Elaine Cunningham - Honor Bound

"So these nine dwarf masons willreturn to bring news of their young lord's death so that the clanalliance can be concluded."

"That is my assumption, yes. If helives, he'll finish out his exile and return to hisclanhold."

"Good."

Silence fell. Lingered.

Soft footsteps approached the oldman's alcove. He was about to dart back into the hidden passagewhen he heard the window latches snap. The creak of shuttersfollowed as the elf swung them open to let in thestarlight.

"The lamps are lit," Rhendishpointed out.

"Then call one of your guards andwe'll begin."

The old man edged the curtain asidejust in time to see the adept's jolt of surprise. "Why?"

The elf turned to face him."Removing the metal from my body will require time and effort. Youmight decide the process is more trouble than my service is worth.Once we start, you'll have a knife in my arm. One flick is all itwould take to sever the veins."

"If killing you was my intention, aclockwork guard couldn't prevent me."

"No, but it could make sure I don'tdie alone."

The adept huffed. "Few people dotheir best work with a sword pointed their way."

"Will you call the guard, or shallI?"

The adept gave a single terse nod.In moments a metal guard clanked into the room and drew asword.

Rhendish sent the construct adisgusted look and reached for a small, curved knife. The elf tooka chair and laid her arm on the attached metal table.

The adept dipped the tip of hisknife under one of the stitches on the elf's arm, flicking asidethe threads one by one. She did not flinch, and when the knife sankdeep into living flesh, she did not scream. Not when he clamped offthe veins to slow the flow of blood, not when he removed tiny boltsholding a metal bone in place, not even when he pulled the bar freewith what appeared to be more force than was strictlynecessary.

A metallic rustle filled the room asthe clockwork guard shifted, raising its sword for a sweepingcut.

"My arm, your head," the elf saidsoftly.

Rhendish removed a slender crystalbone from the skeleton, the smaller of the two forearm bones. Thestarsong humming through the crystal faltered. The elf's eyesglazed as the magic sustaining her fell silent.

The adept's head came up sharply,like a wolf scenting blood.

Metal clattered as the guard's swordarm dropped to its side. Its metal head turned from the elf to theadept and back, as if it were uncertain where its loyalties shouldlie.

Without thinking, the old manreached out to Honor.

Starsong filled the room with silentmusic. The elf gathered the silver threads and wove them intostrength and magic, life and youth. The old man doubted she wouldthink to ask what had repaired the severed connection. Starsongcame naturally to her kind, and like a beating heart requiredneither thought nor choice to do its work.

Color crept back into the elfwoman's pallid cheeks. Her eyes cleared, hardened. Her gaze flickedto the clockwork guard, and it raised its sword again.

Rhendish frowned and lifted hisknife. The wonderful, terrible work began anew.

The old man sank down on the windowledge, stunned beyond thought. His hands trembled, but when heregarded them by the light of the stars, they seemed less palsiedand frail than they'd been this morn.

For ten long years, he'd tried totake power and magic from the elf woman. It had never occurred tohim, not once, to give.

Starsong was a shared thing, flowingfrom one elf to another as need arose. The old man had known thatonce.

He'd been away from his kind for fartoo long.

Rhendish and Volgo stood inwhat was left of Muldonny's workshop, gazing through the openingthe explosion had made in the southern wall.

Before the raid a walkwayhad connected the main fortress with the cliff-side tower. Most ofthe stone, both the walkway and the arch that had supported it, hadshattered and fallen into the sea.

"That won't be easilyreplaced," Rhendish murmured.

"No need to bother withit," the captain said. "It has no tactical value. Shore up thewalls, fill in the shafts and tunnels. That'll keep the masons busyuntil winter."

The adept nodded absentlyas he moved over to the oubliette shaft. According to Honor, thethieves had come up through this passage. But the workers who'dgone down on ropes to clear the rubble and retrieve the bodies ofMuldonny's men had reported finding a smooth and solid floor somethirty feet down.

Either Honor was lying tohim, or the young dwarf lord who'd befriended Fox possessedstoneshifting abilities beyond anything Rhendish had thoughtpossible.

"This wall will go upeasily enough," Volgo said, running a hand along the jagged edge."When is Mendor taking possession?"

"First thing tomorrow, Ibelieve. The sooner, the better, in my opinion."

It had taken all ofRhendish's influence to have Mendor named to the Council of Adepts.Of all the alchemists Rhendish had trained, Mendor showed the mostaptitude for the alchemical weapons that had made Muldonny soeffective.

And unlike Muldonny, he hadlittle interest in exploring elven lore and magic. That was a pathbest left untrod.

Rhendish joined his captainat the broken wall. Below the curve of the cliff, dark water surgedand brooded, tossing white sprays over rocks that rose from thecoastline like jagged teeth. According to witnesses, both Fox andHonor had fallen when the explosion shattered the walkway. Rhendishdid not see how anyone could have survived the fall. But Honor had,so perhaps the thief lived. And if the solid stone filling theoubliette shaft was any indication, the dwarf had alsosurvived.

Volgo frowned and foldedhis arms, his gaze fixed on the old tower.

"What is it?"

"I talked to a dozen peoplewho saw a fairy shot out of the sky. Most of them claimed thearrows came from the tower."

Rhendish immediatelygrasped his point. The tower door had not been opened since theraid, which meant that no archers had been stationed there thatnight.

"An illusion," he murmured."So it would seem the fairy survived, as well. We'll need to bringher in."

Volgo snorted. "I don't seehow. They say fairies can look like anyone."

The adept did notappreciate his captain's insolent tone, but there was enough truthin his words to silence the rebuke that leaped to Rhendish'slips.

"I figured there was afairy about," Volgo said in a tone ripe with disgust. "All theseCity Fox stories. Wasn't natural, the way they caught on. Fairytales, the lot of them. "

An idea stirred and beganto take shape."We might not know what the fairy looks like, but ifshe's behind the City Fox stories, one might reasonably assumeshe's been haunting storytelling venues. She may continue to doso."

Volgo stroked his newlybeardless chin. "There's sense in that. I'll have my men collectstoryspinners. Iron chains have a way of sorting the humans fromthe fey folk."

"You can't arrest storyspinners,"Rhendish snapped. "This is Sevrin. The people wouldn't stand forit. They need to gather of their own volition. We'll invite them toa festival in my manor."

"You've never shown any interest instoryspinners before. They're likely to be suspicious."

"Then tell them I have an honoredguest-a famous bard of some sort-who wishes to hear Sevrin'sstories and songs."

"I don't see them buying that at theasking price, either," Volgo said. "They're going to know who thefamous bards are and where they're working."

"My point precisely! Find out whomost impresses the storyspinners, get what information you canabout the bard. Create a plausible lie." The adept held up a handto forestall Volgo's next argument. "See to it."

Some dark emotion flashed in thecaptain's eyes, but it disappeared before Rhendish could put a nameto it.

"As you wish," Volgosaid.