The Howling Delve - Jaleigh Johnson [3]
"I have served Morel a decade this winter. I am not without assets."
"Oh, splendid," Daen chortled. "You have been hoarding the pearls, so to speak. No doubt Morel was willing to pay his guard captain a satisfactory price to keep his family and fortune safe from assassins."
A larger price than Daen would ever conceive, Balram agreed silently. Twelve years of looking over his shoulder had wrought more taints in Dhairr than just paranoia, but that condition had helped Balram's cause the most. Morel had been more than willing to offer his captain the coin and latitude to do as he desired.
More than willing to open his home to a coinless mercenary and his starving son.
The trembling sensation returned to his hands. Balram fisted one on the naked blade of his sword until he felt flesh give. Like the severing of a wire, the tension inside him eased.
You have outgrown Lord Morel, he reminded himself. The Shadow Thieves could offer him more than a life of setvitude. They would take him and Aazen into their protection, allowing Balram to expand on the foundation he'd built. In quieter days, he would allow himself to regret killing Morel and his son, even to grieve for them-but not now. Now, he could afford no feeling, no compassion, for the Shadow Thieves- despite Daen's jovial bluster-permitted neither.
If the plan failed… no, it would not, not as long as secrecy prevailed. He had warned Dhairr to avoid drawing suspicion, but even on his guard, Morel could not stand against so many. His men would use all caution.
From the window, he had a clear view of the west tower of the estate, its aviary alive with the cries of hawks and other raptors. A guard stepped into view at one of the arched openings. Balram raised a hand.
The guard caught the gesture and slipped into the shadows of the tower. A breath passed, and the bird cries intensified. When the guard re-emerged, his sword lay bare in his hand, and his face was covered by a dark hood that obscured all but his eyes. In his other hand, he held a flaming scrap of cloth stuffed into a green glass bottle.
Without hesitating, the guard threw the concoction of fire down into the central courtyard, where it smashed against a lattice of wood and climbing roses.
Shouts and smoke immediately filled the courtyard. Balram stepped away from the window. He slid his uninjured hand inside a carefully sewn pocket at the breast of his tunic. His fingers closed around a hard, circular object that seemed to pulse under leather and flesh.
All caution. He repeated the mantta. And if that wasn't enough, well, Daen wasn't the only one who possessed magic.
CHAPTER 2
Esmeltaran, Amn 12 Eliasias, the Year
of the Sword (1365 DR)
Kail couldn't think. He looked desperately to the shore, at Dencer nocking another arrow to his longbow. The other figures were on the move, covering their faces with some sort of hood, fading back into the trees in the ditection of his father's estate. Kail could see the tips of its two domed towets in the distance.
Morel house was being attacked from within. His mind fumbled over the realization. Did his father know of the treachery? Was he still alive? The last thought sent a tremor through Kail's body. If Aazen hadn't been there to grab him, Kail would have lurched up onto the rock, running right into death to get back to the house.
"Kali," Aazen croaked, snapping the boy's attention back to the shore. Dencer stood, aiming, but something was wrong. He was taking too long, holding the shot. "W-what's he waiting for?"
Aazen's teeth chattered despite the warmth of the day. Kail held him up, treading water for both of them. "I don't know," he said.
Suddenly, the air whistled again. Kail braced, but the expected killing blow never came. Instead, Dencer fell to his knees, cradling his right hip.
A horse thundered up the strand of beach, kicking sand up against black flanks. Its rider tossed aside an empty crossbow and drew a short blade as he came.