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Authors: Angela Highland
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night before, the latter by the beginnings of a beard. But his gaze was alert, and one corner of his mouth curled up. “It’s about time. How do you feel?”
Julian frowned. Lack of rest and strength still dragged at his limbs, and his head ached with slumber too soon interrupted. But no other pain presented itself. Neither the shoulder where he’d been shot nor the leg that had broken in his fall issued the slightest twinge as he rolled over out of the niche. “I’ll function,” he pronounced, sitting up. “Where are the elves?”
“Gone, not long after sunrise. Julian, they’ve released us from the contract.”
“What? We haven’t killed their precious Duke for them yet.”
“Evidently this no longer signifies. Jannyn and Tembriel had little to say on the topic, at least in Adalonic.” Rab grinned, thin and wicked. “I didn’t enlighten them that my grasp of Elvish is more comprehensive than they supposed. As for Alarrah, she informed me that our services were no longer necessary, that our failure to fulfill the contract wouldn’t be held against us, and that we could keep the half payment already given.”
Annoyed, Julian slapped the ground for lack of anything or anyone nearby to strike or throttle, his mind racing over the ramifications—whether they’d have to hide, how long it would take Holvirr Kilmerredes’s wrath to burn away, how well their reputations would bear a failure’s blow. “How generous. Did your undisclosed grasp of Elvish get you anything else I should know?”
“They’re rejoining their people. How, I couldn’t say. I saw no horses but ours near this cozy little hideaway, and they didn’t discuss how they were about to depart. With, I might add, enough haste to eschew quibbling over matters of payment with dishonorable human assassins such as we.”
“Now, now, we mustn’t be bitter. We are dishonorable human assassins.”
“I concede that point.”
“But this doesn’t mean I won’t overlook our elven friends’ condescension in upholding their side of the contract. Because I’m a better man than that.” As Rab snickered, Julian ducked his head under the overhang to one-handedly roll up his bedding. Rab leaned over to tie off the bedroll in a tight bundle, and as they worked Julian went on, “I don’t like that they’ve left so suddenly. We’d best find another bolt-hole while we consider our next move.”
Levity vanished from his partner’s face with a speed that told him that thought had already crossed Rab’s mind. “Do you think the elves will attempt something against us?”
Julian sat back on his heels. “Jannyn would cut our throats if given the opportunity. Alarrah seems more peaceably disposed, but I couldn’t say the same of Tembriel or the rest of their people. Make no mistake, they’re relaying word—”
“Of us?”
His wrist hurt. Julian rubbed at it and frowned. Its flesh seemed more tender than normal, with an itch that came to him only in winter or violent storms, when cold and damp sank into his bones and made his arm recall how it felt to end in a hand and five fingers. Fire and lightning, not winter cold, had overwhelmed him at the duke’s mansion, but the specter of a remembered hand was the same. So was the pain at his wrist.
“Of her,” he murmured. “The girl in Lomhannor Hall.”
Rab stared at him, first at his hand’s movements, then at his face. “You take issue with this.” It wasn’t a question. “If she’s mage enough to do...what she did, wishing to spread news of one of their own in Kilmerredes’s hands is hardly surprising.”
“No, but that His Grace possesses her in the first place is. Something’s there. I want to know what it is.”
“We’ve been called off the contract,” Rab protested.
“Precisely why we’d better find a way to recoup our losses. If we won’t be paid to kill the duke, we can bloody well blackmail him if he’s got a mage stuffed in his cellar. The Hawks should have
Julian frowned. Lack of rest and strength still dragged at his limbs, and his head ached with slumber too soon interrupted. But no other pain presented itself. Neither the shoulder where he’d been shot nor the leg that had broken in his fall issued the slightest twinge as he rolled over out of the niche. “I’ll function,” he pronounced, sitting up. “Where are the elves?”
“Gone, not long after sunrise. Julian, they’ve released us from the contract.”
“What? We haven’t killed their precious Duke for them yet.”
“Evidently this no longer signifies. Jannyn and Tembriel had little to say on the topic, at least in Adalonic.” Rab grinned, thin and wicked. “I didn’t enlighten them that my grasp of Elvish is more comprehensive than they supposed. As for Alarrah, she informed me that our services were no longer necessary, that our failure to fulfill the contract wouldn’t be held against us, and that we could keep the half payment already given.”
Annoyed, Julian slapped the ground for lack of anything or anyone nearby to strike or throttle, his mind racing over the ramifications—whether they’d have to hide, how long it would take Holvirr Kilmerredes’s wrath to burn away, how well their reputations would bear a failure’s blow. “How generous. Did your undisclosed grasp of Elvish get you anything else I should know?”
“They’re rejoining their people. How, I couldn’t say. I saw no horses but ours near this cozy little hideaway, and they didn’t discuss how they were about to depart. With, I might add, enough haste to eschew quibbling over matters of payment with dishonorable human assassins such as we.”
“Now, now, we mustn’t be bitter. We are dishonorable human assassins.”
“I concede that point.”
“But this doesn’t mean I won’t overlook our elven friends’ condescension in upholding their side of the contract. Because I’m a better man than that.” As Rab snickered, Julian ducked his head under the overhang to one-handedly roll up his bedding. Rab leaned over to tie off the bedroll in a tight bundle, and as they worked Julian went on, “I don’t like that they’ve left so suddenly. We’d best find another bolt-hole while we consider our next move.”
Levity vanished from his partner’s face with a speed that told him that thought had already crossed Rab’s mind. “Do you think the elves will attempt something against us?”
Julian sat back on his heels. “Jannyn would cut our throats if given the opportunity. Alarrah seems more peaceably disposed, but I couldn’t say the same of Tembriel or the rest of their people. Make no mistake, they’re relaying word—”
“Of us?”
His wrist hurt. Julian rubbed at it and frowned. Its flesh seemed more tender than normal, with an itch that came to him only in winter or violent storms, when cold and damp sank into his bones and made his arm recall how it felt to end in a hand and five fingers. Fire and lightning, not winter cold, had overwhelmed him at the duke’s mansion, but the specter of a remembered hand was the same. So was the pain at his wrist.
“Of her,” he murmured. “The girl in Lomhannor Hall.”
Rab stared at him, first at his hand’s movements, then at his face. “You take issue with this.” It wasn’t a question. “If she’s mage enough to do...what she did, wishing to spread news of one of their own in Kilmerredes’s hands is hardly surprising.”
“No, but that His Grace possesses her in the first place is. Something’s there. I want to know what it is.”
“We’ve been called off the contract,” Rab protested.
“Precisely why we’d better find a way to recoup our losses. If we won’t be paid to kill the duke, we can bloody well blackmail him if he’s got a mage stuffed in his cellar. The Hawks should have
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