Honor Bound

Chapter 9:Stormwall

Rhendish and Volgo stood inwhat was left of Muldonny's workshop, gazing through the openingthe explosion had made in the southern wall.

Before the raid a walkwayhad connected the main fortress with the cliff-side tower. Most ofthe stone, both the walkway and the arch that had supported it, hadshattered and fallen into the sea.

"That won't be easilyreplaced," Rhendish murmured.

"No need to bother withit," the captain said. "It has no tactical value. Shore up thewalls, fill in the shafts and tunnels. That'll keep the masons busyuntil winter."

The adept nodded absentlyas he moved over to the oubliette shaft. According to Honor, thethieves had come up through this passage. But the workers who'dgone down on ropes to clear the rubble and retrieve the bodies ofMuldonny's men had reported finding a smooth and solid floor somethirty feet down.

Either Honor was lying tohim, or the young dwarf lord who'd befriended Fox possessedstoneshifting abilities beyond anything Rhendish had thoughtpossible.

"This wall will go upeasily enough," Volgo said, running a hand along the jagged edge."When is Mendor taking possession?"

"First thing tomorrow, Ibelieve. The sooner, the better, in my opinion."

It had taken all ofRhendish's influence to have Mendor named to the Council of Adepts.Of all the alchemists Rhendish had trained, Mendor showed the mostaptitude for the alchemical weapons that had made Muldonny soeffective.

And unlike Muldonny, he hadlittle interest in exploring elven lore and magic. That was a pathbest left untrod.

Rhendish joined his captainat the broken wall. Below the curve of the cliff, dark water surgedand brooded, tossing white sprays over rocks that rose from thecoastline like jagged teeth. According to witnesses, both Fox andHonor had fallen when the explosion shattered the walkway. Rhendishdid not see how anyone could have survived the fall. But Honor had,so perhaps the thief lived. And if the solid stone filling theoubliette shaft was any indication, the dwarf had alsosurvived.

Volgo frowned and foldedhis arms, his gaze fixed on the old tower.

"What is it?"

"I talked to a dozen peoplewho saw a fairy shot out of the sky. Most of them claimed thearrows came from the tower."

Rhendish immediatelygrasped his point. The tower door had not been opened since theraid, which meant that no archers had been stationed there thatnight.

"An illusion," he murmured."So it would seem the fairy survived, as well. We'll need to bringher in."

Volgo snorted. "I don't seehow. They say fairies can look like anyone."

The adept did notappreciate his captain's insolent tone, but there was enough truthin his words to silence the rebuke that leaped to Rhendish'slips.

"I figured there was afairy about," Volgo said in a tone ripe with disgust. "All theseCity Fox stories. Wasn't natural, the way they caught on. Fairytales, the lot of them. "

An idea stirred and beganto take shape."We might not know what the fairy looks like, but ifshe's behind the City Fox stories, one might reasonably assumeshe's been haunting storytelling venues. She may continue to doso."

Volgo stroked his newlybeardless chin. "There's sense in that. I'll have my men collectstoryspinners. Iron chains have a way of sorting the humans fromthe fey folk."

"You can't arrest storyspinners,"Rhendish snapped. "This is Sevrin. The people wouldn't stand forit. They need to gather of their own volition. We'll invite them toa festival in my manor."

"You've never shown any interest instoryspinners before. They're likely to be suspicious."

"Then tell them I have an honoredguest-a famous bard of some sort-who wishes to hear Sevrin'sstories and songs."

"I don't see them buying that at theasking price, either," Volgo said. "They're going to know who thefamous bards are and where they're working."

"My point precisely! Find out whomost impresses the storyspinners, get what information you canabout the bard. Create a plausible lie." The adept held up a handto forestall Volgo's next argument. "See to it."

Some dark emotion flashed in thecaptain's eyes, but it disappeared before Rhendish could put a nameto it.

"As you wish," Volgosaid.

"Begging your pardon,captain?"

Two of Volgo's men stood in thehall. The captain motioned them in.

"We found a man who says he pulledthe City Fox out of the water after the raid," one of the men said."Dorn, a fisherman."

"That's good news," Volgosaid.

"It gets better. The thief madecontact yesterday. He wants to hire Dorn to take two men and a girlto the mainland. Offered him a small fortune to do it."

"Tell him to take the money and makethe arrangements. Send three men to pick up thethieves."

"I doubt we have three willing togo," the man said. "Beorn and his men were found out behind awarehouse, deader than pickled herring. People are talking aboutthe City Fox again. They're saying-"

"I don't want to hear it. If youdon't think three men are enough to do the job, send four. Or five.Just get it done."

The man responded with a crisp nodand strode off. His comrade, a young man whose stocky frame testedthe seams of his tunic, shifted uneasily from one foot toanother.

"Well?" said Volgo.

"We got the tower open, like yousaid. But the top room was empty."

"Empty?" echoed Rhendish.

The man glanced his way. "Somewooden cases, my lord, like they have in the curiosity houses, butnothing in them. There are a few small trees and bushes growing inbig pots. That's all. They're saying-"

Volgo took one menacing stepforward. The man fell silent.

"If I wanted gossip, I'd listen tomy wife. Do you see her here? Short woman, curly blond hair, twochins?"

The man's throat worked as heswallowed. "No, captain."

"And what do you surmise fromthat?"

"You don't want to heargossip."

"Good man. But since you're set ontelling stories, I've got a job for you. . "

Nimbolk's palms itched for the feelof a dagger's hilt, and the need to kill sang through his bloodlike a wolf pack's hunting howl.

The wooden scaffolding in the hallbeyond the work room provided an ideal place to watch and listen.He'd spent the night clearing out the tower and the better part ofthe morning in the fortress, moving quietly along the timberrafters as he waited for Rhendish and Volgo to arrive. In Nimbolk'sexperience, humans seldom looked up.

The man who'd led the attack on theStarsingers grove was within Nimbolk's reach, and he had no choicebut to walk away. If he was to find this Dorn before Volgo's mendid, he couldn't linger. The Thorn, not revenge, had to be hispriority.

Volgo would die by his ownaurak-hilt sword, but not today.

Stories could be very useful things.The tiny island known as Faunmere might be a popular spot forsummer trysts and berry picking, but the first sign of sunset colorsent visitors scurrying for their boats. According to thestoryspinners, no place in all of Severn was as haunted, and noghosts as vengeful.

Thinking of the stories lifted thehair on the back of Fox's neck, even though he knew that Vishni has" improved" most of the tales almost beyond recognition.

He kept glancing at the foam thatgathered at water's edge, half expecting it to rise and take theshape of a drowned man. The soft clatter of branches shifting inthe wind brought to mind restless bones.

Fox shifted his perch on the treeand scrubbed one hand over the back of his neck, resisting the urgeto glance over his shoulder.

Dorn would be here soon, if he cameat all. Fox didn't think the fisherman would sell him to theadepts, but if he did, Fox would see the betrayal coming. From hisperch he had a clear view of the water between Stormwall andFaunmere, and the sheltered cove where the fisherman would drag hisdory ashore.

The moon rose over the silhouette ofMuldonny's fortress. Fox supposed it should be called Mendor'sfortress now, but he doubted the new adept's name would stick anytime soon.

A strong hand clamped onto thecollar of his tunic and pulled. Fox tumbled backward, armsflailing.

He crashed from one branch toanother. Once he managed to grab a handhold, but the slender branchbroke without slowing him down much. He landed hard and lay wherehe fell, too winded to do more than wheeze.

The tip of a dagger pressed againsthis throat. "Where is the Thorn?"

Fox slid his gaze toward theassailant. Judging from his tree-climbing ability and his slenderbuild, he was a young man. The hood of his cloak cast deep shadowsover his face, but Fox felt fairly certain he'd never seen himbefore. Even so, there was something familiar about the way heformed his words.

He thought about denying knowledge,but suspected this would merely waste time. "I don't haveit."

The knife twitched. "You lie.There's elf magic about you now."

"How can you-" Fox's eyes widenedwith delight. "You're an elf! That's wonderful!"

A moment of silence passed. "Why?Apart from the obvious reasons, of course."

"Well, to start with, the island ishaunted. I could have been tossed out the tree by a giant skeletalrat."

The elf eyed him for a long moment."Your reaction was genuine. Your explanation is foolishness. Thereis a reason why you were pleased to encounter one of my kind, butyou are not ready to share it. So be it." He sheathed the daggerand rose to his feet. "You might as well stand."

Fox wasn't sure he could, but hemanaged to drag himself upright. When the world stopped spinning,he saw the elf loosening the strings on the bag that had hung fromthe back of Fox's belt. The bag that held his amulet.

Fox lunged for it-

He never saw the blow coming. Thenext thing he knew, he was sitting on the ground blinking awaystars.

The elf held Fox's amulet, tippingit toward the sky to catch the faint moonlight. For some reason,Fox felt none of the compulsion that forced him to fight Delgar forthe amulet.

"How did you do that?"

He glanced down at Fox. "The magicis elfin. The runes are not. What is theirsignificance?"

"It's the mark of Eldreath, thesorcerer who ruled Sevrin."

"I have heard of this man. I had notheard that he had knowledge of elfin magic. When did he come topower?"

Fox had to think that over. "Seventyyears ago? Maybe more."

The elf nodded as if he had expectedto hear this. "Where is this Eldreath now?"

"Dead. The adepts killed him nearlytwenty years ago. But there's another sorcerer in Sevrin, which iswhy we need to get the Thorn far away."

"By 'we,' do you mean you and somecomrades, or you and me?"

Fox shrugged. "Whatever works. Ipromised to return the dagger to the elves. If you're here to takeit, you've saved me a trip."

"And how do you know I'm worthy ofthis trust?"

"Well. . You're anelf."

"Ah, well. We're all noble, shiningbeing who can do no wrong." He sniffed. "You knownothing."

In response, Fox slipped a bit ofamethyst from a pocket and hurled it at the elf's head. He flickedone hand to the right. The missile followed suit, veering off sothat it just skimmed his hair rather than hitting him squarelybetween the eyes.

"Elves draw magic from the forest,the rain, the stars," Fox said. "But elves who are cut off fromtheir kin can't access starsong magic. Starsong magic has somethingto do with crystals. If you'd been a rogue, you couldn't havedeflected the amethyst."

The elf studied him with narrowedeyes. "How do you know this?"

"My mother was a green witch. Welived on the edge of the Glimmergold, and she had dealings withelves from time to time. So I do know a few things." He lifted oneeyebrow. "Your name is not one of them."

"I'm called Nimbolk."

"Sorry to hear that," Foxmurmured.

A sour expression crossed the elf'sface. "Where is the Thorn?"

"It's with someone I trust. Icouldn't keep it with me since there's a possibility that someone'stracing me through the amulet. And before you ask, no, I can't getrid of it."

Nimbolk pulled a knife from his beltand scratched several runes into the metal. The amulet flared withlight, then went as dim as old pewter.

"What was that?"

"Temporary," Nimbolk said shortly.He tossed the amulet to Fox. "A simple unbinding spell known tomost elves. If you wish to rid yourself of this thing, do itquickly."

Fox surged to his feet and tookseveral running steps toward the sea. He hurled the amulet with allhis strength. It felt into the water with a faint plunk.

"The tide is going out," he said."If I'm lucky, they'll think I've drowned. Again."

"Then let's go to this trustedfriend."

Fox shook his head. "No offense, butthere's a lot of things going on right now. It's probably not agood idea to bring a stranger into my lair. And before I pass alongthe Thorn, there's someone I need to talk to."

A wry smile twisted the elf's lips."You have chosen an inconvenient time to start showing goodsense."

Fox shrugged. "It had to happen sometime. There's a forested island in the center of the Sevrinarchipelago. It's probably the safest place for you."

"I know of this place," Nimbolksaid. "Long ago, elves walked beneath those trees. But the veilbetween this world and Faerie is thin there, and tattered. Thereare more fairy gates in the forest than there are blacksquirrels."

"That's the whole point. It'll beeasy for one of my friends to get the dagger to you."

"So the stories are true?" he saidincredulously. "You really have befriended a fairy?"

Fox folded his arms. "You don't knowVishni. If you did, you'd understand."

"I understand perfectly," Nimbolksaid. "And I suspect that I know this fairy, even sight unseen, farbetter than you do."