Vander's great hands caught both the men by their collars and sent them flying across the room to collide heavily with the wall on each side of the door. The firbolg quickly threw a blanket over the exposed young woman and turned to face his hated associates.
The three on the side of the room looked to each other nervously; one of the men who had hit the wall lay crumpled in a heap at its base. The other, though, was up and outraged, a short sword in one hand.
Vander couldn't help but grin as he considered the situation. Might this be the long-awaited showdown? A nagging thought stole his mirth. He could kill these men, all five, and probably the other dozen or so that were in and about the house, but what about Ghost?
Always, the firbolg had to remember Ghost.
"You three," he commanded to the men on the side of the room. "Your associate has drawn a weapon on your master."
The three understood the implications immediately, as did the man holding the short sword, if his suddenly fearful expression correctly revealed his thoughts. The Night Masks were a vicious and evil band, but within the organization existed strict codes of conduct and horrible forms of discipline that even the hardiest assassin feared. The three by the wall drew their own weapons and faced the traitor.
The man with the short sword fumbled to put his weapon away. He jerked once, then again, a confused expression on his face.
His accomplice, crumpled at the base of the wall, was not as dazed as he had appeared, and he was eager to regain the taskmaster's favor. In his hand he held the last of three daggers, and this one, too, he whipped across to find a place in the traitor's side.
Anxious to show their respect and loyalty to their powerfill leader, the other three promptly rushed the dying man. A club slapped the short sword from trembling hands, and all four loyal soldiers set upon the doomed man, hacking and crushing until he lay in a bloody heap on the floor.
"Put him with the other dead," Vander said to them. He looked back to the bed. "And find a proper prison for this girl"
"She is a witness and must be killed," an assassin replied. "That is our way."
"On my word alone," Vander growled back, his voice carrying tremendous influence now, considering the grim fate of the one who had dared to oppose him. "Now take her!" The same man who had questioned the decision started immediately for the bed, sheathing his weapon .but not relenting his steely eyed glare.
Vander caught him in one hand by the throat and easily lifted him from the floor.
"You are not to touch her." The firbolg snarled in his face. He noticed the man's hand inching toward his belt. "Yes ," \fonder purred, "do draw your little knife!"
The three remaining men seemed at a loss.
"She must be killed," one of them dared to offer in support of his threatened colleague.
The man in Finder's grasp twisted free enough to growl defiantly at the firbolg.
\fender heaved him through the nearest wall, back into the kitchen. Several assassins who had gathered in the other room stared through the hole in disbelief at the angry firbolg.
"On your word alone," the three men by the door said obediently.
"I will make my place in the barn," Vander said to them all. "It is more fitting to my size and there I will not have to deal with your impertinence. I warn you just one more time," he growled ominously. "If the girl is harmed in any way . . "
Vander left it at that, preferring to end the threat by leading the others' gazes to the squirming and groaning Night Mask caught fast by broken, stabbing planks halfway between the bedroom and the kitchen.
Fredegar Harriman, proprietor of the Dragon's Codpiece , shook his thick-jowled face in disbelief at the request for yet another private room. The inn had only eight such rooms, and while the much less expensive common room was nearly empty, all of the private rooms were occupied. That alone seemed amazing enough, but what struck Fredegar as even more odd was the makeup of his guests. Five of the rooms belonged to visiting merchants, as was common. A sixth had been paid for until the end of the year by Cadderly, and a seventh had been reserved by the Edifi-cant Library for use by a soon-to-arrive headmaster. Even more unexpectedly, the last room had been rented that very day, to a stranger nearly as curious-looking as this brown-haired lad.
"Common room won't do?" the flustered innkeeper asked. "At least for a few nights? It's on the back side of the building. Not much of a view, but quiet enough."
The young man shook his head, his stringy brown hair flopping to one side, revealing that half of his head had been shaved. "I can pay you well," Bogo offered, giving his purse a quick shake to accentuate the point.
Fredegar continued to wipe the bar and tried to find a way around the dilemma. He didn't want to put the young man out, more for the innkeeper's reputation and his sincerity than for the lost coins, but he didn't see a way around it. The hearth room was teeming this night - it had been full every night since the rumors of impending war had spread through Carradoon - mostly with locals. Fredegar peered through the throng, trying to see if any of his private guests were in attendance.
"I have just one room empty," he explained, "but it won't be for long - might even be filled this night."
"I am here now to fill it," Bogo argued. "Is my gold not as good as another's?"
"Your gold is fine" Fredegar assured him, hoping to keep the tension low. "The one open room has been reserved for more than a week by priests from the Edificant Library. I have assured them that it will be available, and, well, if you are from the area, you know that it is not wise for an honest merchant such as myself to alienate the Edificant Library."
Bogo perked his ears up at mention of the place and the notion that other priests were on their way to town.
"Headmaster Avery and Kierkan Rufo will be in soon," the talkative innkeeper went on. "I haven't seen the good, fat headmaster for almost a year now. I expect he and Rufo have come to town to meet with young Cadderly, another of my guests and another of their priests, and to prepare for this potential war that everyone seems to be talking about."
Bogo scrutinized every word, all the while trying to appear unconcerned. The news about Rufo seemed almost too good to be true. Having the two-time stooge so close at hand could aid his plans to make the kill on Cadderly.
Fredegar, as usual, rambled on in many unimportant directions, speaking mostly of the outrageous rumors that had been circulating. Bogo put in an occasional smile or grunt to make it appear that he was listening, but his mind was whirling down the many avenues the newest information had opened to him.
"I have it!" Fredegar announced suddenly, so loudly that several patrons at the nearest tables of the hearth room stopped their conversations and turned to regard the innkeeper.
"Malcolm," Fredegar called across the room. An older gentleman, a merchant, by his rich and fanciful dress, looked up from his table.
"Half price if you will share a room with my Brennan," Fredegar offered.
The old gentleman smiled and turned to talk with his companions at the table, then stood and came over to the bar.
"I have only one more night in town," he answered when he arrived. "I leave for Riatavin in the morning." He winked conspiratorially, both at Fredegar and the odd-looking young man standing at the bar. "One can make fine trades with such grim news filling the air, eh?"
"A night with my Brennan?" Fredegar said hopefully.
The merchant gazed across the room to a younger woman, fine in stature and looking back at him with obvious interest. "I had hoped to be accompanied on my last night in town," he explained. Again came his wink, this time even more lecherous. "After all, back in Riatavin tomorrow night, I will be forced to spend some time with my wife."
Fredegar, blushing, joined him in his laughter.
"I could spend a single night in the common room," Bogo interjected, not at all amused by the worthless bantering, "if you will guarantee me this man's room by midday tomorrow." Bogo turned his thin lips up in a wry smile, thinking it best to play the conniving buddy game. "Free of charge this night?" he asked coyly.
Fredegar, never one to bicker (especially not when the inn was so full), readily agreed. "And an ale with my compliments, young stranger," the innkeeper offered as he filled a tankard. "And one for your intended?" Fredegar asked Malcolm.
"I will meet it at the table," the lecherous merchant replied, going back to his seat.
Bogo accepted the drink with a smile and turned about, leaning with his elbow propped on the bar. The crowd buzzed and played; it was a jovial and warm inn, its atmosphere not at all hindered (perhaps even enhanced) by the still-distant rumors of war. The perfect cover, Bogo thought as he watched the bustle, and he nearly laughed aloud as he considered how the events of the next few days might steal a bit of the mirth.
"So good that you have returned!" he heard Fredegar say a short while later. Bogo's eyes widened and he purposely shifted farther down the bar as a young man, of above average height and solid build, moved to join the innkeeper. He wore a blue, wide-brimmed hat lined with a red sash. Set in its middle was a porcelain brooch bearing the holy symbol of Deneir. There could be little doubt as to this one's identity - Dorigen's description of Cadderly had not included the beard, but Bogo could see that it was newly grown, and the unkempt sand-brown hair and gray eyes certainly fit.
"Headmaster Avery and Kierkan Rufo are coming in," Fredegar explained, "perhaps this very night."
Bogo noticed the young man flinch at that remark, though the priest had tried to cover his reaction. "Do they know I am staying here?" he asked.
Fredegar seemed at a loss by his guest's obvious, discomfort. "Why, Cadderly," he replied slyly, "have'you done something wrong?"
The young priest smiled noncommittally and started for the staircase beside the bar. Distracted, Cadderly did not even notice the odd-looking young man as he passed by.
But Bogo certainly noticed Cadderly. He watched the priest go, thinking how easy this all might be.
Evil Visions, Evil Deeds stood in a lighted room, the sitting room of Belisarius 's tower perhaps, holding a beating HIM! heart in his hand. The slain minotaur lay at his I feet and all his closest friends, Danica and the dwarven brothers, stood by it, laughing wildly, uncontrollably.
Cadderly, too, joined in the laughter, but as soon is he did, he realized that his friends were not laughing at all. Rather, they were crying, sobbing great tears that streaked their cheeks and fell in impossibly large puddles at their feet.
He did not understand.
Something was logically wrong; Cadderly sensed that something about the entire scene was out of place. He felt the warm blood running down his arm, soaking his tunic, but in his perversion of the wizard's minotaur and maze illusion, there had been no blood! Slowly, fearfully, the young scholar looked down.
The minotaur was not a minotaur any longer, nor had it vanished like some insubstantial illusion, as Cadderly had expected. It was Avery - Cadderly knew it was Avery, though he could not see the face of the man who lay on his back across a table, arms and legs splayed wide and his chest savagely torn open.
Cadderly held Avery's still-beating heart.
He tried to scream but could not. There came a rapping noise, sharp but distant.
He could not scream.
Cadderly sat up. The rapping came again, more insistently, followed by a voice that Cadderly could not ignore,.. At last he dared to open his eyes and sighed deeply when he learned that he was in his own room, that it had all been another terrible dream.
"Cadderly?"
The call was not a dream, and his recognition of the commanding, fatherly voice could not be wrong. He closed his eyes again, tried to pretend he was not there, or that Avery was not there.
"Cadderly?" The knocking did not diminish.
What time was it? Cadderly wondered. The moon was up, though beyond its zenith, for no direct silvery light played through the young priest's east window.
Resignedly, Cadderly pulled himself out of bed, straightened his nightshirt, and went to the closed door.
"Cadderly?"
He cracked open the portal and winced at the sight of Headmaster Avery. Kierkan Rufo, leaning as always in his customary position, leered over the headmaster's broad shoulder.
"It is late," Cadderly mumbled through the cottony sensation and the lump of revulsion in his mouth. He could not look at Avery without the gruesome dream image coming clearly to his thoughts, could not regard the man without the warm sensation of blood running along his arm. Unconsciously, he rubbed one hand against his nightshirt.
"So it is," Avery replied, somewhat embarrassed, "but I thought you would be pleased to learn that Rufo here, and I, have arrived in town. Vfe shall be staying at the inn, just four doors down from you, across from the stairway." The portly headmaster glanced that way, his expression clearly revealing an invitation for the young priest.
Cadderly only nodded, then winced again as another drop of imaginary blood ran the length of his forearm.
Avery did not miss the sour expression. "Is something wrong, lad?" the headmaster asked with compassion.
"Nothing," Cadderly replied curtly. He mellowed immediately, guessing that his demeanor would inspire further curiosity. "I am just tired. I was sleeping . . ."
"My pardon," Avery said, straining to be lighthearted, "but you are not sleeping now." He took a step forward, as though to push his way into the room.
Cadderly shifted to block the door. "I will soon be sleeping again," he said evenly.
Avery stepped back and, for the first time since he had arrived, regarded Cadderly with a less than appreciative glint in his puffy eyes.
"Still stubborn?" Avery asked him sharply. "You tread on dangerous ground, young priest. Your absence from the library might be overlooked. Dean Thobicus has promised that he will allow you to make up your missed duties and studies."
"I do not care for his promise."
"If you continue on your wayward path," Avery went on, his voice a growl against Cadderly's biting remark, "then you may move beyond the order altogether. I am not certain even kind Thobicus could forgive your transgressions against Deneir. . . ."
"What do you know of Deneir?" Cadderly asked. In his mind he saw Avery again, lying dead across the table, but he shook the evil thought away, realizing how much he loved this man who had been a surrogate father to him. "And why would you care for me? Did you not once call me a 'Gondsman'?" Cadderly asked sharply, referring to the order of inventive priests who created without conscience, without regard to the implications of their creations.
His tirade exhausted, Cadderly looked at the headmaster, the father he had just terribly wounded with his impertinence. Avery couldn't respond to his last statement and seemed more on the verge of tears than an explosion of anger. Behind him, Kierkan Rufo wore an almost amused expression of disbelief.
"I am sorry," Cadderly stammered. Avery put a large hand up to halt him.
"I am tired, that is all," Cadderly tried to explain. "I have had some terrible dreams of late."
Avery's expression shifted to one of concern, an4 Cadderly knew his apology had been accepted, or would be soon.
"Ws are but four doors down," the portly headmaster reiterated. "If you feel the need to talk, do come and join us."
Cadderly nodded, though he knew he would not go to them, and shut the door the second Avery had turned away. He fell back against the door heavily, thinking how flimsy a barrier it was against the doubts and confusion of the outside world. He looked to his table by the window, to the open tome. When was the last time that book had been closed?
Cadderly couldn't even muster the strength to go to it; he slipped over to his bed and collapsed, hoping that he had put this night's evil dreams behind him.
Bogo Rath released his spell of clairaudience and cracked open the common room's door. The common room was on the southwestern wing of the inn's second level; almost directly across from him, over the hearth room, loomed Cadderly's door, closed once more. Avery and Rufo rounded the corner diagonally to Bogo's right, moving toward the door directly opposite the wide staircase. The hearth room
was quiet now and Bogo could hear their conversation clearly.
"His surliness has not relented one bit since he passed through the library," Rufo said in an accusatory tone.
"He appeared weary," Avery answered with a resigned sigh. "Poor lad - perhaps Danica's arrival will brighten his mood."
They entered their room then, and Bogo considered using his eavesdropping magic to hear the rest of their discussion.
"Who is Danica?" came a quiet, monotone question from behind Bogo. The young wizard froze, then slowly managed to turn about.
There stood Ghost, in the otherwise empty common room. The puny man held no weapon and made no move toward Bogo, but the wizard felt vulnerable nonetheless. How had Ghost come in so easily behind him? There was but one door to the room, and it had no outside balcony, as did the more expensive private rooms.
"How did you get in here?" Bogo asked, managing to steady his voice.
"I have been in here all along," Ghost replied. He turned and pointed to a pile of blankets. "In there, awaiting your return from the hearth room."
"You should have told me."
Ghost's wheezing laughter mocked him and showed him how ridiculous he had sounded.
"Who is Danica?" the evil little man asked again, more determinedly.
"Lady Danica Maupoissant," Bogo replied, "from \\festgate. Do you know of her?"
Ghost shook his head.
"She is Cadderly*s dearest friend," Bogo went on, "a beautiful wisp of a woman, by all descriptions, but formidable." Bogo's expression and tone grew grave. "This is not good news, my associate," he explained. "Lady Maupoissant has been a terrible foe to Castle Trinity in the fight thus far. If she arrives soon, then you would be well advised to finish your business with Cadderly promptly and be gone from here."
Ghost nodded, considering the warning. "From where will she come?" he asked. "The library?"
"That would seem likely," Bogo replied. He flipped his brown hair to one side and smiled slyly. "What are you thinking?"
Ghost's glare stole the wizard's mirth. "That is none of your concern," he rasped with sudden anger, pushing past Bogo to the door. "If you are thinking of making any moves against Cadderly on your own . . ." He let the implication hang in the air.
"Well, let us just say that the consequences of failure can be terrible indeed," Ghost finished, and he started away. He turned back immediately, though, his gaze directing Bogo to the pile of blankets that had hidden Ghost. "Do watch your back, young wizard" Ghost said evenly, then he coughed a wheezing laugh and went to his room, in the corner of the north wing, halfway between Cadderly's room and the room occupied by Avery and Rufo.
"From the library, from the mountains," Ghost mused, closing the door behind him. "\fell, we shall see if Lady Maupoissant follows her path all the way to Carradoon." Ghost sat on his bed and summoned the Ghearufu. Using its powers, he sent his thoughts out of the town, to Vander, in the farmhouse.
Ghost felt the firbolg's typical revulsion and knew from its depth that Vander was angry both with the situation at the farm and with Ghost's intrusion.
Let me in, Vander, the wicked man teased, confident that the firbolg could not deny access even if he tried, Finder was Ghost's chosen victim, his special target, and with Vander alone, Ghost could make the body transfer from almost any range. He felt the sharp, burning pain as his spirit stepped out of his body, and then he was floating, flying on the winds, propelled straight for the firbolg's shell. As he entered the giant body, he knew that Vander had entered his, back in the room at the Dragon's Codpiece.
Do not leave the room, Ghost instructed telepathically through the continuing mental link. Admit no visitors, particularly not that foolish wizard, Bogo Rathl
Ghost willed away the Ghearufu and considered his surroundings. Curiously enough, he was in a barn, surrounded by stabled horses and cows. The man in the firbolg's body shook his head at Vander's continuing surprises and made his way to the large door.
The farmyard was quiet under the light of the westering moon, and the house, dark; not a single candle burned in any window. Ghost made his way across to the porch and heard a shuffle up above.
"It is only the master," he said to the unseen guards. "Gather the others and come into the barn, all of you. The time has come to tighten our noose."
Just a few minutes later, the entire band of nineteen remaining Night Masks assembled around their leader. Ghost noted that one of his henchmen was missing, but he said nothing about it, realizing that Finder probably knew what had happened to the man and that he might confuse them all by questioning the absence while wearing Vander's form.
He drew a quick map on the ground in front of him. "I have word that a woman is on her way to Carradoon from the Edificant Library" he said, indicating the location of the mountain structure. "There are only a few trails down the mountains, and they all exit in this general area. She should not be hard to find."
"How many should we send?" one of the assassins asked.
Ghost paused as much to consider the angry edge to the man's tone as to consider the question itself. Perhaps the missing Night Mask had met an unfortunate demise at Vander's impulsive hands.
"Five," Ghost said at last. "The woman is to be killed, as are any who travel beside her."
"It could be a large and formidable band," the same assassin argued.
"If so, then kill only the woman and be gone from there," Ghost snapped back, his firbolg-strength voice resounding off the barn's walls.
"Which five?" asked one of the group.
"Choose among yourselves," Ghost replied, "but do not take this woman lightly. She is, by all reports, formidable indeed.
"Another group of five is to strike within the town," Ghost went on. "Our information was correct. Cadderiy stays at the Dragon's Codpiece. Here," he said, extending his map to show the lakeside section of Carradoon and indicating the lane running along the shore, "on Lake view Street. Secure positions near the inn, where you will be at my ... at Ghost's call. But take care to be far enough out of reach so as not to arouse suspicion."
"With five stringers to open a line of contact to the group within the city?" the same questioning assassin put in,
"That is our usual method," Ghost answered calmly.