Erin Evans - The Adversary

Zahnya pulled the crystal into her sleeve once more.

“But many thanks for the offer,” Mehen said with a toothy grin. “And the warning that they’re trying to ‘handle’ me. I’ll make use of that.” He considered her. “They won’t turn on you, you know? Damned Harpers-don’t like breaking their word, even when it seems a bad promise. Especially when it comes to stopping Shar.”

“I’ll believe that when it happens,” Zahnya said. “Truth be told, I’m surprised we’ve come this far. I did expect the bite of your blade, goodman. Perhaps the infamous interrogations of the Waterdhavian Harpers.”

“What do you want in the camp?” Mehen asked.

She looked at him and smiled with a wickedness that reminded Mehen she was not just a girl, and he wondered for a moment if he was in fact outmatched. “To take weapons from Shar.”

“What weapons?”

“We’ll have to see,” Zahnya said. “What I hear is there is unconfirmed.” She looked up the mountain path. “We shall have to see,” she said again. “Take your time, by the way. I doubt you’re the sort of man who needs to be told how long to piss.” She climbed the slope back up to where the palanquin waited.

Mehen tapped the roof of his mouth again, trying to decide what to do next-confront the Harpers, or keep the secret for himself? He froze, the taste of some other human laying on his tongue between the ferns and the moss and the flavor of humus. The nurse log, he thought, turning toward the fern-covered mound of dead tree.

“Which of you is back there?” Mehen said.

Khochen eased around the fallen tree, an impish grin on her face. “I should have guessed you’d be so calm,” she said. “Daranna’s doubts are wearing off on me, I’m afraid.” Her eyes flicked over him. “Are you upset?”

“Not yet,” Mehen said plainly. “Don’t you karshoji cut me out when we get there. I find her, I’ll bring her to you. You find her, you find me and I don’t leave her side. Understand?”

“Fair enough.” Khochen eyed him. “You don’t have a problem with the fact she might be a traitor?”

“She’s my daughter,” Mehen said. “And she can’t betray that .”

“Not even by dealing with devils?”

“Not even by dealing with gods,” Mehen said. “Do you have children?”

“No.”

“Then you have no idea what it would take for me to leave her-you cannot imagine. Don’t ask me to, and I won’t show you why those orphans of the Platinum Dragon want my training.” He rolled his shoulders, as if he could shake the tension from them. His girls might have left him, but he would never leave them. Never.

No word from Dahl. No word from Brin since they’d reached Noanar’s Hold-and broken planes, he was not happy about the boy taking Havilar through a portal as finicky as that one. But they were both safe at least.

“Well,” Khochen said, “we’ll have to see what happens. Incidentally, thank you for keeping her attention. It gave me a chance to peer into her inner sanctum, as it were.” She stood on tiptoe and whispered, “She has a case hidden in there.”

“Probably her wand’s.”

Khochen smiled and shook her head. “Too big for that. Too ornate. A scepter or a rod, I would say. Marked all over with very interesting runes. Nar, by their look.”

Despite himself Mehen was curious. “Can you read them?”

“Not well,” Khochen said. “The crafter seemed enamored of cinnabar and gold. If I had to make a guess, I’d say it makes fire. People are seldom imaginative,” she added, “when it comes to gems.”

Mehen snorted. “Well that’s her business, then.”

“I don’t think so,” Khochen said. “She hasn’t touched it. Hasn’t unlocked it, so far as I can see. I don’t think it’s for her-maybe it’s for the camp, maybe it’s for an ally, maybe it’s part of her nefarious plans to kill us all.” She said all of this so cheerfully that Mehen rolled his eyes. “But I doubt it’s meant for starting campfires.”

“Nothing is simple when I’m with you people.”

“Never.” Khochen hesitated. “By the by, I do apologize for the other day. For finishing your story and getting it wrong.”

“I don’t care. It’s not your business-I don’t want to make it your business-so it doesn’t matter. I am who I am.”

“Somebody,” Khochen said, as if she were agreeing. “Though I still wish I knew the rest of your story.”

Mehen heaved a sigh. “There’s not much to tell. Pandjed told me to marry Kepeshkmolik Uadjit. I told him I wouldn’t-if I had to marry, I wanted a bride who wouldn’t force me to part from Arjhani.” Saying his name still made Mehen’s heart feel as if it were tearing, even after all these years. “Pandjed told me I could marry or be exiled. I chose exile. Arjhani did not.”

Khochen’s brows rose. “You ought to write a chapbook with that tale, goodman.”

The roar of the boneclaw cut off Mehen’s retort. Both Harper and dragonborn scrambled up the slope toward their waiting party and the sounds of a scuffle. Mehen drew his falchion as soon as he had room to, holding it ready to aid the Harper scouts. .

Whose arrows were all trained on a familiar cambion, one arrow already dangling from his wing.

“Oh, Lords of the Nine pass me by,” Lorcan said, sounding relieved. “Will you tell them to stand down?”

“Aim for his eyes,” Mehen advised. The scouts adjusted their arrows. Zahnya held two wands, the air around both filled with thick, dark magic.

“Gods damn it!” Lorcan shouted, covering his head. “Farideh says to tell you she’s safe! And if you kill me, you won’t find Havilar.”

“Stop!” Mehen bared his teeth in annoyance. “He’s with me.”

The Harpers lowered their weapons-all except Daranna, who stayed, still as a statue, her arrow trained on Lorcan’s throat. Zahnya let the magic dancing around her wands fade and retreated to her palanquin.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Khochen murmured. Mehen ignored her, sheathed his falchion again, and crossed to Lorcan.

“If this is a trick,” Mehen started.

“If this were a trick,” Lorcan said, “do you think I’d be the sort of idiot who just drops out of the sky into the midst of a mass of weapons?” He glanced at Daranna over his shoulder. “Farideh sent me to find you. She wanted me-” He seemed to reconsider his words. “She wants me to send you toward Havilar.” He told Mehen about the necklace Havilar carried, about the bead that would make it possible to cross through the magical wall encircling the camp.

“Take the bead to Farideh,” Mehen said.

“She won’t use it,” Lorcan said. “It won’t let more than a dozen of you pass before it closes. I sent Brin and Havi around the mountain and up a bit. There’s a plateau there, a place where the mountaintop is sheared flat.” He hesitated, then dropped his voice. “What are you doing with Thayans?”

Mehen didn’t so much as blink. “Wartime makes strange allies.”

Lorcan’s eyes cut to the boneclaw, watching them with burning hatred in its eyes. “Indeed. Tell me you don’t trust that thing more than me.”

Mehen held up the amulet. “It comes with a leash.”

Lorcan gave him a wicked grin. “Oh, so do I,” he said. “But your daughter keeps a tight hold on it.”

And whatever resolve Mehen had built up over the last few, terrible days, his rage overtopped it. He slammed his fist into Lorcan’s face, hard enough to knock the cambion off his feet and bloody his nose. Stunned, Lorcan clutched his face and stared up at Mehen, looking too surprised to speak.

“Do you know why I don’t kill you?” Mehen hissed. “Because you’ve proven to me-every time I am on the very edge of taking a blade to your throat, it seems-that you’re better than useless and my daughter is wise enough to know that doesn’t mean you’re any good, even if she forgets to show it. This time, I have no proof, only suggestions, and if you think for a heartbeat I’m so grateful to you that I will sit and let you torment me like some old man sitting in the dust, stand up and let’s see how many bones your pretty face has to break.”