Erin Evans - The God Catcher

And grinning at him. He sneered back. The bitch was mocking him, and it made him want to unleash everything he had left, freeze her to the core with the horror of the void and let her beg for the Dragon Queen's cruel embrace.

The rules of xorvintaal required him to give up what magic he came by naturally-a sacrifice Dareun was not fond of. Wizards made obvious lovacs to combat the deficiency, but Dareun found them untrustworthy creatures, too keen to try and outsmart him and gain more than their fair share.

He still used them of course, in areas where he had a toehold but no hope of advancing-lands where his plans all seemed to come to ruin at the worst possible moment. All the older, better-equipped players made certain of that.

The dark voice whispering at the back of his thoughts made spells inch to the tips of his fingers. Patience, he reminded himself. It did him no good at all to kill her.

Unless, of course, he was wrong about all of it.

"What brought you to Waterdeep?"

She laughed, spitting blood as she did. "My feet."

"How droll," he said. "It helps neither of us, this disobedience."

"Disobedience." She chuckled again. "Funny, wyrmling. You are no master of mine. I have told you already-I have nothing you want. You are wasting your time."

Dareun wasn't ready to accept that she might be telling the truth. He cast again, filling her thoughts with the cold darkness of the void that lay between him and the mad being of the star. Her screams seemed to please it-though its pleasure or displeasure was never an easy thing to gauge.

No matter; it pleased him to hear her scream.

"Why did you come to Waterdeep?" he asked again. She reached up and grabbed hold of a bar, panting and unable to speak. "Why have you-"

He had gotten too close. She struck through the bars, one hand clenching shut on his windpipe. Dareun gagged and tried to pull away as her nails dug into either side of the prominence of his throat. Those blue eyes burned with disgust.

Not to be outdone, he returned the glare and took hold of her wrist. He squeezed the bones together, grinding one against the other as he twisted. The joint popped. Finally, with a small cry, she released him and pulled her arm back. He let go of her as well and rubbed his neck as she rubbed her wrist. He eyed her warily.

Footsteps behind him caught his attention, and he turned as Ferremo entered the chamber, carrying a sack in one hand.

"Back already?"

Ferremo's expression tightened. "It's done." He opened the sack, took out a silvery collar set with a lavender stone, and bowed his head. Dareun had never seen the stone's equal; even in the gloom of the sewer, it caught every scrap of light and sent it shimmering back out. A worthy addition.

"She's dead?" Dareun asked.

"Of course," Ferremo said. "Master."

"No!" Nestrix cried. He looked back over his shoulder, his opinion wavering again. What dragon cried over a lovac so useless as one who got caught? He narrowed his eyes at Ferremo.

"You'll avoid that tone with me. You're certain she's dead?"

"Certain as I can be. She's at the bottom of the river."

"No bloody cloth? No heart on a platter?"

Ferremo gritted his teeth. "You said to be quick, master. Flair like that takes time. And clothes I don't mind ruining."

"Then how do I know you took care of things?"

"Have I failed you before?" Ferremo asked.

"Recent events have been less than to my liking. How do you know she's dead?"

"I stood by the water and watched until her breath broke the surface. Then I waited another few songs-she didn't come up."

"Did you see the body?"

"She's at the bottom of the harbor, master, and it's cold water. We won't see a body for another few days."

Dareun glared at his lovac. The slow growth of his insolence had reached an intolerable point. Ferremo hadn't agreed with the decision to infiltrate Waterdeep. Dareun didn't care-it was not a lovacs place to agree or disagree, only to act. Ferremo had not failed him, not yet, but it was inevitable.

He would deal with the human once his plans were complete.

He held out a hand. "Give me the collar."

Nestrix watched, horrified, as Dareun donned the gorget. There was no light or shimmer or sound as it closed around Dareun's neck, but Nestrix could see the change in him as its affects took hold. His spine lengthened, straightening his body. The breath he drew was smooth and deep and without the rattle that had plagued him. His face smoothed, his eyes widened, and Andareunarthex began to laugh.

"By all the gods!" he crowed. He flexed his hands and they moved easily. "I could unmask a hundred lords tonight! There is no power on Toril that could bring me low!"

The anger coiling in Nestrix's heart came together with a purpose. She would be that power; she would bring him low or die trying. She thought of Tennora, poor Tennora, dead by that bastard lovac's hand, and the rage rose to fill her, ready for the first chance she had.

He turned to face her, eyes glowing, teeth sharp and white. "You're going to get some company. I hear you miss your offspring."

Nestrix stiffened. "Watch your tongue."

"Nothing of the sort," he said. "How would you like someone else's offspring to watch after?"

The leg of the God Catcher had been fitted with stairs, winding around its thigh for a few score feet before ending at a walled landing still a hundred feet above the Waterdhavian sewers.

The air thickened as Tennora and Veron descended, filling their mouths with a sour, fetid taste. The stairs grew slick with a thin layer of mold, and below the sound of water gurgled past.

At the landing, Veron leaned over to gauge the distance.

"We'll have to lower ourselves down one at a time," he said. "Though it might land us in the water."

"Try not to," Tennora said. The sewers of Waterdeep were not known for their purity.

Veron withdrew a coil of thin, sturdy rope from his haversack and secured it with pitons and a complicated knot to the wall. He looped the other end into a sort of noose, though when he tugged on it, it didn't tighten. He slipped it around Tennora so that the loop made a sort of seat, then tied a second loop at about chest height. She threaded her hand through it and held tight to the rope.

"I'll lower you down first," he said. "So you can carry the torch and have a look around. Let me know when you reach the bottom."

Tennora nodded, afraid to give voice to the nerves that were threatening to make her run back up the stairs, back to her cozy apartment and her books. Back-somehow-to her life as it was before carvestars and lockpicks and dragons. She took a deep breath to clear those thoughts from her mind, but they only scattered to a safe distance, like crows shooed from a garden.

She climbed over the wall and secured the rope around her seat. Veron handed her a torch to carry in her other hand, and he began to lower her down.

She would have liked to drop the torch and hold on with both hands. As soon as she started to descend, the rope began twisting so that she spun like a maple seed, the torch trailing a slow spiral of fire. Moreover, if the air above her had been thick, this was like trying to breathe through a wet rag. The close moistness carried scents so vile, Tennora's imagination ran wild with the possible sources. She gagged until she stopped trying to endure the fetid air and just held her breath. Her weak lungs protested, but it was better than the taste of the air.

As she neared the bottom, the torchlight caught the slow-moving water of the sewer channels, brown and thick. Tennora gagged again and was forced to take a deep breath of the noxious air.

"Stop!" she called, her voice echoing up the leg of the God Catcher. She had reached the spot where the statue had broken through the ancient sewers. The brick for twenty yards across was half a shade cleaner-though that wasn't saying much. Ahead of her, a narrow pathway ran along the wall, a hand span above the water, the access for the repair workers. She tossed the torch over onto the relatively dry pathway. It sputtered for a moment, but stayed lit.