Easy Betrayals Read Free

her.
    “Eidola!” howled Miltiades. “There is no place in this world distant enough, dark enough, foul enough to hide you from Tyr’s justice! Answer me!”
    “Forget it, paladin,” said Rings. “She’s gone. You might be able to make her speak truth, but if she chooses a form incapable of speech you can’t compel her to obey you.”
    “I’m not done with her yet,” Miltiades snapped. He stepped to the edge of the balcony, then the sides, studying the great gallery. “Come on. I think we can cross farther down.”
    “She can be anything she wants,” Jacob said. “We might never catch her. Shouldn’t we go after Entreri instead to make sure the bloodforge is destroyed? We’ve a better chance at that.”
    Miltiades shook his head. “You heard her. She means to return to Waterdeep and finish whatever plot she started there. Someone’s got to stop her.”
    “We’re in the Utter East, Miltiades. It’d take her months to get back to Waterdeep.”
    “It might take us months, too.” The tall paladin closed his eyes, thinking or praying, and then opened them again. “We follow the doppelganger, Jacob. I fear for Kern and Trandon, too, but I feel that Tyr means us to take this path.”
    Jacob opened his mouth as if to argue the point further, but surrendered. “Okay. Well run her to ground, if we can. Now, what of these two?” He indicated Belgin and Rings with a jerk of his thumb.
    Belgin watched the two warriors warily. He felt Rings shift behind him, moving closer for support. “You’ve known our intentions toward the lady all along,” the sharper said. “You call it justice, we call it business, but we mean to see her dead. We gave our word on it.”
    “What’s that worth?” Jacob said icily.
    Belgin put out a hand to steady Rings as the dwarf stepped up, eyes blazing. “This day, as much as yours,” he said. “We’ve got a better reason to cooperate now than we did before. If that’s not good enough for you, Rings and I will go our own way. But we’ll be following the doppelganger, I promise you.”
    Jacob’s eyes narrowed, but he slowly relented, a shallow smile on his face. I know that look, Belgin mused. That’s the look that says, I could kill you now, but I’d rather kill you later. Meeting the fighter’s sneer with a smirk of his own, Belgin bowed formally. “If we’re agreed, then, let’s get to it,” he said. “We’ve a shapeshifter to catch.”
    They scrambled down several levels, scaling the stone balustrades that ringed the gallery’s upper corridors, then crossed on a narrow buttress of stone that bridged the dark hall. On the opposite side, they cautiously clambered up the ancient facade and set off down the hallway into which Eidola had disappeared. It was a dirty, strenuous exercise that left Belgin’s limbs quivering with strain and a deep, burring rasp in his chest, but he found the strength to make the crossing without calling on his companions for aid.
    “She’s got a half-hour lead on us, at least,” Jacob grumbled. “How can you catch something that can grow wings, or fins, or extra legs anytime she feels like it?”
    “Perseverance,” Miltiades replied. Drawn and haggard, bloodied by a dozen small wounds, it seemed that nothing but determination kept the paladin on his feet. “She’ll give up before we will.”
    “Pray we catch up to her before she finds her way out of these crypts,” said Belgin. “If she gets to the city above, perseverance won’t matter.”
    “Well see.” Miltiades shrugged sparely and returned his attention to the hall before them. The dismal sconces of the mage-king’s dungeons were far behind them, and with a muttered prayer the paladin halted to conjure a shining white light on the head of his warhammer, illuminating the corridor. It was long and straight, faced with a faded and peeling plaster that bore hints of ancient murals. Dust lay thick on the floor, but scuffling paw prints showed where Eidola had passed.
    With