Aces and Eights 13
Harvey Smith
I shifted my jaw, loosening it some. I focused on the woman, rolling my neck muscles. Suddenly it struck me like a whip�an instant feeling of recognition. I had seen this woman before, only once, on a night several years ago. Then I remembered where... "Hello, Kyla," I said quietly.
Her grin widened. "I am flattered that I made such an impression on you."
I realized then that the pendant thief had spoken with the same strange accent. Hindsight...
She watched me for a moment, boldly running her eyes across my entire form. "In a way, this is good."
"You'll forgive me if I don't see it that way."
She laughed robustly. "You and I share a bond, you know. I made you what you are, wolf man."
Curiously, I watched her, trying to get a general feel for what type of personality I was dealing with. I knew almost nothing about her. Was she the savage killer that she had seemed back then? My only interaction with her had been a violent one, but it had occurred during a time in which I stood between her and her target. Also, I had killed two of her companions that night. Would she decide to settle the score by immediately ripping my throat out or had she since mellowed?
What had I gotten into? Had this entire affair, starting with the phoenix thieves, been an elaborate trap, set to ensnare me? That did not seem likely. More probable, I thought, was the possibility that Kyla still had it in for Luke for the same reasons that had prompted her on the night I had been infected with lycanthropy. Perplexed, I asked, "What's your connection with Luke?"
Her eyebrows jumped up into a raised position, then she looked thoughtful, as if considering whether or not she should even bother answering me. "I do not have any such affiliations, really."
"What? Surely, this thing doesn't revolve around me?"
She laughed. "Of course not. You were right in assuming that Luke of Amber was the primary concern of our operation."
"Our operation?"
"Yes." She held a hand up before her face, regarding her nails. "The man I work for is your employer's enemy. His name is Merequist and you will meet him shortly."
So that was it. Someone had it in for Luke and I was in the way. Perversely, I was almost disappointed. It made me feel like a secondary character or a supporting actor. Since Kyla was being so open, I decided to ask another question. "Does this have anything to do with the occasion during which we, ah, met?"
Her face assumed a more serious _expression. "We were very close at that point to actually finishing him off, but you interfered, aiding him. He escaped, taking you along with him and was able to recover. Afterward, alone, he staged a highly successful counter-attack, bringing our forces to ruin and injuring Merequist badly. In fact, I am almost positive that Luke thinks him dead. Now, though," her mouth formed a sinister smile, "he will learn otherwise." Suddenly, she stopped, a look of concentration spreading over her features. She mumbled something and extended a hand.
The shimmering apparition of a man, presumably Merequist, appeared next to her, holding her hand at face level. When he had gained total solidity, he kissed her knuckles lightly. In his other hand, he held Kyla's Trump. Merequist turned to face me.
His most striking features, I noted, were the tattoos covering every inch of exposed flesh on his body, including his face. There were many designs visible, mostly done in reds and blues. The images on his face were symmetrical, his left cheek being the mirror image of his right. His hair had been shaved into a thick black mohawk, creating more space for the designs spiraling along his skull. He stepped forward, releasing Kyla's hand, and came to stand before me, an appraising look on his face. "Hello." He smiled at me. The sleeves of his purple tunic ended just above his elbows and I could see more designs running along his arms. "You are Nigel?"
I nodded.
"The trusted agent of the King of Kashfa. I have no desire to sound impolite, but I will admit that I had hoped Rinaldo, or Luke, if you will, would come after my men himself. That would have moved him away from the place where he is most powerful."
"Sorry to disappoint you."
"Oh, do not fret, dear guest. Even though things did not go perfectly, I will have him soon enough. Until then," he said with a smirk, "you may enjoy my hospitality."
"I hardly think that I qualify as a guest�this is not the most hospitable home I have ever been in, either."
He gestured about him. "This is not really one of the finer areas, I assure you. This place is dedicated to an ongoing attempt to have my revenge against Rinaldo. I have spent years effecting designs that will facilitate my vengeance."
"What could Luke possibly have done to you that would cause you to go to such great lengths to achieve his demise?"
His face became reflective, the illustrations there moving when he relaxed the muscles in his cheeks and around his mouth. "My grievance with Rinaldo is not a recent thing. It goes back many years, to a time when we were young. You see, at one time, I was his father's apprentice."
"You studied under Brand?!"
He smiled at my look of shock. "Oh, yes, for a number of years. Along with two other young sorcerers. One of whom, like myself, hailed from Chaos," again he smiled, relishing my surprise. "The third had originated in some odd realm that possessed a power completely alien to either the Logrus or the Pattern. You see...there is much that you do not know."