Dressed only in her underclothes, Sinital loosed a startled cry. Her eyes flashed at the tall, cloaked man standing in the doorway. “How dare you enter my bedroom? Leave at once, or I'll call-”
“Both guards patrolling this hallway have departed, Lady,” Rallick Nom said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. The assassin glanced at Murillio. “Get dressed,” he snapped.
“Departed?” Sinital moved to place the bed between herself and Rallick.
“Their loyalty has been purchased,” the assassin said. “The lesson shouldn't be lost on you.”
“I need only scream and others will come.”
“But you haven't,” Rallick grinned, “because you're curious.”
“You don't dare harm me,” Sinital said, straightening. “Turban Orr hunt you down.” The assassin took another step forward. “I'm here only to talk, Lady Sinital,” he said. “You won't be harmed, no matter what you deserve.”
“Deserve? I've done nothing-I don't even knowyou.”
“Neither did Councilman Lini,” Rallick said quietly. “And tonight the same could be said for Turban Orr. Both men paid for their ignorance, alas. Fortunate that you missed the duel, Lady. It was unpleasant, but necessary.” His eyes hardened on the pale woman. “Allow me to explain.
Turban Orr's offer of contract to the Assassins” Guild is now officially cancelled. Coll lives, and now his return to this house is assured. You're done with, Lady Sinital. Turban Orr is dead.”
He turned and walked from the room, closing the door behind him.
Murillio rose slowly. He looked into Sinital's eyes, seeing there a growing terror. Undermined by the stripping away of her links to power, her once secure defences collapsed. He watched as she seemed physically to contract, her shoulders drawing inward, her hands clasped at her stomach, knees bending.Then he could look no longer. The Lady Sinital was gone, and he dared not study too closely the creature in her place.
He unsheathed his ornamental dagger and tossed it on the bed.
Without another word or gesture, he left the room, knowing with certainty that he would have been the last man to see her alive.
Out in the hallway he paused. “Mowri,” he said softly. “I'm not cut out for this.” Planning to reach this point was one thing; having now reached it was another. He hadn't considered how he'd feel. Justice got in the way of that, a white fire he'd had no reason to look behind, or push aside.
Justice had seduced him and he wondered what he had just lost, he wondered at the death he felt spreading within him. The regret following in that death's wake, so unanswerable it was, threatened to overwhelm him. “Mowri,” he whispered a second time, as close to praying as he'd ever been, “I think I'm now lost. Am I lost?”
Crokus edged round a marble pillar, his eyes on the rather short Barghast warmaiden sitting on the fountain's rim. Damn those guards at the wood's edge, anyway. He was a thief, wasn't he? Besides, they all looked pretty distracted.
He waited for his opportunity, and when it came he darted for the shadows between the first line of trees. No shout of alarm or call to halt sounded behind him. Slipping into the darkness, Crokus turned and crouched. Yes, she still sat there, facing in his direction.
He drew a deep breath, then stood straight, a pebble in one hand.
Eyeing the guards, he waited. Half a minute later he found his chance.
He stepped forward and flung the pebble into the fountain.
Challice D'Arle jumped, then looked round as she wiped droplets of water from her painted face.
His heart sank as her gaze passed over him, then her head whipped back.
Crokus gestured desperately. This was it, this was when he'd find out where she stood as far as he was concerned. He held his breath and gestured again.
With a backward glance towards the patio, Challice rose and ran to him.
As she came close she squinted at him. “Gorlas? Is that you? I've been waiting all night!” Crokus froze. Then, without thinking, he lunged forward and clasped a hand over her mouth, his other arm encircling her waist. Challice squealed, trying to bite his palm, and struggled against him, but he dragged her into the darkness of the garden. Now what? he wondered.
Circle Breaker leaned against the marble pillar just inside the estate's main chamber. Behind him guests milled around Turban Orr's body, arguing loudly and voicing empty threats. The air hung heavy over the garden, smelling of blood.
He wiped at his eyes, trying to calm his heart. It's over. Queen of Dreams, I'm done. I can rest now. Finally rest. He straightened slowly, taking a deep breath, adjusted his sword belt and glanced around.