Stalking Darkness

magic, he and the necromancer made their way down through the crowded rooms and stairways of the tenement to the yard.
    The thief’s body lay where it had fallen, twisted like a child’s discarded doll.
    Mardus turned the corpse’s head with the toe of one boot. “The face is damaged, but it clearly isn’t one of them.”
    “No, my lord, just a common footpad who blundered into the
dra’gorgos
by chance. But the boy has certainly been here within the past day or two. His blood is all over the room. He must have been wounded.”
    “But not by Rythel, I think. There was nothing in his demeanor to suggest he was hiding anything of the sort.”
    The necromancer closed his eyes for a moment, his pinched face narrowing still more as he concentrated. “There’s blood on the eaves above the window. He must have cut himself breaking in.”
    Mardus looked down at the dead man again. “Two thieves in as many days? Rather a lot, don’t you think, even for this part of the city.” He watched with satisfaction as a fish hook of anxiety tugged in the necromancer’s cheek. “A pity we weren’t here the night our young friend made his visit,” he continued. “Then it could have been him lying here dead and unable to be questioned, instead of this useless piece of meat. Get rid of it before it attracts any attention.”
    Vargûl Ashnazai muttered a summons through clenched teeth and the darkness beside them convulsed. A second
dra’gorgos
materialized, a wavering, faceless presence that hung like smoke for an instant before streaming down into the dead man’s mouth and nose. The body gave a convulsive jerk, then lumbered clumsily to its feet. There was no semblance of life in the face; the dead glazed eyes remained fixed, the one on the ruined side of the head bulging grotesquely from its smashed socket.
    Mardus regarded the thing with detached interest. “How long can you maintain it in this state?”
    “Until it decomposes, my lord, but I fear it would be of little use. So much of the magic is consumed simply to animate it that it lacks the
dra’gorgos’
strength. That, of course, will not be the case once our purpose has been accomplished.”
    “Indeed not.” Mardus touched a gloved hand briefly to the corpse’s chest, feeling the black emptiness of death within—such power in that void, and so nearly in his grasp.
    The necromancer spoke another command and the corpse loped away in the direction of the nearby harbor.
    Still cloaked by the necromaner’s spell, they rode up to the main city. The few folk they passed in the streets at that hour were aware of little more than a momentary chill, a fleeting bit of movement caught from the corner of the eye.
    “It’s of little consequence really, even if they do discover Rythel’s work in the sewers,” Ashnazai ventured nervously as they rode down Sheaf Street toward their lodgings near the Harvest Market. “The map is the important thing, and we have that.Still, it’s unsettling, having the two of them both nosing around Rythel.”
    “On the contrary, I see the hand of Seriamaius at work in it,” said Mardus. “It seems our journey has been a long spiral path, one narrowing quickly now to tighten around our quarry. You may have been correct after all about these thieves being of some importance, Vargûl Ashnazai. They wouldn’t be crossing our trail so often unless there is some greater purpose in it. We have only to bide our time until the others arrive. Meanwhile, I think it’s time to deal with Master Rythel. Arrange something unremarkable, would you?”
    Nearing the market, Mardus reined in. “I’m to meet with our new friend, Ylinestra. I shouldn’t be long.”
    “Very good, my lord. I’ll check on Tildus and the others at the inn.”
    Parting ways with the necromancer, Mardus turned his mount down a side lane. Halfway down it, he glanced at the fine pair of brass cockerels decorating the entrance to an inn of the same name. He’d passed through Blue Fish Street several times since arriving in Rhíminee and the figures, each holding a lantern suspended from an upraised claw, often caught his eye.

22
O LD S ORROWS
    A Watcher password got them by the guards at the same postern gate Alec had used as a refuge a few months before. Riding through the palace grounds, they dismounted at a tradesman’s door near the Ring wall of the Palace.
    “I feared you would not come,” Nysander said, hurrying them inside. As he reached to close the door