'Your lantern's out. Never mind. Tell me about your master.'
'Gods below, it hurts-'
Apsalar reached down and twisted the dislocated arm again.
The woman shrieked, then sagged, unconscious.
Apsalar let her slide down the wall until the woman was roughly in a sitting position. Then she drew out a flask and splashed water into the Pardu's face.
The eyes opened, comprehension returned, and with it, terror.
'I don't want to hear about what hurts,' Apsalar said. 'I want to hear about the merchant. Your employer. Now, shall we try again?'
The other Pardu was sitting up near the entrance, making grunting noises, then coughing, until she spat out bloody phlegm. 'Ah!' Curdle cried. 'Better! Oh, everything aches, oh, the arm!'
'Be quiet,' Apsalar commanded, then fixed her attention once more on the woman in front of her. 'I am not a patient person.'
'Trygalle Trade Guild,' the woman said in a gasp.
Apsalar slowly leaned back on her haunches. A most unexpected answer.
'Curdle, get out of that body.'
'What?'
'Now.'
'Just as well, she was all broken. Ah, free of pain again! This is better – I was a fool!'
Telorast's laughter was a rasp. 'And you still are, Curdle. I could have told you, you know. She wasn't right for you.'
'No more talking,' Apsalar said. She needed to think on this. The Trygalle Trade Guild's centre of operations was Darujhistan. It had been a long time since they'd visited the fragment of the Shadow Realm with munitions for Fiddler, assuming it was the same caravan – and she suspected it was. As purveyors of items and information, it now seemed obvious that more than one mission had brought them to Seven Cities.
On the other hand, perhaps they were doing little more than recovering here in the city – given their harrowing routes through the warrens – and the merchant-mage had instructed his guards to deliver any and all unusual information. Even so, she needed to be certain. 'The Trygalle merchant – what brought him or her here to Ehrlitan?'
The swelling was closing the Pardu's right eye. 'Him.'
'His name?'
'Karpolan Demesand.'
At that, Apsalar allowed herself a faint nod.
'We, uh, we were making a delivery – us guards, we're shareholders-'
'I know how the Trygalle Trade Guild works. A delivery, you said.'
'Yes, to Coltaine. During the Chain of Dogs.'
'That was some time ago.'
'Yes. I'm sorry, the pain, it hurts to talk.'
'It'll hurt more if you don't.'
The Pardu grimaced, and it was a moment before Apsalar realized it had been a smile. 'I do not doubt you, Shadow Dancer. Yes, there was more.
Altar stones.'
'What?'
'Cut stones, to line a holy pool…'
'Here in Ehrlitan?'
The woman shook her head, winced, then said, 'No. Y'Ghatan.'
'Are you on your way there, or returning?'
'Returning. Outward journeys are through warrens. We're… uh… resting.'
'So Karpolan Demesand's interest in a Shadow Dancer is just passing.'
'He likes to know… everything. Information buys us advantages. Noone likes rearguard on the Ride.'
'The Ride.'
'Through the warrens. It's… hairy.'
I imagine it would be. 'Tell your master,' Apsalar said, 'that this Shadow Dancer does not appreciate the attention.'
The Pardu nodded.
Apsalar straightened. 'I am done with you.'
The woman flinched back, up against the wall, her left forearm rising to cover her face.
The assassin looked down on the guard, wondering what had set her off.
'We understand that language now,' Telorast said. 'She thinks you are going to kill her, and you are, aren't you?'
'No. That should be obvious, if she's to deliver a message to her master.'
'She's not thinking straight,' Curdle said. 'Besides, what better way to deliver your message than with two corpses?'
Apsalar sighed, said to the Pardu, 'What brought you to this place? To Mebra's?'
Muffled from behind the forearm, the woman replied, 'Purchasing information… but he's dead.'
'What information?'
'Any. All. Comings and goings. Whatever he was selling. But you've killed Mebra-'
'No, I did not. By way of peace between me and your master, I will tell you this. An assassin of the Nameless Ones murdered Mebra. There was no torture involved. A simple assassination. The Nameless Ones weren't looking for information.'