“Geerling Ambersong was a clever man. He wanted Darlington Blade and his daughter to work together as a team.”
The halfling looked up at Pryce skeptically. “Are you sure?”
Pryce fingered Darlington Blade’s cloak clasp, seemingly to relieve some of the tension now that Dearlyn was using it as a leash. “I’m sure of it.”
“How can you be?” Gheevy wondered aloud.
Pryce leaned close to whisper his explanation. ‘To prevent any other magician from entering his workshop, I believe he secured it with a mechanical lock.” He held up two fingers. “With two keys.”
‘Two? But…” The halfling got no further because Pryce was moving the cloak clasp so that it reflected light from the orb directiy into Gheevy’s eyes.
“Are you all right, Blade?” Dearlyn inquired quietly. “I’m not pulling too much, am I?”
Pryce smiled sagely and nodded his head toward the mage’s daughter. All the halfling could think of when he looked over at her was her cloak’s clasp. What Pryce was suggesting came to Wotfirr in a flash.
“No problem, Miss Ambersong,” Covington whispered back to her. “Watch your step.” He turned back to gaze into Gheevy’s perplexed, apprehensive face.
“Very well, then, but why me?” Gheevy wheezed. “Why am here?”p›
Pryce looked pained, and his reply was strained. “Come, come, Gheevy. Think! The mind behind all this is not that of a novice or apprentice. It must be a wizard of high rank.”
The truth of that statement dawned in the halfling, and suddenly his expression was infused with fear. What Pryce said next only made it worse.
“Everyone who worked with Geerling is dead. Maybe that’s why he refused to teach his daughter… because he knew that everyone who learned from him would be placed in grave danger.”
“But why?” Gheevy moaned quietly.
“I’m not sure. Maybe he took the teachings of Sante too seriously and started dabbling in forbidden arts. Only then, by the time he discovered that he had unleashed forces he couldn’t control, he was in too deep. Then all he could do was destroy himself or destroy others to cover his tracks. Who knows? All I do know is that I have to gain entrance to his workshop.”
“Blade, you must tell Dearlyn about all this.”
Pryce shook his head, happy that the gloom was too thick for her to see his tormented expression. “I can’t predict her reaction. The odds are too long.”
‘Then tell Inquisitrix Lymwich.”
“And risk her finding out who I am? No, thank you. She would have me enfeebled, or worse, disintegrated, out of pure spite.”
‘Then tell some inquisitrix!” Gheevy pleaded passionately. ‘We can’t face whoeveror whateveris in that workshop alone!’
Even though she couldn’t make out their words, Dearlyn couldn’t mistake the anxious tone of their voices any longer. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “What are you two talking about?”
Pryce stopped suddenly, and she nearly bumped into him. He took no pleasure in her proximity, however. “We’re getting close, Miss Ambersong,” he told her, refusing to acknowledge that he could also be talking about their emotional relationship as well. “And I must have your promise that, no matter what happens, you will put your faith in me.”
Her eyes seemed like bottomless pools in the light of the orb. “What… what is it you’re not telling me?” she whispered.
Pryce’s heart went out to her in her vulnerability and then sank at the depths of his deception. ‘There’s… there’s more to this than your father’s disappearance. I implore you to be ready for anything. There’s…”
But before he could go on, the huge misshapen head of a mongrelman moved into the illumination of the orb.
The halfling let out a shriek, tossed the orb into the air, then leapt behind the woman to cower behind her floor-length cloak. Dearlyn dropped her staff and began a spell. Pryce nimbly caught both the illumination orb and her staff as they fell, then used the pole to give her gesturing hands a sharp slap, disrupting her spell.
She looked up at him in surprise and numbly took back the staff he offered. She looked from it to him to the mongrelman, dumbfounded, then grasped her gardening implement tightly and assumed a defensive position, the tip pointing directly at the monster.
Pryce simply shook his head, daintily gripped the staff in two fingers, and raised it so he could step between Dearlyn and the mongrelman.
“It’s all right,” he assured the stunned woman. “He’s with me.”
Dearlyn stared at Pryce in amazement; then her expression changed to awe. Then they both realized that Gheevy was still cowering behind her, muttering.
Pryce quickly knelt down and gripped the halfling’s elbow with his free hand.
A mongrelman, beneath our city!” Gheevy was gasping. “He’ll bring others of his kind. They’ll eat me! Raiders are sure to follow! We must”
Pryce shook him firmly. “We must stop talking about things we know nothing about,” he said pointedly.
The halfling blinked, then looked directly at Covington, but the terror didn’t leave his face. “But theythey speak a debased language. They can communicate with other beasts!”
“I know,” Pryce said intently. “Are you familiar with this so-called debased language?”
That drew Gheevy up short. “Well, no…”
“Then stop talking your own debased language for a moment, would you? Listen to me, Gheevy. They saved me. They won’t hurt you!”
The halfling looked up at Pryce hopefully… until one word Covington had said echoed in Wotfirr’s mind.” They’?”
He peered out from behind Dearlyn’s legs. There, with his halfling vision, he saw in the gloom the hulking mongrelman… and behind it, a creature that was bird, part vole, and part human cadaver. To complete the picture, the tattered traveler who had rendered him unconscious on the road loomed behind them.
He jerked back to face Pryce, shaking uncontrollably. “All I want is the comfort of home!” he cried. “Is that so much to ask?”
“Wotfirr!” Pryce snapped, hitting him on the arm. “And all I want is a cushy job for life!”
The halfling grabbed his arm in pain and looked up at Covington, his eyes narrowing. “Ouch,” he said with resentment, rubbing his upper arm.
Pryce sighed. “Gheevy, I’ve discovered that in Lallor you can’t always get what you want. Sometimes you have to fight for it.”
“Okay, okay,” the halfling complained, still massaging his bruised limb. “Why did you hit me so hard?”
“Sorry,” Pryce apologized, handing him the illumination orb. “Here, you’ll need this.” He started to turn around, but Gheevy urgently gripped his cloak. Pryce turned back with concern.
Wotfirr smiled wanly. “We halflings like our creature comforts and pride ourselves on our honesty,” he said quietly, apology evident in his tone. “But we are esteemed for our honor even more.”
Pryce put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and smiled. “And deservedly so,” he replied. “Now take care of that illumination orb, would you?”
Gheevy purposefully thrust the orb out before him. It illuminated the mongrelman, his huge, rag-covered body shielding the cowering form of the broken one behind him.
“It’s all right, Geoffrey,” Pryce said reassuringly. “I didn’t have time to tell them about you.”
The mongrelman gibbered and nodded, saliva coursing down his distended, scaly jaw.
Pryce nodded back, then stepped over to take Dearlyn’s arm. He almost did a double take when he saw the look of admiration on the woman’s face. “You… befriended these creatures?” she asked.
Pryce was pleased at her reaction and turned to smile at his irregular trio of assistants. “It is a distinct privilege for me to introduce you to Geoffrey…” The mongrelman lowered his head sadly, his eyes closing. “Devolawk…” The broken one raised his beak and waved with what served as its arms. “And, of course, Cunningham.” The jackalwere, in complete human form, bowed graciously. “Of the three, trust the latter the least.” Cunningham snapped back up, a look of exaggerated hurt on his face.