Nealrith hesitated, wrestling with his own doubt as he tried to keep his voice even and confident. "Oh? You have examined him yourself?"
"Of course not. I leave that sort of thing up to the people I employ. After all, I already know his story to be a midden heap of untruths, don't I?" Taquar smiled blandly. "Jomat, show the rainlord out, please."
Amethyst made a choking noise, and they both looked at her.
"My dear, you do not sound well, and you are exceptionally pale," Taquar said. "Why do you not rest?"
"I wish to accompany Highlord Nealrith to Breccia City," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Lady Ethelva has asked for me."
"And I say you will not go."
Nealrith interrupted to say, "Taquar, you can hardly stop her."
"Of course I can. This is my city, and all I have to do is forbid the guards at the gates to allow her through."
Nealrith paused, looking from one to the other, his frustration at his situation warring with his idea of what was legal and proper for a man in his position. Taquar was still smiling affably; Amethyst was as white as sun-bleached salt.
"Don't leave me," she said to Nealrith. The despair in her eyes pleaded.
"I have twenty men out in the street," Taquar said, staring right at Nealrith. "And you have no jurisdiction here. Even Granthon cannot command me in any matters except those that pertain to external water supply or to the security of the Quartern, or other matters that concern more than just this city. I should not have to tell you that."
Oh Sunlord, Nealrith thought, his stomach churning as he heard the hidden message and its mockery. This Shale Flint is telling the truth. But even if we find him, how will we ever prove it? And if we prove it, what will we ever be able to do about it? "I would advise you to reconsider," he said finally. "I will send a message to the Cloudmaster. I feel certain that he would be profoundly upset if anything were to prevent the arta's arrival there within, let's say, ten days."
Amethyst gave a sound that could have been a sob and turned her face away.
Taquar inclined his head. "I will take the Cloudmaster's emotional state into consideration. Now be so good as to leave, and take your guards with you. I repeat: you are not welcome in Scarcleft. My men will escort you all to the city gates."
Nealrith turned on his heel and left the room. His own guards fell in behind him, but he scarcely noticed. He was still seeing the blank horror on Amethyst's face. Terelle fled, the terror behind propelling her forward with blind dedication-and speed. She had no destination in mind, no plan beyond escaping the guard. That horrible man's order still rang in her ears. Kill her. Not "Kill her if she runs" or "Kill her if she doesn't cooperate," but simply "Kill her." She didn't know who he was, but he could command the enforcers, and his callous indifference made her feet fly. There was no alternative. If she lost this race, then she died.
She tore down the stairs three at a time, swung around the corner at the bottom and hurtled into the main thoroughfare. There were people there-too many. She was forced to slow, to push her way on, feeling all the while the prickling between her shoulders as if a blade was about to strike. She guessed her eyes reflected her fear, because people stared at her. She expected someone to stop her, to seize her, to hand her over to the guard. But, unlike Shale, there was no price on her head, and instead of hindering her, several of the level's less reputable citizens took it upon themselves to delay her pursuer. A youth carrying a bundle of bab palm fronds swung around, seemingly by accident, so that the stalks whacked the guard behind his knees. He crashed with a thud. Immediately after he regained his feet and resumed the chase, Ba-ba came out of nowhere pushing a wheelbarrow full of sinucca leaves into his path. By the time he had scrambled up again, Terelle was out of sight.
She continued on, terrified. Sick with worry for Shale. As she skirted the city's base at a run, she kept remembering her last glimpse of the chaos in Russet's room. There had been blood everywhere. And dead people. And blind people clutching their eyes. Shale had been in the middle of it all, trying to get to her. And he wasn't a warrior! He had no idea how to use the scimitar he wore. Blighted eyes, he hadn't even pulled it out of its scabbard! She bit her lip, scaring herself just thinking about it.
She ran out of breath and slowed to a walk. She looked back over her shoulder. There was no disturbance behind, nothing that indicated she was still being chased.
Now what? she asked herself. She considered warning Russet, but had no idea where he had gone. No, best she get to Amethyst's. Highlord Nealrith was there, and he could protect her. Besides, that was her only chance of meeting up with Shale again. Anyway, the arta and the Breccian highlord needed to be warned about the attack on Kaneth.
She hurried uplevel as quickly as she could without drawing too much attention to herself. It wasn't easy: reeve representatives were more alert than ever, looking out for lowlevellers who had no reason to come uplevel. She was stopped several times and produced Russet's uplevel pass. Because she was neatly dressed and well spoken, she succeeded where other lowlevellers might have failed.
Once on the tenth level, however, she was lost: she had never been at that end of the level before. It took time to find her way through a maze of shops and residential streets to Amethyst's lane.
When she arrived at the gate, she found it ajar.
She hesitated, then gave it a tentative push with her fingers. It swung wider to reveal the small unroofed outer courtyard. She looked around. Jomat was nowhere to be seen, and the house was deathly quiet. A faint, unpleasant smell drifted on the air. The main door to the house also stood ajar. She tiptoed into the entrance hall, only to trip over Jomat because she was looking around instead of down.
He lay on the flagstone floor, obviously dead. He had been sliced open across the abdomen and lay in a pool of foul-smelling liquid. A sagging hole penetrated layers of yellow fat, and his guts spilled out in an obscene tangle. His hands still clutched at them, as if he had tried to tuck them back where they belonged. His face was frozen in a dying rictus of surprise and betrayal and pain. He had not expected to die, and his unbelief was still there in the eyes that stared sightlessly at her.
She gagged and had to cover her mouth and look away. Highlord Nealrith wouldn't have done this, would he? But if not, then who?
She dithered. Should she flee? But where to? She had expected help, and now there was none. And then her next thought: Amethyst. Where was the arta?
Oh, please, let her be all right!
Without thinking too much-because if she did, she knew she'd be too terrified-she ran up the stairs two at a time. Once again she found an open door. There was no one in the outer chamber, no one in the sitting room. She ran through into the bedroom. Amethyst lay on the canopied bed, her hands clasped at her waist. She appeared to be sleeping. Terelle approached, her heart hammering in her throat, the roaring rush in her ears blocking sound. It wasn't until she was at the edge of the bed, looking down, that she saw the knife. It was angled upwards from below Amethyst's left breast, jammed in as far as the hilt. But there was hardly any blood. If she had not been so unnaturally still, Terelle might have thought that she still lived.
A slight sound broke through her shock, bringing her back to a sense of her own danger. She raised her eyes from Amethyst's body and saw a man emerging from the adjoining water-room. He was wiping his sword on a towel, which he then casually dropped on the floor. The weapon he kept in his hand. He was tall and lean, a handsome man, with dark hair neatly tied at his nape. His eyes were a deep grey and held an intensity that made her instantly fearful. She knew who he was: Taquar, Highlord of Scarcleft.