been many years since he’d come to someone for aid, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to act. He had no intention of bowing before the priests, nor would he plead like a commoner. Perhaps a trade.
The doors opened. Thren snapped to attention, his hands falling to his blades out of instinct too engrained to deny.
“It is a strange night that grants me a visitor such as you,” Pelarak said as he stepped outside and closed the doors behind him. “For you are Thren Felhorn, are you not? Master of the Spider Guild, puppet master of the thieves? To what do I owe this honor?”
His eyes glanced at Aaron but he kept his mouth shut.
“I need my son cured,” Thren said.
“We are not as skilled at the healing arts as our rivals,” Pelarak said. “Though I doubt they would aid you. I heard they ousted their former high priest after you killed one of their own.”
Thren frowned. That was a damn shame. He had spent many months slowly working on Calvin, bribing him with every possible vice in search of the man’s weakness. Once he discovered his love of crimleaf, the process had gone considerably easier. Must everything fall apart so close to the Kensgold?
“You misunderstand the healing I desire,” Thren said, forcing the subject back to the task at hand. “My son has taken foolish notions into his head that I want expunged.”
Pelarak scratched his chin.
“He’s fallen for the seductive grace of Ashhur?” he asked.
Thren nodded.
“This will require much time,” Pelarak said. “And more importantly, it will potentially ruin me. Maynard Gemcroft has threatened our very existence if I do not side with him against you, Thren. Tell me, what would you do in my place?”
“Destroy those who threaten me,” Thren said. “Never let a man keep a sword readied above your neck.”
“Words we cannot live by,” Pelarak said. “Ashhur’s presence here is too deeply embedded. Maynard could send mobs against us. Blood would fill the streets. Nothing of your little war with the Trifect would compare to the carnage we would unleash. But that would end our work here. So I have few choices.”
Thren drew his shortswords.
“I’d tread carefully,” the guildmaster said.
Pelarak chuckled.
“Put those away. Even with your skill, you cannot match my power. I am Karak’s most faithful servant, save for his prophet. If I wanted you dead I would not announce or explain myself.”
Thren lowered his swords but did not sheathe them.
“What are your choices?” he asked.
“I can either turn you away, making you a potential enemy. In doing so, I also remain a puppet of the Trifect. However, even that option has been denied to me. Maynard Gemcroft’s daughter is missing. She was to be in my care, yet is not. For this alone, Maynard will destroy us.”
“There is another way,” Thren said, realizing what Pelarak was leading to. “There is my way. Take my son. Cure him. Burn all remnants of Ashhur from his flesh so he may be pure.”
“Can you kill Maynard Gemcroft?” Pelarak asked. “My time has already passed. By the end of the Kensgold he will carry out his threat.”
Thren saluted with his sword.
“By tomorrow’s eve, Maynard will be dead,” he vowed. “Can you save my son?”
“We will take him,” Pelarak said. He banged twice on the doors. Two other priests came out. When Pelarak pointed to Aaron, they picked the boy up and carried him inside. As they did, Thren briefly described the events that had transpired, from Aaron’s prayers, his chain of the golden mountain, to at last his secret meeting with Delysia.
“How much time will it take?” Thren asked when finished.
“A day or two at most, unless he resists our methods,” the priest replied.
“Can he?” Thren asked, watching the double-doors close with a groaning of wood and iron locks.
Pelarak laughed softly.
“Of course not. He’s just a boy.”
Thren bowed.
“May our endeavors aid us both,” he said.
“Go with the true god’s blessing,” Pelarak said before returning inside.
Thren felt lighter as he vaulted over the iron fence and raced down the streets, taking a winding path back to his safehouse. Matters were out of his hands now. The priests would convert his son or kill him in the process. Any influence Ashhur had on him would be gone. Thren would keep his killer, his perfect heir.
Assuming his plans for the Kensgold unfolded without error.
Aaron’s awareness rose and fell, and as it rose he felt the pain. It stabbed into his wrists and forced him back down. Water splashed across his tongue.