Jaleigh Johnson - The Howling Delve

• Название: The Howling Delve
• Автор: Jaleigh Johnson
• Жанр: Фэнтези

---

"Eventually," Meisha said. She smiled a little as Varan's face blurred in her vision. "Fix them all, Master. Maybe when you do, you'll find your way back to me."

Talal waited for her in the hall. Meisha's anxiety, deep as it was, couldn't hold under the boy's shy grin. "Ready?" she asked.

"More than," he said. His eyes fell on the pouch in her hand. She'd removed it from Varan's neck. "He let you take that?"

"The demon's eye has been destroyed," Meisha explained. "The jarilith—and in turn Varan—only ever guarded it because it served as the link to Varan and to this plane. That's why he killed Shirva Tarlarin and attacked me—to protect the link."

"What will you do with it?"

"Give it to Dantane. He needs payment for his contract in Keczulla, and he wasn't able to salvage any magic items from the Delve. I offered this, and whatever's inside." But she'd removed the apprentices' rings. They now rode on a chain around her neck.

Talal looked disappointed, but he didn't say anything.

"You don't like him," Meisha guessed. "Dantane."

"I don't trust him," Talal countered. "Neither does Kall," he added.

"Kall trusts him. He just doesn't like him," said Meisha, smiling.

"Why not?"

Meisha shrugged. "Maybe because Dantane was able to relieve Kall's father from his enslavement—if only for a little while. It was something Kall couldn't do. I think it chafes him a bit, though he'd never admit it." She glanced sidelong at him. "I still don't know why you're coming with us," she commented.

The boy shrugged. "Nothing better to do," he said.

Meisha raised an eyebrow. "There will be more battles," she said.

"How do you know?"

"There always are," she said dryly. "And more magic, more fire. I know you're afraid of it."

Talal nodded. They walked on in silence, and were almost to the tunnel entrance when he said, "But I'm not afraid of you."

"Oh." Meisha felt the warmth grow inside her, a heat that didn't burn. The feeling was so alien she didn't quite know what to make of it.

Was this what she wanted, an existence somewhere between fire and cold, between anger and love? And if so, how could she ever hope to maintain such a delicate balance? Varan hadn't been able to teach her that skill. Maybe Talal and the others could.

They stepped into the sunlight, where Kall and his party waited.

EPILOGUE

Keczulla, Amn

10 Marpenoth, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)

Aazen wasn't surprised to see Daen waiting for him at the Contrall estate. Daen stood in the library behind his father's desk, pouring two glasses of wine.

"I've been awaiting your report," Daen said, regarding the hole in Aazen's tunic curiously. "I assume you encountered some trouble?"

Aazen reached for one of the glasses. "My father is dead," he replied. "The operation can no longer continue."

"I suspected as much." Daen didn't seem the least moved to hear of Balram's demise. "But we'll go on."

"You're not upset," said Aazen, draining his glass.

"Not at all. The profits from Balram's venture were exceptional, and the planning and intelligence behind the initial scheme equally so. True, his loss is a blow, but you are alive, and not the traitor he believed you to be. I received great things from Balram. I expect no less from his son." He saluted Aazen and drank. "In fact, I believe you'll come to mean a great deal to our organization in the future. That is, assuming you still wish to walk with us?" He smiled faintly at Aazen. "Or should I be upset about something?" he asked.

Aazen set the glass back on the desk with a soft clink. "You should perhaps be concerned that I've poisoned your drink," he said bluntly.

Daen didn't immediately react, until Aazen held up his open palm. Wired to his middle finger was a small vial, no larger than a thimble. Daen opened his mouth, but Aazen went on, "To answer your question, yes, I still desire a place among the Shadow Thieves—your place, specifically."

Daen grunted. "You're bluffing. Do you truly believe we don't have ways of dealing with poison?"

Aazen shrugged. "In that case, we'll talk tomorrow, when the time for an antidote has passed."

"Wait." Daen's bravado slipped a fraction when Aazen turned to the door, but he tried to appear more interested than upset. "What do you want?"

"To know more about my 'family,' " Aazen said. "I want to know how far your web reaches and who controls my fate."

"None of us know that," said Daen. When Aazen started to turn away, he chuckled. "Kill me if you like, but it's the truth, and the not knowing serves us all well. You're clever, but you're still a babe, Aazen. You need my guidance." Daen had returned to patronizing, the master to the student. "I can help you."

"Can you?" asked Aazen. "Because I tire of having my fate dictated by others. I told Kall the Shadow Thieves would not control me, and I will keep that promise."

"What is it you want, then, to rule us all?" scoffed Daen.

But Aazen was perfectly serious. "Yes. And you will help me, Daen, or you will die painfully tomorrow. Which will it be?"

"Oh, you're a dead little fool," said Daen serenely, but he nodded. "I'll help you, as long as it serves me to do so. For now, I have no choice, if I want to stay alive. But if I get the chance to kill you—"

"Agreed," said Aazen. "We'll take things one day at a time. As long as you impress me, Daen, I promise you'll stay alive."

Daen's jaw tightened—the first visible sign of anger Aazen had ever seen from the man. "Where shall we begin?" Daen asked.

"The lowest point in the web," Aazen said. "Every Shadow Thief under your command. We'll work from there." Were he to lead them someday, he would need to know every member of his new family. He was looking forward to meeting all of them.