Shadow Chaser by Alexey Pehov Page B

and took a swig from his mug. “I had to follow them for quite a long time, and then hang about for even longer in a little hidey-hole while they waited for the man. They gave him the item that was stolen from you, Tresh Miralissa, took their money, sang the praises of the Master, and went on their way.”
    “And what about the man?”
    “He went off in the opposite direction, so I had to choose who to follow. I decided the stolen item was more important and followed the man. A cunning pest, I tell you; I almost lost him.”
    “Did he notice you?” Miralissa asked anxiously.
    “Oh no … He couldn’t have.”
    “Why didn’t you finish him off, if he had the Key?” the gnome asked in a disappointed voice.
    “There were four others with him. Bodyguards. And he looked like a dangerous enough specimen himself. I even thought he might be a shaman—his skin was so pale.”
    “Did you say pale?” I exclaimed.
    “White. As white as chalk.”
    Could this be my old acquaintance Rolio? If so, then it really was him I’d seen at the Large Market. The Nameless One’s followers had done the job for Paleface, and the Master’s servants had simply lain in waiting for their prey in the dark alley, shot the thieves with their bows, and taken the Key. Tonight the hired killer had done what the Master’s shaman had failed to do fifteen hundred years earlier in the Mountains of the Dwarves, and now the Master would at long last hold in his hands the artifact he craved so badly.
    “Carry on, Honeycomb,” Egrassa said.
    “Carry on with what?” Honeycomb asked with a shrug. “I’m not Tomcat, may his soul dwell in the light, I’m about as good a tracker as Hallas is a jeweler, but I managed to stick with the lad to the end. He’s in a huge mansion in the southern district of the city. And that’s the whole story.”
    “What kind of house is it? Where exactly is it located?”
    “The darkness only knows where it’s located. I’ve never been in this city before. I only just managed to find my way back here. But I can recognize it. It’s not a house, it’s a palace, and it has fancy gates, with some kind of birds on them.”
    “That’s great! Now we’ll break those birds’ little wings!” said Hallas. He stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth and reached for his battle-mattock.
    “Where do you think you’re going in such a great hurry?” Uncle asked, watching the gnome curiously.
    “What do you mean? We have to get that Key back from them.”
    “With one incomplete platoon? Without knowing who we’re going up against? Without knowing how many guards there are? Get a grip, Hallas! That smack you got in the teeth must have been too hard,” the dwarf quipped.
    “Sit down, Hallas,” Alistan said quietly, and the gnome, who had been on the point of starting a brawl with Deler, went back to his seat, shamefaced. “We need to find out who we’re dealing with before we get into a fight.”
    “Who we’re dealing with? I think I can probably answer that question for you, Milord Alistan,” I blurted out without thinking, and then bit my tongue, but it was already too late.
    “Have you become a visionary, thief?” Count Markauz asked me.
    “Oh no, Your Grace. It’s all much simpler than that. The man who took the Key from the Nameless One’s men who attacked us is my old friend Paleface. And Paleface, as you recall, serves the Master. I think we can assume that whoever lives in that house is another one of the Master’s errand boys, like Rolio.”
    “Well now, that is logical,” Miralissa agreed, and snapped her fingers in annoyance. “So this Master has thwarted us yet again.…”
    Alistan chuckled scornfully, making it very clear that he found my reasoning unconvincing.
    “I beg your pardon, Lady Miralissa,” Eel drawled, speaking for the first time. “Just recently the lads and I heard you talk about this mysterious Master. Could you tell us a little more about him? We feel like blind kittens—we