The cleric quintet book 3 night masks

R A Salvatore The Cleric Quintet 03 Night Masks NIGHT MASKS Book of The Cleric Quintet To Aunt Terry, who’ll never know how much her support has meant to me Prologue City Militia The large fighter shifted uneasily in his seat, looking all about the nearly empty tavern “Not so busy this night,” the slender, drowsy-looking man across the table remarked He shifted back lazily in his seat, crossed his legs in front of him, and draped a skinny arm over them The larger man regarded him warily as he began to understand “And you know all in attendance,” he replied “Of course.” The burly fighter looked back just in time to see the last of the other patrons slip out the door “They have left by your bidding?” he asked, “Of course.” “Mako sent you.” The weakling man curled his lips in a wicked grin, one that widened as the burly fighter regarded his skinny arms with obvious disdain “To kill me,” the large man finished, trying to appear calm His wringing hands, fingers moving as if seeking something to keep them occupied, revealed his nervousness He licked his dried lips and glanced around quickly, not taking his dark eyes from the assassin for any length of time He noticed that the man wore gloves, one white and one black, and silently berated himself for not being more observant The thin man replied at length, “You knew Mako would repay you for his cousin’s death.” “His own fault!” the large man retorted “It was he who struck the first blow I had no choi-“ “I am neither judge nor jury,” the puny man reminded him “Just a killer” the fighter replied, “serving whoever gives you the largest sack of gold.” The assassin nodded, not the least bit insulted by the description The little man noticed his target’s hand slipping casually into the hidden pouch, the fitchet, in the V cut of his tunk, above his right hip “Please, not,” the assassin said He had been monitoring this man for many weeks, carefully, completely, and he knew of the knife concealed within The fighter stopped the movement and eyed him incredulously “Of course I know the trick,” the assassin explained “Do you not understand, dear dead Vaclav? You have no surprises left for me.” The man paused, then protested, “Why now?” The large man’s ire rose with his obvious frustration “Now is the time,” replied the assassin “All things have their time Should a killing be any different? Besides, I have pressing business in the west and can play the game no longer.” “You have had ample opportunity to finish this business many times before now” Vaclav argued In fact, the little man had been hovering about him for weeks, had gained his trust somewhat, though he didn’t even know the man’s name The fighter’s eyes narrowed with further frustration, when he contemplated that notion and realized that the man’s frail frametoo frail to be viewed as any threat-had precipitated that acceptance If this man, now revealed as an enemy, had appeared more threatening, Vaclav never would have let him get this close “More chances than you would believe,” the assassin replied with a snicker The large man had seen him often, but not nearly as often as the killer, in perfect and varied disguises, had seen Vaclav “I pride myself on my business,” the assassin continued, “unlike so many of the crass killers that walk the Realms They prefer to keep their distance until the opportunity to strike presents itself, but I”-his beady eyes flickered with pride-“prefer to personalize things I have been all about you Several of your friends are dead, and I now know you so well that I can anticipate your every movement.” Sclav’s breathing came in short rasps Several friends dead? And this weakling threatening him openly? He had defeated countless monsters ten times this one’s weight, had served honorably in three wars, had even battled a dragon! He was scared now, however Vaclav had to admit that Something was terribly wrong about this whole setup, terribly out of place “I am an artist,” the slender, sleepy man rambled “That is why I will never err, why I will survive while so many other hired murderers go to early graves.” “You are a simple killer and nothing more!” the large man cried, his frustration boiling over He leaped from his seat and drew a huge sword A sharp pain slowed him, and he found himself somehow sitting again He blinked, trying to make sense of it all, for he saw himself at the empty bar, was, in fact, staring at his own face! He stood gawking as he-as his own body!-slid the heavy sword back into its scabbard “So crude,” Sclav heard his own body say He looked down to the figure he now wore, the killer’s weak form “And so messy,” the assassin continued “How…?” “I not have the time to explain, I fear,” the assassin replied “What is your name?” Vaclav cried, desperate for any diversion “Ghost,” answered the assassin He lurched over, confident that the seemingly androgynous form, one he knew so well, could not muster the speed to escape him or the strength to fend him off Sclav felt himself being lifted from the floor, felt the huge hands slipping about his neck “The ghost of who?” managed the out-of-control, desperate man He kicked as hard as his new body would allow, so pitiful an attempt against the burly, powerful form his enemy now possessed Then his breath would not come Vaclav heard the snap of bone, and it was the last sound he would ever hear “Not ‘the ghost,’ “ the victorious assassin replied to the dead form, “just ‘Ghost.’ “ He sat then to finish his drink How perfect this job had been; how easily Sclav had been coaxed into so vulnerable a position “An artist,” Ghost said, lifting his cup in a toast to himself His more familiar body would be magically repaired before the dawn, and he could then take it back, leaving the empty shell of Sclav’s corpse behind Ghost had not lied when he had mentioned pressing business in the west A wizard had contacted the assassin’s guild, promising exorbitant payments for a minor execution The price must have been high indeed, Ghost knew, for his superiors had requested that he take on the task The wizard apparently wanted the best The wizard wanted an artist Placid Fields Cadderly walked slowly from the single stone tower, across the fields, toward the lakeside town of Carradoon Autumn had come to the region; the few trees along Cadderly’s path, red maples mostly, shone brilliantly in their fall wardrobe The sun was bright this day and warm, in contrast with the chilly breezes blowing down from the nearby Snowflake Mountains, gusting strong enough to float Cadderly’s silken blue cape out behind him as he walked, and strong enough to bend the wide brim of his similarly blue hat The troubled young scholar noticed nothing Cadderly absently pushed his sand-brown locks from his gray eyes, then grew frustrated as the unkempt hair, much longer than he had ever worn it, defiantly dropped back down He pushed it away again, and then again, and finally tucked it tightly under the brim of his hat Carradoon came within sight a short while later, on the banks of wide Impresk Lake and surrounded by hedgelined fields of sheep and cattle and crops The city proper was walled, as were most cities of the Realms, with many multistory structures huddled inside against ever present perils A long bridge connected Carradoon to a nearby island, the section of the town reserved for the more well-to-do merchants and governing officials As always when he came by this route, Cadderly looked at the town with mixed and uncertain feelings He had been born in Carradoon, but did not remember that early part of his life Cadderly’s gaze drifted past the walled city, to the west and to the towering Snowflakes, to the passes that led high into the mountains, where lay the Edificant Library, a sheltered and secure bastion of learning That had been Cadderly’s home, though he realized that now it was not, and thus he felt he could not return there He was not a poor man-the wizard in the tower he had recently left had once paid him a huge sum for transcribing a lost spell book-and he had the means to support himself in relative comfort But all the gold in the world could not have produced a home for Cadderly, nor could it have released his troubled spirit from its turmoil Cadderly had grown up, had learned the truth of his violent, imperfect world, too suddenly The young scholar had been thrust into situations beyond his experience, forced into the role of hero-warrior when all he really wanted was to read of adventures in books of legend Cadderly had recently killed a man, and had fought in a war that had blasted, torn, and ultimately tainted a once-pristine sylvan forest Now he had no answers, only questions Cadderly thought of his room at the Dragon’s Codpiece, where the Tome of Universal Harmony, the most prized book of the god named Deneir, sat open on his small table It had been given to Cadderly by Pertelope, a high-ranking priestess of his order, with the promise that within its thick bindings Cadderly would find his answers Cadderly wasn’t sure he believed that The young scholar sat on a grassy rise overlooking the town, scratched at his stubbly beard, and wondered again about his purpose and calling in this confusing life He removed his widebrimmed hat and stared at the porcelain insignia attached to its red band: an eye and a single candle, the holy symbol of Deneir, the deity dedicated to literature and the arts Cadderly had served Deneir since his earliest recollections, though he had never really been certain of what that service entailed, or of the real purpose in dedicating his life to any god He was a scholar and an inventor and believed wholeheartedly in the powers of knowledge and creation, two very important tenets for the Deneirian sect Only recently had Cadderly begun to feel that the god was something more than a symbol, more than a fabricated ideal for the scholars to emulate In the elven forest Cadderiy had felt the birth of powers he could not begin to understand He had magically healed a friend’s wound that otherwise would have proved fatal He had gained supernatural insight into the history of the elves-not just their recorded events, but the feelings, the eldritch aura, that had given the ancient race its identity He had watched in amazement as the spirit of a noble horse rose from its broken body and walked solemnly away He had seen a dryad disappear into a tree and had commanded the tree to push the elusive creature back out-and the tree had heeded his command! There could be no doubt for young Cadderly; mighty magic was with him, granting him these terrifying powers His peers called that magic Deneir and called it a good thing, but in light of what he had done, of what he had become, and the horrors he had witnessed, Cadderly was not certain that he wanted Deneir with him He got up from the grassy rise and continued his journey to the walled town, to the Dragon’s Codpiece, and to the Tome of Universal Harmony, where he could only pray that be would find some answers and some peace He flipped the page, his eyes desperately trying to scan the newest material in the split second it took him to turn the page again It was impossible; Cadderly simply could not keep up with his desire, his insatiable hunger, to turn the pages He was finished with the Tome of Universal Harmony, a work of nearly two thousand pages, in mere minutes Cadderly slammed the book shut, frustrated and fearful, and tried to rise from his small desk, thinking that perhaps he should go for a walk, or go to find Brennan, the innkeeper’s teenage son who had become a close friend The tome grabbed at him before he could get out of his seat With a defiant but impotent snarl, the young scholar flipped the book back over and began his frantic scan once more The pages ... A Salvatore The Cleric Quintet 03 Night Masks NIGHT MASKS Book of The Cleric Quintet To Aunt Terry, who’ll never know how much her support has meant to me Prologue City Militia The large fighter... intrigued the beleaguered giant They talked for a short while longer, then went to the farmhouse to coordinate the defenses with the others They found the dwarves hard at work freeing the captured Night. .. kill with their bare hands as well When the searching was done, the two guards led the young wizard into the room, then stepped back to the door, standing impassively on either side of the portal