The city seemed dark to Arvin, who was used to the constant glow of Hlondeth’s magically quarried stone, but somehow he found that comforting. In Ormpetarr there would be plenty of shadows, plenty of places to hide from Zelia. And what light there was—the glow of street lanterns and the light that shone out of the windows—was warm and yellow and welcoming, rather than an eerie green.
The riverboat drew up to one of the piers. Once the sailors had tied the boat fast, Arvin gathered up his pack and climbed down onto the pier. Karrell immediately followed. The planks underfoot were treacherous with half-melted ice; at one point she slipped, and he caught her arm. She smiled her thanks to him and continued to cling to his arm as they walked up the pier.
“Which inn are you staying at?” she asked.
Arvin gave her a wry look. Was she going to suggest they share a room? “I won’t be staying at an inn,” he told her. “I have accommodation elsewhere.”
“At the ambassador’s home?” Karrell guessed. “Or perhaps at the palace?”
They reached the small group of people who were passing through the gate at the end of the pier. On either side of the gate was a watchful soldier. Each wore a brightly polished steel breastplate, embossed with the eye of Helm, over a padded leather coat that hung to his knees. Unlike the clerics in Mimph, these soldiers carried visible weapons—maces with knobbed heads. Their open-faced helms were decorated with purple plumes.
Each person passing through the gate was asked his or her business in Ormpetarr. Arvin and d Karrell repeated the stories they’d told each other earlier: he saying he was a rope merchant’s agent; she claiming to be an artist.
When they were through the gate, Arvin plucked Karrell’s hand from his arm. “Well, goodnight,” he told her.
Karrell raised an eyebrow. “Surely you do not think to be rid of me so easily?”
“I’m not trying to get rid of you,” Arvin told her. “When my business here is done, I’ll send for you. I’ll introduce you to the ambassador then.”
Karrell snorted. “You have not even asked what inn I am staying at.”
“I was just about to.”
“No you were not.”
Arvin sighed in exasperation. “Goodnight,” he said firmly. He strode up the street. The shops on either side were closing for the night, their merchants busy shuttering windows and locking doors. The roads ran in straight lines and were hundreds of paces long—a far cry from the mazelike streets of Hlondeth—and were illuminated along their length by lanterns. It would be more difficult to hide here—or to lose someone who was following you—than he’d expected.
He glanced over his shoulder. Karrell was a few paces behind him, following like a shadow.
Arvin picked up his pace, sidestepping around the other people on the street.
Karrell did the same.
After several blocks, Arvin realized the futility of trying to leave her behind. He could hardly run through the streets. She’d only chase after him—and gods only knew what the local folk would think of that. At the middle of a wide square dominated by one of the silver gauntlet statues, he rounded on her. “Look,” he said, irritated. “You’ll just have to trust me, and wait until I send for you. Unless you back off, I’m going to warn the ambassador about you—tell him not to meet with you.”
Karrell’s eyes narrowed. “You think you can threaten me?” she asked. “That dagger cuts both ways. What if I were to tell that woman at Riverboat Landing about you?”
Arvin felt his face grow pale. With an effort, he steadied himself. “Riverboat Landing is two days down-river. By the time a message got there—”
Karrell smiled. “A spell can always be used to speed a message on its way.”
Arvin shivered. She might be bluffing, but he didn’t want to take the chance. “It seems we’ve reached a stalemate.”
Karrell started to whisper something in her own language. Before she could finish, Arvin slapped a hand onto the gauntlet. The cold metal chilled his bare fingers, making him shiver. “Don’t try to charm me,” he warned her. “It won’t work. Not here. This statue is magical. It will turn the charm back on you, instead.”
He had no idea, of course, if the statue’s magic would even protect him from a spell that did no actual injury. But presumably, neither did Karrell.
She stared it him. “You will not stand here all night.”
“I will if I have to,” Arvin said.
“So will I.”
They stared at each other for several moments. Then Arvin heard footsteps behind him. He turned—his hand still on the gauntlet—and saw one of the red-cloaked clerics approaching. The man hadn’t been there a moment ago; the gauntlet seemed to have summoned him.
“Is there a problem?” the cleric asked, his eyes on Karrell. “Did this woman threaten you?”
