Conspiracy (9 page)

“Hurry up!” Eidola begged.

Noph reached around the lady’s warm, smooth hips and just inside her outer shift. He gently felt along her spine for the buckles of her belt.

“Your fingers are cold,” she said.

“I’m trying to hurry,” Noph replied.

He found the buckles and breathed a nervous sigh. Numb fingers worked at the leather. The first strap popped loose, flinging up a fingerful of water. Noph startled, almost hollering. As he fiddled with the next two buckles, he tried to make conversation. ‘You know, I used to be a paladin. Now I’m a pirate.”

Eidola’s voice was chilly. “Why would a pirate want to rescue me?”

“Oh, the others don’t. They want to kill you. They think you’re an agent of the Unseen.”

“And what if I am?”

His cold fingers paused, the last buckle of the belt halfway undone.

The golden lasso, he thought. The lasso of truth. It will show what you really are.

A splash came in the hall, interrupting his thoughts. Then another splash, and another.

“Hurry,” she whispered. “It’s Lord Garkim!”

Noph drew his hand away from her hips and reached for the lasso. He undid the catch and felt the loops drop into his hand.

“Hurry!” she breathed.

He slipped the lasso over her head … and everything changed.

Lady Eidola was gone.

In her place was a scale-skinned gray beast with large, empty eyes.

A greater doppleganger.

Next moment, she was a convulsing crocodile.

The monster’s scaly midsection burst the final buckle, and the crocodile fell on Noph. Its teeth flashed in the darkness and fastened on his chest. With a terrific splash, it dragged him down beneath the icy murk.

Interlude

Condemnation

I’m mesmerized by your warm, warm flesh, cold monstrosity beneath.

You’re the third lady … there was Aleena Paladinstar she is spirit, an angel hello, Aleena … there was Sharessa No-Angel a creature of flesh carnal… there is you, infernal woman demonspawn.

You’re all the same; I’m mesmerized by you … powerful, elegant, mysterious, unattainable … all the same.

You can’t be held … no man, not even a kidnapper, can hold you … can’t be held … no fingers, no claws,

nothing in all of creation not even a golden, unerring lasso … you can’t be held … I can’t hold you … are killing me for trying … your teeth meet between my ribs… hello, Teeth.

You hear something … where are those nice warm teeth now where is your muscle-back … I drift in cold ink … you are done with me you held me and are done … I am dead already.

I have not climbed the stormy tops … I have not slain a dozen foes … I have not slain even you… maybe they will still shoehorn me into the dinghy and toss the comet-torch to flare up and say there goes another piece of the great pirate Blackfingers Ralingor … because after all I’ve now had just about everything that was soft in me torn away.

We heard and saw it all.

We did not hear it with our own ears, bleeding above our ruined palace as we crushed fiends in our tentacles.

We did not see it with our own eyes, reaching where our flesh could not to slay with spell and thought among the teeming demons.

We heard and saw it with our lower mind, our animal mind. We knew it not so much by sound and sight but by smell, knew the goodness and badness of it.

This was how the destroyers of Doegan met again.

Their second convergence was in every way the opposite of their first. They met not in a morning-bright plaza, but in a night-dark dungeon. Only Trandon’s pendant lit the way for the paladins, and for the pirates only makeshift torches, casting a feverish glow across the groin vaults. The two groups did not arrive slowly, either, one party on either side of a pristine fountain; they spilled into the dungeon from opposite staircases, glimpsed each other and rushed together. They met and fought before an open cell door, their hammers and cutlasses crashing against each other to prevent entry to their foes. And on either side of the fray the groups were minus a man. The paladins had lost the young convert Noph, and the pirates had lost the old veteran, Anvil.

The only thing that had remained the same was that both sides still sought the Lady Eidola, one for rescue and the other for murder.

Great Miltiades, champion of virtue, battled haft to hilt with agile Entreri, champion of vice. Sword and warhammer clashed against one another, sending showers of sparks hissing into the water that rose to their knees.

“Give way, Entreri,” snarled Miltiades. “You will not prevail here. You shall have to slay every last one of us before you lay a hand upon Lady Eidola.”

“If you insist,” Entreri returned, jabbing inward with his sword and nicking the great warrior’s neck.

Miltiades answered the attack with a thunderous blow to the assassin’s chest, driving him back.

Their seconds, Shar and Kern, fought beside them.

Shar’s blade and wit were as sharp as ever. “Well, Kern, from the moment we met, you’ve been trying to get me to a dark, secluded spot. I’m glad you brought your love hammer.”

Kern’s response came with a swing of his mighty maul. “If I had my way, Lady, I’d have rescued you from the darkness. It is you who are devoted to dirt and dank.”

“Whether we do it dirty or clean, we’re still doing it!”

The others—Jacob and Trandon on one side, and Kings, Belgin, and Ingrar on the other—were shut out of the fight. They stood at the ready in knee-deep water.

Steel rang on silver, iron on gold. Swords carved crescents of shadow into the crumbling walls of stone. Hammers flung up jeweled spray.

In the midst of this graceful deadliness came an ungainly sound—a half-drowned shout, a clumsy splash, and the sharp slap of something muscular diving beneath the waves.

Hammer and sword faltered for a moment. In the tangled web of light from talisman and torches, the foes saw something black and swift dart into the watery space between them. It trailed a golden cord.

Miltiades and Entreri more than glimpsed the scaly bulk of the crocodile; they felt it. The creature lashed Entreri’s feet from under him, and the assassin sprawled backward into the muck; it rammed Miltiades’s legs, and he fell. Paladin and pirate landed side by side and sat up to see the black monster shoot through the water to the base of the stairs.

In the blink of an eye, the scaly beast transformed into a black-furred mastiff with a golden leash. It bounded up the stairs and out of sight.

A gurgling shout came again from the cell, “That’s her! Eidola! The doppleganger!”

Trandon splashed to the cell door. The glaring jewel showed a bloody young man leaning against the far wall. “It’s Noph!” Even as he said it, the jewel on his neck began to fade. He glanced at the dark stairway. “She’s getting away!”

Miltiades rose, magnificent in his streaming armor. His face was a fiery red in the torchlight. “How can it be? That was not Eidola!”

Trandon responded, “Look at this fading jewel. Who else could it be?”

Miltiades grew furious in the dawning realization. “For this we have come? To rescue a monster? Follow me, any who wish to do justice on that creature’s head!” He shouldered his hammer and charged down the hall, uncaring whether anyone followed.

Jacob was just steps behind the mighty paladin.

Kern glanced after his comrades, sloshed to the cell, and looked in at Noph. His face was grave. “That boy will need a paladin’s touch if he is to live.”

Trandon, beside him, clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s get to it, before the jewel goes out completely.” They entered the watery cell.

Entreri narrowly watched the paladin’s company divide. Half rushed off to slay the creature they had come to rescue. The other half remained to—to what? To save a companion they had rejected? Or did they have something else in mind, perhaps the acquisition of a great, arcane artifact?

The bloodforge.

In a low growl, Entreri said, “Rings, Belgin, go after the doppleganger. Join the damned paladins if you must, but make sure one of you slays her. We want our reward.”

The dwarf and the sharper looked dubiously at their employer. Rings’s nostrils flared. “What are the rest of you going to do?”

“We’ve a companion to aid—” his voice dropped to a hiss “—and an even greater treasure to secure. Now, get gone!”

It was as quick as that. The archenemies that had converged moments before diverged again, now as allies. Miltiades, Jacob, Rings, and Belgin would pursue the doppleganger to the end of Faenin, if need be, and slay her. Meanwhile, Entreri, Shar, Ingrar, Trandon, and Kern would minister to Noph and seek the unspoken cause of all this folly—the bloodforge of Doegan.

As Rings and Belgin rushed up the stairs after their

quarry, Kern and Trandon knelt within the cell and laid hands on Noph. The boy had been ripped to shreds. His chest was a mass of holes.

Still in the corridor, Entreri took the blind man by the arm and ushered him toward the dungeon cell.

“Why me, Master Entreri?” asked Ingrar. “Why did you choose to have me along?”

The assassin replied coldly. “We’ve a palace of wreckage to sniff through. The bloodforge is there.”

It was, indeed. But we were there, too. And we would defend the bloodforge with our very life.

I’m mesmerized by you. By all of you.

There you are, Kern, golden-haired with eyes of blue skies. Holy. Your hands bring healing fire into the tattered remnants of my chest. Your fingers lace together ribbons of flesh. Your faith binds tooth holes, each one large enough that, if you wanted, you could reach in and tickle my heart.

And, then, there is you, Master Entreri, my rival. If I die, it will be your back that carries me out of this ruin. You will hide me away until I can be placed in the sea.

You will light the torch that burns away my boat, my body, that falls on me like a dying star.

And what of you, Sharessa, the Shadow, the shapely Sharker? You’re a promising stream, full of life, that sinks and dies in desert sands.

And Trandon, there you stand. The once-bright gem you wear fades. It is as if what you once believed in is slowly abandoning you. I know how you feel. And yet, still, you stand there. Is that what it is to be grown up? To embrace not faith but doubt, and still stand?

And you, Ingrar—the Seer. If I live, you will teach me to gain in what I have lost, as you have gained new eyes for old. Eyes that see past double walkers and dop-pelgangers to the truth beyond.

And finally you, Mage-King Aetheric III—you, who have risen above your palace and your poison to become more than you were.

Let me, likewise, rise with thee.