Trapped

He landed hard on his backside, crying out because it probably hurt his wings. Before he could flip up and away, I stomped on his left wrist, dissolved my camouflage except for the arrow in my shoulder, and pointed Moralltach at the space between his eyes.
    » Drop your knives, « I said. » Now. «
    » Why should I? I’m dead anyway. « Granuaile had moved to pin his right arm down as well.
    » Because if you do, I pledge to report to Tír na nÓg that you died honorably. If you do not, I will take your body back and report that you died a coward, casting shame on your family. «
    » Your word? « he asked.
    » You have my word that I will report you honorable if you drop your weapons and answer my questions. «
    He dropped his knives. » There is no shame in falling to the Iron Druid. My name is Dubhlainn Óg of Shannon Heath. Make it quick. «
    » I will. Who sent you here? «
    » I was paid by the Svartálfar of the Norse. «
    » What? You can’t blame this on the dark elves. How did you find us here? «
    » The dark elves are paying me, as they paid everyone here today. They are spending significant money on your head. But it is also true that someone in Tír na nÓg betrayed your location. I was informed anonymously. «
    » Informed how, precisely? «
    » In writing. A note delivered by a pixie. It said to search the woods near Litochoro. I found the dog first and used him to draw you out. «
    There was much there to think about. » Am I the target, or is Granuaile? «
    » The contract specifies either or both, with a bonus to be paid for both. The apprentice, however, is the softer target. «
    » Ass malt, « Granuaile muttered, and in so doing managed to ruin one of the few charms of the 1950s for me.
    » You say the dark elves are paying others. Who are they paying? «
    The assassin shrugged with his eyebrows. » They are paying faeries. They are paying their own kind. Beyond that, I do not know. «
    » Who among the dark elves wants us dead? «
    » I cannot say. Assassination is a business of intermediaries. «
    Not for the first time, I wished I had Fragarach instead of Moralltach in my hand. I might not get any better answers out of this faery, but at least I could be sure that they were truthful.
    » How many in your band? «
    » Aside from myself, there’s a pod of yewmen and their shifter. « The yewmen were incapable of shifting planes by themselves, a wise precaution of the Morrigan’s. The shifter must have been the one with the bow.
    » Dubhlainn Óg of Shannon Heath, may Manannan see you safely home, « I said to him. I flicked my eyes to Granuaile. » Would the soft target like to do the honors? «
    Without answering, she crunched the iron cap of her staff into the faery’s forehead. He grunted once, stiffened, and crumbled to ash.
    » We cannot stay here, « I said.
    » I know. «
    » Are you injured? «
    » No. Feeling pretty good, actually. « She flashed a grin. » I kicked a little bit of ass. «
    » Yes, congratulations. You did well to track his movements through the glamour. But whose blood is that on your arm? «
    A crinkle appeared between Granuaile’s eyes. » Where? « She looked first at her right arm and then at her left, which she had curled around her staff. One end of the staff rested on the ground, and she was leaning on it a bit, hand above the elbow. That’s where she saw what I saw. A trail of blood from the outside of her wrist wove down to her elbow, where it dripped. » Huh. He must have nicked me. I didn’t even feel it. «
    » Not a good sign. These guys probably favor poison. « Even as I said it, Granuaile’s knees buckled and she dropped to the cave floor, her confidence replaced by confusion. Her staff tumbled out of nerveless fingers.
    Her expression filled with a dollop of panic, and I think it was safe to say that mine did as well. » Poison? « she said. » I hope it wasn’t iocane powder. «
    » Hopefully not. But probably potent if he was gunning for us. Speak to Olympia about it and ask her to heal you. She’ll probably be happy to do it. And look—there’s more on your leg. Quite a lot. «
    Granuaile looked down at the outside of her left calf, where the assassin had more than nicked her. There was a deep gash, and for her to be unaware meant either he was using some sort of numbing agent or she had some really amazing adrenaline.
    » Oh, shit, I don’t even feel it—right. Same solution. « She closed her eyes and spoke to Olympia, while I did