Erin Evans - The Adversary

Havilar pried out the lead stopper and knocked back the amber liquid. “Havi, don’t!” Farideh cried.

Havilar gagged. “ Pah !” She swallowed and a shudder went through her. “It tastes,” she said, “like old burnt meat and spoiled cream.” She wiped her mouth. “And cinnamon. As if that would help.”

“There is a reason one does not source cordials from the Hells,” Sairché said. “Nevertheless, it works.” She pushed the bag at Farideh. “This is for you-from Lorcan.”

The velvet was thick and dark as night. Whatever was in it was surprisingly heavy.

“I thought you said he was done with me.”

“Perhaps it’s a parting gift? Perhaps it’s something he felt he still owed you?” She pressed a finger to her lips. “Perhaps,” she said. “It’s a trap.”

Farideh nudged the velvet open. At its heart lay a coiled necklace of rubies. The largest gem was the size of her eye, and it seemed to glow even in the pale light. Farideh stared at it, too stunned to say anything.

Havilar leaned over her shoulder, her breath still smelling of the foul potion. “ Karshoj. How come you get that ?”

Sairché frowned. “Excellent question.” She held out her hand. “Let me see it.”

Farideh folded the velvet over the gems. “No.” Lorcan’s gifts had always been spells or items for casting-the necklace was something different. Did it mean Sairché was right and he’d put her pact in Sairché’s hands-a parting gift then? Or was it a reassurance, a promise?

“It might be a trap,” Sairché said again.

Whatever it was, whatever it meant, if Sairché wanted it, Farideh wasn’t about to give it to her. “You had plenty of time to look at it before.” She slipped the bag into her pocket.

“Well,” Sairché said, dropping her hand. “If you’re going to be difficult.” She pointed away from the falling earthmote. “Waterdeep is that way. Do try and make it alive.”

With that she selected one of the rings she wore on a chain around her neck, held it up, and blew through the center. A whirlwind seemed to spin out of the silver circle, then gusted back and enveloped Sairché. The cambion blurred as the wind threw her through the fog and out of the plane of entirely.

“Brin will be wondering what happened to us.” Havilar blew out a breath full of nervous energy. “Do you think he’s still waiting at the inn?”

Farideh shook her head. “I don’t know.” Why had a portal been necessary? Why had it dropped them in the middle of nowhere?

And Lorcan-gods, Lorcan. Her deal with Sairché looked terrible, on the face of it. Especially when they’d been fighting. If he’d just give her a chance to explain, that there hadn’t been time. .

“We might never find him again,” Havilar said, of Brin. “He might just go on to Suzail without us, and then what?”

Farideh looked at the bag in her hand. Lorcan gone, and Brin lost. And Havi-she didn’t understand. She wouldn’t understand until they’d figured out what to do about Brin, Farideh knew that much.

“We’ll go to Waterdeep,” she said. “Find Tam. Or Dahl. They can do that sending ritual and find out where Brin is. We can use the portal Mehen took. I’ll sell the necklace to pay for it. We’ll find him.”

Havilar wrapped her arms around her chest. “I cannot believe you made a deal with another devil. What karshoji demon possessed you?”

A very good question, a part of Farideh thought. They were miles from where they’d started, missing gear, missing allies. And her breath kept freezing on the air-how high up the mountains were they?

“I did it to protect you,” Farideh said. “Protect us.”

“From what ?” Havilar demanded. She picked up her own cloak and haversack, fastening the garment shut with shaking fingers. “Proskur? Brin?”

“Devils,” Farideh said. She picked up the strange rod-the ivory that wasn’t ivory-and her nausea surged again. “They wanted my pact.”

“Well if you hadn’t made a karshoji pact,” Havilar said, “neither of us would need protecting and neither of us would be waking up on the other end of the karshoji continent!”

“No, it would have been worse!” Farideh drew a deep breath, trying to quell the sense of unease that she couldn’t seem to push past. “I didn’t tell you,” she admitted. “I should have. But there’s a reason Lorcan wanted me for a warlock.”

Havilar bent to grab the inferior glaive. “I don’t care how special he says you-”

“You and I are descended from one of the first Hellish warlocks,” Farideh went on. “The worst of them, I think. She helped Asmodeus become a god. She. . she did horrible things to make tieflings what they are. There aren’t many people descended from her-just three, and me. And you.”

Farideh had held the secret for so many months, but now it was no good to hide it. “You have the same spell of protection as me. They can’t scry us, but then Sairché found you anyway. Found us. There are devils out there who would do almost anything to have an heir of Bryseis Kakistos. Sairché’s going to protect us-it was that or let her have you. She said she would protect us until we turn twenty-seven, and I thought maybe. . maybe I could find some way-”

“Stop,” Havilar said, looking angrier than Farideh had ever seen. “You knew all that and you didn’t tell me?”

Farideh looked away. “I was scared.”

“Scared of what? Scared I’d do the same stupid thing and take a pact? Because you’re the only one who can handle it? Because you think I’m scared of some bugaboo old tiefling? Karshoj and tiamash, who cares who our greatwhatever-grandmother was? I’m not scared of nightmares!”

Farideh shook her head. “You should be. You need to be. Trust me, Havi, Lorcan is good for a devil. If you don’t-”

“I’m not going to make a pact!” she snapped. “Besides, how safe is it if now we have her chasing us around?”

“She can’t hurt us,” Farideh said. “That was the deal; that was the most important part.” She reached for her sister, but Havilar moved away. “She would have killed Lorcan back there. She would have taken you. I traded with her so she has to protect us instead. It was the only way I could stop her, I promise.”

Havilar brushed her hair back behind one ear. “I just want to get out of this pothac forest, figure out where we are, and find Brin.” She started tramping in the direction Sairché had indicated. “I cannot believe you got a necklace out of this, and I only got a disgusting potion.”

Dahl Peredur lingered over the last swallow of ale in his flagon, dreading returning to the offices above the Harper-run tavern. He had been sitting scribe for status meetings since daybreak, bent over a scroll and keeping his thoughts to himself. He would be there until sunset, no doubt, the Harper spymaster Tam Zawad asking him periodically if he had anything to add, the other Harpers giving him the sort of looks that clearly said “You’d better not” or “Go ahead, try-you’ll be wrong again” or “What are you even doing here?” Looks he didn’t dare point out to Tam.

A petite Tuigan woman with a shock of short black hair and large eyes dropped into the chair across from him. “I have been sitting over there,” she said, “well within sight, for the last three-quarters of a bell, and I know you noticed. So why are you sulking over here?”

Dahl swallowed a sigh. “Well met, Khochen. You had company.” He nodded at the woman sitting at the table, wearing a carefully unremarkable dress, her blonde hair caught up in a scarf. Lady Hedare, the agent who carried messages for the Masked Lords of Waterdeep these days.