The Brazen Gambit

The templar went away. Ruari returned.

"It's a small room with one door," he whispered. "Kashi's bound on a bench with cushions. He doesn't touch her, just stands there behind his long black mask, clicking his long black claws against each other-"

"He's an interrogator," Pavek interjected. "He doesn't need to use his hands."

And Yohan quietly swore a bloody vengeance.

"There's someone else in the room. Shorter and standing in the shadows. I couldn't see him clearly. But I think he's wearing a mask, too."

"The halfling. His face is covered with scars; it looks like a mask. Anyone else? Any guards? Templars?"

"Kashi and two men wearing masks. That's all I saw. What do we do now?"

"We wait. He's an interrogator, one of the best. They make the prisoners do the hard work. He'll leave her alone so she can think about what he's done, and what he's going to do. We'll move while he's resting, and she's helpless."

"You're beasts, all templars, every last one of you," Yohan murmured. "Worse than beasts. You've got no conscience."

Pavek didn't argue.

They waited, listening, hoping Escrissar would end the torment for the night, and expecting that the midnight gong would strike at any time. Getting through the streets to the wall-passage would be much more difficult and dangerous after curfew. Then, without warning, the moment came: the light in Akashia's prison dimmed through the tracery and two black-robed men, one quite tall, the other noticeably shorter, came along the corridor. They held their breaths and looked away, lest a flash of light reflecting off an open eye would give them away.

"Let's go."

The lightweight tracery panels of precious wood came out easily. They moved into the corridor. Pavek and Yohan unsheathed the long obsidian knives Telhami had provided for them. Ruari, who admitted no skill with edged weapons but claimed to have learned something about picking locks from his elven relations, went a half-step ahead. The mechanical lock was simple and the door flimsy enough that they could have battered it down with little trouble, but Ruari was quieter and almost as quick. Using a fragile contraption of straw and sinew, he eased the bolt free. It struck the floor behind the door with a thunk that common sense insisted was no where near as loud as it seemed to three jittery men in the corridor.

Ruari reached for the handle. Both Pavek and Yohan grabbed him before he clasped it and pulled him aside. The door swung toward them of its own weight. Standing out of harm's way, Pavek caught the handle with the tip of his knife. He let it swing open.

"Kashi?" he whispered.

"Pavek!"

The voice was feminine, but the woman who came out of the room with a short-sword in her hand wasn't Akashia.

"Dova

She'd been the lamp-bearing templar who'd gone down the corridor. He hadn't seen her face or her arm. Still, if they had to face a templar guard, she was the best they could have hoped for. Dova

Dova

She feinted first, a probing cut toward his weapon-side wrist. He parried and she withdrew. The blades sang-gray metal against glassy stone-but softly: neither of them wanted to attract attention. He dropped his guard two hand-spans, inviting an attack. She remembered that move from the countless times they'd bouted against each other while they were friends.

"Take a chance," he taunted in a hoarse whisper. "You always said I was slow."

Yohan and Ruari had gotten Akashia unbound and were trying-without much success by the sound of it-to get her on her feet. Dova

Begi

He knew her well enough to see the thoughts forming behind her eyes: two against one. She was going to call for help.

"This one's mine," he a

It didn't really matter whether Yohan understood or not, he was interested in Akashia, not Dova

Dova

The room was bigger in all dimensions than the corridor, despite being crowded. The advantage swung to him, and he made his first serious attack: a quick beat against her blade then a thrust at the soft flesh below her ribs. She countered fast enough to make him miss, and they sprang apart.

There was movement at Pavek's back: a loud-oooff-as Yohan scooped Akashia over his shoulder, effectively removing himself from any possible defense or attack as he scurried toward the door. Dova

Desperation called Dova

He saw the feint coming and parried with the middle of his blade, leaving the point in line. She came low with a counterparry, trying to get under his guard for an upward slash at his groin. But he was ready with a thrust. He gave the hilt a twist as the point pierced her skin and pushed the blade through to her spine.

"Pavek...."

Her knees buckled, the sword-as fine a weapon as was likely to come his way-slipped from her hand. He released the obsidian knife's hilt; she fell to the floor, and he picked up the metal sword.

"Pavek...." She held out her serpent-wrapped hand.

The wound was mortal; he knew the signs. He had her weapon, and she wasn't going to do anything treacherous with his. For the sake of the past, he bent down and took her hand. She squeezed with unca

A gob of bloody spittle struck his cheek, and she went limp.

He retrieved the sword and wiped his face on his sleeve, then he hurried down the corridor to give his companions a hand lifting Akashia to the roof.