finally emerging from the crowd in the other.
"This way!" he called to Jarull and whirled in a third direction, toward the wall that surrounded the Mantle's terrace and hid the rooftops of the Stiltways from the view of the tavern's patrons.
Slamming Quick back into her scabbard, Keph jumped up on a table, then leaped to hook his arms over the top of the wall. A moment's scrambling and he heaved himself over to drop onto the rooftop beyond.
Jarull simply vaulted the wall with surprising lightness and grace for someone his size.
The commotion on the terrace wasn't going away, though. The peacekeepers might not care about them once they were off the premises, but Keph knew that Lyraene's friends-and Lyraene herself, once she recovered-would be after them. He grabbed Jamil's arm and dragged him on across the rooftops toward a dark gash of shadow, a rickety stair leading back down into the Stiltways. In only moments, they were out of sight and clambering down to the relative safety of the Stiltways's lower levels.
As soon as they were on an even walkway again, Keph pulled Jarull into a rough embrace and pounded his arm against the big man's back.
"Tymora's own luck!" Keph swore. "Your timing has never been better! Damn it, where have you been for the past five days? Your mother had the city guard pick me up today-she had them convinced I'd led you off and gotten you killed."
"Trembling old crow! She would think something like that." Jarull shoved Keph away from him, then threw a fist into his shoulder. "As if I'd let you get me killed!"