Shadowbane: Eye of Justice (The Shadowbane Series Book 3) by Erik Scott de Bie

Author:Erik Scott de Bie
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786961351
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2012-09-04T00:00:00+00:00

Shadowbane stood atop the long-defunct House of Spires and Shadows, perched like a hunting raptor among the statues of ancient heroes decorated with the cracks of age and spoor of sea birds. The temple had once served Mask, the god of thieves, until that deity’s inexplicable disappearance a century ago. How appropriate.

He watched as the two hurried off into the night, their attentions more suitably directed. Kalen Dren had always been easy to deflect, with a little manipulation. And Levia would, of course, follow him. Shadowbane had known about his teacher’s feelings for Kalen Dren for some time and had planned this move against her for almost as long. In truth, Shadowbane hoped Kalen would not come back, but planned for his return anyway.

Having failed to slay the true Shadowbane himself, sending him against Ilira Nathalan seemed like an excellent way to murder two foes with a single blade.

The Master would be pleased.

Shadowbane sensed the shadows moving around him before his contact materialized, and his hand went for his dagger reflexively. Hessar watched him for a time, thinking himself undetected, and Shadowbane let him. He knew well that the shade liked looking at him—a dangerous distraction. Hessar was a liability as much as a blessing, but for now, Shadowbane needed him. More importantly, the Master needed him. For now.

“It is done?” he asked, his voice thick like gravel.

“It is.” Hessar stepped out of the shadows and stood easy, his eyes gleaming with a golden luster in the moonlight. He always seemed relaxed around Shadowbane. Amusing. “I have redirected them, as our master commands.”

“You are sure you did not overplay your hand?”

Hessar chuckled. “You question me, little boy?”

Hessar’s words choked off and his gold eyes widened as Shadowbane’s hand closed around his throat. “Do not forget yourself, shade.”

Hessar was not so easily cowed. The monk swept his arm wide to foil the grip, but when he stepped away, Shadowbane followed with equal speed. They grappled for a moment, as Shadowbane forced his way through Hessar’s attempts to escape with unnerving strength. Then the monk’s body wavered and flowed out of his grasp. Hessar disappeared into the darkness, only to find that the younger man flowed right with him in tune.

They danced through the shadows together—first along the temple roof, then across the street to the opposite building, down into the alley nearby, then away again across Westgate. They evoked more than one startled cry as the two figures appeared and disappeared with equal rapidity. As they went, their arms and hands worked, wrestling in one another’s clutches. Hessar twisted and grappled with elegance, clearly a master of his craft. But shade or not, he was still a man, and Shadowbane was more. He had the strength of a vengeful god behind him.

In the center of Westgate market, a pair of merchants and their dozen or so bodyguards cried out and staggered away as the two men surged out of their forest of shadow and sprawled onto the dusty cobblestones. One merchant fell back, raising a cry of treachery, while the other turned and fled, calling for the watch.

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