Ruby Guardian (33 page)

. At last, they came to the edge of the forest lying alongside the road leading into Reth. Vambran crept forward the last few feet and peered out of the underbrush, screened by tall grasses. The city was not visible from that vantage point, but Shinthala had assured him that it was not much farther beyond that. Beside him, Arbeenok also peered out, studying the path in both directions.

“No one comes,” he said, his voice deep but gentle. “We should continue, for darkness will fall before we reach the walls of the city.”

Vambran nodded. “Well, if you have some idea how to sneak past all the gawking stares, now is the time to reveal it,” Vambran said. “Once we’re out on the road, you will be noticed.”

Arbeenok smiled, an expression that was surprisingly human in appearance. “I will not be able to speak, but I will understand you perfectly,” he said. “So it will be important for you to realize that I will be trying to communicate to you in other ways and to pay attention to me. Do you see?”

Vambran grinned, beginning to appreciate Arbeenok’s company more and more. “My soldiers and I have hand signals we sometimes use for communicating on the battlefield, so I am used to such,” he said.

“Good. Then let’s continue our journey.” And with that, he stood and began to transform right before Vambran’s eyes. The alaghi dropped down to his hands and knees, and his clothing and other items seemed to melt inside his body. When the change was complete, Arbeenok was a large, yellow dog. He wagged his tail and barked once at Vambran, who only stood there grinning.

“Very clever,” the lieutenant said, reaching a hand out to pat the dog. Arbeenok played the part, panting and rubbing his head against Vambran and wagging his tail all the harder. “And you can understand me, yes?” Vambran inquired. Arbeenok barked and nodded.

“Then you are a fine traveling companion,” the mercenary officer said and stepped out of the brush into the open. “Let’s go.”

The two of them set off together, and to everyone they passed, farmers in their wagons, loggers and craftsmen, and especially soldiers setting out toward the battle lines, they looked like a peasant and his dog. They hiked along at a steady pace, and Arbeenok ran ahead periodically. Though it appeared that the mutt was simply frisky and stretching its legs, Vambran began to see the advantage of having his companion able to scout ahead.

At one point, Arbeenok came running back and grabbed at Vambran’s pants leg, dragging him off the road and into the bushes. A few minutes later, a large contingent of soldiers wearing the silver raven on their tabards went marching past. Though he couldn’t be certain, it was entirely possible that some of those soldiers had engaged him in fighting, and he was thankful the alaghi had had the presence of mind to help him avoid a confrontation.

As the afternoon drew on toward dusk, Reth came into view in the distance. By the time Vambran and

his hound reached the gates, darkness was coming fast. The guards were preparing to close the great portals for the coming night, and Vambran had to hurry to get inside the city before they were completely shut. The guards didn’t give him a second glance.

Once they were away from the main thoroughfare and moving down a smaller side street, Vambran said, “I’m taking us to the home of an old acquaintance. I haven’t seen her in a year or so, but I think she will help us. Her name is Elenthia, and she runs in the right social circles to hear all the latest news and gossip, so she will know where the Crescents have been taken. Elenthia’s father is a senator in the government, so if they’re in the prison, she might also be able to get us inside.”

Arbeenok wagged his tail by way of answer, and taking that as a sign that the alaghi thought it was a good plan, Vambran led the way to the woman’s house.

Elenthia Gelterion’s home was as the lieutenant remembered it, a second-story apartment above a soap and incense shop in a rather upscale area of the city. Though the Gelterion family was wealthy, she had chosen to move out of the familial estate before she was actually ready to marry, and in the intervening years, had found that she liked the life of an eligible socialite. Vambran was one of her many distractions, he knew, but he didn’t mind playing that role. She was a kind-hearted woman who never expected anything more from him than an occasional dalliance.

When the mercenary and the druid arrived and knocked upon the door, Vambran said, “You ought to continue pretending to be a dog until I find a good way and time to explain to Elenthia who you really are.” When Arbeenok cocked his head to one side quizzically, Vambran added, “They’ll probably

take you into the kitchen and feed you scraps from the evening’s dinner. I will try not to take too long talking with her.”

Arbeenok barked in understanding and a moment later, a servant opened the door and let them both in. Once he had been announced, Vambran did not have to wait long before Elenthia came gliding into the entryway, all glowing smiles. She was a remarkably beautiful woman, Vambran thought, reminded again when he saw her flashing amber eyes and voluminous dark hair. She was wearing a casual dressing gown, something to pad around the home in, but she looked stunning nonetheless. She hesitated when she saw the lieutenant’s outfit, but the pause was barely noticeable, and she greeted him with a rather florid kiss.

“Vambran Matrell, what a surprise! What are you doing in Reth?” she asked, beaming as she led him into the parlor. “And you have a dog with you,” she said with a hint of distaste. “I must say, this is not how I expected to see you again.” The question of his current condition and stature hung there, hinted at but unspoken.

The lieutenant chuckled. “Many things are not as they were, Elenthia, but I am still serving with the Crescents. But this is not a social call. I have come seeking your help.”

“Ooh, a call for aid,” she said, teasing him, motioning for him to sit with her on a couch. “Judging from your current outfit, I would guess you don’t need me to play at soldier with you,” she said, a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

Vambran had to grin, remembering a time not so long ago when she had playfully donned his uniform, or rather, parts of it. She had been particularly fetching in the get-up. “No,” he said, banishing the thoughts before they got the better of him. “I need

your connections. And it is a large favor I ask. You will need to be discrete.”

“Ooh, a mystery,” Elenthia said, letting her voice drop.

“I’m serious,” Vambran said, letting his smile go. “This could be dangerous for you.”

Elenthia sat up straighter and tried to appear serious. “Anything for you, my love,” she said. “Whatever it is, I’m eager to assist you.”

“Good,” Vambran said. “Then I need to find out where my soldiers are. They have been brought here as prisoners.”

Elenthia’s expression did turn serious then, and she frowned. “Vambran, I cannot ask my father to release prisoners. To begin with, his position is not one of handling the city’s defenses, and besides, that would just not be possible. I—”

The lieutenant held up his hand to stop her. “I’m not asking you anything of the sort,” he said. “I simply need to know where they are. I will get them out myself.”

“What? You mean you intend to try to break them out of prison?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“Vambran, you can’t be serious! You’ll never succeed, and they’ll throw you in the dungeon right alongside your soldiers, and I will never see you again! I’m not going to help you do something mad!”

Vambran shook his head. “I don’t have a choice, Elenthia. Men have taken them and intend to kill them to ensure their silence—men who are behind the war that’s occurring.”

Elenthia’s frown deepened. “That is unfortunate,” she said. “The war is bloody, and Father has stated in no uncertain terms that the senate is up in arms over the whole affair. Half the senate approves of it, and the other half—”

“Elenthia, please,” Vambran pleaded. “I don’t have time for this. My companions are in danger, and I have to find them right now.”

The look on the woman’s face broke Vambran’s heart, for he realized that he had hurt her with his harsh words. But he dismissed his feelings, promising himself that he would make it up to her later. Right then, he had more important issues to attend to.

“All right,” Elenthia said, rising. “Let me get properly dressed, and I will take you to see Father.”

Before she was able to walk three paces, though, alarms began to sound outside in the streets. As Elenthia gasped, Vambran moved to the window to see what the commotion was about.

“That’s the call to arms!” she cried, a tremor in her voice. “The city’s under attack!”

• • •

“I’d really love to stay and watch all of this,” Junce was saying from a distant corner of the room, “but I have to get back to Arrabar. There’s some unfinished business I must take care of at the Generon

invoking your niece. That little Emriana’s becoming quite the lovely lady, don’t you think?” he said, smiling. “I believe she and I might find something suitable to talk about, a mutually enjoyable way to spend our time together.”

Kovrim jerked against the bonds that held him strapped down to a table, wanting with all of his being to get his hands around the assassin’s neck and throttle him. But he was completely immobilized and finally gave up, letting hopelessness begin to wash over him. The guards who had removed him from the alcove and restrained him there had disappeared, leaving him alone with Junce.

“A word of advice, though,” the assassin said, crossing over to loom near Kovrim’s head, a smug smile on his face. “Fight the transformation. It won’t make a difference, but I can imagine the desperation you’ll feel while it’s happening will be truly agonizing. So resist it with everything you have, just for me.”

Kovrim gave a throaty shout at the man standing over him, but Junce backed up a pace or two, spoke a phrase, and vanished. When he had gone, the old priest broke down, sobbing in his loneliness and fear. He wasn’t afraid to die, but he was terrified of becoming an undead thing. Watching Hort rise up from the floor and stare with glassy, unrecognizing eyes straight ahead as he shuffled off to join the other zombies was the most difficult thing the old priest had ever had to witness.

And he knew he would be joining his longtime companion soon, transformed by the magical plague into another mindless, disease-spreading creature, part of Junce’s new army. It sickened him, made him want to retch. He began to thrash again, fighting the restraints that held him on the table.

A door opened, and Kovrim twisted his head around, trying to peer in that direction to see who it was. A man strode into the chamber where he lay, but his face was hidden by a deep-cowled hood, part of a long robe he wore. There was a strange glow radiating all around the stranger, and Kovrim guessed that it was some sort of protection against infection from the plague.

“You see,” the stranger said, his face turned away from Kovrim as he stood at a workbench, doing something Kovrim couldn’t see, “my cousin doesn’t want to have to battle the armies of Reth and the Emerald Enclave at full strength. In truth, he doesn’t want to have to fight them at all. He would much rather let the ravages of disease take their toll, and Chondath

can arrive with healing magic and save the day, allowing Reth to return to the fold, where it rightly belongs.”

Kovrim listened to the man’s cryptic words, not understanding them, but not really thinking about them, either. It was the stranger’s voice that captivated him. It was vaguely familiar, someone he had known, many years ago. But he couldn’t quite place it.

“Of course,” the man continued, “my cousin must make certain that Chondath is not seen as having released the plague itself. That’s everyone’s worst fear, that Shining Arrabar will bring the Rotting Plague back. So he developed a plan. The plague would come from elsewhere, and he would be seen as a savior rather than a devil. And who better to release the plague upon a hated city than the druids of the Emerald Enclave? When they begin to track the zombies’ origins and head down into the sewers, they will find the bodies of two promising young wood folk who both gave their lives so that the ‘hated city folk’ could be devoured in disease.”

At last, the man turned to face Kovrim, holding a small alembic, which contained a thick, yellow substance. He approached where the old priest lay, holding the alembic well away from himself. “It was a long plan, a slow one, and one that I didn’t have much say in,” the man said. “But then, that’s always the way my cousin operated, so I guess I should feel fortunate that I was included at all.”

Kovrim wanted to scream, not because the man was about to pour the thick, sludgy substance onto his face—that in and of itself was too horrible to contemplate. No, the old priest’s anxiety reached a fever pitch because he remembered the face, knew the man.

Slowly, as the man let a bit of the disease-ridden pus slide out of the alembic and dribble around Kovrim’s mouth and nose, he lost his faculties, his mind seeking shelter by receding from consciousness.

Rodolpho Wianar finished the application of the disease to the priest and smiled.

D

Emriana held her breath, trying to hold perfectly still. It was hard, hanging as she was with her knees drawn up and

hooked over a timber and her torso folded in half, both hands clinging to that same beam along either side of her knees. She would have pulled herself up the rest of the way and found a more comfortable perch, but there hadn’t been time. She felt very undignified with her rear end jutting downward like that.

Below the girl, a lone guard stood in the midst of the room, his head canted slightly to one side as though listening. One hand rested on the hilt of his short sword while the other gripped the scabbard. Emriana knew that any movement on her part would disturb the dust coating the top of the beam,

causing it to sift downward—right on top of the man below her.

“Anyone there?” the guard called out, uncertain, craning his neck to peer into the shadows of the library. There was no answer, of course, because when Emriana and Pilos had entered the chamber to flee the guard and his companions, it had been perfectly dark.