Thieves' Gambit
Chapters 23-24
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XXIII.


     
     The wizard's chamber was as black as a starless night, despite
the brightness of the autumn afternoon outside.  Kelain glared
fiercely into the darkness, dashing the back of his hand across
tear-blurred eyes.  The room came into an eerie focus.  He studied
the wavering, changing hues of violet and scarlet and brown until
he thought knew where the wizard was.
     Tanner was crouched over an altar of carven stone, behind a
velvet curtain that hung from the high domed ceiling.  The faintest
blue glow of magelight outlined his sharply featured face.  He was
casting in total silence, weaving complex Patternings through the
darkness with his slender, bony hands.
     The wizard never finished his spell.  The thin, tempered steel
of a cold-forged dagger sliced through the curtain and took him
across the throat before he could even begin to scream.
     Wearily, the assassin sheathed his weapon and left the high-
walled room in silence.  

XXIV.


     
     Alun was waiting for him when he returned.  The Guildmaster
looked up from his desk to meet emerald eyes that were shattered
with suffering.  "Ashara's mercy, Kelain, what happened to you?  Do
you need a healer?"  His hands and tunic were stained with a
wizard's blood, and with his own.  
     "Alea's dead.  She took the arrow that was meant for me.  I
killed the bastard that did it."  He turned his tortured gaze away
from the Guildmaster.   
     "Orin told me."  His voice held more compassion than Kelain
could bear.  "She thought a great deal of you, you know."
     Kelain looked back at him.  Alun wished he hadn't.  "I know." 
The half-elf's expression was utterly lifeless, reminding Alun
unpleasantly of one of the Unliving.  "She told me before she
died."
     Alun winced, suffering.  "She told you?"  
     Kelain turned his head slowly.  He looked incredibly weary. 
"Told me what, Alun?"
     Alun wondered if he should try to spare Kelain any worse pain. 
"What did she say to you?"
     "Nothing."  He slumped into a chair beside the Guildmaster,
collapsing on it like a badly jointed doll.  "Only that she wished
that there had been more time."  He stared ahead unseeing, his
ancient eyes burning hollowly in a too-young face.
     Almost against his better judgement, Alun decided to offer
what comfort he could.  "Kelain, she loved you.  She went against
the orders of her Guild - against my orders, Kelain - to help you. 
She never told you how she felt because she was afraid that it
wouldn't mean anything to you.  But she did care for you, very
much.  There wasn't time for her to tell you, so I'm going to
assume that she would have wanted you to know."
     Kelain suddenly animated, swiveling around to face him.  "You
knew?"  His voice was deathly quiet.  The Guildmaster shifted
awkwardly in his seat, not wanting to face Kelain.  "You never told
me."  Kelain's voice held the chill of the grave.  "You bastard."
     Alun ignored the insult.  "I'm sorry, Kelain."  He spoke as
gently as he could.  "I can't tell you how sorry I am.  I always
thought that there would be time -"
     He was cut off by an insane shriek.  "Time?  I had no time!" 
Kelain choked and almost sobbed.  "She held my hand for a moment
before she died.  Do you call that time?"  His voice rose to an
inhuman, unbearable crescendo of sound before it broke.  Putting
his head in his hands, the anguished half-elf leaned heavily on the
hard, comfortless desk and wept.  His slender frame heaved in
silent shudders as Alun looked on in helpless concern. 
     Finally, the Guildmaster unlocked a secret cabinet and
rummaged briefly through a single, well-stocked shelf of potions
and vials.  He put a compassionate hand on the slender half-elf's
shoulder.  "Kelain?  Drink this and sleep.  You'll need the rest." 
Alun slid a small vial of cloudy dark fluid in front of him.  It
was a potent distillate of nefer root, a powerful but harmless
relaxant.
     Kelain looked up and snarled, his face haggard.  "No drugs,
damn you; and no sleep.  Not until it's over.  I've got to get
Cheltie out of there."
     "It's too dangerous.  You can't go in alone."  Alun's brow
furrowed with concern.
     "Try to stop me, Guildmaster."  Kelain's voice held a deadly
indifference.  He rose from his chair and began to walk woodenly
towards the door.
     Alun scowled.  "I'm not going to stop you.  I was planning to
see to the job myself.  Since you insist on going, I'll go with
you."  That got Kelain's attention, and he stopped walking.  "The
politics don't matter anymore, since the Mages' Guild has given us
an unofficial go-ahead.  We can assemble a hand-picked strike team
from the Guild's best and be at his doorstep in a few hours." 
     Kelain nodded slowly.  "We'll do it your way."  A new light
burned in his eyes.  "I'll tell Orin and Raak we're going in.  I'll
meet you in Thieves' Hall at the next bell."
     "The next bell," Alun echoed.  "I swear to you we'll help you
see this through.  She would have wanted it that way."
     He stared at his Guildmaster for a long time before he nodded
again.  "She died for it, Alun.  Let's make it good."  Kelain
turned to go.
     "I promise," Alun said softly.  For her sake and yours, my
friend, the Guildmaster thought.  The half-elf's footsteps echoed
down the long hallway as he went.
     The depth of the pain in his eyes haunted the Guildmaster long
after he was gone, and Alun wondered uneasily if he had made the
right decision in telling Kelain what he had been cheated of.  I
would have wanted to know, he thought.  Or would I?  With these and
other unhappy musings running painfully through his head, he went
downstairs to tell the Guild.