The Shield of Weeping Ghosts - James P. Davis [95]
He picked up his mask and returned it to his face, fearing that his thoughts were too visible, too transparent without the familiar protection. It was a crutch he was content to live with a while longer as he prepared himself to face the demons which had driven Athumrani to suicide-and the devils that laid in wait beyond the stones of the Shield.
Punctuating his thoughts, the Creel drums began again, echoing through the night air.
+ + + + +
Just outside the northwest tower torches flickered in the wind, their light a stark contrast to the darkness within the open doors. Thaena watched and listened for long moments, growing anxious for the Creel or their master to reveal themselves. The drums played the rhythm of her growing expectation, but no one appeared to satisfy it.
Tearing herself away from the window, she placed a hand on SyrolPs shoulder, moving him from between her and Anilya. The durthan stood motionless, her sellswords separated from her by the fang, as she awaited Thaena's attention. The ethran was of two minds concerning Anilya and Bastun and had no easy answers that she would readily employ against them. The matter was trivial but crucial, as the impending threat of time worked against them all.
The durthan had said nothing yet of Bastun's alleged attack upon her. With arms crossed and narrowed eyes, Thaena approached Anilya, studying her as she broke their silence.
"He tried to kill you?" she asked, keeping her tone firm but neutral.
"He tried, yes," Anilya answered.
"And do you know why?"
"No, I do not, though I stopped questioning the murderous intentions of Rashemi upon joining the durthan," she said. "Such age-old enemies rarely need reasons to spill each others blood."
"One might do well to remember that," Syrolf grumbled over his shoulder. Thaena took a breath to admonish the warrior, but exhaled calmly instead and let the statement stand. The durthan needed some reminding that their truce was temporary and that she stood on ground claimed by the wychlaren.
"Then you accuse the vremyonni of nothing?" Thaena asked.
"Only of the attempt on my life, he-"
"Threatening the life of a durthan is a trifling thing for a Rashemi to be guilty of, Anilya," she said, interrupting the durthan. "As you said yourself, age-old enemies, correct?"
"And what of his secrets? The words of the spirit beneath the wall?" Anilya asked quickly-a little too quickly to Thaena's mind. "Do you suspect him of nothing, despite his knowledge of this place?"
"What I suspect or believe has no bearing on this discussion," Thaena said, "and I am disinclined at the moment to share counsel with a durthan."
"You doubt me, despite all," Anilya said, crossing her arms and staring out the window. Tired of the durthan's flippancy, Thaena squared her shoulders and stepped toward her. Anilya could not help but meet the ethran's burning gaze, so near were their masks.
"As much as I might doubt him," she said and held the stare for a moment before continuing, "you will now join your men and await your orders. If you are displeased with my leadership, then I will fulfill your expectations of the Rashemi and our savagery. Am I clear?"
"Quite," Anilya said. She turned toward her sellswords with a leisurely step, far more calm than Thaena would have liked.
"That ought to take some fire out of you," she heard Syrolf whisper at the durthan's back.
Looking once more out the window, she studied what she could see of the tall northwest tower. Recalling the feel of the dagger in her hand made her fingers numb and brought a knot to her throat. Glancing at Duras, who stood watch over