That was Sariana's problem, Gryph decided. She hadn't spent much time in fun and games. She'd been too focused on the entwined paths of a successful career and a marriage that was intended to be a business alliance, not a passionate relationship. But Gryph was confident he could fix all that for her.
All he had to do was get her attention long enough to convince her she was working toward the wrong destiny.
Getting her attention was not, however, proving as easy as he had thought after that midnight encounter in the conservatory. Gryph had seen very little of Sariana for the past three days. She seemed to be always either buried in paperwork, in conference with Lord and Lady Avylyn, or on her way to another "luncheon meeting" with Etion Rakken.
Every tune he had managed to find Sariana alone, he had been treated to a long string of pointed inquiries about the progress of his assignment. He was beginning to wonder if it might not be wisest to find the damned prisma cutter Just so that Sariana would be forced to shut up on the subject.
The lady had a way of keeping a man at bay. Gryph smiled in spite of his mood. She was invariably self-possessed, self-assured and self-confident when she was discussing business. When she wasn't
discussing business she managed to keep the conversation focused squarely on the unimportant of the trivial.
The woman could certainly talk, Gryph reflected. But Gryph was certain he could sense the passion that was locked away in her. The need to be the one who unlocked it was fast becoming an all-consuming need.
Gryph turned a comer and started down a narrow brick path that didn't warrant the tide of street. He pushed all stray thoughts of Sariana and the ball temporarily aside as a prickle of heightened awareness went down his spine. He was getting close to the meeting point stipulated in Brinton's message. He started counting the yawning black mouths that were alleys leading off of the path. When he reached the third one he stopped. Brinton should be waiting nearby.
Gryph stood motionless against the wall, letting the darkness swallow him. There was no sound or movement in the shadows around him. The distant rattle of a carriage floated down the street behind him and was soon gone. No intelligent carriage driver would hang around this part of town for long.
Then he heard the faint groan from the end of the alley and Gryph knew that Brinton's career as an informer had just hit a snag.
Gryph's fingers played lightly over the prisma lock of his weapon kit. The leather pouch opened. He reached inside and withdrew the small vapor light. He thumbed the mechanism that released a spark into the vapor and instantly a faint beam revealed a portion of the littered alley.
It was empty except for what appeared to be a pile of old clothes at the far end. Gryph hesitated, all his trained senses protesting his decision to enter what could easily become a trap. The alley only had one exit.
But Gryph was grimly certain that it was Brinton who lay in a crumpled heap at the base of the brick wall. And there was no getting around the fact that he probably wouldn't have been there if he hadn't been working for Gryph. Brinton might have been lying in some other dark alley, waiting for some other customer, if he hadn't taken this particular job, but that was beside the point. With a last glance up and down the path to ensure he was alone, Gryph entered the alley.
A few seconds later he crouched beside the fallen man, reached out to touch him and knew there was no hope.
"Brinton?"
The man didn't move, but there was another low groan. Brinton was barely breathing. The tiny vapor lamp revealed a dark, widening stain on the man's shirt.
"Hang on, pal. I'll get you out of here." Gryph knew from the size of the stain and the feel of Brinton's skin that there wasn't much point in trying to get him to a medic, but there was little else that could be done. There were better places to die than in an alley.
"Shield." The single word was little more than a breath between Brinton's bloodied lips. "Yes," Gryph said, as he pushed a hand under Brinton's shirt to see if he could slow the bleeding
before he tried to move the man. "It's me. By the Lightstorm, I'm sorry, Brinton. I swear I had no way of knowing things were this serious."
"No! Not you. Another Shield." Brinton's eyes opened slightly and he tried to focus on Gryph's face. His words were thick and heavy in his mouth. "I didn't find out who has the cutter."
"It doesn't matter, Brinton. Take it easy, man. I'm going to get you to a medic." Gryph felt blood and torn flesh beneath his hand. Quickly he worked to tighten Brinton's shirt into a makeshift bandage. Brinton slapped restlessly at his hand.
"No time. Get away, Chassyn. Get away."
"I'm going to put you over my shoulder," Gryph said, bracing himself to lift the smaller man. "No… point. Listen to me. You always paid on time. Good client. Reliable. I owe you for… you
helped me a few years back."
"You don't owe me anything."
Brinton shook his head and blood trickled down his chin. "Not true. I owe you. Going to pay you back. Tonight. Only way I can. Information. Didn't find the cutter, but something more important. There's another Shield out there who doesn't want it found. You hear me, Chassyn? Another Shield. I don't
know who… he's responsible for the missing cutter."
Gryph went still. "A Shield did this to you?"
"No. I'm not worth a Shield's time. But he probably sent the ones who got me. I heard…" Brinton coughed again. "I heard something about the thieves taking the cutter to Little Chance. You paid for this information. Take it and use it. But be careful. The cutter's not worth your life." Brinton began to gasp painfully.
Gryph waited no longer. He had done the best he could for the bleeding. He leaned down and maneuvered Brinton over his shoulder. The man was unconscious now. It was just as well.
Gryph started toward the alley entrance, balancing the dying man's weight with one hand and holding the small vapor lamp with the other.
He was only half out of the walled trap when the caped figure with the blade bow in his hand stepped into the alley. The vapor lamp's slender ray picked him out just as he raised his arm to fire the bow.
Gryph's reaction was reflexive. He shut his eyes and nicked a second switch on the small hand lamp. The narrow beam became a short-lived, blinding flare of light that filled the alley. An instant later it vanished completely leaving everything in utter darkness. The capped figure shouted in anger as he was temporarily blinded. The bow zinged softly.
Gryph was already throwing himself to one side and groping for a throwing blade, but the weight of Brinton's body made the maneuver uncharacteristically and dangerously awkward. He felt the impact of the stranger's blade as it sliced through his jacket and across his shoulder. Then he felt the pain.
