'Your lantern's out. Never mind. Tell me about your master.'
'Gods below, it hurts-'
Apsalar reached down and twisted the dislocated arm again.
The woman shrieked, then sagged, unconscious.
Apsalar let her slide down the wall until the woman was roughly in a sitting position. Then she drew out a flask and splashed water into the Pardu's face.
The eyes opened, comprehension returned, and with it, terror.
'I don't want to hear about what hurts,' Apsalar said. 'I want to hear about the merchant. Your employer. Now, shall we try again?'
The other Pardu was sitting up near the entrance, making grunting noises, then coughing, until she spat out bloody phlegm. 'Ah!' Curdle cried. 'Better! Oh, everything aches, oh, the arm!'
'Be quiet,' Apsalar commanded, then fixed her attention once more on the woman in front of her. 'I am not a patient person.'
'Trygalle Trade Guild,' the woman said in a gasp.
Apsalar slowly leaned back on her haunches. A most unexpected answer.
'Curdle, get out of that body.'
'What?'
'Now.'
'Just as well, she was all broken. Ah, free of pain again! This is better – I was a fool!'
Telorast's laughter was a rasp. 'And you still are, Curdle. I could have told you, you know. She wasn't right for you.'
'No more talking,' Apsalar said. She needed to think on this. The Trygalle Trade Guild's centre of operations was Darujhistan. It had been a long time since they'd visited the fragment of the Shadow Realm with munitions for Fiddler, assuming it was the same caravan – and she suspected it was. As purveyors of items and information, it now seemed obvious that more than one mission had brought them to Seven Cities.
On the other hand, perhaps they were doing little more than recovering here in the city – given their harrowing routes through the warrens – and the merchant-mage had instructed his guards to deliver any and all unusual information. Even so, she needed to be certain. 'The Trygalle merchant – what brought him or her here to Ehrlitan?'
The swelling was closing the Pardu's right eye. 'Him.'
'His name?'
'Karpolan Demesand.'
At that, Apsalar allowed herself a faint nod.
'We, uh, we were making a delivery – us guards, we're shareholders-'
'I know how the Trygalle Trade Guild works. A delivery, you said.'
'Yes, to Coltaine. During the Chain of Dogs.'