Luck in the Shadows

stayed?"
    "As you like," the innkeeper said doubtfully, leading them up the stairs. "But they didn't leave nothin".
    I had a good look 'round right after. It was damned odd, that boy wanting the key to the outside of the other's door. Locked him in, I guess, then took after him in the dead of night. Oh, you should have heard the noise! Thumpin" and caterwauling—Here we are, sirs, this is where it happened."
    The innkeeper stood aside as the two men glanced around the cramped rooms.
    "Where was the fight?" the pale one asked. His manner was not so obliging as that of his companion, the innkeeper noted, and he had a funny sort of accent when he spoke.
    "This here," he told him. "You can still see a few dibs of blood on the floor, just there by your foot."
    Exchanging a quick look with his companion, the dark man drew the innkeeper back toward the stairs.
    "You must allow us a few moments to satisfy our curiosity. In the meantime, perhaps you would be so kind as to carry ale and meat to my servants in the yard?"
    Presented with the opportunity for further profit, the innkeeper hustled back downstairs.
    Mardus waited until the innkeeper was out of earshot, then nodded for Vargыl Ashnazai to begin.
    The necromancer dropped to his knees and took out a tiny knife. Scraping at the spots of dried blood scattered over the rough boards, he carefully tapped the shavings into an ivory vial and sealed it. His thin lips curved into an unpleasant semblance of a smile as he held the vial up between thumb and forefinger.
    "We have them, Lord Mardus!" he gloated, lapsing into the Old Tongue. "Even if he no longer wears it, with this we shall track them down."
    " If they are indeed those whom we seek," Mardus replied in the same language. In this instance, the necromancer was probably correct in his assumptions, but as usual, Mardus made no effort to encourage him.
    They all had their roles to play.
    With Vargыl Ashnazai trailing dourly behind him, Mardus returned downstairs and gave the innkeeper and his wife an eloquent shrug.
    "As you said, there is nothing to be found," he told them, as if abashed. "However, there is one last point."
    "And what would that be, sir?" asked the innkeeper, clearly hoping for another lucrative opportunity.
    "You said they fought." Mardus toyed with his purse strings. "I am curious as to the cause. Have you any idea?"
    "Well," replied the innkeeper, "as I said, they was at it hammer and tongs before I got up there at all. Time I got the lamp lit and found my cudgel, the young one already had the other fellow laid out. Still, just from what I saw looking in, it 'peared to me they was fighting over some manner of necklace."
    "A necklace?" exclaimed Vargыl Ashnazai.
    "Oh, it was a paltry-looking thing, weren't it?" the wife chimed in. "Nothing to kill a fellow over!"
    "That's right," her husband said in disgust. "Just a bit of wood, 'bout the size of a five-penny piece, strung on some leather lacing. Had some carving done on it, as I remember, but still it didn't look like anything more than some frippery a peddler would carry."
    Mardus offered the man a bemused smile. "Well, they were a bad pair, just as you say, and I suppose I'm well rid of them. Many thanks."
    Tossing a final coin to the innkeeper, he went out to the yard where his men stood ready.
    "Have you any doubts now, my lord?" Ashnazai whispered, trembling with suppressed rage.
    "It seems they've eluded us once again," Mardus mused, tapping a gloved finger thoughtfully against his chin.
    "He should have been dead a week ago! No one could survive—"
    Mardus smiled thinly. "Come now, Vargыl Ashnazai, even you must see that these are no ordinary thieves we are pursuing."
    Casting an approving eye over the empty country surrounding the crossroads inn, he turned to the group of armed men. "Captain Tildus!"
    "Sir?"
    Mardus inclined his head slightly toward the inn. "Kill everyone, then burn it."

14 Sailing South
    Alec felt like cheering aloud as the mainland slipped under the horizon their first day out. The sheer emptiness that surrounded the ship—the endless sky, the biting cold of the wind, and frozen spume thrown up by the prow as the Grampus raced gaily along under full-bellied sails—all this seemed to cleanse him down to the bone.
    He worked hard, to be sure. The sailors relegated him to the lowliest tasks, not out of any meanness but because he would not be with the ship long enough to be worth training. Though his hand was still