The Well of Darkness Read Online Free PDF

see, the High Lord gave me very specific orders. He wanted ‘the woman’ alive, and ‘the pouch’ unopened.”
    “Your loyalty is commendable,” I said. “Flexible, too. How long had Pylomel been dead before you accepted those orders from Indomel? One hour? Two?”
    “On that score,” he said, kneeling beside me, “you are very wrong, my friend. Indomel has had my loyalty for quite a while. It suited him to have me serve Pylomel.”
    “I suppose you had his permission to sell slaves into the Living Death?” I asked, repressing a shudder.
    The Living Death was an assassin group, dying men and women brought away from the copper mines and given a short life of luxury in exchange for assassination and suicide. I had faced two of them, and it wasn’t an experience I wanted to repeat.
    “I take something of little value,” Obilin said with a shrug. “If he knew, Indomel would probably compliment my enterprise—before he had me killed, of course.” He laughed. “Aren’t you wondering,” he said, after a moment, “why you’re still alive?”
    “You tell me,” I said. I was having a hard time finding the energy to talk. Obilin had the Ra’ira, and Indomel would have it soon. Keeshah was gone. I wanted to slip away from it all, drift into a sleep from which I’d never bother to waken.
    Only one thing kept me from doing it. Tarani’s hands were busy with Obilin’s water pouch, cleaning and dressing the wounds on my hands and arm. Her touch was a reminder that it wasn’t just
my
life I’d be throwing away.
    She might be better off on her own
; I argued with myself. Just then, Tarani moved slightly, pressing her knee into my side. I looked up at her, and she managed a smile.
    Obilin noticed the look we exchanged. “Yes, you’re right, the lady is partially responsible for your well being. We determined, after several, ah, contests, that she can’t control me and the dralda at the same time, so we struck a bargain—I let you live in exchange for her promise not to use her power on me.
    “What she doesn’t know, however,” he added, standing up to pace around us, “is that you’re far more valuable to me alive than dead.” He laughed again. “I had no intention of killing you in the first place.”
    “Then that means the bargain is off, doesn’t it?” I said. “He’s talking about the reward, Tarani. Worfit, remember?”
    She nodded. “The roguelord in Raithskar. You thought he had sent the Living Death after you, when it had been Gharlas who had wanted Dharak dead.”
    The sound of Dharak’s name brought a flood of memories of him, of Thymas his son, of Thagorn.
We could use a troop of Sharith about now
, I thought.
Just Thymas and his sha’um, Ronar, would help.
I winced from the pain of a wound greater than the ones Tarani was treating.
Hell, all I need is Keeshah. God, I wish he were still with us.
    “Worfit is no longer in Raithskar,” Obilin said. “He has taken over Molik’s operation in Chizan—every inch of it. He does hate you, Rikardon,” he said, pointing the pouch at me. “That’s a story I’d like to hear someday. When I first heard about the reward, it was ten thousand zaks for you and the sword, dead or alive. After you were spotted in Dyskornis, the ante went up—ten thousand for the sword, and ten thousand more for you—
alive.
“
    He knelt again, and brought his face close to mine. He was, indeed, a handsome man if you could look only at his body. But his personality was too visible. He wore his nastiness like a top hat.
    “It’s not the money I want, Rikardon,” he said. “You’re going to be a goodwill gift to the new master of Chizan’s rogueworld. I’ll expect the money, too, but I’ll trade half of it for the privilege of watching whatever Worfit has planned for you. It should start out personal dealings off well.”
    “You haven’t met him?” I asked.
    “Not yet,” he said. “Though we are already doing business. Is there something I should