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Kalam glanced away, considering how to frame his request. Get Captain Irriz. Alive, but kept quiet. Join me at the rope . There would need to be some explaining to do, and with a beast possessing no language-
The azalan turned suddenly, nostrils twitching. The broad, squat head dipped down on its long, thickly muscled neck. Down to the tent’s back wall at the base.
Where urine from the latrine pit had soaked through.
A soft cluck, then the demon wheeled about and lifted a hind limb. Two penises dropped into view from a fold of flesh.
Twin streams reached down to the sodden carpet.
Kalam reeled back at the stench, back, out through the flap and outside into the chill night air, where he remained, on hands and knees, gagging.
A moment later the demon emerged. Lifted its head to test the air, then surged into the shadows-and was gone.
In the direction of the captain’s tent.
Kalam managed a lungful of cleansing air, slowly brought his shuddering under control. ‘All right, pup,’ he softly gasped, ‘guess you read my mind.’ After a moment he rose into a crouch, reached back with breath held into the tent to retrieve his pack, then staggered towards the cliff-face.
A glance back showed steam or smoke rising out from his tent’s entrance, a whispering crackle slowly growing louder from within it.
Gods, who needs a vial of Tralb?
He padded swiftly to where the rope still dangled beneath the balcony.
A sputtering burst of flames erupted from where his tent had been.
Hardly an event to go unnoticed. Hissing a curse, Kalam sprinted for the rope.
Shouts rose from the camp. Then screams, then shrieks, each one ending in a strange mangled squeal.
The assassin skidded to a halt at the cliff-face, closed both hands on the rope, and began climbing. He was halfway up to the balcony when the limestone wall shook suddenly, puffing out dust. Pebbles rained down. And a hulking shape was now beside him, clinging to the raw, runnelled rock. Tucked under one arm was Irriz, unconscious and in his bedclothes. The azalan seemed to flow up the wall, hands gripping the rippled ribbons of shadow as if they were iron rungs. In moments the demon reached the balcony and swung itself over the lip and out of sight.
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Kalam glanced away, considering how to frame his request. Get Captain Irriz. Alive, but kept quiet. Join me at the rope . There would need to be some explaining to do, and with a beast possessing no language-
The azalan turned suddenly, nostrils twitching. The broad, squat head dipped down on its long, thickly muscled neck. Down to the tent’s back wall at the base.
Where urine from the latrine pit had soaked through.
A soft cluck, then the demon wheeled about and lifted a hind limb. Two penises dropped into view from a fold of flesh.
Twin streams reached down to the sodden carpet.
Kalam reeled back at the stench, back, out through the flap and outside into the chill night air, where he remained, on hands and knees, gagging.
A moment later the demon emerged. Lifted its head to test the air, then surged into the shadows-and was gone.
In the direction of the captain’s tent.
Kalam managed a lungful of cleansing air, slowly brought his shuddering under control. ‘All right, pup,’ he softly gasped, ‘guess you read my mind.’ After a moment he rose into a crouch, reached back with breath held into the tent to retrieve his pack, then staggered towards the cliff-face.
A glance back showed steam or smoke rising out from his tent’s entrance, a whispering crackle slowly growing louder from within it.
Gods, who needs a vial of Tralb?
He padded swiftly to where the rope still dangled beneath the balcony.
A sputtering burst of flames erupted from where his tent had been.
Hardly an event to go unnoticed. Hissing a curse, Kalam sprinted for the rope.
Shouts rose from the camp. Then screams, then shrieks, each one ending in a strange mangled squeal.
The assassin skidded to a halt at the cliff-face, closed both hands on the rope, and began climbing. He was halfway up to the balcony when the limestone wall shook suddenly, puffing out dust. Pebbles rained down. And a hulking shape was now beside him, clinging to the raw, runnelled rock. Tucked under one arm was Irriz, unconscious and in his bedclothes. The azalan seemed to flow up the wall, hands gripping the rippled ribbons of shadow as if they were iron rungs. In moments the demon reached the balcony and swung itself over the lip and out of sight.
And the stone ledge groaned.
Cracks snaked down.
Kalam stared upward to see the entire balcony sagging, pulling away from the wall.
His moccasins slipped wildly as he tried to scrabble his way to one side. Then he saw long, unhuman hands close on the lip of the stone ledge. The sagging ceased.
H-how in Hood’s name -
The assassin resumed climbing. Moments later he reached the balcony and pulled himself over the edge.
The azalan was fully stretched over it. Two hands gripped the ledge. Three others held shadows on the cliffside above the small doorway.
Shadows were unravelling from the demon like layers of skin, vaguely human shapes stretching out to hold the balcony to the wall-and being torn apart by the immense strain. As Kalam scrambled onto its surface, a grinding, crunching sound came from where the balcony joined the wall, and it dropped a hand’s width along the seam.
The assassin launched himself towards the recessed doorway, where he saw a face in the gloom, twisted with terror-the squad mage. ‘Back off!’ Kalam hissed. ‘It’s a friend!’ The mage reached out and clasped Kalam’s forearm. The balcony dropped away beneath the assassin even as he was dragged into the corridor.
Both men tumbled back, over Irriz’s prone body. Everything shook as a tremendous thump sounded from below. The echoes were slow to fade.
The azalan swung in from under the lintel stone. Grinning. A short distance down the corridor crouched a squad of soldiers. Sinn had an arm wrapped round one of them-her half-brother, Kalam assumed as he slowly regained his feet.
One of the soldiers the assassin had met earlier moved forward, edging past the assassin and-with more difficulty-the azalan, back out to the edge. After a moment he called back. ‘All quiet down there, Sergeant. The camp’s a mess, though. Can’t see anyone about…’ The other soldier from before frowned. ‘No one, Bell?’
‘No. Like they all ran away.’
Kalam offered nothing, though he had his suspicions. There was something about all those shadows in the demon’s possession …
The squad mage had disentangled himself from Irriz and now said to the assassin, ‘That’s a damned frightening friend you have there. And it ain’t imperial. Shadow Realm?’
‘A temporary ally,’ Kalam replied with a shrug.
‘How temporary?’
The assassin faced the sergeant. ‘Irriz has been delivered-what do you plan on doing with him?’
