"I guess all that service with your soldier buddies was good for something," Denrick scoffed, advancing again. "You may not fight worth a damn, but at least you're good at the acrobatics."

Vambran ignored the other man's jibes and concentrated on matching his moves. The lieutenant had to admit that the Pharaboldi whelp was an excellent swordsman. He had already pushed Vambran back three times, and the mercenary officer was beginning to wonder if there was a way inside the man's defenses. Though Vambran's blade was a bit longer, Denrick was very fast with his, and he always seemed have a parry in place when Vambran attacked.

"Come on," Denrick said, "the night's not getting any younger. If I'm going to have any time left for your sister's charms, we've got to finish this sometime in the next few hours."

Vambran knew the man was just trying to rattle him, and he worked hard to tune out the scathing words. But every time Denrick mentioned Emriana, the lieutenant wanted to smash his head against a wall. The first time Denrick had taunted Vambran with his carnal intentions, Vambran had let his emotions get the best of him and jumped in for a fierce series of slashes and cuts, thinking to put the upstart down then and there. But Vambran was rudely awakened when he took a cut across his wrist. It was a glancing blow, and Denrick's blade wasn't turned at precisely the right angle, but it had opened Vambran's eyes to just how cunning and talented his foe really was.

As Denrick closed for a new attack, Vambran dropped down and sliced at the man's feet. Denrick leaped over the swing and used his momentum to turn a back flip back out of the way as Vambran came up suddenly, thrusting into the air where Denrick had been a split-second before.

Vambran's rush carried his center of balance a little too far forward, though, and Denrick came back in with a downward stroke, trying to cleave Vambran's head in half. The lieutenant rolled to one side, grabbing at a pedestal with a bit of ancient Netherese pottery displayed atop it. Vambran pulled the pedestal down and around, clipping Denrick's knee as the scoundrel's blade clanked off the pottery, shattering it. Vambran rolled away and spun around again.

Denrick smiled as he came closer again.

"Arm getting tired?" he asked casually. "I can cut it off if it is," he added, smirking.

Vambran noted that members of the Sapphire Crescent were gathering below, and several more of the mercenaries were ascending the stairs, coming to aid him. Denrick would quickly be outnumbered. Though he suspected the man could take a soldier or two down before he himself dropped, Vambran would prefer not to lose any of his men.

"Your time is up," Vambran said to his foe. "It's only a matter of time before we drop you. Let's spare both of us a lot of pain and end this sensibly. You don't want to die, do you?"

"No, but I want you to die," the younger man retorted, charging in on Vambran again. The lieutenant was forced to spring to the side of the new rush, and he slammed against the railing of the balcony again, overbalancing and tumbling over the top of it.

For an instant, Vambran seemed to hang in midair, flailing as his body tilted awkwardly, his sword spinning out away from him. Then he managed to grasp hold of one of the spindles of the railing, jerking himself to a stop, but wrenching his shoulder in the process. He dangled there for a moment, his arm twisted painfully over his head, and let go, dropping down to the sitting room below, just as Denrick lunged out over the banister to try and stab at him.

Vambran's escape permitted several of the mercenaries watching the melee from below to get in a clean shot with their crossbows, and Denrick took two hits as he tried to straighten back up. One bolt grazed his arm, marking a clean line diagonally along the forearm, and the other sank deeply into his thigh. The young man howled in pain and staggered back from the railing, sinking down onto his backside in a whimper.

Vambran heaved a sigh of relief as several more soldiers moved in around Denrick, taking him prisoner. The lieutenant looked up and saw Kovrim, Adyan, and Horial among the troops, and he smiled at them.

"Good timing," he said. "I owe you, boys."

Kovrim nodded, and Horial started to say something as the men upstairs forced Denrick to his feet and began to march him back toward the stairs. But everyone stopped short as a clear, calm shout echoed through the sitting room.

"Vambran!" It was Evester. He stood at the railing of the highest balcony, one level above the study, where Old Obiron's library was. Beside him, standing stiffly, was Emriana. She had a sorrowful look on her face, and Vambran suddenly realized that she was bound.

The lieutenant shook his head.

"Evester?" he called out, "Are you all right?"

"No," the mercenary's older brother called down, a hard edge to his voice. "No, I'm not. You've ruined everything, you stupid lout."

"I did what?" Vambran said, moving to a different spot where he could see better. "What are you talking about?"

"It wasn't Uncle Dregaul, Vam," Emriana called forlornly. "It was Evester. He's behind it all."

Vambran's breath caught in his throat as he heard his sister's chilling words.

"What are you doing, Evester? What is this about?"

"It's about me taking my rightful place as the head of the family, about getting things done that no one else can do. And it's about you interfering with all of it."

"How did I do that, Ev? What did I interfere with?"

"My alliance, you idiot! You came home and promptly shredded the whole plan to pieces. Because you had to stick your nose into something that had no effect on you at all."

"Oh, so because it wasn't anyone I know, I shouldn't care what happened to her?"

"By the gods, Vambran, save your concern for the people who really matter! If you devoted half as much of your noble concern worrying about how your actions affect your family as you do worrying about some stupid, common wench, we wouldn't be here right now."

"That's pretty funny, coming from the man who has usurped the family seat, practically sold his own sister into slavery, and is going to-to do what, Ev? Are you going to get rid of us? Me? Em? Grandmother Hetta? You think all of that is showing concern for your family?"

"Shut up," Evester said, pulling a dagger and placing it against Emriana's throat. "What would you know about it, anyway? All you ever managed to do was shoot the Lord of Arrabar's cousin and let someone else take the blame for it. Not only did you put the whole future of the House-my future-in jeopardy, but then you couldn't even stick around and take your lumps like a man. No, you had to run off and join a mercenary band while I stayed here and learned the business. And everything that Uncle Dregaul and I tried to get you to do to help improve the family's station, you railed against. So how would you know what's good for the family?"

"Waukeen, Evester," Vambran said quietly, "you think I didn't regret that every single day of my life? You think I didn't wish I could take it back? That's the very reason why I wouldn't let this go. Maybe Jithelle Skolotti was just a 'common wench,' but I couldn't stand by and watch another person's family wonder what really happened, like I did to Rodolpho's." Evester shook his head.

"I'm through talking with you," he said. "Just get up here. And Denrick. Both of you climb up here now, or Em slips and falls over the side."

And, just to show he meant it, Evester grabbed his sister by the shoulder and shoved her forward, making her lean out over the railing.

Emriana yelped in fright and struggled to back away from the drop, but Evester had all the leverage, and he just kept pushing her, forcing her farther and farther out.

"Vam! Help me!" the girl shrieked. "Please, stop it!"