"The name is Phytos, old sir. And thou art welcome." The centaur's voice lost its gentleness. "Just thou keepest that embezzling kender away from me."
Tarscenian nodded and moved on, again leaning on Kifflewit Burrthistle, who was beginning to wobble beneath the weight. None of the guards paid them any attention; in these times, one more limping beggar was nothing of note. And High Priest Dahos had ensnared the bystanders' attention by haranguing the unfortunate Throtl woman.
"Your holy offering contained nothing but a bit of gran shy;ite, hag!" the high priest shouted. "Is this evidence of your devotion-to hold back from the religion that sustains you? This, you think, will gain you everlasting life? A worthless offering? Perhaps an extended visit with the slave traders would improve your generosity. Perhaps the materbill…"
The woman, pale with fear, was stammering, "B-but I p-paid a g-g-great amount… t-to your own agent… it c-could n-not have b-been worthless … I Hooked ins-"
"Alms!" Tarscenian shouted, interrupting. "Alms! Alms for the poor!" He lurched toward Dahos, and blankets suddenly were gathered up, sleeping places vacated. The crowd edged away.
Dahos stared at the old, bent figure leaning on-of all things-a perspiring kender. "You dare interrupt me, old man?"
Tarscenian invested his voice with all the misery he could muster. "Holy man of Solace, I am destitute! Have you something for an old, crippled man, a devout Seeker all these many years? I have need of you, brother of the new faith! I reach out to you!" He stretched forth a hand.
Dahos looked at the quivering limb with undisguised distaste. "Have you tithed? Have you provided the church with its due portion of your money all these years, old man? And have you proof of this? Only then may we consider your case."
"But how could I tithe when I never had money, my lord?" Tarscenian maintained a plaintive tone, though he felt a bolt of anger surge through his body.
Dahos sneered. "The truly devout find a way. Now leave me and find yourself employment. Your laziness deprives the church and angers the gods."
With great difficulty, Tarscenian controlled his desire to slide his sword from beneath his cloak and rearrange the man's entrails. "Your blessing, at least," he whined instead. "To protect me on my way, Your Worship." He knelt, dragging Kifflewit down with him. Dahos unwill shy;ingly proffered his ring. Tarscenian kissed the air over the death's-head, murmured something appropriately pious, then motioned Kifflewit Burrthistle forward. "Look, my little friend," he whispered. "The magical ring."
Kifflewit reached forth, pointed ears atwitch and brown eyes glistening. At that moment, Dahos jerked his hand back. "Seekers give no blessings to kender!" he roared. "What blasphemy do you ask of me, old man?" The high priest launched a foot into Kifflewit Burrthistle's face, knocking the air from the kender as he fell over backward. Dahos shouted for the guards.
Tarscenian rose to his full height and tossed two temple guards behind him like discarded rags. "Leave the kender be, coward!" he yelled. His hood fell back from his face as he drew his sword, and in a mere moment, temple guards and goblins were swarming toward Tarscenian and Kiffle-wit Burrthistle-with more on the way.
The kender protested noisily despite the blood that oozed from the corner of his mouth. Kifflewit swung his hoopak and slammed one of the goblins flat in the mid-section. The toothy creature, barely taller than a kender but thrice its weight, went down heavily.
"Guards! The man from the courtyard!" Dahos bel shy;lowed. "Guards!" He turned to scream commands at the handful of refugees who remained standing about. "I order the faithful to assist in this man's capture. Failure constitutes blasphemy!"
The Throtl woman was first to throw in her lot with the guards. Another dozen people soon gathered in a threat shy;ening knot. Tarscenian, sword in hand, stood within the thickening circle of enemies with the furiously cursing, hoopak-swinging kender at his back.
Clearly, Kifflewit was having a marvelous time. Kender knew no fear.
There was no sign of Mynx. There was also, Tarscenian saw with satisfaction, no sign of the high priest's ring on his left hand. Dahos, however, was so preoccupied with capturing them that he had noticed nothing amiss.
Suddenly a rope dropped out of a tree, dangling above Tarscenian. A whistle pierced through the tumult. "Burr-thistle! Up here!" It was a woman's voice. In an eyeblink, the nimble kender was up the rope and out of sight.
Tarscenian parried a thrust from the nearest guard and wound his left hand around the rope. He was not as agile as the kender, and fumbled his attempt to pull himself up. His attackers were on the verge of overwhelming him.
Then Tarscenian's feet left the ground. And not through his own doing.
He glanced upward. Far above him in the shadows, he dimly perceived a woman pulling at the rope, which she'd wisely slipped over a vallenwood branch before let shy;ting it drop down.
Meanwhile, Kifflewit had materialized in a new posi shy;tion near the bottom of the stairs. Blood smeared his child shy;like face, but he was grinning happily and his hoopak was poised for mayhem. Any guards who thought to storm the upper walkway and grab Mynx would have to battle their way through him first. Not to worry-their foes appeared sorely confused by prey that rose through the air like a soap bubble.
Then a goblin broke the trance, roaring as he charged, mace whirling. The goblin managed to snag the rope, and dumped Tarscenian to the ground. In a moment, Tarscen-ian was up and moving, but his attackers were close behind.
Three goblins stood between him and the way to the treetop walkways. Kifflewit, behind them, rained hoopak blows upon their heads and shoulders, but the blows glanced like raindrops off the foul creatures' thick leather armor.
Tarscenian wheeled.
A dozen temple guards, flanking Dahos, stood before him. "And so do heretics come to their end," the high priest said with a smile.
"Take me to Hederick, High Priest," Tarscenian demanded.
"Of course," Dahos said. "I would not deprive His Wor shy;ship of the joy of dispatching you himself. He's wanted your head for years, Tarscenian."
"You know something of me, then?" Tarscenian asked, slipping his sword back into his scabbard. In the same motion, he surreptitiously retrieved a pinch of herbs from one pouch and, beneath the cover of his cloak, began to
weave his fingers in a discreet spell. His eyes swept the scene and noted a large puddle of stagnant water near Dahos.
"Of course, Tarscenian," Dahos said with mock polite shy;ness. "You were the priest who brought Hederick into the Seekers, years ago. I know, too, that you betrayed him and the New Gods by deserting the Seekers for the lust of a woman."
"Ah," Tarscenian said. "And do you know who that woman was?"
"Some whore, long dead now, I suppose," the Plains shy;man said offhandedly.
"It was Hederick's sister, Ancilla, the mage who accom shy;panied me in the courtyard today."
Dahos appeared startled. "Hederick, brother of a mage?" he murmured. Then the high priest recovered his composure. "Lies! Had I not promised Hederick other shy;wise, I'd slay you myself this instant for your blasphemy."
"Ask Hederick about her, High Priest. Unless you fear the response."
"I would not bother…"
"Fait recoblock!" Tarscenian shouted. "Jerientom benjin-charl"
Before the guards and Dahos could catch on, Tarscenian leaped high into the air. He bent in midair and dove straight into the pool of stagnant water at Dahos's feet.
And disappeared.
An instant later, high above Dahos and the rest, Tarscen shy;ian leaned over the railing and watched the confusion below. Though too exhausted to speak, he gave Mynx a wink. Kifflewit Burrthistle raced up the steps, barely winded.
"That was great, Tarscenian!" the kender burbled.
"How did you do that? Dive into that puddle, I mean. And you're not even wet! Sweating a lot, of course-but not wet. Could you teach me? Or is it more magic? Not that I couldn't learn a simple little puddle spell!"
"Not real magic. It's pure illusion," Tarscenian cor shy;rected. "I never disappeared because I wasn't trapped by Dahos in the first place. I never left this staircase." "But I saw you!"
"Be still, little one, lest you bring all the guards upon us," Tarscenian cautioned. "They're not on to us yet. From all appearances, they're going to spend quite a lot of time staring into that puddle." "What a trick! Can you …"
"Ahem." Tarscenian narrowed stern gray eyes at Kiffle-wit. "The ring, little friend." "Mmm?"
"Dahos's death's-head ring. The one you placed in your red pouch, right there on your belt, after you 'borrowed' it from the high priest."
The kender's face fell. "Oh. That." He rallied. "What a good thing I picked it up! He might have lost it. I might have…"