The Howling Delve - Jaleigh Johnson [5]
Those eyes raked him from head to foot, noting, Kail thought, his lack of armor. He'd left the pads on the rocks of Lake Esmel with Aazen's violin. Haig reached down and freed a curved shield from where he'd hooked it to the saddle horn.
"Here," he said, thrusting the shield at Kali. "Protect yourself when we get close to the grounds." He shook his head as he gazed at Kail. "Tymora's miracle Dencer was confused. In your smallclothes, with your hair wetted down, you both look just alike."
Kail would have asked what he meant, but Haig dug his heels into hoiseflesh, and they wete away.
CHAPTER 3
Esmeltaran, Amn, 12 Eleasias, the
Year of the Sword (1365 DR)
The grounds were deserted. Haig's boots crunched gravel as the big man dismounted in the outer yard. He pushed Kail between himself and the horse. They moved in a line right up to the entry hall. The doors were wide open, and Kali could hear fighting within. Morel's servants-guards who had not turned traitor, even members of the household staff-fought with men in hoods. Kail had counted five such on the beach, including Dencer, and there were more inside without sand on their boots.
"Whatever happens, stay at my shoulder where I can see you." Haig spoke rapidly, reaching for the short sword affixed to his saddle. "I don't know how skilled you are with a blade, but if you get the chance to stick this in something, don't hesitate, do you hear?" When Kail nodded, he went on, "We're badly outnumbered, so remember, this house is no longer your home. It's theit ground until we drive them out. Anything is a weapon to that end." He handed Kali the short sword and took a second, broader blade from a sheath. Large emeralds adorned the hilts, marks given to all the blades of Morel, from the lowliest rusted dirk to Balram's elegant long sword-a mark of Morel's success in gems and fine ornaments.
Kail's father scoffed at Amnians who draped their wealth over themselves with no context. Dhairr's gesture to even his lowest-ranking servants had clear meaning: Morel had the means to protect his own.
But he had never planned for an attack from within, an attack that amounted to a betrayal by family. How many of the men in hoods bore emerald weapons? How many would Kail know personally if unmasked?
His chance to find out came when they entered the main hall. Two of the hooded foes darted in from side rooms, as if they'd seen them coming. Haig put himself in front of Kali and ran at both, grabbing up a large Calishite vase from a side table. He smashed the expensive item in the face of the hood to his right while simultaneously batting a raised sword out of his way. Dazed, the attacker fell back, unresisting, allowing Haig to charge forward to engage the foe to his left.
Kali stated at the scene, retaining only the presence of mind to raise his weapon while he watched the old man fight.
Screams filled the air as Gertie, one of the maids, hurtled from the hallway into the ctystal display front as if she'd been thrown. Fragile glass panes shattered under her weight. Her hands and arms were bloody when she picked herself up, but she kept running, bolting across the hall. Her usually meticulously combed curls hung loose and wild from her bonnet. A gloved hand snagged her hair, jerking the maid's head back into the doorway to the kitchens.
Kail watched in numb horror as the hand drew a knife in a crooked, horizontal slash across Gertie's throat. For a breath, the young maid's eyes met Kail's across the room. Then she saw the blood pouring down her dress and raised her hands as if she could stop the flow.
Kali charged forward, away from the safety of Haig's back. Instead of engaging the man with the knife, he ran a