Shadowplay

CELL 5

Black fabricwings rode the eddying winds to the roof of the Kasta. The Shawanalotah made the precarious landings with precision and silence despite the slant of the leads and slimy mixture of dust and dew that made the roof a potential deathslide. After folding the kites and tucking them behind the parapet, the five Triads ran bent over toward the lit-up area of the Nish'mok's private flit landing.

Miniature crossbows loaded with drugged darts in their left hands, the front Triad crept forward, moving with the undulant predatory grace of blackvipers. The leader took out the dozing sentry before he knew he wasn't alone on the roof.

After a quick scan failed to locate anyone else up there, the leader waved the others forward, keyed open the lift, and punched in the code that would take them down into the heart of the Kasta.

Fourth level: two Triads peeled off, trotted for the armored doors of the Nish'mok's suite.

Third level: one Triad stayed to hold the lift, one scattered to plant the firebombs they carried in their sacs, the third followed a small black cat through the maze of corridors.

Twenty-three olph. The leader checked the designation, opened the squint. Throaty growl, smell of cat. "Ah," he breathed. "Hunter."

The word was a thread of sound, but the answer came back immediately, a snarl filled with hostility. "What?"

"Get ready, you leaving. Singer say this: Miralys have your skin you mess this up, kitcat's word on it." He keyed the lock and swung the door open.

A snort from the darkness, the sound of something big moving about, then Rohant appeared in the doorway, pouch over his shoulder, cats at his heels.

The Triad collected Klkun, then Shadith, swung Miowee into a leather harness, strapped her onto the back of the largest Shawal and went trotting back to the lift to wait for the bomb planters.