Tymora's Luck - Kate Novak [13]
The question was moot at the moment. The priest of Xvim was still a problem. Joel considered casting a spell to heat the metal the priest carried, but he wasn't certain if the foe wore any armor beyond the bracers about his wrists, and the handle of the priest's mace was wooden, Then Joel's eyes fell on the answer.
A thick clump of razorvine climbed up the wall behind the priest of Xvim; its tiny dark leaves glittered in the light cast by Joel's sword. Not only could the bard use it to immobilize his enemy, but also if his enemy fought against it, its razor-sharp stems would do grave injury to any flesh they touched. Joel began whispering a prayer, motioning toward the vine with his fingers.
The vines twisted and writhed, then fell forward, wrapping themselves about the evil priest's throat, his raised mace and arm, and his waist. The priest cried out in surprise and tried to pull away from the wall. Then he began to scream in pain from the lacerations inflicted by the vine's stems.
Joel dashed out from his hiding place and scooped up his sword. In the next moment, he stood before his attacker with his sword pointed at the priest's chest, ordering him, "Don't move, or the vine will cut through your flesh to your bone. It's called razorvine. You must be new to Sigil, or you would have known not to get anywhere near it. The citizens here grow it to keep thieves out."
The priest of Xvim glared at Joel. "You are too late, priest of Finder," he gloated. "We have captured the winged woman. My master's servant will come to claim her, and she will be our dark stalker again."
"Jas!" Joel shouted down the street in the direction he suspected the thugs had dragged his friend. "Emilo!" His voice echoed back in the fog, but there was no reply from the winged woman or the kender. "You're going to tell me where they're taking her," Joel insisted, pressing the point of his sword ever so slightly against the priest's belly.
"Never," the priest replied.
"What's going on here?" a voice bellowed.
Joel lowered his sword and turned around slowly. Five Hardheads, the city watch, stood behind him. One carried a wand enchanted with a light as bright as the sunshine,
"Officers, this man attacked me," Joel declared, indicating the blood and scars from the freshly healed wounds on his arm and shoulder. "His henchmen have just abducted my friend, a woman named Jas. It's imperative that I find her before they smuggle her out of the city, but he refuses to tell me where they have taken her."
The highest-ranking Hardhead stepped forward. "Is that right?" he asked the priest of Iyachtu Xvim.
"The woman indentured herself as our servant," the priest said. "We are only reclaiming our own."
That's a lie. She's a free woman," Joel snapped. "You have no claim on her."
"We'll have to sort this out back at headquarters," the Hardhead leader said. "Tell us where the woman is," he ordered the priest, "so we can determine the truth of your stories."
"I have no idea," the priest said.
"He's lying," Joel growled.
"Mitchel, convince the witness to cooperate," the Hardhead leader barked.
One of the other Hardheads stepped forward. The priest of Xvim glared disdainfully at the man. The Hardhead began a chant.
The Hardheads, Joel recalled, had special magical ways to make witnesses talk.
"You will never force me to speak!" the priest shouted. "I will die first!" With the fanaticism of the mad, he lunged forward until the razorvine about his neck sliced through his throat. Blood gushed down his robes, and he collapsed to his knees. He hung against the wall, still trapped by the razorvine.
Joel blanched in horror. Even the Hardheads looked shaken. The one casting the spell stuttered and grew silent. One of the younger Hardheads whispered an oath.
"You'll have to come in with us, sir, and file a statement," the Hardhead