He caught one brief glimpse of a dark beast bounding up the stairs at the end of the corridor, trailing a cord, and then the creature darted out of sight in the stone labyrinth of Aetheric’s dungeons. “Rings, Belgin, go after the doppelganger. Join the damned paladins if you must, but make sure one of you slays her. We want our reward.” Entreri didn’t waste words, reflected Belgin. Fine. He’d follow the assassin’s orders and be done with the whole affair. No mere chest of jewels could possibly compensate him for the pain and madness he’d already endured, and every moment he delayed in the execution of Entreri’s command only added to his losses. He wheezed and gasped for breath as he floundered after Miltiades and Jacob. Water dragged at his tailored trousers and waistcoat, and a dozen bruises and sprains announced themselves as he drove forward. “Come on, Rings,” he huffed. The effort of speaking as he ran brought on a fit of coughing that raked his chest with fiery knives.
