The Emerald Scepter

CHAPTER 8

Horial landed hard on his back, and though the ground was soft and spongy beneath him, the sudden appearance of Edilus directly above him made the mercenary's journey through the magical portal a painful one. As the druid collapsed on top of the sergeant, the weight of both of them together drove Horial down hard against the earth, and the arrow still rammed in his shoulder sank deeper into his flesh. The sergeant gasped and barely refrained from crying out fully.

"By the gods," he groaned, panting. "Get off me," he pleaded, pushing at Edilus with his good arm.

The druid scrambled off Horial and stood, muttering in that language the sergeant had heard the Enclave use back in the Nunwood. It sounded like Edilus was cursing.

"You two be quiet!" Adyan hissed from nearby, his drawl exaggerated with his insistence. "You want to draw the entire Generon down on us?"

Horial groaned again and tried to sit up, but Edilus was there in front of him, grabbing him by the collar of his tunic. "Why, you traitorous wolf? Why did you bring me through the portal with you?"

Horial stared at the man, his mouth agape. "Why? Because those soldiers were going to kill you!" he hissed. "If you want to die so badly, then go back!"

Edilus swore again softly. "I would if it were possible, but it is not! The passage conveys those who use it in one direction only! I cannot return!"

"You hate us so much you'd rather die than come with us?" Horial demanded, controlling his voice only a little more than before. "I saved your life. Maybe some day, you'll get back to your precious forest and do something worthwhile with what's left of it." And with that, he grabbed Edilus's hand, the one still clutching at his tunic, and slung it off.

"I'm not kidding!" Adyan said, his voice also a whisper. "We're smack in the middle of the Generon grounds, and they will hear you if you don't quiet down!"

Horial could see the scar along Adyan's chin glowing faintly in the moonlight. It was twitching from the other man's agitation.

Grolo, sitting nearby, said, "He's right. You two are making enough noise to draw the whole city watch here."

Horial glared at his companions, disliking the rebukes while he was in the middle of a good fight, but he realized the wisdom of their words. Finally, he said to Edilus in a whisper, "Like it or not, you're here with us, and unless you want to ruin what all of your brethren-and my other soldiers-just died to help make happen, let's save this argument for later."

Edilus stood very still, staring at Horial for a long moment as if thinking. Finally, the druid nodded. "I will help you as I can," he said, "because Shinthala believed you had a purpose that did not cross us. But my aid will not include anything that would harm my people in some way."

Horial spread his hands in acceptance and said, "None of us would expect any less of you. And so you understand, I grieve for your brethren as much as I do for my own soldiers." He tried to roll over onto his side, but the arrow embedded in his knee would not allow it. Wincing as he jarred it, Horial sank back to the ground in pain.

"Let me see your injuries," Edilus said, kneeling next to his counterpart. "I may be able to tend them."

Horial nodded and tried to sit still while the druid worked on him, several times stifling cries of pain as Edilus's touch became too ambitious. As he waited, the sergeant tried to get his bearings.

The group had arrived in a lush garden, and in fact, the portal that had delivered them there seemed be anchored to an overgrown archway that formed a lopsided arbor. It looked very old and neglected, and thick vines and shrubs had completely enclosed it on every side, providing a welcome screen of camouflage for the four of them. Though he could not distinctly remember seeing the location before, something about the place convinced Horial that Adyan was correct. They were on the grounds of the Generon.

"Why does this look familiar?" he asked, looking over at Adyan, who was just returning from a quick foray into the underbrush to scout. "Have you been here before?"

"You don't remember?' the other man asked softly, squatting down beside Horial.

Horial shook his head. "It reminds me of something, but…" Whatever memories were hidden away were giving him an uneasy feeling.

"It was a long time ago," Adyan drawled, sounding pensive. "Vambran was with us."

Horial looked at his friend, remembering it all. "That night," he breathed. "The plantains."

Adyan nodded. "Yes. The plantain trees are just that way," and he pointed in the near-darkness, "and the pond where we found-" he stopped himself then, pointing but not finishing the thought.

"Of all the ridiculous luck," Horial said, bracing himself as Edilus took hold of the first arrow, the one in his knee. When the druid jerked the missile out, Horial had to clench his teeth to keep from yelling. "How did Tymora see fit to drop us right here?" he asked after he got his breath back.

Edilus handed the sergeant a little leather pouch. "Eat it," he said, moving around to Horial's shoulder.

Opening the pouch, the sergeant could see something gray and moist inside. It did not look tasty. As Edilus took hold of the second arrow, Horial tipped the pouch back and let the contents slide down his throat. The mixture tasted sour, but he did not have long to reflect on it, for Edilus yanked hard.

Horial squeezed his eyes shut to deal with the burning pain, but whatever Edilus had given him warmed his body and eased the discomfort. He suspected it might have been some druidic variation of a temple-issue healing potion. Soon, his wounds had closed and he felt good enough to walk. He climbed to his feet and peered around.

"So," Horial asked of no one in particular, "which is the fastest way out of here?"

"Through the front gates," Adyan said.

"Yes, I'm sure that the guards won't bat an eye as three members of the Sapphire Crescents and a fellow from the distant woods go strolling past with no explanation of how they came to be on the grounds," Horial said wryly. "That's not one of your better plans."

"I'm serious," Adyan replied. "We might look a little odd, but tonight's Sammardach. Next to Spheres and the Night of Ghosts, it's one of the biggest parties of the season. Why shouldn't we be visiting the Generon tonight?"

"Sammardach," Horial said, musing. "That just might work," he agreed. "Though it's pretty late to still be here."

Adyan shrugged. "We got to drinking with some stable hands," he offered, "or we got lost in the gardens and had to find our way out. Sounds reasonable to me. The palace is huge, after all."

Horial shrugged, too. "Let's do it," he said.

Grolo snorted. "What was that you were saying about Tymora?" he muttered as the four of them began to push through the bushes, forcing their way out from the forgotten arbor.

"I was saying," Horial answered, shoving aside a low-hanging branch dripping with moisture, "that we ought to remember to drop a coin in her fountain next time we pass by. And I thought we were done tromping through wet bushes in the middle of the night," he added, drawing a soft, if brief, chuckle from the rest of the Crescents.

It did not take them long to break through onto open ground. Once they were visible, the group began to stroll casually, trying to look as if they had just been meandering through the grounds of the palace, minding their own business at the party. A couple of times, Horial suggested to Edilus that it wasn't necessary to prowl, but the druid couldn't quite grasp the concept of acting natural.

Or rather, Horial realized, he's acting as naturally as he knows how. He's probably never been to a city before.

Indeed, as Horial watched, Edilus stared about in wonder and amazement at the grand edifice known as the Generon. More than once, the sergeant thought he saw the druid shake his head in dismay or heard him mutter some unintelligible expletive, but otherwise, Edilus seemed able to keep calm.

The foursome made its way across the grounds and along the paths toward the front of the palace, where the gates stood, and Adyan began to whistle a cheerful tune as they walked. They spotted a guard or two along the way, and both times they were given careful scrutiny, but no one challenged them.

Before long, the gates came into view at the end of a long path that wound its way toward the bottom of the hill, and it seemed that the group was in the clear. Horial actually sighed in mild relief, thankful for the small favors of both Waukeen and Tymora, when Edilus suddenly stopped and cocked his head as if listening.

"What is it?" Grolo asked, stopping beside the druid. "What's wrong with you?"

In answer, Edilus darted off the pathway and into the nearby bushes, disappearing into the undergrowth.

"What the-?" Horial groaned, and he dashed after the druid. "Edilus, no! We can't go that way!" As he neared the spot where Edilus had vanished, though, he heard a grunt and a sudden rustling, and someone gave a muffled shout.

Eternal damnation, Horial thought, grabbing for his blade as he carefully shoved through the outer layer of foliage. What's he unearthed in there?

There was another muted shout, and someone cursed, a string of expletives favored among mercenaries. Horial swore in return and pushed deeper into the greenery, aware that Adyan was right behind him. He spotted a break in the growth ahead of him and detected movement, so he forced a path that way, stumbling through just as Edilus popped up on the other side, yanking another figure along with him. The druid shoved the figure forward and Horial was startled to see a second form down on the ground, a man who was rubbing his head gingerly. As the first one dropped down beside the second, Horial noted that he was dressed as a Waukeenar, an Abreeant, in fact.

"Ow!" the figure cried as he landed on his hands and knees. "By Brightwater, you're strong!" he said, rubbing his wrist where Edilus had gripped him. Then the Abreeant looked up at Horial with a look of both recognition and concern upon his face. "Who are you?" the priest asked, a fellow a few years younger than the sergeant. He sounded fearful.

Instead of answering the priest, Horial turned on Edilus. "What the blazes are you doing?" he demanded. "We were almost to the gate!"

"I could smell these two hiding in here," the druid replied. "And I suspected they were doing something untoward."

Horial had to clench his hands together to keep from reaching up to grab the druid by his collar. "First of all, it's none of our business why they are hiding in here. We were hiding in the bushes a few moments ago, too, remember?" When the druid merely scowled, Horial continued. "And second of all, even if they are up to no good, it's not our fight tonight. We have more important things to deal with."

"Horial?" the young priest asked, startling the sergeant out of his admonition.

The mercenary looked down, surprised. "Do I know you?"

The Abreeant shook his head. "No, but I'm in contact with someone who knows you, and she's very glad to see you. You know Hetta Matrell?"

Horial nearly choked, then he sank down and pressed his finger against his mouth, signaling for the younger man to speak quietly. "Gods and demons, boy! How in the Nine Hells do you know Hetta Matrell?" he asked in a near-whisper.

The young man might have smiled, though it was hard for Horial to be sure in the dim light. "That's a very long story, but suffice it to say that we're on the same side tonight."

Horial's eyes narrowed. "How do I know you're speaking straight with me?" he demanded.

The Abreeant didn't reply for a long moment, and he said, "Hetta tells me to remind you of all the times she had to swat your fanny for crushing her hoplilies when you, Adyan, and Vambran would use her garden wall as a shortcut."

Horial stood there for a long moment, stunned. No one but Hetta, Adyan, and Vambran himself would have remembered something from his childhood.

He threw his head back then and just laughed, and Adyan was chortling too, right beside him. He tried to keep his laughter quiet, and for the most part he succeeded, but the whole situation was too comical for him to control his mirth. Finally, wiping a tear from his cheek, Horial caught his breath. "You sold me," he said, still chuckling. "Where is darling Hetta?"

At that question, the Abreeant seemed to wilt slightly. He held out his hand, offering something to Horial. The sergeant caught a glint of red, and he reached out and clutched at a jeweled ring.

Well, you're a fine sight, Horial Rohden. Where is Vambran?

Horial nearly dropped the ring. Grandmother Hetta? he asked, unsure of where the voice was coming from. Are you at House Matrell? Vambran said you were in trouble.

Yes, trouble is the short way to sum it up, Hetta's voice replied. And no, I'm not at the house. I'm in here. Now where's Vambran?

Horial stared at the ring in the moonlight, aghast. He is still in Reth, trying to save the rest of the men, the sergeant answered. He sent us back to help Emriana after she called to him.

Well, good, Hetta said, and relief radiated from the disembodied voice. Pilos and Quill need your help. There's too much to explain right now, but Emriana and Xaphira are in trouble. We all have to get out of the Generon, and quickly, before Junce and the palace guards catch us. Can you help them?

Horial nodded, then thought, That's why Vambran sent us back here, Grandmother Hetta. Just tell us what you need.

Pilos will explain it all to you. For now, just pass me back to him. Oh, and Horial?

Yes?

Thank you for coming. You and Adyan are both good men, and Vambran is lucky to have you as friends.

Horial grinned as he handed the ring back to the young priest. "All right," he said, turning to look at everyone in turn. "Hetta says we've got to get out of here. Pilos?" he said, looking at the priest. When the Abreeant nodded, Horial said, "Tonight we're at your disposal." He made quick introductions and they set out, and he noted that the first pink light of morning was beginning to brighten the eastern sky. Their intentions were to proceed as before, strolling toward the front gates and out as though they didn't have a care in the world.

That plan lasted for perhaps ten paces before someone began to shout from a distance.

Horial spun around to see a contingent of Generon guards running toward them. When he turned back, a second collection of soldiers was assuming a formation to block the way out.

"I guess they know we're here," the sergeant said.

They ran.

The sun was well above the horizon when Arbeenok woke Vambran. The lieutenant felt refreshed and immediately got to his feet, but Elenthia groaned and coughed. Arbeenok frowned and pulled the mercenary aside. "She is too weak to go with us," he said. "My magic is holding, but the disease has still taken most of her strength."

Vambran nodded. "Then we take her to her father before we depart," he said.

Arbeenok shook his head. "No. She is a carrier. She will infect those around her, even though she is not growing sicker. Do you see?"

Vambran rocked back on his heels, then, understanding at last. He looked over at Elenthia, who was staring at both of them as they whispered together, shifting her gaze back and forth, worried. She knew they were speaking of her. "We'll find you a safe place," the mercenary said.

Elenthia's eyes widened in fear. "You're not going to leave me here, are you?" she asked, a nervous edge to her voice. She didn't really want the answer to her question. "You can't leave me here!" The exertion brought on a coughing fit, and she doubled up in pain.

Vambran dropped down beside her and held her, then held a water skin to her mouth, waiting for her to drink when she was able. Finally, after she had caught her breath, he said, "You'll be all right. You're strong. If you don't let all the scheming society folk get the best of you, you won't let this beat you, either." He smiled at her kindly. Inside, he was in agony. How can I do this to her? I left my men behind, too.

Elenthia understood his little jest, though, and a faint smile played across her face. "You always know just the right thing to say to a girl," she said. Then her face turned a bit stony. "Even if you do cavort with druid women," she said, giving the lieutenant a ferocious glare.

Vambran started at her comment, then glanced up at Arbeenok, who was looking on as though he had no idea what the discussion was about. When Vambran looked back at Elenthia, he could see the faintest of smiles curling at the corners of her mouth. He rolled his eyes at her and gave her a reassuring pat, then looked at Arbeenok. "Is there anything else you need to do?" he asked, not wanting to delay the departure any more than necessary.

The druid seemed to consider, then nodded. "We should both have another dose of my powder," he said, producing two more earthen urns like the one he had administered to the lieutenant the previous evening. "We do not want to become sick before we find a cure," he added. After the druid had sprinkled the contents on both of them, they were ready.

"Then let's get moving," Vambran said, rising. "The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll be back." They left plenty of provisions with Elenthia-food and water they had procured from the pantry. She sat in a chair and watched them go, a brave smile on her face. At the door, Vambran turned to look back at her one last time, raising his hand in farewell. "Rest," he said, not knowing what else he could say.

"Come back," she said, her voice soft but earnest.

He only nodded then turned away.

Outside the room, beyond the woman's hearing, Vambran stopped and hung his head. "I can't believe I just left her there," he said, feeling the burden of failure wash over him. "Waukeen forgive me."

"It is the right choice," Arbeenok said, patting him on the shoulder. "It's her best chance of surviving."

Vambran sighed. "I feel like I'm leaving everyone to their deaths, lately." Then he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and said, "Let's do this thing." And he walked out of the house, through the garden, and out into the street.

Arbeenok was close behind.

The streets of Reth were littered with the dead. Many were the destroyed remains of those unfortunates who had died, animated, and died again, but a small few had simply perished by other means, somehow avoiding the terrible affliction that would have turned them to unlife.

For a long while, as the two of them walked, no signs of the living were to be found. The morning was filled with haze, smoke from fires that still smoldered. It blew across their path, acrid and hot. Whenever they got near a particularly thick cloud, Vambran grew cautious, unhappy at the thought of something lurking inside it.

After a while, Vambran began to hear something. A commotion, perhaps, but definitely the voices of many people mixed together. As the pair neared the docks, the lieutenant could make it out more plainly.

"Do you hear that?" Vambran asked. "Something's going on up ahead. Let's go see."

But Arbeenok hesitated. "I will not be welcome," he said. "I am too different."

Vambran stopped and looked back, surprised for a moment at his companion's words. He had stopped thinking of Arbeenok as a strange creature. The alaghi was just a trustworthy friend to him. "You have a point. Can you transform into a dog again?"

"I could," the druid replied, "and I will if that is the best course. But perhaps we should use my abilities more thoughtfully."

Vambran cocked his head to one side and looked at the druid quizzically. "What do you have in mind?"

"We only waste time dealing with the people of this city right now," Arbeenok explained. "They do not understand our purpose, and they might fear that we carry the plague."

"I think it's pretty clear we don't," Vambran replied, frowning.

"But why waste time in proving it?" Arbeenok asked. "Our goal is to reach the water. Why do we want to mingle with the people?"

"Well, unless you have a better idea," Vambran said wryly, "walking to the docks is the only way I know of to get to the Reach. And in order to walk to the docks, we have to see what's happening."

Arbeenok smiled then. "I do, as you say, have a better idea," he replied. And he drank deeply of the morning air, sighed, and began to change.

The druid's arms snaked out, elongated and lightened, sprouting feathers. His face shifted and changed, rounding and enlarging, producing a beak where his mouth and nose had been before. His feet shortened and grew talons. His weight adjusted, redistributed, and his belongings vanished, melding into himself, becoming rich brown feathers. When the transformation was complete, Arbeenok regarded Vambran with a critical and very piercing eye.

The mercenary gaped for a moment, shocked once more by the feats Arbeenok was capable of. Then he smiled and said, "You're one damned large hawk."

Arbeenok squawked once in reply and leaped upward, beating his wings to gain speed and altitude. Swooping forward, the druid reached down and grasped Vambran by the shoulders, squeezing his talons together just enough to take hold of the man's armor without puncturing it and piercing his flesh.

Vambran gave a tiny yelp of surprise, but he did not struggle as they soared together skyward, Arbeenok beating his new wings furiously, hauling the extra weight up beneath him. For a moment, Vambran was aghast, but once he convinced himself that the druid would not drop him, he began to enjoy the moment for what it was.

The feeling of flying was exhilarating, and he reveled in it. The morning air was crisp as it whistled past him, cooling after the heavy smoke. Still, it was a long way down, and Vambran swallowed hard a couple of times, especially when the druid shifted and turned. He did not like to imagine dying such a death. Arbeenok circled about a few times, allowing Vambran a chance to study the ground as they rose higher and higher.

"This is incredible!" the mercenary shouted from below the druid.

The buildings of the city dwindled below them, and quickly, the pair was high above, able to see most of the settlement spread out below. Even the highest structure, the great tower of the Palace of the Seven, shooting upward near the center of the city, shrank beneath them. Much of Reth had burned in the night, and many fires still smoked. Bodies were strewn everywhere.

"There," Vambran said, pointing to the docks, and Arbeenok had to arch his head downward to see where the man pointed. "All those people. What's going on down there?"

Arbeenok swooped in closer, and Vambran could make out lines of soldiers holding a position, weapons readied. Crowds of people were strung out facing the soldiers, with a sizeable space between them. As the lieutenant watched, someone tried to run toward the soldiers, dodging and weaving. The soldiers fired bows and crossbows, and Vambran even saw a flash of magic. The runner went down, lying still. As they circled, Vambran realized that the soldiers surrounded the city. And they were holding the people inside.

They are preventing the citizens from spreading the plague, the mercenary thought. They won't let them leave the city. It made sense to him, though he was saddened by the soldiers' tactics. And when they swooped lower, the emblem on the soldiers' uniforms stirred anger in Vambran's heart.

They were men of the Silver Ravens.

The duo's shadow passed over a group of soldiers and the men on the ground looked up. Many began shouting and pointing. Though he knew that none of their weapons had the range necessary to be a true threat, Vambran feared a lucky shot. Nor, for that matter, did he wish to be a target for some wizard's clever magic. As if thinking the same thing, Arbeenok began pulling air beneath his wings with a few powerful strokes, and the pair quickly left the city behind, racing out over the open water of the Reach.

The arbor Patimi had spoken of was not far from Lobra's balcony, but in order to reach it, the two Matrell women and their prisoner had to descend a series of terraced flower beds that had been filled with numerous robust blooming plants, then cross an open lawn. Some of the flowers grew as tall as Emriana herself, and in addition, there were thick hedges, stands of swaying grass with razorlike leaves, and jumbles of thorny bushes. Beyond the flower beds, in the sliver of Selune that shone on it, the arbor loomed dark and forbidding, all overgrown and neglected.

At least we can hide in this mess, the girl thought as she shifted Lobra's weight and struggled down another level. No one would think to hunt for us in here.

On the other end of Lobra's limp form, Xaphira's labored breathing signaled to Emriana that her aunt was losing her energy quickly. That realization made her shudder, wondering what had happened to the older woman while she had been imprisoned in the dungeons of the Generon. After her own suffering at Lobra's hands and the bruises Xaphira sported, the girl's imagination lent itself to some pretty awful possibilities.

"You all right?" Emriana whispered as they shifted sideways to squeeze through a hedge. "You want to stop and rest?"

"No," Xaphira whispered back. "I'll be fine. Just winded."

"That's what I'm worried about," Emriana replied. "As much as I want to make Lobra pay for… this is a bit much. Maybe we ought to leave her here."

"No." Xaphira hissed, making it clear she wasn't going to change her mind. "She's the one advantage we have right now. I'll be all right. Keep moving."

Emriana started to argue, then snapped her mouth shut as she thought better of it. Xaphira could be as stubborn as Uncle Dregaul sometimes, and the girl sensed that it was one of those moments. That and the fact that I just casually mentioned that her own mother had died, Emriana thought, angry with herself. She must have a thousand questions, and we can't even talk about it.

Finally, the two of them reached the last terrace and stopped under the cover of a trellis heavy with some vine sprouting huge, sweet-smelling white blossoms. Emriana could feel Xaphira letting Lobra sag down to the damp, rich earth beneath them, so she did the same. They sat for a while, Emriana wondering what Xaphira was thinking. Finally, she leaned over and said, "I'm sorry."

Xaphira jerked her head around to peer at her niece. "Sorry?" she asked very faintly. "For what?"

"For whatever happened to you. For springing the news about Hetta on you the way I did. There's a lot to be sorry about."

"It's all right," Xaphira replied, and she reached out to find Emriana's hand with her own. Giving it a comforting squeeze, she whispered, "Hush. They'll hear us. Like you said, we'll talk later."

Emriana sighed but nodded, knowing her aunt was right. I hope there is a later, she thought, eyeing the open space between themselves and the trees.

After a moment longer, Xaphira got to her feet. Lobra was beginning to stir. "We've got to hurry, before she wakes up," the older Matrell woman whispered. "Come on."

Emriana joined her aunt and together, they hoisted the woozy woman up from the damp ground. Sticking her head out from the shelter of the shrubs, Xaphira surveyed the grounds, then motioned to Emriana that all was clear. They stepped out into the open.

The first several steps seemed the longest. Emriana's heart was pounding from her fear of being seen, but no one seemed to be about. When they were halfway across, she started to think they would make it.

Bells started ringing all around her.

The sound made her jump and yelp a tiny bit, and she felt Xaphira react in a similar fashion. Both women wasted no time trying to figure out the source of the alarm bells. They broke into a lumbering run, struggling to stay abreast of one another and not drop their prisoner.

In the distance, dogs began to bark. Emriana thought she could hear the sounds of horses riding closer at a gallop. The guards were alerted. They were being hunted.

"Go on," Xaphira said, trying to take the full burden of Lobra on herself. "Run ahead, get over the wall before they catch us. I'll be right behind you."

"No," Emriana said. "I'm not leaving you again."

"Em, there's no time to argue. Go!"

"I'm not leaving you!" the girl almost screamed, fear making her voice rise in pitch. "I lost you once already. Forget it!"

Xaphira didn't reply. The two of them just kept moving, managing to get in among the trees just as lights appeared around the corner of the estate, moving rapidly toward them. The barking of the dogs grew more feverish, more insistent, and louder. Emriana wondered if their masters had released them from their leashes yet. She didn't dare turn around to see.

The arbor turned out to be harder to maneuver through than it might have seemed at first blush. The arching passage was filled with downed limbs, waist-high grass, and brambles. Emriana imagined that no one had tended to the place in at least a generation. More than once, she or Xaphira tripped over something hidden in the undergrowth, falling to one knee or sprawling against the trunk of a tree. Xaphira hit the ground particularly hard at one point and just lay there for a moment, groaning softly. Emriana had to help the woman to her feet.

To make matters worse, Lobra was becoming more awake by the moment, and she was beginning to thrash in her bonds, making it difficult to hold her. Finally, Emriana put her mouth to the woman's ear and said, "If you want to live to see the light of morning, I suggest you stop wiggling. I don't have any compunction against slitting your throat and leaving you here to bleed out, do you understand?"

After that, Lobra was much more compliant.

When they reached the wall, Emriana eyed the barrier, which loomed a good ten feet high, uncertainly. "I've been climbing over too many of these lately," she muttered.

"Get up there " Xaphira said. "I'll boost her up to you once you're on top."

"No," Emriana said. "We go up together."

"Em, we can't! We can't both balance in the tree and hold her. The dogs are coming! You don't have any weapons to fight them! Get up there, now!"

Angry both at being scolded and knowing her aunt was right, Emriana scrambled up the closest tree and easily hopped to the wall. She turned and lay across the top of it on her stomach, then reached down. "Hand her up," she said. "Hurry!"

At the far end of the arbor, lights were bobbing about and men were shouting. The dogs were howling up a storm and charging through the underbrush right toward them. Lobra began to squirm, resisting Xaphira's efforts to heave her up to the younger girl. Xaphira planted one fist into the prisoner's gut, and Lobra crumpled. Xaphira slammed Lobra right up against the wall, and the bound woman let out a stifled grunt of pain. Then the mercenary got underneath her, gaining leverage, and shoved with her legs. Even with her effort, though, Emriana couldn't quite reach down far enough to grasp Lobra.

"It's no good," Emriana said. "We have to leave her."

"No!" Xaphira yelled, and with a final heave, she straightened her arms, pushing Lobra high enough.

Emriana grabbed hold of Lobra's shoulders, but she didn't have the strength to pull her to the top of the wall. "I can't lift her!" she cried. "I'm going to drop her!"

"Just hang on," Xaphira said, moving toward the tree. "I'll be there to help."

A dog lunged out of the grass, leaping right at Xaphira. The older Matrell woman spun and sidestepped the hound, which struck against the wall with a yelp and dropped to its feet. Spinning, it charged her again just as another dog appeared. Xaphira kicked out in front of her, catching the first dog on the nose, then she raked her heel back and out to the side, catching the second dog across its muzzle. Both hounds yipped in pain and scurried back, out of range.

Emriana watched all of it in dismay as she felt her grip on Lobra beginning to slip. "Xaphira!" she cried out. Lobra, she thought, don't you dare start squirming now. "Xaphira, hurry!"

With the two dogs cowed, Emriana's aunt spun and leaped to the lowest branch of the tree and began to clamber up. Below, another dog appeared, barking frantically as it danced around the base of the tree, as though it had trapped a raccoon. The lights were close, and Emriana could almost see the faces of the men carrying the lanterns.

Xaphira landed on top of the wall right beside Emriana just as one of the younger girl's hands finally slipped. Her aunt reached down and grabbed at Lobra's hair, pulling the woman up to the sound of a muffled shriek. Little by little, the two of them hauled their prisoner to the top of the wall while the dogs bayed below.

Just as the first of the Pharaboldi House watch arrived, Emriana and Xaphira managed to slip over the other side, their prisoner still in tow.

By the time more men from the estate worked their way around to the lane on the outside of the wall, the three women were gone, and the first pink rays of dawn were just beginning to spread across the sky.