Free Temple Hill by Drew Karpyshyn Page A

invite any Mask assassins back up to my room.”
    “You remind me of Olear.” Corin’s answer was delivered in a voice completely devoid of emotion.
    “Olear?” Lhasha said, curious. “Who was he? An old friend?”
    “A client.”
    With an exaggerated sigh, Lhasha rose to the bait. “Tell me about Olear, Corin. I know you want to.”
    The warrior shrugged indifferently, but he did resume speaking.
    “Before I joined the White Shields I did some mercenary work. On one job I was hired to guard the son of a merchant involved in a particularly nasty commerce war with a rival family.”
    “And Olear was his son?”
    Corin nodded. “Flamboyant. Reckless. Had to be the center of attention. A lot like you.”
    Lhasha was about to give a light hearted protest to the not altogether inaccurate representation, but Corin never gave her the opportunity.
    “He liked female company, even if he had to pay for it. And he hated having us stand guard outside his door while he was with his companions. Just like you.
    “One night he sneaked away from us, determined to have a private evening with a very special lady of the night. She was a professional, but not the kind he imagined. We found him the next morning. What was left of him. Several pieces were missing and his body had been butchered and defiled with unholy magic, just to make sure he couldn’t be raised.”
    Lhasha tried to laugh the tale off, but her guffaw sounded forced and artificial to her own ears. The story had been delivered with such emotionless simplicity, she couldn’t help but believe it to be completely true.
    “A trite morality tale, Corin,” she said, putting up a bold front. “Save it for scaring children, instead of your clients.”
    She knew her voice lacked conviction. Despite her many outstanding promises of continued dances, and her more private intentions concerning the companionship of one handsome and charming young man in particular, when the band returned Lhasha went up to her room alone, except for the taciturn bodyguard who followed her up the stairs.
    “Let me check your room,” Corin said, once they reached Lhasha’s door.
    The half-elf sighed. “Corin, this isn’t necessary right now. That dagger in my pillow was a message from the Purple Masks. Join them or leave town. When they find out I’ve moved out of my room at the Wyvern’s Pipe, they’ll just assume I’ve left Elversult for good. Until I pull . a few jobs, they won’t even be looking for me.”
    Lhasha knew she was right. There was no real danger, not this soon, but Corin persisted. “You need to get into the proper mindset,” the warrior explained. “If you want to survive, we have to start forming good habits right now.”
    With a shrug, Lhasha handed the warrior her key— this wasn’t worth fighting about. Corin opened the door cautiously, letting the light from the hall spill into the darkened room. Sword drawn, he peered in every corner and took a quick check under the bed.
    Lhasha couldn’t stop a soft giggle from escaping her throat. The warrior turned with a scowl, and Lhasha laughed again.
    “I’m sorry Corin,” she said after catching her breath. “You just look so funny peeking under my bed. Fendel used to do that when I was a little girl. Said he was looking for bed trolls. It always made me laugh.”
    Corin slowly got to his feet. “All clear,” was all he said.
    “Oh, I’m sure it is,” Lhasha replied with a smile.
    The warrior went over to the door that separated
    their adjacent rooms. “Don’t lock this,” he said, undoing the latch.
    “Can I at least keep it closed,” Lhasha asked sarcastically, “So I don’t have you staring in at me all night?” “Close it if you must.”
    As soon as Corin stepped through to his own room, she did just that.
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    Lhasha slept late the next morning, Corin didn’t hear her get up until almost noon. He himself had spent the night standing guard at the threshold of the door between their adjacent