"As my oath demands, Lord Pertinax. I've healed you."

  "No you didn't, look at me! If I move more than the slightest—"

  "Yes. A sudden jostle, even a light breeze perhaps and that bolt will pierce what passes for your heart. Yet, the wound is healed. I've regrown your flesh around the bolt, embracing it, if you like—a skill awakened by your own cruelty. You might want to avoid battles or hard riding though."

  "How dare you," Pertinax seethed. "I command—"

  "You command nothing! I came here to kill you, but it seems the gods have shown me another path. Here's what I command: You'll leave my convent free to aid whomever comes to our doors, and put an end to this mindless sack and slaughter of the common folk. Do that, and I'll fix you for true. I doubt you'll find anyone else who can."

  "Or?"

  "Or, you can spend the rest of your days holding very, very still." She tried not to smile and failed.

  "This is outrageous! I'll have you dragged before the High Inquisitor. They'll burn you for heresy!"

  "Do it. Certainly the Inquisitor would be very interested to hear how you threatened a Temple of Sisters performing the charity of the Polytheon. I imagine the queen's support among her more devout barons would be...lessened, somewhat."

  "Get out," Pertinax snarled. "Go. Go and be damned!"

  Robbed of its most capable general, the queen's army was effectively hobbled, and within a month a truce was declared with Duke Osmund. A week after that Pertinax paid a much more temperate visit to the Temple, and this time Evandri did not curtsy.

  The Tower of Faces

  Aerrus paused halfway down the long hewn-stone corridor as Linet caught up to him. "So what's all this about?" he asked.

  "No idea."

  "She didn't tell you, either? Not a good sign. I have a feeling we aren't gonna like what's about to drop in our lap."

  Linet rolled her eyes. "You're paranoid."

  "Thanks."

  They walked into the conference room at the back end of the Lodge, the secret underground stronghold of the King's Herons band of rangers. An orange dawn filtered through the room's one precious window and the waterfall beyond it, casting a fiery pallor over their aged leader Perrim. Next to her, her equally aged adviser Lomuel shuffled through papers. Both wore scowls.

  "Ah," said Perrim tiredly, "please sit." Lomuel handed her one of the papers. "I'll get right to it. How much do you know about the criminal known as the Alchemist?"

  Aerrus tossed Linet an I told you so look. "Well no surprise, he's an alchemist. A good one, uses his craft to rob and assassinate enemies, influence some powerful nobles, kidnap others. Has a talent for disguises."

  "They say he aims to topple the king," Linet added. "Ridiculous. He's only got a grubby band of ex-mercenaries under hire, always keeps hidden, on the run. A nuisance, that's all. Right?"

  Lomuel nodded curtly. "Until now, you'd be right. But he's gotten bolder, robbing the commoners now too. Last month his henchmen stole a fortune in silver from a tax wagon not far from here, and his latest thrust strikes at the heart of the royal court itself."

  "We've been contacted," Perrim continued, "by Morrik, the king's cryptarch."

  "Cryptarch?" Aerrus asked.

  "Apparently 'spymaster' wasn't an impressive enough title. The Alchemist has abducted his daughter Valendri and is holding her for ransom."

  "Stepdaughter," Lomuel corrected.

  "Whatever. Morrik has asked us to get her back and capture the Alchemist in the process. Now I know—"

  "Whoa, hold on!" Aerrus said loudly, hands waving wildly in front of him as though to ward off the very air that'd carried those last syllables. "I can't have heard that right. First of all, we've been contacted? Since when? We deal only with the king himself, that's part of our charter. Second, we're no goon squad for highborn political games, and we don't get involved in—"

  "If you'd let me finish," Perrim snapped. "As I was about to say, I know this is outside our normal routine of pruning the Marchwood of bandits and raiders. But the Alchemist has grown to be a danger to everyone in the valley, and we think he might be hiding right in our own backyard."

  Linet sat up straighter at that. "What? Where?"

  Lomuel produced a map of the area and stabbed a crooked finger at a black smudge. "Here. The remains of Castle Dunsmere."

  "Dunsmere? Is that old place even still standing?"

  "Couple walls and a tower," Aerrus answered, "that's all you'd need for a hideout. Most folks have forgotten it ever existed."

  "As to your other question," Lomuel said, "King Osmund is abroad, on a pilgrimage to Holy Artamera. It seems the Alchemist used the distraction to snatch Morrik's daughter."

  "Stepdaughter," Perrim corrected.

  "Whatever. Understandably, the cryptarch has broken protocol in this case and sent his request personally. To aid in identifying her, he's also sent along, er, a portrait of the girl."

  "A portrait?"

  "Yes, according to our informants, Valendri has become something of a popular fixture at court. She's made no secret of her desire to become the next cryptarch, follow in her father's footsteps. Stepfather's footsteps." Lomuel unrolled a stretch of fabric onto the table to reveal a young woman of dark hair, sparkling eyes, and a not-quite-evil grin that'd make one disinclined to sit with their back toward her.

  "Pretty," Aerrus remarked, "assuming it's accurate. Why not just pay the ransom?"

  Perrim shook her head. "That'd set a dangerous precedent. Paying would only encourage more such stunts. Morrik could send in soldiers to storm the tower, or his own agents, but it seems our lighter touch is more to his liking. This is an opportunity to rid the country of a violent criminal, rescue an innocent girl and secure the gratitude of royal officials for possibly two generations. I won't pass it up."

  "Speaking of dangerous precedents," Linet wondered, "where does this lead? Will we become just another of the crown's enforcers?"

  "Not while I'm alive," Perrim said sternly.

  "I still don't like it," said Aerrus with a growl.

  "Well you can take it up with the management."

  "You're the management, Perrim."

  "Good, then we've nothing more to discuss! I sent Thanis ahead to do some scouting. Both of you, find him there and work your usual brand of magic." Perrim shot a cautionary finger at Aerrus as they rose to take their leave. "Also, this is a rescue and capture mission, so no barbed arrowheads."

  Aerrus nodded with a sigh. "From your lips to my quiver."

  Nestled in a green vale in the foothills of the Sellinac Mountains, the crumbling gray edifice of Castle Dunsmere teemed with little crawling ants, or so it seemed from a distance. A relic of a bygone time, it was tiny by modern standards, and in its day the land all around it would've been cleared of trees and brush to deny enemies any cover for attack. Now it was hemmed in by forest, and Aerrus and Linet spied on the octagonal tower without fear as men walked ancient battlements and loitered in the shadows of broken walls.

  "It's even more decrepit than I remember," Linet said. "I'd be more afraid of the stones falling in on me than those third-rate pincushions guarding the place."

  "Maybe the Alchemist uses magic to keep the place standing," Aerrus said with a smile.

  "Don't be stupid. Anyway, we can't even be sure he's the one that's taken over the—"

  "Wait. Who's that?"

  Linet looked. "Where?"

  "There," Aerrus said, pointing and squinting. "On that balcony, near the top of the tower." He pulled out the portrait they'd taken along. "Your eyes are younger than mine, what do you think?"

  Linet stared at the form moving back and forth on the balcony, wishing for the hundredth time they'd procured one of the ingenious new glasses from Pelona that made distant objects seem near. The gentle sway of a gown, dark hair, and...

  "I think...yes. Yes, that's her! Not quite as pretty as the painting, but that's definitely Valendri."

  "All right then," Aerrus grumbled, "I guess we'd better get about it."

  "Something wrong?"

  "I'm just not sure this can possibly end well."

  "Ending well's just a question of where you stop telling the story."

  Aerrus raised an eyebrow, impressed. "You just come up with that just now?"

  Linet shook her head. "I thought you did."

  "Don't think so. Humph. Let's find Thanis, figure out how to get in there."

  They went down, down into the vale, crossing a rickety ruin of a bridge whose planks tilted precariously to one side towards a green, foul-smelling marsh. As they drew close to the castle, it was Thanis who found them. "There you are," the lanky lad said as he popped out from somewhere among the trees, his voice kept low. He yawned and handed them a bit of paper covered with his sloppy scrawls. "Got close enough to overhear their watchwords over the last couple days. A new batch just joined 'em yesterday. Once we get over the wall we might blend in with the new faces."

  "We?" Aerrus lowered a heavy rucksack to the ground, and metal scraped against leather. "We brought costumes for just that task. Did you?"

  Linet clapped the dejected young fellow on the shoulder. "Don't fret, you'll get your chance. You've done enough for now. Exquisite work, now go get some rest."

  Thanis nodded, disappointed. "Yeah, yeah." He took off in the direction from which they'd come and was soon out of sight, while Aerrus and Linet donned the patchwork bits of rusty armor that would mark them as the lowest breed of mercenary. The only incongruous aspects were their bows and arrows, which were of the finest manufacture. Even with the weight of the armor, Aerrus felt undressed without a full quiver hitched to his belt. Linet caressed the ends of the fine yew bow slung over her plate and mail-clad shoulder.

  "I feel ridiculous in this getup," said Aerrus.

  "Take heart, you've gotta feel better than you look," Linet replied.

  "Very funny." The banter was as much a part of preparation as the disguise, and they fell into it with the ease of lifelong siblings. It calmed nerves that neither would ever admit to.

  The sentries posted on the walls and the tower proved useless as Aerrus and Linet ducked in between trees with minimal effort at stealth and came at last right up against the castle wall, almost running into it as it emerged from the forest that was slowly reclaiming the stones. They waited until a brisk wind broke against the mountains, setting the woods to rustle and whisper. At its loudest, they used the cover to toss a grappling hook over the mossy wall. Aerrus gave it a few hard tugs, and when it held fast they clambered up a rope studded with knots for handholds.

  They went over in the narrow space between tower and wall, where no one might spot them. Inside, what was left of the courtyard proved no more impressive than the outside. An uneven line of tents ran along one edge of the packed dirt field, and a putrid latrine ditch along the other. Atop the few sections of wall that hadn't collapsed, men in armor even rustier than their own walked, more bored than vigilant. In one corner a couple of grumbling, cursing men stripped to the waist and sweating gathered stones and fallen rubble, the only apparent attempt at sprucing up the place.

  Aerrus bent and picked up some similar-looking blocks from the ground. "Let's try to blend in. If we look like we're about some task we're less like to draw attention."

  Sneering at the obvious point, Linet picked up a much larger block. "Gee, you think?"

  They walked into the midst of the courtyard, crossing the shadow cast by the tower. Trying to avoid eye contact with the mercenaries without looking like they were doing so, they piled their stones with the rest.

  Perhaps made suspicious by the fact that the pair wore full armor and weapons while they worked, one particularly weaselly-looking fellow in an old plated brigandine stomped over to them and held a halberd across their path. "Halt! I ain't recognize you two, when'd you get in?"

  Without missing a beat, Aerrus said, "Just yesterday, with the latest crew."

  "Oh yeah? Then what's the watch code?"

  "Carsa Crowns."

  The weaselly man wrinkled his weaselly nose. "Wrong! That was yesterday's code!"

  Aerrus and Linet looked at each other, then back at the weasel. Was their whole plan gone to cack already? Linet said indignantly, "No, no. Yesterday's was Bokar's Billyclub. Today it's Carsa Crowns."

  The weasel frowned, confused. "Are...are you sure?"

  "I'm sure! I remember it from when we came in."

  "Oh." He scratched his head, lowered his halberd, then pointed vaguely at Linet. "The boss is hirin' girls now, is he? Must be desperate."

  "He's not, he's hiring women." Linet made a production of looking around her with contempt. "And I ain't the first, looks like."

  The weasel paused with yet another look of confusion, then laughed. "Oh, good, a comedian! Been right boring 'round here. Say, just 'twixt us, what's the boss paying you lot? Cause personally, I think I'm gettin' stiffed."

  "Uh," Aerrus mumbled, "well, actually, he said he'd fire us if we told anyone."

  "Oh..." The weasel grinned a yellow, gappy grin. "Ha! He told me the same thing!" He tottered off to find some other entertainment. Aerrus and Linet worked hard not to let out too relieved a breath.

  "This Alchemist is supposed to be some kind of criminal mastermind?"

  Aerrus shrugged. "That's what I hear. Now, that tower..."

  They made a show of gathering rocks while keeping a close watch on the doors at ground level. At regular intervals short columns of guards rotated in and out, half a dozen at a time. When another squad assembled for ascension, Aerrus and Linet surreptitiously joined the back end of it. They marched through the doors and were enveloped in near-darkness.

  They crossed a great hall with a trestle table at one end where a few men sat playing at dice next to cheap tallow rushlights. An old stone hearth sat cold and empty, no doubt to avoid smoke that would signal their presence. The column didn't halt but continued up a stair across from the doors, turning at hard angles as it went up, up, around and up. At each floor a couple of guards peeled off to some assigned station. But at the level just before the topmost none did, so Aerrus and Linet slipped away unnoticed. They entered an empty chamber with one narrow window slit. A brief examination showed a large stall with bars before it, and a tangle of dusty old bones inside. A prison cell.

  "The girl should be right above us," Aerrus whispered, "and the Alchemist, too. Strange he doesn't keep her locked up here."

  "That balcony might be prison enough."

  "Only a couple guards up there besides. We can take 'em."

  "A couple that we know of."

  "Hmm." Aerrus rubbed his chin. "I don't know about this, doesn't it all seem just a little bit too easy?"

  "From what I've seen, you might be overestimating our enemies. And getting overly cynical in your old age."

  "Hey, middle age at worst!"

  After removing some of the more cumbersome pieces of their armor, they drew and nocked arrows. When the racket of two guards descending the stairs passed them by, Aerrus and Linet crept upward, quiet as temple mice. An oaken door greeted them. It wasn't locked.

  Aerrus gave Linet a quizzical look. "On three?"

  Linet nodded. "Three!"

  They kicked the door in and rushed into the chamber, needly bodkin-tipped arrows leading the way.

  A ray of light from the balcony bathed the room in yellow, broken by the shadow of the young woman standing in the doorway. With the clash of their entry she jumped, gave a shrill yelp of surprise. Trained in the ways of quick observation, Aerrus and Linet took in the room at once: it was almost homey compared to the neglect that surrounded it, with soft rugs on the floor and tapestries and ensconced lamps on the walls, a long table that seemed to do double duty as a meal setting at one end and a work table at the other with all manner of strange instruments and tools scattered about. The hearth bore no natural fire, only a sickly green alchemic glow that gave off a smokeless heat. In one dark corner a passage led to another room just out of sight.

  After her initial shock, the woman recovered into a triumphant smile. "Ah, there y'are," she said, in no apparent distress.

  They knew immediately that something was wrong. The woman still looked mostly like the portrait they'd been given, but something was...off, somehow. Up close her skin looked clammy, dead. Had she been drugged?

  "Valendri, your father sent us here to rescue you," said Linet, also unsure, yet committed to the plan.

  "Stepfather," Aerrus corrected.

  "Whatever. Where's the Alchemist?"

  "Rescue me?" the woman seemed to mock, that evil sneer still plastered on her face. That face, though. "Ain't no one to be rescued here, birdies."

  Then, from the next room, the Alchemist emerged. He was dreadfully thin, past middle age, with thinning hair but a bushy beard stereotypical of the profession he had disgraced. He wore the tattered robes of a University academic, but new mail armor beneath it. His eyes glimmered with contemptuous laughter. "Took you long enough," he said in a gravelly, taunting voice.

  "What...what the hells is going on?" Linet demanded, turning her bow towards him. "Valendri, don't tell me you're friends with this criminal!"

  The woman sauntered over to the Alchemist and stood in between him and their raised arrows even as their arms began to tire.

  "It looks that way," Aerrus grumbled.

  "You should be flattered," their antagonist said casually, "it was no small production to bring you here."

  Aerrus lowered his bow, frowning. "Bring us...a trap!"

  "Indeed. Guards! Now!" Suddenly a dozen men swarmed them from all directions, emerging from the stairs below and from some hidden space in the tower chamber. There was no hope of fighting them all off at once, and soon they were taken by rough hands. From behind, they heard one guard give an audible gasp at the sight of them, or at something in that crowded scene, though they couldn't know what.

  "Valendri," Linet said frantically, "whatever this man has promised you is a lie. He's got no hope of defeating the king, or Morrik. You'll never be cryptarch this way!"

 

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