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I squinted, trying to figure something out. “I’m puzzled. You are obviously albino. Why send you into the desert? Won’t the sun scorch you almost as surely as it would me?”
“I’m no vampire.”
Okay, the sneer was insult number one. I ignored it and pointedly stared at him, waiting.
After a moment: “I am not truly albino, although I suffer from a distinct lack of pigmentation in my skin, and yes, the sun is most certainly a danger for me. However, I’m the best and Queen Asteria knows it. Not only am I one of the most highly ranked assassins running free from any guild, but I was posted to Ceredream for some time, emerging to do business at night and holing up during the day. I know the customs of the Southern Wastes in an intimate manner.” He crossed his arms and stretched out his legs, reminding me of Vanzir when we’d first met him.
“How did you make it this far without a guild? I thought they had a chokehold on assassins. Thieves can get away with running independent, at least as long as they remain petty thieves and don’t make themselves noticed. But assassins are watched in all the major cities by the big guilds.” I’d had to infiltrate one of the major guilds many years back, and barely escaped alive. But I’d learned a great deal about the way the assassins’ hierarchy worked. And they weren’t kind to those who ignored their summons.
Quall’s eyebrow twitched and he cocked his head. “So you have done your homework. Being the Queen’s pet has its perks. The guilds up here know enough not to bother me. And I have forged credentials that keep me out of trouble when I’m out on a mission.”
He glanced at Chase and snorted. “Now, answer a question of mine. Since when do vampires, Windwalkers or not, play buddy-buddy with an FBH?” Addressing Chase directly, he added, “We don’t see many of your kind around here.”
Chase bristled but kept his mouth shut. Before Delilah or I could speak, Camille leaped to her feet.
“Listen, dude.” She stood, hands on hips, looking ready to thrash Quall. “Hotshot assassin or not, mind your fucking manners. We were in the OIA for years before switching over to working for the elves. We may be half-human, but you’d better start showing some respect for us—and for our friend here.” She motioned to Chase. “Chase is one of the bravest, most helpful allies we have, and if you don’t back off, you’re going to find out how we’ve managed to take out several demon generals. The hard way.”
“You really think you’re my equal?” Quall had barely gotten the words out when Camille was halfway over the table, her eyes flashing. Trillian grabbed her back as the assassin pulled out a blade.
Trillian wrestled her back, pinning her arms behind her as she tried to free herself from his grasp. “Camille—come on. Let it go. Let it be.” His voice was smooth, like honey. After a moment, she stood there, panting heavily, looking in a murderous rage.
I turned to Quall, fangs down and glistening. “Apologize. Now. Don’t ask why, don’t bother objecting. Just do it. I can suck your blood faster than you can load an arrow.” I knew why Camille had lost it—Hyto had said something eerily similar to her, just before he raped her. Some triggers, you never could disarm.
Quall caught my gaze as I waited, neither blinking nor moving. He shifted with the faintest of hesitations, then a barely visible shudder.
“Accept my apology. I spoke out of line.”
Of course he didn’t mean it—his heart wasn’t behind the words, but that didn’t matter, at this point. The snide look disappeared and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
I glanced at Camille. She was fuming, but she was out of the fight-or-flight mode. She shot him a look of disgust but took her seat again. Trillian kept his hand on her shoulder and flashed me a grateful look.
I sized up Quall again. I didn’t like him. I really didn’t like him. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t loyal to the core when it came to Queen Asteria. Personal trust was a different thing than professional trust, and we could work with him, if he learned to keep his mouth shut.
Sidling a glance at Taath, the sorcerer, I tried to gauge his reaction, but it was near impossible. His eyes gleamed from within the robe, but without seeing his face, I had no clue as to what he might be thinking. Darynal, however, looked pissed out of his mind. I didn’t expect him to speak up, and was pleasantly surprised when he turned to Quall.
“Show these women and their companions some respect, or I will speak to Queen Asteria about replacing you. Your skills are worthless if you alienate our allies.” His voice was riddled with threat, and he leaned forward, his eyes a pale flurry of ice. I’d seen Trillian with that look once or twice, but Darynal had perfected it and magic oozed off him. The Svartans weren’t called the Charming Fae for nothing—they could mesmerize with a kiss, hypnotize with a look, if they really wanted to. And they could menace just as easily.
Trillian arched his eyebrows, but said nothing. The flush in Camille’s cheeks faded as she relaxed.
After another tense moment, Taath let out a low whistle. “Assassin, we need you. Do not let your pride cloud this mission.”
“Sorcerer, I’ll do as I see fit.” Quall grimaced, as if he’d just swallowed a frog, but he shrugged. “Very well. Let us move on.”
“See that you mind yourself. You may be an assassin but you know nothing about the Svartans’ abilities to inflict suffering.” Darynal gave him another long look, then turned to us. “Tell us everything you know about Telazhar. We have the records from Queen Asteria, but it’s been over a millennium since he walked the sands of the Southern Wastes, and much can change in that time, especially with him locked away in the Subterranean Realms.”
And so, we put aside our quarrel and shared all the information we had, from when we first suspected that Telazhar had gated in Stacia Bonecrusher over Earthside to our discovery that he was working with Gulakah.
In return, Darynal promised to tell us everything they found out about what was going down in the Southern Wastes, which—as of now—wasn’t much.
“Our operatives in Dahnsburg heard from another agent sequestered down in Rhellah that the sorcerers are uniting again, under an ancient necromancer. They did enough research before contacting us to verify that it’s Telazhar, but since he’s keeping himself hidden in the Southern Wastes, there isn’t much that Queen Asteria, King Uppala-Dahns, or Queen Tanaquar can do about it. The former two were among the primary triad who had ousted him the first time around.”
“What about Vodox?” Trillian cocked his head. “Queen Asteria mentioned she’d sent word to him. What says the King of Svartalfheim? And the dwarves? Is the court of Nebelvuouri pledging arms?”
“Both are listening with open minds, but neither has taken a stance yet. We expect Vodox to take our side before the dwarven court makes up its mind. Since Svartalfheim has lately returned to Otherworld from the Subterranean Realms, our king chooses to cooperate.”
For a long while, the city of the Svartans—Svartalfheim—had existed in the Subterranean Realms, among the demonic forces. But when Shadow Wing took over, the entire city packed up and moved back to Otherworld, causing a major stir in both realms.
They had not used the portals—they could not, since the portals to the Sub-Realms were still sealed—but since they were not demons, their most powerful wizards had been able to transport the entire city, lock, stock, and barrel, with only minor damage. King Vodox had feared that the Demon Lord would turn his eye toward the growing power of their people and use it to tear open the portals. Whether their wizards even had that ability didn’t matter. Either way, Shadow Wing would have torn them—and the entire city—to shreds.
