“Our enemy is very smart,” Fallon said.
They had planned this very well. If the attack on Fallon failed, they could always sow more dissension by killing the pathfinders’ guildmaster and making it look like the Trateri were responsible.
United by anger over what happened to their guildmaster, the pathfinders could very well decide to kill the Trateri while they were trapped in the Keep at their host’s mercy.
“What do you want us to do?” Zeph asked, his eyes intent as Fallon studied the blade.
Patrick appeared in the doorway, seeming infinitely older and more tired than he had that morning. He was a man holding it together by the thinnest of threads. A man like that could be dangerous, Fallon knew.
Patrick’s gaze went to the weapon in Fallon’s hands.
Fallon held it out for him to examine. “They used one of our clan’s more distinctive blades.”
“How did they get it?” Patrick asked, his eyes not moving from the weapon in Fallon’s hands.
To Fallon’s surprise, he sounded calm and rational.
“That is a good question,” Fallon told him. One he intended to get to the bottom of.
The Earth clan was protective of these blades. They were the most difficult to make and among the best quality. Their bladesmiths ascribed an almost living personality to each one and chose their wielders with the utmost of care. Even Fallon had faced a difficult time trying to secure one of their blades for himself. They couldn’t be bought, only gifted.
To find it here pointed the finger of blame firmly at the Trateri. More than that, it narrowed the pool to a very slim margin given the blade’s rarity.
He wondered if their enemy knew that or if they’d chosen this blade simply because of its distinctiveness.
“Find out who is missing a blue steel, single edged taito,” Fallon told Caden. “I want to know how it went missing and when.”
Caden nodded.
Zeph caught the reasons behind his order. “You think one of us had a hand in this?”
Fallon didn’t want to, but it wouldn’t be the first time one of their own had conspired against them. “I think there is a reason that blade was chosen. I want to know what it is.”
Before he could say anything further, the wall made a grating sound as it moved. His men were instantly in front of him, their swords held at the ready as they faced the wall.
It peeled back to reveal Lainey, her clothes covered in blood, standing with one hand planted against the side so she didn’t fall. Her face was a mask of stubborn fury as she eyed the men in front of her.
“Lainey,” Patrick said, heading for her immediately.
“Took you long enough, my love,” she said as she limped out of the small bolthole. He caught her in his arms, supporting her as he half carried her over to a couch.
Fallon watched Lainey with caution, his brows lowering. The next few moments could go very badly for them, depending on what she had to say and what had happened here.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said in an irate voice. “I know you had nothing to do with the attack, despite appearances to the contrary.”
“What happened?” Fallon asked.
Patrick crouched at Lainey’s side, examining her wounds and running careful hands over her. Lainey winced as he hit a sensitive spot. Fallon moved closer.
“Exactly what it looks like,” she said, her gaze coming up so she could glare at him. “I was attacked. Much as you were and much as my daughter has been, I suspect.”
The reminder that his telroi could still be in danger did not sit well with Fallon.
“They said they had concerns they wanted to raise with me. That they had proof you were deceiving us,” Lainey said, sounding like she was in pain but trying to conceal it. “I thought it was the normal pettiness, that I’d meet with them and allay their fears. Little did I know it was a ruse to get me alone so they could attack. I shot one with a zipper,” she said, jerking her head to the outside. “Another I threw over the balcony.”
Zeph lifted an eyebrow, obviously impressed with the woman’s actions. As a warrior, he appreciated the difficulty in fighting off several opponents at once.
“The rest I managed to scare off with this.” She raised a hand holding a fist-sized metal sphere in it.
