Don Bassingthwaite - The Killing Song

Whether it was some expression on Vennet’s hidden face or merely his words, Natrac couldn’t tell, but Biish’s ears lay back in unease. He hesitated for a moment. “We’ll go to the upper city together.”

Vennet chuckled. “I thought you’d find that a more attractive idea.” He adjusted his hat like a dandy. “Here’s to an evening that will reward both of us, Biish.”

He stepped past the hobgoblin, heading for the unseen door of the room. Biish followed him and a moment later the door closed behind both men. Natrac heard Biish bellowing for Dabrak the bugbear.

And finally he could breathe again, though the air burned in his throat. Slowly, he closed the cavity so that the section of plank that hid it blended seamlessly with the floor once more, and pushed himself upright. His joints ached from lying motionless and tense for so long. Vennet and Biish were moving to kidnap kalashtar from Overlook that very night. The Dark Six only knew what would happen to them afterward. Vennet hadn’t mentioned Dah’mir’s name, but Natrac had heard the dragon in his voice as surely as if he’d been in the room.

The danger that he, Singe, Dandra, and Ashi had come all the way to Sharn to warn the kalashtar about was ready to break like a storm-and he was stuck in a cell, unable to do anything about it! He put his hand across his forehead and groaned. “Kuv shek, kuv shek, kuv shek!”

Not that there’d been any doubt about it before, but there was even less now: he had to get out. There had to be some way. He rose and turned to examine the door once more.

Benti stood at the barred window, watching him in silence.

The shock of her unexpected presence and the urgency of what he had discovered ground together inside him. He choked and fought for speech. She beat him to it. “So Biish didn’t know all your secrets after all.”

Natrac just stared at her as he tried to collect himself. There was a faint glow, paler than moonlight and plainly magical, shimmering from a ring on one of her fingers-probably just enough light for her to see in the dark chamber without alerting him. The faint shadows that it cast gave her face a calculating look, as if she was sizing him up and trying to determine how best to use what she had just discovered.

In that moment, two ideas flicked through Natrac’s mind. One was insanely desperate: throw himself on Benti’s mercy and beg her to warn the kalashtar. Biish had sent her out of the room as he and Vennet had talked. She might not know everything the two men had discussed. She was still, however, one of Biish’s people. She almost certainly knew something of what was coming already, and it probably didn’t bother her.

The second idea caught and lingered. If she was looking for a way to use what she had seen, maybe he could find a way to use her. He looked at Benti and tried to think like she must have been thinking, like a young and ambitious criminal with a secret her chib didn’t know.

It was easy. He’d been there once himself. Natrac thrust his jaw forward to show his tusks and smiled around them. “It’s a good spot to listen,” he said. “And to watch.” He tapped the inside of his right forearm meaningfully. Benti’s eyes flickered, and he saw her turn her right arm, the one with the dragonmark, away slightly. He just kept his smile steady, fighting the need for escape, and asked, “Maybe you want to know what they talked about after you left?”

“I can find that out easily enough-although it must have been significant to make Biish leave you.” The outer door of the chamber stood very slightly ajar-Benti had probably left it that way so the sounds of its closing wouldn’t give her away-and Biish’s shouts rumbled through the gap. Benti’s gaze remained on Natrac. “I came up here to talk to you before Biish did, but it looks like I didn’t need to hurry. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll come back to you eventually. He has a long memory.”

“I’m familiar with it,” Natrac said. He didn’t look away from her, but his mind was racing. She hardly seemed more than intrigued by the hidden compartment. Maybe she was bluffing. Maybe she had some other way of listening in to Biish’s private conversations already. The only criminals Natrac had ever encountered who weren’t interested in knowing what their bosses were up to were either terrified or stupid, and Benti didn’t seem to be either. He changed his tactics. “He’s not much more than a thug with luck and a little brain. What brings someone like you to work for him?”

Benti’s delicate eyebrows arched. “Motive. Opportunity. The right talent at the right time.” Then, to his frustration, she changed the topic. “Did you know that the Sentinel Marshals still have an active warrant for you, Natrac?”

“Do they?” Natrac asked. It was a struggle to keep himself calm. Benti knew he wanted to escape, he was certain of it. He was also certain that she knew she had all of the power in their unspoken negotiations-she was the one on the other side of the door. She was toying with him.

There had to be something she wanted though, especially if she’d come up here so quickly after leaving Biish’s side. Natrac stepped right up to the bars. “I suppose you’re wondering why an old ganglord who fled both a rival and the Sentinel Marshals would risk coming back to Sharn.”

“Actually, I was wondering what you knew about our Lord Storm.”

Natrac tried to conceal the surprise that passed through him, but Benti smiled at the slight widening of his eyes. “You want out, don’t you, Natrac? Help me and maybe I’ll help you.” She didn’t wait for a response. Her voice dropped slightly. “Biish was so excited at getting his old nemesis in his hands that he didn’t think to try and find out what you’d been doing in Malleon’s Gate. I asked a few questions though. You were busy last night, Natrac. I don’t know who this green-eyed human you were asking about is, but the half-elf you were looking for sounds a lot like Storm. If you saw my dragonmark through your peephole, then you saw Storm. Is he the one you’re looking for?”

Natrac watched her for a moment, suspicion and mistrust pooling in his belly, then nodded slowly.

Benti’s face tightened. “I know he’s from House Lyrandar-I would have known even without his joke of an alias-but that’s as far as I’ve gotten. Who is he?”

She was holding something back, he knew. Biish hadn’t seemed to care who Lord Storm really was, and Natrac had to admit to himself that if someone using an alias had come to him with enough gold while he’d been in Biish’s position, he wouldn’t have cared either. And Biish wouldn’t be happy if he discovered his captive had escaped, but Benti was still willing to risk it to find out Vennet’s identity. Natrac ground his teeth together, then thrust his jaw forward. “Why do you want to know?” he asked.

Benti looked into his eyes, her face utterly expressionless, then turned away. The floor seemed to fall out from under Natrac as she walked to the door of the outer chamber.

“No!” he shouted and flung himself at the cell door, clutching at the bars of the window. “Benti! Benti, come back! I’ll tell you. Let me out! I need to get out!”

But the chamber door closed behind her and didn’t open again.

Dandra had hoped to go to Nevchaned’s and examine Erimelk early in the morning-as early as was polite and possibly even earlier. Unfortunately, by the time Singe and Ashi had returned and relayed the tale of their brush with Mithas d’Deneith and their discovery of Natrac’s past, the night was almost over. They’d decided to sleep for just a little while, to give Natrac a little longer to come back from his mysterious errands, before going to Nevchaned’s house.