Marneus swung, and the figure in black made no move to dodge. The heavy blade crashed into it and cut deep, but not as deep as it should have: the mass beneath that dark cloak was denser than it ought to have been. Beneath the cloak knees buckled and fell, leaving the knight with his sword stuck fast in the body of his enemy.
The blow tore some of the ragged black cloth away, and for the first time Marneus got a good look at his foe. It was an almost ordinary looking face that gazed at him, a bland man who might have stared out of any crowd in the city and gone unnoticed if it weren't for the dull, flat eyes and the unnervingly pale skin. There was no expression on that face, no intelligence in those eyes, a blank slate.
Blood oozed sluggishly from the gaping wound that Marneus had delt, and the pale-faced man reached out and tried to hit the knight again, catching only air. He seemed puzzled by how he wasn't able to reach, not seeming to notice the sword lodged in his torso.
A second black-cloaked figure thudded down, cracking the floorboards on the landing.
Three corridors over, Doctor Nexaddo nodded to Ticky as the other gnome was leaving the room. "Thank you for trusting me with your friend here," he said. "I shall do my best, and I assure you nothing I observe will be leaked from this room." His expression gave away nothing but medical professionalism as he leaned over Keil's body, paying special attention to the stomach wound. His eyes were fascinated as he probed the exposed tissue. Muscles, vessels, and organs, now open for investigation. He peeled back the eyelids and noted the eyes rolled back in the head, and carefully traced the various cuts. The wounds had been skillfully cauterized to reduce blood flow, but there were no observable instruments to perfo--
No, no time for study. This is an ally. The gash must be closed. Investigation will come later. The doctor set to work, sponging up the pooled blood with a cloth and producing a needle and thread. The cut on the stomach was the most dangerous, he could see, and the cauterization had helped, but blood was still oozing around the edges and the skin had an unpleasant deep purple sheen.
The physician that Derlan had raced through the streets of Tyb and brought to the ship entered the room slowly, trying to catch his breath. Seeing Jemalkin he muttered to himself, "Gnomish doctors too, I see. This lad has got to be the best-treated fellow in Tyb tonight."
It was at that moment that the voice began booming and rolling across the docks, coming from a shadowy figure standing at the lip of a waterfront warehouse roof. The words were loud and ragged, distorted by a cheap amplification enchantment until little could be heard of the original voice beyond hissing static and thunderous pronouncements.
The voice began on a decidedly inauspicious note. "Minions, servants of the Black Hand!" it roared over the waves, silencing the chatter from the taverns. "Obey the call of the Tikoloshe!"
"You may feel safe in your cots on the pathetic vessel known as the Cepolada, but that is a terrible mistake," the voice continued, "for I have already captured one member of your crew and slain others. The one known as Mark Resdian is held in my lair, contemplating his hideous demise, and will be utterly destroyed unless you give to me what I desire."
There was a pause, for dramatic effect. Down below the top deck Marneus was almost staggered by a blow from a black-cloaked figure as he paused to listen.
"I want the boy known as Keil," the voice roared. "If given the boy, I will leave your ship alone, and generously permit you to leave Tyb."
On deck, Grummond groaned through fractured ribs. "How the hell you gonna stop us?" he muttered, barely heard even by himself. Unfortunately enough, the voice answered him.
"You could ignore my threats," it said, "and leave Mark to die, but I have prepared for this. While you have been preoccupied dealing with my assassin my servants planted explosives at the bottom of your vessel--enough to destroy any hope of survival. You have mere hours to bring me the boy before you will be sent to your graves in flames."
This would be an appropriate place for a mad cackle, perhaps, but instead there is a grim and earnest silence.
"When you are ready for the trade, bring Keil to the Nine Nymph Hall, on Tallow Street. If you want your comrade back alive, and if you want to leave this city on the ship you sailed in on, you will not be late."
The voice fell silent, and the shadowed figure on the warehouse roof stepped back and vanished into the night.
