The Brat's Final Gambit

Ravel Grimmel stood on a hill just outside of Old Flood. Now that he was back, he kept his hood up to prevent anyone in the area from recognizing him too easily. He was not alarmed when the approach of footsteps told him that he was not alone.

“You got here early,” the rich voice of a younger man said.

Ravel turned to see a hooded figure draw up next to him. My trip for Kreeth was a long one. I was eager to get back. I had hoped things might be a little different by now.”

“All is still going to according to plan,” the man said calmly. “Eason was a fool to move too quickly, and Kreeth was too greedy to hold himself back for bigger prizes.”

“What would you have done if his plan to join with the Khadihar worked?”

“It wouldn’t have,” the hooded man said in a slow, satisfied voice.

Ravel was curious. “How can you be so sure?”

Laughter came from behind the robe’s cowl. “Because I found the Khadihar first. She was going to consume him as her last meal, but now she is just going to have to wait until I have found the thing I’ve been looking for.”

Ravel nodded his head, but made sure that it also gave the slightest appearance of a bow. His associate was very insistent about being shown respect. “Dosir had to move quickly in Kalavere. Our agents are ready in Pallodine. Joachim will be leaving soon to get support from the King. People there are nervous. The Count was supposed to be dead by now. Once he talks to the King . . .” Ravel said but did not finish because the man beside him cut him off.

“Ravel, you worry too much,” he drawled. “I told you I got you out of the Pit because I had big plans for you. Now that you no longer have to pretend to be Kreeth’s lackey, we’ve got great things to do. The King will be dealt with, I assure you.”

Though Ravel was incredulous, he knew better than to say anything for fear of the other man’s temper. For that reason, he grew quiet for a moment before bringing up the subject he was dreading. “Those boys are going to be a bigger problem than you thought. I hear they were the ones who stopped our old master.”

“They will be dealt with, too.”

Ravel knew he had to choose his words carefully. “But . . . will that be hard for you?”

“Is it hard for you knowing what a disappointment your son has become?” the man snapped.

Ravel winced at the tone, not at the question itself. “He’s never had the balls I hoped he would have. I was just thinking—”

“I know what you were thinking,” the man said.

The edge to his voice told Ravel to leave the topic alone, but curiosity got the better of him. “What do you plan on doing about them, then?”

His associate’s voice was dangerously silky. “Do? I plan on pulling the rug out from under them in a very spectacular way. Then I will destroy Sartor and Hapwell.”

“W-what about your brother,” Ravel asked, waiting for the explosion of temper, but it did not come. Instead, the man next to him reached up and pulled back his hood.

“That,” Seth Maldies said with a private, knowing grin stretched coldly across his face, “is a family matter.”

Niam awoke in the night to the sound of something scratching outside of the bedroom window. For several minutes he tossed and turned, trying to ignore the noise, hoping it would go away.

It didn’t.

With a grumbling complaint, he sat up in bed and tossed a robe over his back. His body still ached, but thankfully his arm was almost useful now. He slipped his bedroom slippers on and stood up. From the other side of the window, Niam saw the full, ghostly face of the moon gazing mutely upon the world. “Looks like you’re not getting any sleep either,” he said as he walked to the window, which rasped loudly as he opened it.

Outside the air was cool almost to the point of being cold. Crickets trilled loudly and sleepless birds chirped as they eagerly awaited the first light of dawn. The night was alive, the air filled with an expectant energy. Niam looked down and immediately saw what had made the noise. He let out a soft exclamation of surprise. “Oh!”

Several dogs sat below the windowsill, their tails wagged eagerly as they regarded him with large, toothy grins on their muzzles. Three pairs of large, pellucid eyes met his, and he sensed an excited emotion of expectation and urgent need coming from them.

“Oh!” Niam exclaimed again as he realized that the feeling he was experiencing did not originate from within himself; it came from the dogs. “I can feel you,” he said wonderingly!

Come, they seemed to say. Come help!

Niam regarded them for a moment, then nodded and lifted his leg over the window’s edge. “This is going to be interesting,” he muttered as he slipped out of the room. The dogs bounded up to him and licked his hands in amiable friendship. “Here I go again,” he said to himself, and as he set off to follow the dogs, he spoke out clearly into the night. “At least this time I got more than a ghost dog!”

In the distance his remark was met with a reply as a dog barked. Niam scratched one of his companions on its furry head. Somewhere in the night, someone needed help. Niam whistled as he walked. He knew he had work to do. Tonight, he was ready for whatever waited.