Night Masks - By R. A. Salvatore Page 0,31

had the images of Jhanine and her children. They were hunched and growling things, their forms shifting continually, but always emanating a clear and unrepentant wickedness to the young priest. One imaginary claw reached out from the beggar's shoulder and raked the air in Cadderly's direction.

Suddenly Cadderly was very afraid. His neck hair stood on end; his heart began to drum rapidly. A sickly sweet smell came to him then; he thought he heard the buzz of flies. Cadderly shook his head vigorously, feeling that he must be going insane. It seemed as if his senses had heightened, become animallike, and the sudden intrusion of so much stimulation nearly overwhelmed the young priest.

Then he was calm again and looking at the innocent beggar man. He wished that he had his walking stick, and glanced back to the distant tower.

"Fine day!" the beggar said, seeming cheery, though Cadderly instinctively knew better.

Fete. The word came into Cadderly's head and he almost uttered it. He looked down to his hand, the onyx ring upon one finger, and saw that he had subconsciously angled it the beggar's way.

"Must you be gone so soon?" the beggar man asked, sounding innocent, almost wounded.

Cadderly saw the black shadows crouched upon the man's shoulder, saw the claws and venom-dripping fangs.

He nodded briskly, pulled his cloak tightly around his shoulders, and hurried on his way.

He caught a whiff of that sickly sweet scent again and heard the flies. If he had been alone and not so unnerved, he would have stopped and sought out the source. He glanced to the side only briefly as he passed, to the bushes lining the road.

If he had looked closer, Cadderly would have discovered the body, already bloated after just a few hours in the late summer sun. And if he had found the strength to work his magical perceptions, Cadderly would have seen, too, the spirit of Nameless, helpless and hopeless and pitifully wandering until the gods came to claim it.

Unnecessary Evils

he young priest had noticed the change! Ghost cursed himself and considered the implications I of the unexpected occurrence. He had never re I ally believed that he would be able to kill Cad deriy so easily - according to every piece of information he had been given, this young priest was a deadly opponent - but when he had seen Cadderly coming down the road, alone and with no obvious witnesses around, Ghost had briefly wondered if the purse might be earned quickly, if his artistry had so easily paid off.

The beggar man had gained Cadderly's confidence; that much Ghost knew from eavesdropping on their conversation. Now, posing as that man, the assassin thought he could get close, could catch Cadderly with his guard down. But the young priest had noticed the change!

Ghost replayed the brief encounter, trying to discern where his act had failed. Nothing obvious came to him; certainly nothing so blatant as to justify sending a defensively huddled Cadderly running on his way. A singular fear came to the assassin then: if Cadderly proved as formidable as the reports had indicated - and as Ghost was now beginning to suspect - then he might be strong enough to fend off the magic of the Ghearufu. It had been done only twice before, both times by wizards, when Ghost's attempts at possession had been mentally blocked.

"There are other options" Ghost said aloud, reminding himself of his many allies and of the fact that both of those resisting wizards had wound up as worm food. One of those times, Ghost had possessed a victim that the unsuspecting mage could not suspect - his wife. What a sweet kill that had been! On the other occasion, Ghost had served the attending Night Mask band as an infiltrator, providing them with such an enormous amount of information that the targeted wizard, as powerful as he was, had been among the society's easiest kills.

"Either way, young Cadderly," the merciless assassin whispered to the wind, "I shall paint my picture, and you shall be dead before the first of winter's snows."

With an evil snicker, the assassin in a beggar's body went to the bushes and retrieved his own form. The magical ring had nearly completed its healing work on the limp-muscled figure by then; the stench was fast fading and the flies had gone away.

"Do you wear a ring such as mine?" the evil man teased to the formless spirit he knew would still be wandering the area. Ghost willed the Ghearufu, white

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