Three acolytes had their backs to me in the wide hall. They heard my boots and two of them turned toward me as the third ran for the spiral stairs leading up onto the first level of the mansion and the ballroom.
Steel blades glinted in torchlight as the two mutes pulled daggers from under their robes.
I pumped my hands, palms out. “I mean you no harm!”
Either they didn’t hear me or they didn’t care.
They charged at me.
Gritting my teeth, I waited. Studying their haphazard charge, I knew these were not trained fighters.
I took the man on the right first, rolling past him onto my side and kicking out into his chest with both feet once he changed trajectories and tried to stab at me.
He sprawled onto his back. The second acolyte took his place, swinging wildly. I swept his feet out from under him with a swift roundhouse. He made no sound as he went down but had to drop his dagger to catch himself and avoid hitting his head on the rough walkway.
We were both on our hands and knees, glancing at each other and then at the nearby dagger.
He crawled for it—
I jumped to my feet and kicked him in the side of the head before he could wrap his hands around the hilt, knocking him out.
The first mute was starting to get up and I did the same to him—not killing the man but simply rendering him unconscious with a hard knock to the face.
With my breath laboring, I burst into the jail room.
“Rirth! Culiar!”
No answer.
I ran down the three aisles, looking into every cell.
They were all empty.
“Fuck me True!”
They were either dead from their bouts, someone had helped them escape, or Lukain had gathered them.
I left the room, keeping my legs churning, and ran outside. My mind whirled, wondering where I should go, what I should try to do.
The sounds of clashing steel made my decision for me. As I rounded the eastern side of the mansion—avoiding the white-robed servants and their tents by keeping to the wall of the manse—I snuck along and weaseled my way to the main western entrance.
My feet skidded to a stop as I came to the courtyard.
A full-on skirmish had broken out in the open space. It took my brain a moment to register everything happening.
Near the pissing statue of a gargoyle in the center of the courtyard, Rirth and Culiar stood with swords drawn, facing off against . . . other humans.
My brow furrowed and I recognized a few of the faces.Diplomats!
No sooner had the fight registered than Rirth skewered a man through the chest, impaling him, and then slid the body off his blade.Why are Grimsons fighting Dimmon’s men?
Rirth grabbed Culiar’s arm and tugged him away. They went running off out of my sight, around a corner and into the shadows.
I took off after them, trying to avoid the light of the multiple torch-poles that lit up the courtyard as I sprinted across it.
From the front doors, more humans stampeded out. One of them yelled, “Hoy, they killed Baylen! Fucking bloodsuckers!”
“We were s’pose to be guests!” cried another—
