The Palace Job (10 page)

Hesna's face was stern. "He meets Archvoyant Silestin on the Spire, as is only proper. It would not do for such a great creature to walk the world of men, where he could meet laborers... or thieves."

"Tell me,
Sister,"
Sholrin added, "in all our talk, I have forgotten... which god has favored you with his divine presence?"

"You have not forgotten," Desidora said primly. "I have not said."

"I would think such an
impassioned
young woman, with such a powerful artifact as that ancient hammer, would be proud to name the god she serves," Bertrus said, gathering the divine energies of Ael-meseth about him. "Unless of course, she serves no god, and came upon the hammer by accident or evil... and is now using it to steal."

"If it
is
an artifact of true power," Sholrin said with a dismissive sniff. "Likely brass and tin, painted over, with a wizard's spell that lasts but a few hours." Bertrus could not sense the magic Sholrin wielded, as the rangy man served Pesyr, but he had no doubt from the dark heat of the man's stare that his power had been brought into play.

"Did you really think your parlor tricks could fool us, girl?" Hesna asked acidly. "A magic hammer that conveniently speaks when it is your turn to bet on the hand? You might have taken a few coins in a tavern, but here you deal with the chosen of the gods. Now declare your god, or fight if you are foolish."

"Try me," Desidora said, her heart-shaped face unchanged. "A single woman should pose no threat... unless your own corruption has offended the gods."

Bertrus lunged to strike, and the power of his god would have obliterated her the moment his hand struck her cheek had his blow landed. In fact, however, he was locked in place, the very air turned to stone around him. Across the table, Sholrin grunted and then began to pant, his eyes wide as he struggled. Hesna's small squeaks bespoke a similar struggle.

"Which god has favored me?" Desidora asked the now-silent assembly as she rose to her feet. "Which god could lock you in place with the very magic you sought to wield against me?" And before Bertrus's terrified eyes, her hair shimmered and turned black, and her tan skin faded to alabaster. Her dress, in an instant, was a glistening black, and the golden cup in her grasp, decorated with nymphs and satyrs, crackled and twisted into tarnished silver, into which ivory skulls were set. "Which god could snare four priests of such power, do you think?" she asked, and laughed.

"Three," growled Cordagar as he rose to his feet. "Not four priests, three. Your dark magic twisted their own spells against them, but those who serve Io-fergajar wield no magic save the gifts of forge and sweat, of bone and blood. Your tricks give you away, even if your foul visage did not. You have fallen to the dark temptations of Byn-kodar the Life-Stealer, but you do not hold me in your sway." His broadsword slid from its sheath. "Now die, death-witch!"

He kicked the table aside and lunged at the pale death-priestess, his blade cleaving down like an unstoppable avalanche of steel.

There was a sound like the striking of a bell, and Cordagar stumbled back, his great sword shaking in his hand.

Ghylspwr the warhammer had appeared in Desidora's hands, and, held aloft by the pale, slender woman with the dark hair and the midnight eyes, had driven back Cordagar's great blow. Bertrus had seen oxen felled by Cordagar's empty fist.

Cordagar roared and spun into a mighty backhand blow that could have cloven a stone column in twain. Desidora lifted the warhammer, and the mighty broadsword rang again and then clattered to the floor.
"Kutesosh gajair'is!"
cried the warhammer in a warrior's voice as Cordagar gripped his own wrist in pain and rage.

Bertrus was looking at the death-witch, and so he could see clearly when it happened. She stood over Cordagar, the warhammer raised, and she was cold as ice, but then the color crept back into her skin and hair, slowly, grudgingly. Discarded on the floor, the ivory skulls on her golden goblet slowly twisted back into golden nymphs.

"Alive, please," the auburn-haired woman murmured.

"Kun-kabynalti osu fuir'is,"
the warhammer said grudgingly, and swung down and then up in a massive arc that actually pulled the slight woman off the ground. The head of the hammer caught the light in a silvery glow as it crashed down upon Cordagar's head.

Bertrus had seen men die in battle, and he knew how it looked. He averted his eyes to avoid the sight. When he finally looked, however, Cordagar was unconscious but alive. This was odd, considering that he had been driven waist-deep through the floorboards.

"Nicely done," Desidora said, returning the warhammer to her belt.

"Besyn larveth'is,"
it said in evident satisfaction, and then jerked in Bertrus's direction and added,
"Kutesosh gajair'is?"

"I'm not sure," she said thoughtfully. "Father Bertrus, do
you
think I should kill you?" For a moment, the color bled from her skin, but she shook her head briskly, and the color slowly returned.

"You'll never survive," he vowed, forcing the words through frozen lips. "I triggered the wards. My acolytes will be here in minutes."

"I'm pleased to hear that." Desidora turned to the doorway. "I see you've also activated a long-standing ward to prevent me from fleeing. How brave of you. If only I could somehow manipulate the very magic of that ward, just as I manipulated all your magical auras?" She pursed her lips, head tilted, and stared at the door for a long moment. Bertrus watched the color bleed from her face again, and she tossed her black hair back with a cold laugh. "Oh. I can. How fortunate for me. With just a few alterations to the aura, your burly acolytes are locked
out."

She turned to the unconscious form of Cordagar. "I do apologize," she said, "but you've made me two-thirds of a very nice doorway." She turned to Bertrus and smiled again, her pale lips curved like a sickle moon. "You
did
say that these opulent chambers lay directly over the temple vault? I
suppose
that means that I'll be able to pilfer everything in there and then take my leave while all the acolytes batter the now-locked door."

Then, ignoring Bertrus's inarticulate ranting, she raised a dainty foot, shoved Cordagar through the hole, and climbed down after him.

"I heard there was a woman named Desidora hitting the temples," said the Urujar warrior-woman as she stepped out into the street. There was a man with her, and judging by his aura, he was very loyal to his friend and very interested in having sex with Desidora. Behind them, alarm bells rang and warriors shouted.

"How'd you find me?" Desidora asked. Her aura was almost normal. Her hair and skin were their usual tone, and her dress was just a bit dark.

"Kutesosh gajair'is?"
Ghylspwr asked.

"A friend told us you were hitting temples that had gotten money from the Voyancy," the man noted. "Father Bertrus had a reputation. We've been waiting."

"Not just yet," Desidora told the warhammer, smiling wryly.

"We've got a job," the Urujar woman said. "Likely involving magic. If you can break through the temple wards, you could be just what I need."

Desidora let the aura slide back in, felt her skin cool and her hair tighten into glossy black, the ice creep into her voice. "I could break through the temple's wards because I'm a death priestess."

"Besyn larveth'isr

She glanced down at Ghylspwr in irritation. "There is little point hiding it."

"You're a death priestess?" the man asked. His urge to have sex with her had diminished greatly, though not entirely. "Like, sacrificing babies and devouring souls to gain the power of demons and all that?"

Desidora thought for a moment. There were ideas, suggestions, not hers. She forced them away, forced the colors of life back into her skin and hair. "I don't really know. I hope not."

"Loch, we don't need this," said the man. "My wizard can get us through any safe."

"Then we'll be twice as lucky to have him as well."

"Are you the two Jyelle is up in arms about?" Desidora asked.

"Jyelle?" the woman asked quickly.

"Master of the Thieves' Guild for most of the province," Desidora said.

"Dammit!" The man turned to the woman. "And here we've been playing nice, registering in every damn town we pass through!"

"Maybe she'll let it lie," the woman suggested.

"Based on what I've heard," Desidora said, "probably not." "She ratted us out before, Loch," the man said. If she's guildmaster, that's a complication."

"It'll be dealt with," Loch said. "Like I said, I'm looking for someone who can break wards. You interested?"

"I'm not for hire," said Desidora, but then checked herself and asked, "Where is the job?"

The woman jerked her head up to the night sky. "Heaven's Spire."

Desidora nodded. The gods provided. "I'm in."

It was nearly midnight when Akus emerged, drunk and reeling and squinting in the torchlight, from the tavern Pyvic had tracked him to.

"Prisoner Akus," Pyvic said calmly, "you're surrounded." "Thought you could escape, now, didja?" Orris cut in. "Well, you thought wrong, Akus!"

Akus looked from Orris to Pyvic in confusion, then grinned at Orris. "Hey, Orris. Sorry I left. Just had to give it a try, you know?"

"Had to give—had
to give it a try?"
Orris stomped forward, and Pyvic followed, sword ready in case Orris's antics turned him into a hostage. "You make a fool of me, and that's all you can say? You're gonna be dangling every night for the next month, Akus! You and—"

"Enough." Pyvic silenced Orris with a glare, then turned to the town guards he'd pulled in to help. "You four, put Akus in chains. We'll want him for questioning. You three." He pointed. "You're with me."

"As you say, Justicar." They were good men, a luxury in small towns like this.

Inside, the tavern was loud and filthy. Loch and Kail had been in the Cleaners for unlawful entry into Heaven's Spire—which usually meant smuggling yourself in a crate. They'd been caught when an informant, Jyelle, had tipped off Customs agents. Loch and Kail could be two-bit thieves hoping to get lucky in the magical capitol city of the Republic, or they could have had a bigger plan. If it were the former, then this was their kind of tavern, too.

It wasn't, from what Pyvic could see. He made the rounds, staring down a few drunks who got angry when they saw uniforms and asking the bartender a few polite questions. He even let the bartender get his digs in, so that he could hold his head up after Pyvic left. A good justicar knew when to take a little lip. The bartender would remember that Pyvic didn't make it hard for him if Pyvic ever came back.

After poking through the back rooms, Pyvic thanked the occupants of the tavern for their time and stepped outside into the cool darkness.

Warden Orris had a big sweaty smile. "Well, Justicar, it doesn't look like you found anything, but I found us a lead!" "What's that, Warden?"

"Akus split from Loch and Kail as soon as they landed, but
before
they broke out, he heard them talking about their plan!" Orris wiped his palms. "They're putting a team together for something."

"How does that help us find them?" Pyvic asked, and then, to be civil, added, "Not that I'm complaining. Anything we learn can help us. If Akus can give us the names of contacts, we might be able to put a little pressure on them."

Orris made a dismissive gesture. "We don't need to do that. Akus told me everything. They're putting a team together, and they're not leaving the province. That should do us just fine."

Pyvic nodded again to be civil. "I'll question Akus as well; he might be more forthcoming with the threat of an unfamiliar face..."

Orris coughed. "Well, the fact is, Akus didn't want to tell me anything. I had to let him go in exchange for telling me that." Pyvic stopped nodding. "Where is the prisoner now?"

"Well, I
promised,"
Orris said with a helpless shrug. "And he did help us out. Loch and Kail,
they're
the ones we want!"