Erin Evans - The God Catcher

The seamstress was looking up at her. She swallowed. "It will do."

Ferremo Magli strolled down Market Street, glad of the rain and the season. It gave him an excellent chance to wear his new stormcloak-a thoroughly dashing, dark green affair with black leather trim. He'd done his share the previous night, fighting off those mad little thieves and shaking down the eladrin once more. His master would take care of the rest.

The effort of a few hours to track down the lovac, and by sunset his master would be unchallenged.

Which meant this afternoon, he had a chance to visit his favorite tailor's and pick up his latest acquisition in plenty of time for the brightstarfeast tomorrow. It had long been his philosophy that people were bound to notice an assassin who dressed like an assassin. Why not be the most noticeable person in the room instead, gather compliments, and save the black for the night work? He liked to think the difference made more of an impression on his victims as well-he thought back to Rhinzen's insults in the carriage the other night, quickly followed by his whimpering for mercy. Ferremo smiled to himself.

He was in such a pleasant mood, he nearly walked right into the tailor's without noticing the woman who stood in the back of the room. The same woman who had killed two of his men the previous night.

It couldn't be, he thought, looking through the window at the tall, dark-haired woman being fitted and offered a selection of silks. Plenty of dark-haired, tall women in the city. Tymora didn't smile on him twice.

But she glanced to the side, to answer a question or trade some banter, and he was certain: the proud nose, the sour look, those eyes-like his master's-just a shade too bright to be natural. The blue dragon.

Erin M. Evans

The God Catcher

In the back of Ferremo's mind, he called out to his master, a thought that streamed off into the city, to the other's mind.

His master's voice did not answer. Ferremo called out again.

This time the reply was like a punch to the lovac' s brain, so sharp he stepped back from the window as if he could escape it. The message was clear: Andareunarthex was busy.

Ferremo rubbed his temple. If his master was busy, it meant he'd likely found the little blonde thief who'd put a blade in his arm. The assassin smiled. Good.

Other dragons of the great game-he had come to understand-stayed out of the action and sent their lovacs into the world, to plant the beginnings of actions, to encourage the growth of their plans, and to seek out other pieces for the taaldarax to use in play. Other dragons watched and calculated and gave orders. They did not get their claws dirty.

But when Ferremo had reported back the name of the blue dragon's lovac and the address she would be found at, Andareunarthex had shut down any suggestion of Ferremo or one of his minions handling Tennora Hedare.

"This move is mine," he'd said. "Be ready if I need you."

"Is this allowed?" Ferremo asked. After all, attacking another player was very clearly against the rules. Dareun fixed him with a poisonous grin.

"She has already broken that rule by attacking the seed hoard," he said. "She cannot claim its protection now."

Which meant he would be busy for a long time indeed. Ferremo would just have to delay the blue dragon until she could be dealt with properly.

You have the advantage of me, I'm afraid," Tennora said calmly, as if the man were a guest at one of her aunt and uncle's even-feasts. Her nerves had been stretched taut too many times in the last two days, but if she imagined him sitting in a comer, if that velvet jerkin were a doublet and half-cloak, she might manage. "And I do believe my door was locked. Did someone let you in?"

"A well-bred girl," the man said with a smile that twisted the comer of his mouth. He raised the cane off his lap, and Tennora felt the spell he cast slam the door behind her. "I approve of your manners," he said, laying the cane across his knees once again. "You may call me Dareun."

He remained sitting, his hands resting on the cane. The crystal in the handle glittered with an iridescence that was not wholly natural. Tennora peered at it and saw the telltale signs of traces of magic organizing themselves around the crystal.

Not just a cane. As Tennora's staff had let her focus her energy and will, so did Dareun's cane improve its holder's grasp of magic. She held her expression as steady as she could, but she let her eyes dart to her staff resting in the corner beside the door.

"Very well, Dareun," she said. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

He made no move to stand. "That isn't how this is going to work, my dear girl."

"Oh?" she said lightly. He wasn't one of Master Halnian's students, to be sure, nor had she seen him before at the House of Wonder. "You are quite demanding, saer, for someone who has broken into my home."

He smiled. His teeth were very white. "It is only fair," he said.

Oh Hells, she thought-the antiquary must have sent him. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Then you will likely also be surprised to hear that I'd like you to hand over my mask."

"I beg your pardon?" Tennora said, though her heart was racing. It is not his to sell, Aundra had said. The mask in the drawer seemed to be sending out signals like a lighthouse. I'm here! I'm here! She fought not to look at it. "Your mask? Perhaps you're looking for someone else."

"I know you took it." He stood and leaned on the walking stick rather heavily as he stepped closer to Tennora. His smell tickled its way through her nose and down her throat-brisk, bitter, and medicinal. "You and your… friend," he said. "It's a fortunate thing that my friend Ferremo remembered your name and knew the right person to ask about you. You might have evaded me otherwise."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Tennora said-what was that smell? Some sort of ointment? "I do not associate with criminals. I'm very sorry you're missing property"-A cheap scent? — "but I'm going to have to ask you to… leave." With a sinking sensation, she realized what it was.

Chlorine.

That was the smell. Blurred by some other scent he wore, but that sharp, unpleasant odor was unavoidably chlorine.

Tennora closed her eyes. Pages of books flipped by her mind's eye, illustrated with graceful drawings of dragons: blue, gold, white, black, red, green. Coiled around a tree, in the illustration. Marked by its distinctive crest and horn, the text said, and Breathes poisonous gas.

A green dragon. Dareun was a dragon too.

No. Nestrix is not a dragon, Tennora reminded herself. She had just managed to know somehow that the shop owner would be a dragon…

She opened her eyes. Dareun was watching her with an amused smile.

"Are you contacting her?" he said. "Tell her what I want. Tell her I'm going to take it and guarantee she never makes another play if she insists on being difficult."

The shop bells tinkled again. The seamstress held her gaze on the measuring tape at Nestrix's ankle.

"Well met," she called. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"It's quite all right," a man's voice said. "Take what time you need."

Nestrix froze and looked into the mirror. Over the shoulder of her reflection she saw a man with sleek blond hair standing at the counter's table. The assassin from the antiquary's. The lovac.

He saw her watching him, and his eyebrows rose. A slow grin spread across his face. The seamstress finished her measurement, greeted the man, and slipped into the back to collect his garments.

"Well met, Mistress Blue," he said once the seamstress had gone. "Come around here often? Or did you notice my breeches the other night? Goodwoman Darvien is quite handy with a bolt of velvet."