Nightfall watched her, curious.
Mally glanced about furtively, pulling her thin, tattered dress close against the wind. "Sudian?” she called.
Nightfall cursed silently.
“Sudian, please. I need to talk. Please. I know you’re not far." She spun with the strange combination of grace and awkwardness that reminded him of Kelryn after too many shows and practices. Irritated by his new train of thought, he put it from his mind. Mally headed into the same throughway he had taken. "Sudian!” she shouted. "Sudian!"
Nightfall weighed the benefits of his hiding place against the risk of her alerting guards, Rivehn, Johastus, and Prince Edward. He reversed direction, headed past the back exit, and caught her arm just in front of the rear doorway.
Mally spun with a gasp. Up close, he could see that one eye had swollen shut and bruises marked her cheek and jaw in a line. Dried blood caked her nostrils. As she recognized him, relief softened her battered features. She hurled herself into his arms. "Oh, Sudian. Sudian, please. You have to get your master to buy me. You have to. Please."
Nightfall felt dampness through his tunic and hoped it came from tears, not blood. “Look, Mally. I’ll talk to you later. As long as you want. I have to do something important now.”
Mally’s grip tightened. Apparently, she had watched him from the back of the tavern for some time, waiting for her chance to catch him alone. Now that she had him, she would not let go so easily. "Please, Sudian. You’re my only hope. You have to help."
“Later, Mally.” Nightfall broke free of her grasp.
"No!" She seized his legs, twining herself around him. "Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me." She sobbed, irrational with pain and fear. One of her hands glided up to stroke his thigh.
Revolted as well as driven by urgency, Nightfall could not have responded to her caresses if he had wanted to do so. "Mally, let go. I’ll do what you asked. But if you don’t let go, my master won’t even have enough money to buy breakfast."
The back exit slammed open, and Amadan stood framed in the archway. Face buried against Nightfall’s leg, Mally took no notice. Nightfall went still, realizing he had no words to explain the situation in which he found himself, even should Amadan give him the opportunity. The merchant shuffled toward them, eyes narrowed, mouth locked in a grim line.
Nightfall had found himself in difficult situations before, but this was not a familiar one. As the demon, he would have ditched the slave in any way possible, even if it meant dumping her corpse to the cobbles. He would have run, a shadow quicker and more streetwise than any highborn man. Now, he froze, knowing whatever he did or said would reflect on the prince he had enslaved his soul to protect. No matter where or how fast he escaped, Amadan would know precisely where to find him. He doubted politeness would gain him much, but surely far more than insolent silence. And he needed Mally to realize the danger as well if he ever hoped to regain his freedom of movement. "Good eve, lord." He gave the most respectful bow possible with a woman latched onto his legs.
Mally looked up, and her face went bloodless. Even the bruises seemed to lose all color. Sobbing, she crawled back toward her master across cobbles that had to hammer and tear her knees. She groveled at Amadan’s feet, and he ignored her, his attention fully on Nightfall.
"What were you doing with my slave?”
Nightfall considered the answer long and hard, finding no response that would not sound snide. Edward’s endless lessons on etiquette had taught him that silence would not meet the merchant’s approval either, so Nightfall chose humility rather than a direct answer. He lowered his head. "My deepest apologies, lord. I meant no harm." He rolled his eyes in time to see Amadan’s hand speeding toward him.
The idea of allowing the merchant to hit him again rankled, but Nightfall knew etiquette demanded it. He could weather a slap if it ended the conflict quickly. As an added bonus, it might win Edward’s approval for himself and trouble for Amadan.
Nightfall tilted his head to spare his face. The warning glint of metal in Amadan’s hand came too late. The merchant’s fingers slammed against the side of Nightfall’s head, weighted by solid steel. The hilt of a dagger, Nightfall guessed, before light exploded in his head. He never felt the fall, only found himself sprawled and dizzy on the cobbles, Mally’s scream ringing through his ears. He caught a spinning glimpse of Rivehn leaving the tavern, and need forced him to bull through the vertigo. He managed to stagger to his feet.
Amadan’s kick cut Mally’s scream short, and the woman tumbled, whimpering, to the ground. The cruelty charged Nightfall to hatred. He would never take another blow from Amadan, and neither would any other. Though weak on his feet, he charged.
Suddenly menaced, Amadan flung the dagger at Nightfall.
The response came as little more than instinct. From the ease of long practice, Nightfall snatched the hilt from the air and rebounded it with deadly accuracy. The blade found its mark in the merchant’s throat, and combined momentum buried it deep. He collapsed, gurgling, unable to scream. His eyes remained widened, even in death.
The back door opened.
Nightfall faded into the shadows, prepared to kill or escape as it became necessary.
Amadan’s other two slaves came partway through and stopped, gaping. Rooted in place, they kept the door wedged with their bodies.
Nightfall knew Mally’s scream might soon bring more, and none of them could afford witnesses. "Move! Quickly. No one needs to know more than that he and you left before sunup." Nightfall directed, a bodiless voice from the darkness. He doubted slaves gathering their master’s possessions, no matter how hurriedly, would attract suspicion. Any who knew their master would see nothing amiss in the nervousness of these slaves at any time. Without another word, he scrambled after Rivehn, doubting he could find the swindler in the twisting maze of Trillium’s streets. He would have to hope Rivehn and Johastus had not changed their haunts. And that Amadan’s property would cling to their new freedom.
Chapter 12
Wolves and bats and beasts of night,
Spirits black that flee the light,
Cringed in fear when he arose Darkness comes where Nightfall goes.
– "The Legend of Nightfall"
Once located, laughing in their den, Rivehn and Johastus lost their easy fortune to Nightfall’s silent talent. Nightfall crept away unseen, richer by not only his own money but theirs as well; and his theft did not disrupt their mirth nor their mocking comments about his naivete. Nightfall did not dally, gloat, or allow greed to drive him to foolishness. He simply took the two purses, equally full of the money they had won from him and one another in play, and headed surreptitiously back toward the Thirsty Dolphin.
Sunrise lit the sky a dull orange and pewter, and a steady glow suffused Trillium’s many roadways. The oath-bond buzzed a steady, dizzying cadence, a warning either that Nightfall had slipped too close to forbidden persona or that he had left Edward alone too long. In defense, Nightfall funneled his mind and goal fully on returning to the inn, an action that should appease the magic whatever its particular source. Shadows and alleys kept him well-hidden from the few folk about at first light. He found them simple to avoid. Most concentrated on tasks they needed to complete before the city came fully to life: loading carts for market, organizing shops for business, or hauling buckets of water for morning rituals or cooking.
By the time Nightfall arrived back at the stone and mortar building that served as Trillium’s rowdiest inn and tavern, he discovered a common room filled with travelers eating breakfast, including Prince Edward Nargol of Alyndar who chatted with a small group of Trillians as he ate. The oath-bond abated enough to allow Nightfall other thought. Concern came first, that Edward would become too intrusive about his activities or punish him for not attending every need prior to his awakening. Nightfall knew he deserved the tongue-lashing, but he worried that another long, droning lesson might lull him to sleep, that lapse earning him two others. By its weight and his direct knowledge of the scam, he estimated that he now carried approximately two hundred silver. It seemed an unbelievable fortune, one he could not have attained on his own, at least not without falling fully into the demon guise. Still, he doubted Finndmer would accept the lesser amount as payment for the land as much as he felt certain Edward would not allow him another night of gambling. Somehow, he would need to make up the difference.