'If that's where the Hounds of Shadow are at the moment, aye.'
Damn. 'All right, set your charges, Hedge, but don't start the sand grains running just yet.'
'Right.'
Paran watched the sapper head off. Then he drew out his Deck of Dragons. Paused, glancing over at Ganath, then Karpolan Demesand. Both saw what he held in his hands. The Trygalle master visibly blanched, then hurried back to his carriage. After a moment – and a long, unreadable look – the Jaghut followed suit.
Paran allowed himself a small smile. Yes, why announce yourselves to whomever I'm about to call upon? He squatted, setting the deck facedown on the mudstained walkway of branches. Then lifted the top card and set it down to the right. High House Shadow – who's in charge here, damned Deck, you or me? 'Shadowthrone,' he murmured, 'I require your attention.'
The murky image of the Shadow House remained singularly lifeless on the lacquered card.
'All right,' Paran said, 'I'll revise my wording. Shadowthrone, talk to me here and now or everything you've done and everything you're planning to do will get, quite literally, torn to pieces.'
A shimmer, further obscuring the House, then something like a vague figure, seated on a black throne. A voice hissed out at him, 'This had better be important. I'm busy and besides, even the idea of a Master of the Deck nauseates me, so get on with it.'
'The Deragoth are about to be released, Shadowthrone.'
Obvious agitation. 'What gnat-brained idiot would do that?'
'Can't be helped, I'm afraid-'
'You!'
'Look, I have my reasons, and they will be found in Seven Cities.'
'Oh,' the figure settled back down, 'those reasons. Well, yes. Clever, even. But still profoundly stupid.'
'Shadowthrone,' Paran said, 'the two Hounds of Shadow that Rake killed. The two taken by Dragnipur.'
'What about them?'
'I'm not sure how much you know, but I freed them from the sword.' He waited for another bout of histrionics, but… nothing. 'Ah, so you know that. Good. Well, I have discovered where they went… here, where they conjoined with their counterparts, and were then freed – no, not me. Now, I understand that they have since been killed. For good, this time.'
Shadowthrone raised a long-fingered hand that filled most of the card.
Closed it into a fist. 'Let me see,' the god's voice purred, 'if I understand you.' One finger snapped upward. 'The Nameless Idiots go and release Dejim Nebrahl. Why? Because they're idiots. Their own lies caught up with them, so they needed to get rid of a servant who was doing what they wanted him to do in the first place, only doing it too well!' Shadowthrone's voice was steadily climbing in pitch and volume.
A second finger shot into view. 'Then, you, the Master Idiot of the Deck of Dragons, decide to release the Deragoth, to get rid of Dejim Nebrahl. But wait, even better!' A third finger. 'Some other serious nasty wandering Seven Cities just killed two Deragoth, and maybe that nasty is still close by, and would like a few more trophies to drag behind his damned horse!' His voice was now a shriek. 'And now! Now!'
The hand closed back into a fist, shaking about. 'You want me to send the Hounds of Shadow to Seven Cities! Because it's finally occurred to that worm-ridden walnut you call a brain that the Deragoth won't bother with Dejim Nebrahl until they find my Hounds! And if they come looking here in my realm, there'll be no stopping them!' He halted suddenly, the fist motionless. Then various fingers sprang into view in an increasingly chaotic pattern. Shadowthrone snarled and the frenzied hand vanished. A whisper: 'Pure genius. Why didn't I think of that?' The tone began rising once more. 'Why? Because I'm not an idiot!!'
With that the god's presence winked out.
Paran grunted, then said, 'You never told me if you were going to send the Hounds of Shadow to Seven Cities.'
He thought then that he heard a faint scream of frustration, but perhaps it was only imagined. Paran returned the card to the deck, put it back into an inside pocket, and slowly straightened. 'Well,' he sighed, 'that wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it'd be.'
By the time Hedge returned, both Ganath and Karpolan had reappeared, their glances towards Paran decidedly uneasy.
The ghost gestured Paran closer and said quietly, 'It ain't going to work the way we wanted it, Captain. Too much distance between them – by the time I get to the closest one, the farthest one will have gone up, and if those Hounds are close, well, like I said, it ain't going to work.'