The Alabaster Staff (30 page)

He tromped across the city to the docks, his breath puffing out a regular stream of clouds. Every few steps he wiped away the precipitation that tickled the end of his nose. There was very little light, most of it provided by taverns or the occasional street lamp that had not run out of fuel. The poor visibility made it difficult to spot the puddles in the dark. In his anger and apprehension, Ahegi moved as directly as possible, and thus by the time he got to the meeting place, his legs and feet were soaked through and he could not discern between the squishy noises of his stockings and the splashing of the puddles. Yet despite the chill and the rain, beneath his cloak he sweated with prolonged exertion, activity to which his soft lifestyle had not inured him.

Once at the docks, he moved to the farthest end, enduring the easterly breeze that blew the rain, walking all the way to the Long Wharf where it jutted out into the Alamber Sea. He stomped up the gangplank of the only sailing vessel moored at the Long Wharf and crossed the deck to the main cabin. He wiped the droplets from his nose again, then knocked in the appointed pattern: Knock-knock. Knock. Knock-knock-knock.

A small slit opened in the door, and the beam of the bull’s-eye lantern shone directly in his eyes.

“Who goes?” asked a harsh voice.

Ahegi blinked rapidly, and, when his eyes adjusted to the glare, he saw a hard pair of eyes glowering out. The lantern illuminated the guard’s face starkly from the side.

The password required that the visitor cough before answering, which Ahegi did. It was an easy requirement considering the weather.

“Ahegi, of Wing’s Reach,” he answered, using the common tongue. “I was summoned for an urgent meeting.”

“That’s not for two days,” grumped the guard.

“No, not that one. The one tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” The irritation in the guard’s voice was plainly audible.

“An urgent meeting, tonight, at midnight. A note was left on my bed.”

“We sent no note.”

“It was signed with …” And only then did he realize that the Zhentarim would never sign such a note.

“With what?” growled the guard.

Ahegi’s eyes narrowed. He glanced quickly back to the dock, and he thought he saw a shadow move, disappearing down an alley. He ran back down the gangplank to the alley and cast wildly around, but he saw nothing, and the pounding rain washed away all sounds. He wondered if the rain and darkness and lingering flare of the guard’s lamp had played a trick on his old eyes.

Perhaps it had, but he could not take that chance. Someone had lured him out there, compromising his schemes, and he thought he knew who it was.

With a curse as black as the pits of his heart, Ahegi headed back for Wing’s Reach as fast as his aging body would allow.

T
hough the rain continued to pour hard and chill, it could not repress Kehrsyn’s mood. She smiled as she walked back to Wing’s Reach, occasionally indulging in an extra skip as she skirted the larger puddles. Everything had paid off. She’d found a place to live, wrangled some coin, garnered the protection of a man who treated her like she dreamed her father would have, pulled off several daring incursions for the betterment of Unther, and tricked Ahegi into revealing himself for the traitor he was.

Arrogant ass, she thought, you’re about to reap the tiger. Wait until Massedar finds out what I know. You and your slimy ways will be gone forever.

If only she could figure out whom Ahegi reminded her of, all would be right with the world.

Kehrsyn stepped into the foyer of Wing’s Reach, and her irrepressible smile brought smiles to the faces of the two guards on duty. She shook out her
hair and tried to dry the rain from her mouth and chin with the equally wet cuff of her blouse. Sniffing with the cold, she pulled off her cloak and shook it out, taking care to keep her back, and therefore the counterfeit wand wrapped in her sash, away from the guards’ eyes.

“Need some help warming up, lass?” heckled one of the guards.

“Sure,” said Kehrsyn, feeling a little saucy. Then she interrupted herself with a pout. “Ooh, but you’re on guard duty. Too bad. Your loss.”

“My offer is open,” said the guard, with just a hint of desperation.

“Mine’s not,” she replied with a smile, and the other guard laughed at his companion’s expense. “Have a good night, boys,” Kehrsyn added, slinging her cloak over her back in such a manner that it looked casual but concealed the wand.

Just as Kehrsyn set her foot upon the first step of the stairs, the front doors burst open and an intruder flew into the room. Startled, Kehrsyn spun around, and the two guards readied weapons at the sudden disturbance.

“Halt!” yelled one guard, before he recognized the predatory snarl on Ahegi’s face.

Ahegi panted, air passing almost spasmodically between his bared teeth. He’d abandoned his cloak somewhere and bared his fattened breast to the weather. His clothes sagged beneath the rain and sweat, and the concentric blue circles that adorned his forehead were smeared. Mud covered his legs past his knees and spattered his trousers and robe up to his waist.

“Where,” he panted, the cold air pouring in from the open doors and making his breath steam, “is that arrogant, insolent, sanctimonious whore?”

Kehrsyn’s heart stopped as Ahegi’s words opened a rift in time, and she tumbled back through it to her childhood, to one of her earliest memories. She saw the door to their
hut burst open, saw her mother quail in fear before those exact same words, felt the nightmare return. She wanted to run from the pain but couldn’t abandon her mother. Kehrsyn wanted to help, but if she interfered, she’d only make it worse for both of them.

All her life those words had lain in her subconscious, words too complex for her young mind but whose meaning was clear by the speaker’s tone. She’d never forgotten those words or that voice, and without warning the nightmare had reared its burning, tarry, venomous head from her subconscious and found its way home. Wide-eyed like a child, Kehrsyn stared at Ahegi as her brain grappled with the awful truth.

“Ekur!” she gasped, and her knees began to tremble.

He whipped his shaven head around like a bull to face the young woman. She stared in shock. He’d gained more wrinkles, built himself a sag of pudge beneath his neck and a mantle of fat over his body, and removed the priestly third circle from his forehead, but there was no longer any mistaking the piggish, hateful eyes that burned beneath his brow. He raised one sodden arm and pointed.

“Kill her,” he shouted hoarsely. “No quarter—I want her
dead!
”

Kehrsyn didn’t have the leeway to make a break for the front door, so she fled up the stairs. Behind her she heard Ekur begin working some magic as the guards gave chase, yelling for help.

As she rounded the stairs, she saw a flash of magical magenta light flare against her trailing hand. She winced from the flare, but felt no ill effects as she ran.

Not knowing any better way to leave the building, she sprinted to the second floor, passed the startled guardsman in the center of the hall before he could figure out what was happening, darted down to and through her room, and leaped out the window to the alley below. She landed poorly on the hard dirt and had to roll to avoid
injuring her knee. Soaked through with muddy water, she regained her feet and checked to ensure the wand was still in her sash. Then, just as she was about to put her cloak on, she saw that it was glowing with a bright magenta light, the aura of Ekur’s spell.

She put it on anyway and ran off into the rainy night.

Several of the inhabitants of Wing’s Reach lounged in the common dining area, enjoying the fire and gambling at dice and sava. Demok sat to one side, whetting his long sword and occasionally offering advice on odds and plays, sipping a goblet of dry wine purchased from some Chessentan mercenaries during the campaign season.

An outcry rang through the building, a pair of voices calling the building to arms. Behind it, Demok heard the unmistakable sound of magic being woven. He leaped to his feet, sheathing his long sword and drawing his short sword, the better tool for indoor work.

He burst into the hall and ran to the foyer, where most of the commotion seemed to originate. Ahegi stood by the open front doors, leaning with one hand against the jamb and panting heavily, soaked through and absent his rain cloak.

Demok ran up to him, a questioning look on his face.

“That whore,” panted Ahegi, pointing up the stairs. “The new one. Kill her.”

Demok turned to the stairs and heard the heavy clatter of the two guards charging after the lone fugitive, shouting imprecations and calls for assistance. Instead of following them, he sheathed his sword, snagged the lantern that hung over the guards’ table, and ran outside, heading for the stables. He kicked open the stable boy’s door, which stood to the side of the big barn doors. By the light of his lantern, he saw the stable boy sitting on his bale of hay,
bleary eyes wide with surprise. Demok grabbed the loose end of the blanket in which the stable boy was wrapped and gave it a hard pull, spinning the boy out of the blanket and into the cold night’s air.

“A bridle, boy!” ordered Demok, raising his voice to help the command cut through the haze of sleep. “Now!”

The boy stumbled to his task, not even yet fully awake or aware of his surroundings.

Demok moved quickly through the stables to his mount’s stall. The lantern he hung from a nail that jutted from a post. He opened the paddock’s gate, pulled the blanket from the horse’s back and spoke gently to it. His hand on the back of the horse’s neck, he began to lead it out.

Near the front of the stable, he saw the boy trying to figure out why he was up and around with a bridle in his hand.

“Here, boy!” shouted Demok, and the boy tripped over, one hand offering the reins.

With the skill of a lifelong horseman, Demok strapped the bit and bridle to his horse.

“Open the gate!” he shouted, and leaped atop his horse, bareback.

The boy, sensing that his nightmare would end as soon as he let it out, threw back the bar and pushed one door open. Demok rode out into the night, heading up the alley to find that a group of Wing’s Reach guards, each with a lantern, were already spilling out to pursue Kehrsyn in the downpour.

“There she is!” shouted one, and there, distant but yet visible in the downpour, he saw a cloak, glowing with a bright phosphorescent light and bobbing with a runner’s pace.

The group pursued, and Demok went with them. Ahegi wanted Kehrsyn killed, not captured, which meant that whatever she might say was forbidden, knowledge far too dangerous for anyone to hear. He knew he could not let any
of them reach her before he did. They wouldn’t understand the urgency.

Fingering the hilt of his short sword, he vowed that his superiors’ mission would not be thwarted. The group followed the glow, which led in a straight line, until, of a sudden, it dropped to the ground.

“Damn! She tossed her cloak,” cursed one guard.

As the group reached the abandoned cloth with its unwelcome enchantment, the officer of the guards looked around at the alleys that lurked in the darkness.

“You five,” the officer barked, gesturing to a cluster of guards, “keep pursuing in this direction, all the way to the docks. She hasn’t turned once since we left. Maybe she’s panicked or hopes she can hire passage. The rest of you, split into groups of three and search these alleys carefully. She might have been playing dumb, hoping we’d pass her by as she hid in the dark. Move!”

As the guards dispersed, Demok paused. He was certain she was neither panicked nor hiding. From everything she’d told him, Kehrsyn had been through many such dragnets before, and, since she still possessed both hands, evidence implied that she’d always escaped clean. Instead, he figured she would move to a safe place to lair. She had no other home, and after all the time he’d shadowed her through Messemprar he knew of only two places she might go. One was the Thayan enclave, to seek the protection of whomever she’d spent the night with after the theft. The other was the hideout of the thieves’ guild, or whatever organization it truly was, where the occupants had been killed and carted away like cordwood.