In the Minrathous Circle Tower there was a growing silence.
The two Imperial Edges ripped from the thrall's body with a sound like wet leather tearing then swooped up, around and down in two powerful overhand arcs as the elf dropped to his knees. The blades landed on either side of their victim's unarmoured neck, metal shearing deep from shoulder to mid-chest. There was no outcry of pain, the slave simply jerked and went limp, his brands and eyes ceasing to glow, his face empty.
Xai Merras released the hilts and took two steps back; the dead elf slumped forwards, his head hanging, until the tips of the blades stopped him from falling any further and metal scraped softly against the floor. Blood poured from the wounds into an expanding crimson pool.
Zevran couldn't see the Warden's face but he could tell just by observing the stance, the rapid breathing, how he was staring down at the dead slave, that the human, the Crow Master, had been knocked badly off-balance. Before he cou