Cheng Lin obeyed in a somewhat disjointed, backfilling fashion, but still, the tale of Bez’s disappointment, botched assassination attempt, and subsequent flight emerged clearly enough. At the end, the pudgy servant said, “I wrote to your father to tell him of your death. I mean, your supposed death. I had no reason to doubt what the southerner said.”
Dai Shan’s thoughts turned to three of the dozens of empty-hand techniques he’d mastered-the first, a blow with the heel of the palm to the base of the nose; the second, a chop to the throat; and the third, a stab to the solar plexus with stiffened fingers. Any one of them would kill Cheng Lin instantly.
“That was exactly the right thing to do,” he said. “I commend my retainer on the diligence with which he attends to his responsibilities. Has my lord father’s answer arrived?”
“Not yet, Master.”
“When it does, you will of course understand that because he wrote based on false information, we can only truly serve him by disregarding instructions to return home or do anything else that would preclude the completion of our errand. And to avoid confusing those less discerning than yourself, you won’t disclose that such invalid orders even exist.”
Cheng Lin hesitated. “Master, our lord, your father, has always said that when he gives a command-”
“He expects unconditional obedience. As well he might, given that for longer than either you or I have been alive, he’s been the most frightening man in Thesk. Still, he is in Thesk, while duty has led you to a land less civilized. Perhaps, paragon of prudence that you are, you should ask yourself who’s the most frightening man in Rashemen.”
Cheng Lin swallowed. “Master, naturally, as always, I depend on you for guidance as to how I may best serve our house.”
“Which is why I trust my wise aide above all others and will always reward his fidelity as it deserves.”
“Thank you, Master.” Cheng Lin paused in the manner of one deliberating whether to speak further or hold his peace. In the end, reticence yielded to curiosity. “May I ask, then, if we’re aren’t going home even if our lord orders us back, what are we going to do?”
What, indeed? If not for the indignity implicit in acknowledging perplexity to someone as lowly and lacking in grace as Cheng Lin, Dai Shan might have conceded that his was an excellent question.
Dai Shan had to obtain the wild griffons to pull ahead of his brothers in their lifelong competition to be proclaimed their father’s heir. And at least now he’d learned the beasts were still outside Immilmar and discovered what else was going on.
Still, what could he do? If he revealed himself and laid claim to the griffons, Yhelbruna would be no more inclined to believe him than she had Bez. Less, considering that Dai Shan hadn’t even led a war party of his own into the north. Falconer and the rest of his undead confederates, who’d promised him the winged creatures in exchange for his treachery, were gone. And without such formidable assistance, he and his handful of Shou had no hope of making off with the beasts either by stealth or force of arms.
What, then, did that leave? Dai Shan didn’t know-yet-so he supposed that for the moment, he’d do well to focus on the one aspect of the situation that was already clear.
After the victory at the Fortress of the Half-Demon, Vandar Cherlinka did have a legitimate claim on the wild griffons. So did Aoth Fezim. The latter had apparently emerged from the dark maze somewhere far away. Jet, who sensibly still didn’t trust Dai Shan, declined to divulge his master’s precise whereabouts, but the familiar could speak for the war mage by virtue of their mystical bond.
It followed, then, that Dai Shan could allow neither Vandar nor Jet to return to Immilmar. He thanked his patrons in shadow that, never injured as badly as the griffon to begin with, he’d recovered more quickly.
Still, even impaired, the beast was dangerous. So, in his dense barbarian way, was Vandar, and he’d never been seriously hurt in the first place.
Plainly, the killings would take some doing, but Dai Shan could manage them. He simply needed to take each of his victims by surprise at a time and place that would preclude the others noticing any subsequent commotion.
“Just bide here for now,” he told Cheng Lin, “and don’t tell anyone of my visit. My time in your company is drawing short, but I’ll return soon in a more permanent sort of way.”
Cheng Lin grinned. “I thought I was talking to one of your shadows.”
Dai Shan could only deplore the overt display of self-satisfaction. Still, perhaps the man wasn’t a complete idiot after all.
Dai Shan bade him farewell and then separated himself from the vessel he’d inhabited as easily as he might have flipped off a loose mitten. And like a mitten that no longer had a hand inside it, what remained of the shadow collapsed into formlessness on its way to nonexistence.
Dai Shan sensed but didn’t actually witness the final obliteration, even though the whole process only took a heartbeat. By then, he was back in the stable.
Graven with arcane sigils on the side facing inward, the granite slab could lock in place or swing like an ordinary gate on hinges, depending on the requirements of the moment. Aoth’s fire-kissed eyes could make out the silvery web of potentiality that accomplished those functions but not how it operated.
Fortunately, they could likewise discern the newer patterns of malignancy festering inside the rock like aneurysms waiting to rupture, and that magic he did understand. It fell within his field of expertise.
He motioned to the gate with the head of his spear. “The undead mean to come through here.”
“Are you sure?” Shaugar asked. “They’ve thrown thunderbolts and such at all the entries.”
“So would I in their place. Such a bombardment makes it harder for the defenders to decide where you really mean to breach, and if you do manage to knock something down, you can always adjust your plans accordingly. They didn’t blast through, though, and in the midst of all the distractions, someone has done a masterful job of rotting out this particular chunk of stone. It’ll crumble when the Raumvirans want it to.”
Shaugar hitched his three-eyed mask up slightly so he could scratch the gray-stubbled chin beneath. “They already did crumble the main gate, and according to your orc friend, we’re doing a miserable job of building barricades. He says drunken goblins could do better.”
“Some of the enemy will charge in that way, and we’ll need men in place to oppose them. Still, that will be a feint. The main assault will come here, where the dead think it will surprise us. But now that we know, we’re going to surprise them instead.
Right?”
Shaugar squared his shoulders. “Right. As long as we make our preparations in time. Now that we know where they need to work, I’ll round up the right people for the job.”
Once he turned his thoughts to the problem, Dai Shan realized one sure way to kill each of his intended victims without the other overhearing or chancing on the scene at an inopportune moment. He needed to begin with Vandar and dispose of the berserker while the two of them were wandering the dark maze.
As they were currently. Vandar was in the lead and, now that days of shared effort and hardship had dulled the edge of mistrust, didn’t appear to suspect anything amiss. Conditions were essentially ideal, and it only remained for Dai Shan to choose a method of execution.
His style of magic could confuse, hinder, or even harm a target, but the effects were variable. When a caster was particularly unlucky, his spell simply served to warn an adversary that he was under attack. Whereas one murderous blow, properly administered to an unsuspecting victim already conveniently within striking distance, would likely resolve the confrontation in an instant.