Free Masque of Death (Kormak Book Nine) (The Kormak Saga 9) by William King

not seen this.” He pointed to his wife then covered his eyes with his huge hand and began to sob.
    Kormak studied the body, willing it to give up some clue as to who had killed it. The corpse said nothing. It was time to go.
    “I will remain here for a minute,” said Shahad. “I would like to say goodbye. In private.”
    Kormak left the man to his grief.

    * * *
    “ S o you killed Lady Khiyana ?” Orson asked. He stared at the assassin, willing the changeling to look away but as always it was the merchant who blinked first. He studied the chamber around him, taking in the beautifully carved furniture, the rich tapestries, the cut glass decanters, the fine weapons. He rested his weight upon his plush couch. “Do you think it will really slow down the Guardian?”
    “I think you forget who you are talking to, friend Orson,” said the changeling. The shapeshifter seemed to have altered his manner since coming ashore and meeting Count Balthazar. Orson was not sure why but it seemed as if the assassin felt like it did not need him any more. “I am not one of your lackeys.”
    Not for the first time, he wished the Count was here. The sorcerer seemed to handle the changeling much better. “You are not my superior either.”
    The changeling said, “What have you done to advance our venture?”
    “My man Lorenzo and his agents are investigating the provenance of the sarcophagus. It should not be too difficult to locate the people who sold it to the Governor. Enough of the gold you affect to despise will let a man find out anything eventually. Lorenzo is efficient, and he knows this city.”
    “Let us hope it is soon. We may have gained only a few hours by the death of Lady Khiyana.”
    “Did you enjoy killing the woman?” Orson kept his tone bored. He found that sometimes worked with the changeling far more than any show of interest.
    It tilted its head to one side and seemed to consider Orson long and hard. “No. It was necessary for my mission. Do you think you would have enjoyed doing it?”
    The changeling’s gaze intensified. It wanted very much to know the answer to that question. What did it know that Orson didn’t? Something about Khiyama’s death had affected it; Orson felt sure.
    “No,” Orson said. “Did you speak to her before she died? What did she tell you?”
    “Nothing,” said the changeling.
    Orson felt sure it was lying. He wished he knew what the accursed woman had said. She was far deeper into the mysteries of Balthazar’s cult than Orson had ever cared to be. There were questions there he suspected he would not like the answers to. “Was it really necessary to pretend to be the Guardian?”
    “I suspect that man frightens you, friend Orson.”
    “With good reason. The man killed Vorkhul, a consort of the Lady, one of her chosen warmasters. Vorkhul was known as a slayer of armies.”
    “Vorkhul was sadly diminished when he encountered the hillman.”
    “I have not noticed you being anxious to cross swords with him since your last attempt.”
    “Do you seek to provoke my wrath, friend Orson. Death comes for every man in the end.”
    Orson matched the changeling’s smile. It seemed he had found a weak spot in its armour. “Even you.”
    “Ah, but you are assuming that I am a man.”
    No. You are not that, Orson thought. You are a freak and your time is coming. He did not like the changeling. It was an ally foisted on him by circumstance. He needed it because of its connection to the Courts of the Moon and the power they represented. Once that alliance was made, the removal of one shapeshifting assassin would not matter a damn. Perhaps, he would make sure the Guardian knew where to look for his prey. Orson was looking forward to that day more than he cared to admit even to himself.
    The changeling gave him a disturbing smile. Almost as if he were reading Orson’s thoughts. But that was not possible. Was it?

Chapter Seven
    K ormak strode into the Governor’s study.
    “Well, did