Don Bassingthwaite - The Killing Song

“One of the men in the other coach has a wand too!” said Dandra. Rhazala gave another little yelp of dismay and tried to shrink down.

Anger burst inside Singe, and he stood up. “Mithas, you bastard! What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing, Singe. I’ve been waiting for you to come back. When I realized you were hanging around with kalashtar, I knew you wouldn’t be away from Overlook for long.” The sorcerer’s voice was thick with anger. As his coach drifted closer, Singe got a better look at his face and the faces of the three men who rode with him. Mithas’s face was still patched with the burst blood vessels inflicted by Moon’s-Virikhad’s-psionic attack in the fight below Nevchaned’s home. Singe was fairly certain he recognized the other mercenaries from the earlier fight as well. They looked just as angry as Mithas.

He ground his teeth together. “Have you seen what’s going on down below?”

“No one’s paying me to worry about goblins and kalashtar. There’s only one thing I want.” Mithas nodded at Ashi. “Hand over the marked woman, and I’ll let you go down and play with the cog-puppies and dreamers.”

From the corner of his eye, Singe saw both Ashi and Dandra stiffen. Even Rhazala poked her head up to glare at Mithas. The sorcerer raised with his wand threateningly. “I said don’t move!”

“You’re a worthless idiot,” Singe growled at him. “Dol Arrah’s honor, Robrand was right to kick you out of the Frostbrand. Let us go, Mithas. We need to get down to the street. What’s happening here is so much bigger than your greed that you couldn’t understand it if you tried!”

Mithas’s face darkened even more. Singe thought he saw a trickle of fresh blood break through the sorcerer’s skin. “You’re not in a position to talk back, Singe!” Mithas said. “I underestimated you before, and I think you underestimate how much I want that foundling and her mark. I don’t know where you found her, but when I bring her to the lords of Deneith the reward I’ll receive will be bigger than You can understand.” He leveled his wand at Singe’s chest … then let it drop to point at the hull of the skycoach under his feet. “I could shatter that coach with a wave of this wand. Surrender her to me, or you’ll be meeting the street fast and hard.”

Singe glared at him. “Do that and you’ll drop all of us.”

Mithas gave him a cold smile and raised his other hand. It, too, held a wand. “Levitation,” he said. “I can hold her up while the rest of you fall. Like it or not, she’s coming with me.”

“I have a name!”

Ashi stood abruptly, moving with a lethal grace that barely rocked the coach. She glanced at Singe for an instant and the wizard was startled to see that her face was pale and taut, then she turned to face Mithas.

“I am Ashi,” she said, “daughter of Ner, granddaughter of Kagan who bore this sword.” She drew her weapon with a swift motion that made Singe catch his breath and Mithas jerk both his wands toward her. “An honor blade of the Sentinel Marshals.” She stared past the sword at Mithas. “I am no one’s to surrender. I go with no one I do not choose to go with. Threaten my friends again, and my blade will find honor in taking your head off of your shoulders.”

Mithas seemed genuinely startled at Ashi’s blunt pronouncement, and Singe couldn’t keep his lips from curving into a smile. Who had the sorcerer underestimated now? Standing tall and proud, untouchable in her savage dignity, Ashi spun her sword around and slid it deftly back into her scabbard.

She met Mithas’s eyes boldly. “But I will go with you,” she said.

Singe’s sense of triumph twisted into shock. “What?”

His voice wasn’t the only one raised. “Ashi, no!” Dandra cried out at the same time Natrac said, “Host and Six, are you insane!” Rhazala’s face brightened and she called, “Moza, chib! Save us!” Mithas’s smile came back to his face in a grin that made Singe feel sick.

At the same moment, the Thronehold spectacle began. Singe was dimly aware of ringing bells and blaring horns, a joyful call that spread across Sharn and climbed until it rang in the dark sky. It was joined by flashes of light high overhead. Two dozen or more spellcasters and dragonmarked would be working together to cast illusions into the night, their individual efforts combining to create vast panoramas and enormous phantasmal effigies. The wave of awed gasps as the entire city drew breath in amazement was audible even above the bells and horns.

It mingled with the sounds of violence that rose from Fan Adar. A deep voice cursed in Goblin, then a higher human or kalashtar voice wailed in pain. Singe couldn’t look up. His eyes were on Ashi. His ears rang with the shock of her declaration.

She would go with Mithas?

But Ashi wasn’t finished. “There’s a price!” she shouted at Mithas over the noise. “I go with you for a price.”

The sorcerer’s face grew suspicious. “What is it?”

“Ashi, you don’t have to do this for us!” said Dandra.

Ashi thrust a hand at her, motioning for her to remain quiet. She didn’t take her eyes off Mithas.

“Fight for us,” she said. “You say the kalashtar aren’t your concern? Make them your concern! You’re a mercenary. You fight for payment.” She reached to her shoulder, seized the fabric of her sleeve, and tore it free. She held her bare arm across her body so that the shifting light from the spectacle above played across her skin and made her dragonmark seem to dance. “Here’s your payment. When this is over and everyone is safe, you can deliver me to the lords of Deneith and claim your reward. I’ll go willingly. You have my honor.”

Mithas licked his lips but hesitated, looking like a hungry dog expecting the bowl of food placed before him to vanish if he moved. The greed in his eyes flashed bright. “Done!”

“Then follow us-quickly.” Ashi pointed at Singe. “Whatever order he gives, obey it. Rhazala, get us to the Gathering Light!”

“Moza!”

Singe sat down heavily as the skycoach shot forward. Ashi stayed on her feet, her body rigid. Behind them, Mithas was shouting at his men, getting his coaches moving, but aboard Rhazala’s coach no one said anything for several long moments. Finally, Natrac growled and said, “We drop and run. After the kalashtar are safe, we drop and run. Mithas won’t catch you, Ashi-”

“No.” The hunter shook her head. “I gave my honor-and even if I hadn’t, I meant what I said. I’ll go with him.”

“Ashi, we could have fought our way free!” The words broke out of Singe’s chest. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Rond betch , how exactly could we have fought free?” Ashi snapped. She turned to glare at him and Singe saw that her mouth was set in a hard, thin line. “Mithas had us and every moment we fought with him was another moment for Biish’s raid to go unchecked.”

Singe blinked. There was no answer he could think to give for that. “But … Mithas wins. He gets what he wanted.”

Ashi’s lips twitched and her teeth flashed in a sudden, savage grin. “Mithas wins? I would have gone to Deneith at some point anyway, wouldn’t I? It’s my clan now. This way we still have a chance to stop the raid-and maybe a better chance because we have Mithas and his men to fight with us.” Her eyes softened slightly. “Who told me I had to look at the greater good?”

His mouth opened and closed, then he smiled too. “Twelve moons, I hope the lords of Deneith are ready for you, Ashi.”

They were over the Gathering Light in only moments, but the confrontation with Mithas had cost them more than just time. Singe peered down over the side of the skycoach, trying to assess the situation with the dispassionate logic he had learned during the war. It was hard to be dispassionate, though, when he felt a connection to the people struggling below-and such a hatred for their attackers.