Erin Evans - The Adversary

“Can hide beneath a cloak,” Oota said. “I’ll deal with Phalar. We’ll take Hamdir, him, and you as well, Harper. Get everyone armed and back here as quick as you can.” She strode from the court, leaving Dahl and Farideh.

“She declines my spells,” Cereon said, “as well as my followers.”

“We’ll take Armas,” Dahl said. “She trusts him.” Cereon sniffed, as if to say that wasn’t enough, and left without another word. Farideh watched him go.

“You want to come with us, don’t you?” Dahl said as soon as Cereon was out of earshot. Farideh sighed.

“Wouldn’t you? But I’m not a fool-I owe them, but none of the Chosen is going to be cheered to see me. And then there’s Rhand.” She rubbed her left arm. “I’m a liability.”

“Don’t fish,” Dahl said lightly. “You’ve already been a help.”

“And a hindrance.” She sighed again and shook her head. “Don’t mind me. I’m not feeling well.”

“Fight some shadar-kai,” Dahl said. “That seems to perk you up.”

And at least that coaxed a smile from her. “Be careful,” she told him.

“You too,” Dahl said. He looked at the thinning crowd of prisoners, feeling sure he ought to say something more, but not knowing what it was. “Do you expect Lorcan to come back?”

“Gods only know,” she said. “I almost hope he stays away.” She considered Dahl a moment. “ He could go in for that scroll. The one to make the cavern.”

“Better him than you,” Dahl said. “Promise me you won’t try and get back in.”

She nodded, in an absent sort of way. “How will we decide who has to. .”

“Not now,” Dahl said. It wasn’t a question Dahl wanted to answer, especially when he knew he’d be the last one into the shelter rooms. “Maybe they’ll manage it.”

“Maybe,” she said. Then, “Did you tell Tharra about the ritual?”

“No,” Dahl said. “Why would I?”

Farideh rubbed her arm again. “Because she ought to know. Maybe she’d be back on our side if she knew the other devil had tricked her. Maybe her deal’s undone if he didn’t follow through.”

Dahl regarded her a long moment. “Tharra’s not you, you know.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means she’s not coming back over to our side. She broke her oath.”

“She made a bad decision. She did the same thing I did.”

Dahl’s temper rose. “Yes, well, you’re not a Harper. So it’s different. You. .” He struggled for the right words. Because he knew she was right. Even if he was also sure she was wrong. “You’ve never betrayed anyone. You’re very. . dependable.”

She stared at him, unblinking, and Dahl fought the urge to guess what she was thinking-that was a compliment.

“I can think of more than a few people who would disagree with you,” Farideh finally said. “Starting with the Chosen in the wizard’s workshop.”

The woman guarding Tharra looked as if she would have liked to stop Farideh from entering, but she only fixed a suspicious scowl on the bowl of thin gruel the tiefling carried with her and let her pass.

Tharra watched Farideh stonily as she shut the door. “I’m not hungry.”

Farideh sat down on the mat that lined the floor and set the bowl beside her. “Did you know that the ritual wouldn’t work?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dahl studied it. He’s pretty knowledgeable about these things. The components are all wrong. The spell’s not constructed right. So,” she said, “did you know?”

Tharra searched Farideh’s face. “It has to work,” she said. “If it doesn’t work, what’s the point of my deal?”

“I think you’re a decoy,” Farideh said. “When the spell collected nothing, he could blame it on me, and you’d be too dead to argue. But now someone else is casting a similar spell.”

“And you can’t stop it,” Tharra finished. She looked away. “We have to get them down into the shelter rooms. As many as will fit.”

“We’re only up to a thousand,” Farideh said. “And we only have a few hours.”

Tharra pursed her mouth. “I’m not the one who brought them here. I’m not the one who’ll kill them. If Magros hadn’t caught me, he would have caught some other. If you want to lock me in here and recite my crimes-”

“No,” Farideh said. “I’ve come to ask for your help.”

Tharra stopped. “What sort of help?”

“In the wizard’s study, there’s a scroll,” Farideh said. “A very old, very rare scroll. It will open a chamber in the ground-big enough to make the difference.”

Tharra raised an eyebrow. “Why does he have that?”

“Windfall. He found it and he hasn’t come up with a use for it yet.”

“But you didn’t take it?”

Farideh’s chest squeezed. “I didn’t know we needed it. And now if I go into the fortress, Rhand will know he’s being played.”

“So you expect me to traipse into the Abyss in your place.”

“You know the fortress,” Farideh said, “and the guards know you. If someone spots you, they’re not going to assume right off something’s wrong. You know how to slip in and out-I don’t know much about Harpers, but I know that. You’re our best chance for saving them all.”

Tharra’s expression grew serious. “It’s in his study. The one at the top of the tower.”

“On the rack against the right-hand wall,” Farideh said. “Second shelf down. There’s scorch marks along the end, and a chip missing from the roller. If you open it, you’ll see the drawing of the cavern it makes.”

“If I can get to it,” Tharra murmured. “I can’t go in the gates. Not without a guard.”

“Dahl and Oota are planning to free the Chosen in the wizard’s workshop very soon.”

Tharra laughed once. “I think I’ll stand a better chance charming the grays.” She paused. “You have to get my pin back. I won’t survive without it.”

“How long will it work for?”

“Half a bell. Long enough, if I don’t trigger it until I have to.” She chewed her lip. “This is a little mad, you know?”

“Mad times call for mad plans,” Farideh said. “I’ll get the pin. But you don’t use it on me, or anyone else on our side. And after, you have to answer to the Harpers all the same.”

“If I’m alive,” Tharra said. Farideh kneeled and untied her bindings. “Doesn’t work well on you anyway. People tell you you’re stubborn?”

“Constantly,” Farideh said. She grasped the other woman’s hand and stood. “Come on.”

“What are you planning to tell Antama out there?” Tharra asked.

“Nothing. We’re in a hurry,” Farideh said, and she pulled enough Hells magic through her brand to make a slit in the fabric of the planes, and stepped through the slat-board wall to reappear in the alley beyond.

“Did you choose the least concealable weapon available on purpose?” Khochen teased Havilar as they crept through the alleys between huts. “No,” Havilar said irritably. “I chose it because I’m good at it.”

“You were good at it before you chose it?” Khochen asked cheekily. “There’s a tale I long to hear.” Beside her, the scout, Ebros, chuckled softly.

Havilar scowled. “Do you have any idea of where we’re headed?”

“The same way everyone else is headed,” Khochen said. “Where there are people, there are answers.”

“Where there are people,” Havilar said, “there’s usually someone who wants to start a fight.”

Khochen looked back and smiled. “Don’t worry, little tiefling. You have me.”

Havilar gripped Devilslayer and started to retort that she did not need some puny thief with her blades in her boots to rescue her, and anyway Havilar had a solid half foot on Khochen. But her reply was cut off by sudden shouting from behind them.