Category: daggers

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35-Feather Bed

The Countess retired from the pageantry around midnight, and I was very glad to escape the glittering halls in favor of her quiet chambers. She’d danced the whole night with Ilya Terr, and talked with him when they weren’t dancing. The court could barely function for staring. Brell, Karolya and I handed the Countess off to other leanyodi and headed down the hallway to our own rooms. When I stopped at my door, Brell stopped, too.

She tossed me a conspiratorial look, “I met the entire delegation.”

“Did you?”

“Some handsome men in that group,” she said, arching a brow, “I’m dying to know which one you know and why. But they were invited. Which, is hardly a surprise since our King invited everyone within two month’s journey. The Ambassador’s companions claim they volunteered to come because of the horses.”

I looked at her skeptically, my hand on the doorknob. “Here for the horses?”

“Some of the families will sell or give horses to those who ask,” explained Brell. I knew that already. I also already knew that Valredes was a connoisseur of horseflesh.

“Is that all?”

She shrugged. “That’s what they said. Do you think they’re lying?”

I met her eyes, “I don’t know.”

Brell gave me a nod, coquettishness fading. “I’ll keep an eye on them,” she said, seriously, before turning and continuing down the hallway.

I changed into the loose-fitting trousers and tunic and washed the silver and kohl of my face. I slipped Shiharr and Azzad over my shoulders, and a dressing gown over that. Then I padded barefoot down the hall and back to the Countess’s chambers. The guards nodded to me and let me pass. They would have orders from Druskin about me.

One of the leanyodi had just finished spreading blankets on the couch in the sitting room. She nodded at me and headed out the door. I waited a few moments, absorbing the silence of the room until two more leanyodi exited the bedroom. They both nodded to me. The moment they were gone, I walked into the bedroom. The Countess was sitting on the bed in night clothes similar to mine, her long hair hanging loose down her back. Her face was pink from scrubbing off all the paint. One lamp sat lit on a table beside the bed.

She looked at me in surprise. “Zephra? What are you doing in here? Is something wrong?”

I crossed my arms, “Nothing’s wrong. But I have bad news.”

“What is it?” she was deadly serious.

“I’ll be sleeping in the bed.”

She stared at me. “What?”

“I haven’t decided yet if you can sleep in the bed, too,” I continued the bedside and fluffed the pillows. “Though, with two bodies any assassin would have a solid chance of making the wrong choice, and I can keep a closer eye on you than if you were on the couch.”

“Zephra…”

“Yes,” I decided, “you can stay in the bed. Some assassins would be all too happy to slit the throat of an attendant on a couch.”

“Zephra!” she lurched backwards, hand to her chest in horror.

It was probably a little callous to tell her this way, but I’d had time to think while she was dancing and I was carefully dodging a piece of my past through the ballroom. I’d had time to remember knives in the dark, assassins and Huntsmen alike. I’d taken on several through the years. I wasn’t taking chances with the Countess.

“Druskin mentioned he’d asked you to stay in my chambers,” said the Countess, “I didn’t realize he meant in my bed.” Her tone conveyed that she knew perfectly well Druskin hadn’t meant her bed. I was pretty sure Angari spoke about beds as little as possible and thought about them constantly.

I tossed two pillows to the foot of the bed, “We’ll put your head at the foot of the bed, it’ll be safer down there.”

“Zephra!” the Countess objected again, jumping to her feet and snatching up one of the pillows. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“My lady,” I turned to face her, one hand propped on my hip, “I would rather sleep in my own bed than yours.”

“This can’t really be necessary.”

“Do I need to remind you that several people want you dead?” I fixed her with a stare, hard enough that her indignation faded.

She took a deep breath and nodded, “Of course. Nothing has changed.”

Her perspective on the wedding had shifted. The threats to her life had not. Putting my hand on her elbow, I said, “If anyone were to try violence in the night, better they find a paranoid knife fighter instead of a politically gifted Countess.”

She gazed at me, looking through me like she had once or twice before. I looked away quickly, uprooting the sheets and blanks from the end of the bed so she could climb beneath them more easily. She didn’t say anything as she crawled into bed, or as I turned down the lamp, shed my dressing gown, and tucked my knives under one of the feather pillows. Once I’d gotten into bed myself, and we’d arranged ourselves carefully so our legs didn’t touch, the Countess asked, “How many people have you killed?”

I sighed, letting my body practically soak into the feather mattress and pillows. I thought of her face when I’d killed the man in her tent. “Many,” I said at last.

“Is it…difficult?”

“Mechanically? Not really, people are fragile things.”

“You know what I mean.”

I closed my eyes. There were parts of my mind where I did not dwell. I did not dwell on the feel or smell of blood, nor the sound of breath leaving a body. I did not dwell on what the stories of the dead might have been. I had accepted that I was a blade. And it was never a difficult choice. “I do not enjoy killing,” I said softly.

She was quiet for a while. Long enough that I thought she might be sleeping when she said, “I have killed many also—by my word, not by my hand—I do not enjoy it either.”

Even though it was dark, I propped myself up on my elbows to look at her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever shared a bed before.”

“You were wedged between Galo and I on the road,” I said.

“That was different. Now my head is at the wrong end and I can’t sleep.”

I could hear the rueful smile in her words. “Are you sure it’s the bed, and not a certain elf-lord who’s keeping you up?” it was grossly impertinent to say, but it came out anyway.

She actually laughed. “I feel very silly, but…it was…delightful…to spend the evening with him.”

“That’s probably a good sign,” I replied, laying down again.

“I forgot people were trying to kill me,” her voice was small.

“I noticed.”

*

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34-Deputized

I made myself move away from Valredes and the ambassador at a leisurely pace. Just a reveler who hadn’t found whoever she was looking for. I did not want to attract the attention of the man who’d described me so very well to whoever drew the wanted posters that dotted the Empire. Finding the staircase to the next level, I climbed to the third floor. There were much fewer people on this level, and I realized that I was older than everyone I saw. Apparently, this was where all the youths came to loiter if they weren’t dancing. Young men leaned on the balcony railing, some mixed groups talked in clusters in the walk or the alcoves. I was out of place up here. I noticed the princess, Sarika, in a nook with a couple other finely dressed girls. They were laughing. It was startlingly ordinary and my chest tightened at the sight. How many young royals had started out laughing and ended watching their people and families murdered before they forced to swear fealty to the murderer? My lips twisted in a grimace. If I tried, I could come up with an exact count. I kept walking until I came to the stairs halfway around the hall and could descend again to the lower levels.

I still didn’t want to risk dancing, so I found a spot along the balcony where the curve of the room hid me from where Valredes and the ambassador stood. I watched the main floor, noting that Ilya Terr had asked the Countess to dance, and they were making quite a good showing. I spied Quill in the dance, too. My surprise faded when I remembered he’d been to Angareth before, and as I watched I could see the faintest hesitation in some of the movements. He mostly knew the dances. I wondered if Bel Valredes would recognize the Captain of Tarr Kegan’s Guard in this setting, in this form. Quill was still dressing in the style of Magadar; his purple brocade had enough silver thread to catch the light from the chandeliers, and he was much more expressive than he’d been as Captain. Guards were mostly scenery. Surely, he’d be unrecognizable. The real question remained, why was Bel Valredes here? An idea niggled to life in the back of my mind, curling my lips into a smile. I knew just who could find out.

*

Brell was dancing, but I made my way down to the main floor and waited in the shadow of a pillar for the dance to end. I had to move quickly when it did, catching Brell by the elbow before another young lord could pounce on the vivacious leanyod.

“Zephra! What is it?” asked Brell, still smiling and pink cheeked under the silver paint.

I pulled her into an alcove. “Brell, do you know the man from the Empire?”

“Not personally. I’ve heard there were men from Empire here for the wedding.”

My thoughts stumbled. “Men?”

She nodded. “I think there were two or three, I only just heard they were here before the banquet. I haven’t met them yet.” Her brown eyes sparked, “Why?”

I dropped my voice, leaning close to her ear, “I know one of them from a past job.” At least one of them. “I need to know why they are here, but I need to keep my distance.”

“Leave it to me,” said Brell, patting my hand where it rested on her elbow.

“Subtly, Brell,” I cautioned.

The look she gave me was the picture of angelic incredulity. “Zephra, honestly, it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

I smiled, in spite of myself, as I watched Brell wink and turn back into the crowd. Having seen her take on the much more difficult targets of Quill and Eliah, I was confident she would do quite well with Belledi Valredes. I folded my hands into my sleeves, lingering at the edge of the alcove. Ilya Terr and the Countess were still dancing, and I noticed with some surprise that Prince Domonkos was dancing with Hadella. It looked like their conversation was quite serious. The dance ended and I faded back into the alcove, making myself below notice. Domonkos and Hadella lingered in the edge of the dance floor. I couldn’t see Hadella’s face, but the prince looked annoyed. He walked away abruptly, and Hadella turned away from the dance floor, her lips tight as she left the glittering light of the chandeliers. Curious.

My eyes snagged on Quill, goblet in hand, walking toward me. The cut of his coat highlighting the strength in his shoulders, and I thought it was a bit unfair how well Magadar’s clothes suited him. When he was close enough to speak, he said, “Not dancing tonight?”

“These dances do not suit me,” I said lightly, moving deeper into the alcove. Quill followed and set his goblet on the tall, thin, table against the wall.

“It is well, for I am in need of a rest,” he said, pulling a kerchief out of a pocket and wiping his brow.

“Are the ladies of Angareth wearying?” I asked.

“Immensely,” he blew out a longsuffering breath, and I noticed him scanning our surroundings as he did. No one was overly close to the alcove. I stepped closer to him, opening my mouth to speak, but he said, “The Duchess of Yagyar informed me there is a party here from the Empire.”

“I know.”

He looked at me in surprise.

I dropped my voice, “I saw Bel Valredes.”

There was the faintest stiffening of his shoulders, “Did he see you?”

“No, but he’s on the second floor…with Ambassador Balint from Terrimbir. They were talking as if they were familiar. Did you know that the Ambassador thinks this marriage is abominable?”

“There are a number here who do,” replied Quill. “Though, plenty of those think it’s the delicious sort of abomination, since it’s happening to the Wuhn and not them.”

I picked up Quill’s goblet and held it poised to drink, blocking my words from traveling far, “Even among the leanyodi, apparently. But, perhaps it was a well-placed elf who hired the assassin. One with connections across borders and intimate knowledge of the treaty.”

“I can find out if Balint was the one in Angareth when the attempts started, and if he’s reached out to the underworld at all,” Quill folded his kerchief and tucked it in his pocket. His eyes found mine, they were dark in dim of the alcove, “I don’t need to tell you to be careful.”

“Nor I you,” I replied. But our eyes conveyed it, just the same.

*

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18-over the moors

In the end, Eliah brought me my boots. “You lost these.”

“Thank you,” I immediately dropped my saddle bags, and sat down to put them on, “I’ve been too busy to go get them.” We’d all changed wardrobe once again, and I was back in my own clothes and accoutrement and feeling glad.

“You mean it’s much harder to slip off to the stream in broad daylight when the Countess has grown as attached to you as a newborn foal to its dam?”

“The first time someone tries to kill you in your bed is a bit traumatizing,” I replied, drily.

“I suppose you would know,” said Eliah. She looked around at the clearing, now much emptier than it had been an hour ago. The tents were packed, campfires smothered, and the last of the trunks were being loaded on the carriages. Some of the guards had spent half the night rounding up the horses, so we had more than we needed, even with the prisoners and dead having already left for Wuhnravinwel. The Countess had put Pontikel and Hadella in charge of dividing the people and supplies, and they’d been quite efficient. Two of the carriages had already left. “This plan of Quill’s…” Eliah shook her head, the sun catching her golden hair. “There is no one who would believe your group is a hunting party. You don’t have any hounds or hawks.”

“The goal is to only be seen from afar.” I finished lacing up the boots and slipped the last of my knives into its hiding place.

“Hounds would be heard. Hawks would be seen.” Eliah grimaced. “You’ll look nothing like a hunt.”

I stood up, shouldering my saddlebags, repeating, “The goal is to only be seen from afar. And hopefully not by a real huntsman.”

Quill had insisted that the Countess shouldn’t go in a carriage at all, but should ride in a small party overland. No one would expect the Countess to be hidden in a small hunting party. He was very convincing, but the ensuing argument about who would go in the Countess’s entourage was tougher. Druskin refused to leave the Countess’s side, and wanted to keep me close also. Quill had intended for her to travel only with guards, but the leanyodi were horrified at the suggestion that the Countess go unattended. In the end, Druskin, Quill, myself, Galo and a guard would accompany the Countess. I supposed that was the best we could hope for.

“We’ll be moving fast, and should beat you to the meeting place.” We would ride hard, and that was how Galo had justified coming with us instead of staying with the bulk of the leanyodi to manage them.

“Rabbit,” Eliah said, “be careful. This is an ugly business. It’s not assassins, spies and thieves out here. It’s mankind at its worst.”

“You make it sound like assassins, spies and thieves are safe.”

“They are. Conviction is a mortal foe.”

“And assassins are just working for living?” I knew it was serious, but couldn’t keep the smile out of my voice.

“Fine, laugh,” Eliah punched my arm. “But do not die without giving me everything I need to solve this mystery after you’re gone. I’m not losing a payday because you wouldn’t take things seriously.”

I grinned at her and started to walk towards the horses, “I would never disappoint you. May Eloi guide your steps.”

Eliah touched two fingers to her heart.

I found the horse I’d ridden yesterday and gave it a thorough patting before I secured my saddlebags behind the saddle. I untethered the beast from the picket line and headed toward Quill’s bay. Brimborren stood out from the stocky Angari horses like a lance in a pile of swords.  Quill was busy securing saddlebags, and I almost didn’t recognize the women standing near him. Galo and the Countess weren’t wearing any make up at all. I’d not seen them in the light of the sun before. This was an even more thorough disguise than their clothes, which were the spare shirts and breeches of the staff. The clothes they wore out of the city when they visited family or friends. Without the white powder and unnaturally dark lips, and awash in the white light of day, the Countess had a simple, open kind of beauty. And Galo, standing beside her, looked almost wild with a few strands of hair blowing loose across her face. I curtsied when I arrived, “Grofnu.”

“Zephra,” acknowledged the Countess.

“Are we ready to go?” I asked.

Quill turned and gave me a nod of greeting. “Almost, Druskin is still ordering people around. Zephra, this is Lieutenant Luza,” he gestured to a soldier, who stopped fussing with his saddle to bow to me. “He will be joining us.”

“Lieutenant,” I curtsied very slightly.

“Leanyod.” The lieutenant was younger, black hair in a braid, with a little white scar slashed on his jaw.

“We should mount,” said Quill, “Druskin will never be ready to leave, but perhaps we can hurry him along.”

It took another quarter hour before Druskin pulled himself away from directing his men and joined us on his horse. We rode away from the camp, cutting in a straight line southwest over the rolling hills of grass. There was very little talk. Druskin rode in front, Galo and I flanked the Countess, Quill and Lieutenant Luza brought up the rear. It was a splendid day, large white clouds rolling across a pale blue sky while a brisk breeze cooled the touch of the sun. We stopped under a bluff for lunch, the Countess and Galo moved very stiffly and were very quiet. I felt for them, and Druskin helped them both back onto their horses when we set out again. We kept an easy pace, mostly trot and walk, with only the occasional canter to get up a steep hill or across a ditch. When the sun sank, we stopped in a little hollow near a tiny stream. Druskin and the Lieutenant hurried to help down the Countess and Galo, who both sank exhausted to the grass. Quill started building a fire and I helped the Lieutenant water and rub down the horses.

“I wish I could soak in the hot springs tonight,” said the Countess, while we ate our dinner of dried food.

Galo reached over and squeezed her hand. I gave her a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry, Grofnu,” said Druskin, as if apologizing that he couldn’t bring the springs to her. Though, I supposed he was really apologizing that she was riding a horse to Gar Morwen instead of a carriage.

“Someone’s coming,” said Quill, standing and reaching for his sword.

*

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13-Leaving

 

The audiences went much as they had the day prior, except a bit hurried, as the guards were trying to get through everyone who’d come before the time for audiences was over at lunch. This time I recognized Hadella, sitting at a table off to the right with a couple scribes, feverishly writing while the scribes wrote down the names and towns of each person and their gift, or the details of their dispute if they had one. They rarely spoke to one-another, but occasionally I saw the flutter of a joke pass between the leanyod and the scribes. I watched Hadella drip deep red wax on letter after letter and press them with the signet ring of the Countess.

At lunch, we ate quickly, and Hadella barely at all before she left with the steward to go over preparations for the journey. I followed the Countess and the others to the Countess’s chambers. Her rooms were guarded by a beautiful dark wood door, and every inch of the walls inside were covered in tapestries. Her bed was canopied and curtained in red, and the fireplace stones were carved with little horses, hounds, and falcons. The legs of the chairs and couches were shaped like bird claws, and beautiful woven blankets were draped over every piece of furniture. Instead of a wardrobe in the corner, a door stood open to an enormous dressing room. Six large trunks, obviously out of place, sat in the center of the room, their gaping mouths open, and two of them already full.

The Countess sank into a chair while the leanyodi, Galo at the head, headed straight for the dressing room. I followed them. Galo went to the racks of clothes and started making selections, handing them off to the nearest leanyod who would carry the gown out and start the process of packing it into a trunk. I fell into the line behind Brell and helped shuttle dresses from Galo to Karolya, who’d taken over direction of carefully packing each voluminous gown into the trunks. The clothes were spectacular, layers of taffeta and silks from the south, brocade bodices, and collars made of feathers, fur, or boned silk. There were headdresses, too. Some small webs of lace, others enormous, framed with gold and topped with feathers. Galo handed me a boned bodice covered in red lace and exquisite bead work. I couldn’t help bending close to inspect the glittering swoops, which I realized were the graceful figures of leaping deer only after I’d admired them for a moment.

“This is her gown for the presentation after the wedding,” explained Galo, handing voluminous skirts to Brell, and then enormous circles of what looked like basket reeds strung together with ribbon.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, just to say something, as I tried to imagine moving in that much fabric. I followed Brell out to where Karolya waited to pack the red dress into one of the trunks. A green gown was next, deep as forest shade, and as sleek as the red dress was huge. It glittered with beadwork that evoked trees and leaves.

“The wedding gown,” whispered Brell as we walked back into the dressing room.

I caught the Countess staring at the green gown as it was laid carefully atop the red one. Alone with her leanyodi bustling around her, she’d let the mask of her office slip, and her face was hollow. She looked like a little girl, frightened and small facing a crowd of strangers.

I knew before Brell said, “It was a gift from Ilya Terr. Traditional elven wedding gown.”

*

My own clothing, which I’d brought with me to Wuhnravinwel, was waiting clean, dry, and folded in a tidy pile on the desk in my chambers when I returned after dinner. I ran my hands fondly over the simple fabrics before retrieving my saddlebags and carefully packing my shirts, breeches, and underthings inside. A trunk had also been left in my chambers, mostly packed already with the symbolic clothing of the leanyodi. It was work to weedle my saddle bags into place without scrunching the layers too badly. I noticed, to my relief, some plain clothes mixed in with the high collared coats with their matching trousers, and the vibrant dresses.

The clothes hanging in the wardrobe for tomorrow were in browns, a fine linen shirt, a jacket cut for riding, breeches and tall supple boots. Travel clothes. I went out again to visit with Quill and Eliah, none of us had anything significant to show for the day, and when I returned servants had collected the trunk. We’d be leaving first thing in the morning to make the weeklong journey to Gar Morwen.

I took the time for a long, luxurious bath, before retiring for the last night in Wuhnravinwel.

*

The Countess’s retinue commanded four full coaches, each loaded with baggage. The Countess and four leanyodi rode in one, six more leanyodi and a handful of choice servants and staff—including sunny old Pontikel—rode in the others. Druskin and his men rode before and behind, and extra riding horses were tethered behind each coach for those times when the Countess or anyone, really, desired to ride a horse instead.

I rode with the Countess, Brell, Galo, Hadella. Quill and Eliah were riding with Druskin’s men, and I wished I were riding with them. I had never been overly fond of riding in carriages. I didn’t like the feeling of being dragged along and unable to see where I was going. It was too much like being a prisoner. Brell spent the better part of the morning trying to teach a reluctant Hadella the basics of Terrim. The Countess stared out the coach window at the passing moors and said little. Galo was equally quiet, her eyes also on the window, though from her angle she’d mostly see Druskin’s back as he rode slightly ahead of the carriage. I spent most of the morning wondering how long was polite before I switched to riding a horse. The sun shone between billowing clouds that cast swift shadows over the land. It would be quite warm without the stiff breeze that swept almost unhindered over the rolling hills and wisped fresh air into the carriages.

Around noon, the caravan stopped to rest and I finally climbed out of the coach. My knives had been jostled and jammed into my back and I took my time trying to stretch the kinks out while servants, supervised by Hadella, spread blankets in the grass and set out food. We’d sidled the carriages just off the road in a flat, grassy area, so they wouldn’t impede anyone else who happened by. There was a stream not far, and some of the guards were busy unhitching the horses to bring them for a drink. I spotted Quill and Eliah helping the guards rub down the horses and stopped to watch from where I stood near the carriages.

“You investigators are so mysterious,” Brell stopped at my elbow.

I glanced at her, “How so?”

She shrugged and jerked her chin at Quill and Eliah, “You—whoever taught you Angari was very good. Her accent is definitely from Daiesen Bay, but his…his shifts like the currents of a river. He mostly wears Magadarian clothing, and it’s nice clothing, so well-tailored—he’s obviously successful and from Tirien knows where. And he’s so handsome.”

Perhaps Quill would be the one to break a heart this time. “We’re mercenaries, Brell,” I said quietly, putting a shushing hand on her elbow, “We go where the work is and stick with the people we can rely on.”

“Yes, I know. It sounds so wild and free. Very mysterious.” She tossed me a wicked grin. “Let’s go say hello.”

I balked, but Brell was already moving. I didn’t love the idea of following the pretty Brell over so she could flirt with Quill, but I found I liked being left behind even less so I fell into step beside her as she wound through men and horses.

Eliah saw us coming first and I saw her speak to Quill, who turned to face us. “Leanyodi,” he bowed.

“How’s the journey for you, Quilleran, Eliah?” asked Brell, inclining her head in acknowledgement.

“It’s a splendid day to ride,” replied Quill.

“Couldn’t have asked for better,” added Eliah.

They were both clearly puzzled by the visit. I didn’t roll my eyes, only because there were plenty of guards watering horses just feet away.

“Would you care to join us at our blanket for lunch?” Brell offered warmly.

“We would be honored,” Quill gave us both the same smile.

“Excellent,” Brell turned on her heel and went back the way we’d come.

I followed her, “That’s it?” I asked.

“And now they’re having lunch with us.” Brell winked at me. “It’s all about strategy. You don’t just march up to someone and ask for their life’s story. You’re an investigator, you should know that.”

*

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9-Handmaiden

The great hall of Wuhnravinwel had a vaulted ceiling and was filled with sunlight from tall slender windows that were flanked by heavy drapes. It filled the entire top level of the keep, and long trestle tables ran the circumference. Braziers marked out a path from the huge double doors. It was petition day, and a line of people waited outside the hall for their turn to walk the path to the Countess on the dais. There were some knights, lesser lords and handful of the household also in the room. Either there to watch or working quietly. Six leanyodi and a handful of men, including the Chief Advisor, Pontikel, who took the time to glare at me when we arrived, were close to hand.  We handmaidens all wore matching blue silk and thick kohl on our eyes with a streak of white painted across our cheekbones just beneath our eyes. The Countess’s white streak enveloped her eyes to symbolize the blindness of justice. Her face was not powered to oblivion today, but her lips were again painted dark and her gown was so dark it looked black until the sunlight hit it.

Though the Countess would rule Wuhnravinwel after the marriage, the schedule was packed as if her people never expected to see her again. This wasn’t true, as Ilya Terr of Linden lived only a few day’s ride away, and technically each retained rulership of their own holdings after the marriage. But half the people who entered the hall didn’t have a question or dispute for the Countess to settle, they just came to look at her and offer a gift. They brought whatever they had, and the gifts ranged from flowers or grain, to bolts of cloth or beads, to chickens or even cattle. Some of the people were solemn and funereal, others practically danced with happiness. The end to a blood feud was, I supposed, emotionally very complicated. The Wuhn were largely olive skinned, with black or brown hair, but I noted with some surprise that there were a few who had slightly darker skin and pointed ears that hinted at the blood of the Terrim elves. Had every Wuhn half-elf come to see the Countess off for her wedding?

Galo and I stood behind the Countess as she accepted her gifts and settled the occasional dispute. The other leanyodi inventoried and sent each gift off to appropriate parts of the fortress.  Very occasionally the Countess would speak to us or ask our opinion. But mostly, we watched. Pontikel sat beside the Countess, surprising me with his silence throughout most of the proceedings. When he did speak, he was predictably curt, but usually he had an insightful question. Druskin spent most of the morning standing to Galo’s right, taking breaks to prowl around the room and speak to the knights or others of the household.

Lunch was a surprisingly informal affair. Petitioners were shown out for a time, the doors to the hall were closed, and the household gathered at the long tables to eat. The Countess gestured for me to sit across from her, the other leanyodi settled like flocking birds all around us.

“What do you think of all this, Zephra?” asked the Countess, accepting a goblet from a servant.

“I think that your people are very fond of you, Grofnu. And some are frightened by this treaty,” I replied.

The Countess nodded gravely. “They are. We have been spilling blood over the springs for generations. No one knows what it will mean to share them.”

“I didn’t expect to see so many half-elven here.”

Servants settled platters of meat and steaming root vegetables and cabbage on the table. I breathed in the delicious aroma.

Before answering me, the Countess lifted her hands and prayed, “The blessing of Eloi and his servant Tirien, our protector, rest on the food from this land.”

We began to eat. After a moment the Countess said, “There aren’t many. I believe all of them have visited Wuhnravinwel since news of the treaty.”

I supposed it made sense. Elves didn’t live underwater, so they had much more opportunity to mingle with mankind. Most nymphs didn’t live entirely underwater, either, but they didn’t have large kingdoms on land. When I was a child, every one of the cities around Daiesen Bay had nymphs and half-nymphs among its subjects. Elsewhere on land, nymphs had mostly small holdings, hidden enclaves, hard to get-to places…the kingdom Under Daiesen was the largest I knew of, and…well…it was under Daiesen Bay. I studied the Countess, once I might have been in her place. I was surprised at how foreign the idea felt now. Even my sister, who had once been engaged to a prince, before our lives were upended, had married for love in the years since. I ate for a moment, trying to decide how impertinent I could be on my first day.

“I can see the question, Zephra,” said the Countess. “Ask.”

I glanced up at her sharply. It wasn’t that she knew I had questions, she was looking at me, and I felt seen. My own gift of seeing was so small as to be inconsequential most of the time, but the Countess had a stronger gift. Nymphs knew water, elves knew trees, and mankind knew things they should not. I set down my fork. “What is your opinion of the treaty and the marriage?”

“I believe it is a good thing,” replied the Countess without hesitation. “I am tired of shedding blood over water and agree with my King that peace will come through shared blood and shared water.”

“Have you met the Lord of Linden?”

She smiled, her teeth bright white against her dark lips. “I met Lord Ilya Terr during the treaty negotiations.”

One of the leanyodi, Brell, broke in with a grudging tone, “The Lord of Linden is well to look upon, at least.”

Several of the others smiled, but Galo shot Brell a silencing look.

“He carried himself well,” said the Countess, “I think he is good.”

I glanced at the other leanyodi. “I want you to know that I appreciate the honor it is to serve you in this manner, even for a short time.”

“This peace is of the utmost importance,” replied the Countess. She looked at Galo, “To that end, I have asked Galo to show you the letters that were waiting for me when I returned to Wuhnravinwel after the treaty was signed. You will go after the audiences for the day.”

“Very well,” I bowed my head. “I also needed to speak with you about a good time and place, both here and at Gar Morwen where I can meet with Quilleran every day without arousing suspicion. I thought, perhaps, I could be sent to the library every evening?”

“The library?” laughed the Countess, “Every day? I’ll be planning a wedding, not a war.”

“But,” put in Galo, “She doesn’t need to be doing research for you, my lady. She will want to meet as openly as possible with Quilleran to make them less interesting to everyone. Could she be teaching him a language, perhaps?”

“Maybe…” I frowned. “I am not fluent in Terrim.” Since he obviously did not need lessons in Angari.

“Teach him about our customs and genealogies, then,” said the Countess, “Or pretend to,” she added when she saw skepticism in my eyes.

“That would work,” agreed Galo. “The library has histories for each tribe, you will not run out.”

“Then it’s settled,” the Countess lifted her glass, and just like that the conversation was over.

 

*

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Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

 

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8 -Testing the Water

The rooms where Galo brought me were just down the hallway from the Countess’s chambers. They were small…but luxurious after weeks on the road. The walls were covered in tapestries depicting horsemen, falconers, and rolling hills of grass. Heavy curtains covered tall windows. The bed was set into the wall, and when I tested it, definitely stuffed with feathers. There was a bookshelf filled with books, an exquisitely carved desk and chair, then a chair with wings by the fire. I noticed my saddlebags had been delivered and were sitting on the floor by the chair. A wardrobe stood to one side, already hung with clothes in the same style that Galo wore, but blue, and a nightgown. A large oval mirror adorned the wall beside the wardrobe and a narrow door on the other side led to a tiled washroom.  Mosaics in pale blue patterns outlined the large sunken tub that was fed by two copper spigots. There was a pile of thick towels folded neatly beside the bath, and a tray bearing an assortment of soaps and oils in colored glass bottles. “Private hot baths,” I smiled, leaning on the doorframe and admiring the set up. “You do know the way to a girl’s heart.”

Another narrow door on the other side of the washroom led to a toilet. I could only hope the palace at Gar Morwen was as perfectly appointed. I wasted no time turning the spigots and grinning stupidly as water began to pour into the tub.  Steam rose from one of the streams, and I noticed the mineral scent of the water. Were they piping in from the hot springs or was all the water around here mineral rich? I adjusted the knobs until I was satisfied with the temperature and then wandered out of the washroom to look at the bookshelf while the tub filled. The books were mostly philosophy and economics. One or two were in Terrim, the language of the elves. There was a whole section devoted to political theory and another to geology. I ran my finger over the spines before returning to the washroom empty handed. I probably shouldn’t dunk one of those fine volumes in the bath, though I might have dared if there had been an epic.

Listening to the comforting rush of water, I unbuckled my harness of knives and set it on the desk. The belt of knives was next, then the sleeve sheathes. My two finest knives, curving beauties named Shiharr and Azzad, I tucked under the pillows of the bed. I shucked my boots and breeches, then my shirt and underthings. Leaving the boots by the desk, I dropped the clothes, and the clothes from my saddle bags, in a basket near the door for the servants to collect in the morning. I returned to the washroom and slipped into the tub before it was even finished filling. My gold pendant gleaming, I laid my head on the rolled lip of the tub and watched the blue tendrils bloom across my body. Here, so far from the Empire, nymphs were safe and the privacy was less essential. But I was so accustomed to keeping my heritage a secret that the locked door was comforting.

I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander. I was curious about the job that had brought Quill and his crew to the south in the first place. We’d been so busy preparing for this job there really hadn’t been an opportunity to pry on our trip down here. When the water was dangerously close to the lip of the tub, I turned off the spigots and started to soap. I was curious…but patient. I’d get my chance to wheedle at Quill. Maybe even Eliah.

I dawdled my way through washing and rinsing. Mulling over the evening conversation with the Countess and pondering the coming wedding. It was quite late and the water was noticeably cool by the time I set the tub to draining. I made only a cursory attempt at drying off with the towels before pulling on my nightgown and burrowing under the feather coverlet to lose myself to sleep, skin still laced with blue.

*

I awoke early, my body aware of the sun graying the horizon even if the curtains blocked it out. I threw the curtains open and admired the view of the hazy gray ramparts of the fortress. I donned the set of clothes I’d found hanging in the wardrobe the night before. Under the collared coat there were fitted trousers and a silk shirt that closed with a thousand tiny buttons. My sleeveless undershirt, a thick second skin designed by a friend, was invisible under the blue silk and kept the harness of knives from pinching. I buttoned the three ornate buttons of the long, collared coat overtop it all. Everything was the same deep blue, and I found a pair of matching blue silk slippers on the floor of the wardrobe. I found a little tin of hairpins in the drawers on the left side of the wardrobe and was standing in front of the mirror restrain my curls in a bun when a knock sounded at the door. Half my hair tumbled down when I lowered my hands, I sighed.

Sliding the lock back and I opened the door, stopping in surprise. “Captain Druskin.”

The Captain of the Guard looked stunned, taking in my blue silk and then staring at my half loose curls as if he’d never seen hair before. “You’re dressed.”

I arched a brow. “Disappointed?” I asked dryly.

Druskin reddened, opened his mouth, closed it, and then said. “Change.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t spar in those, and I want to see exactly what you’re capable of before I trust you with the Countess.”

I considered the man, dressed in leathers with his long black hair braided. “Do you practice with all the leanyodi?”

“No.” Druskin crossed his arms, “In order to get my support in making you a leanyod, Quilleran said you had skills. I want to know if I made a mistake.”

I folded my arms, mirroring Druskin. “I’d be delighted to give you a demonstration, but I very much doubt I’d have time to change, spar, bathe, dress again, and still be on time for my first day serving the Countess.”

His features creased into a frown. “Hian Ruddybruck…”

“It would also be unwise to train with me in a public place unless you also train with the other leanyodi.”

“Train with the other leanyodi?” Druskin exclaimed…then after a hesitation, “I will send word to the Countess to expect you later.”

“Alright. Then I’d suggest you fetch practice weapons while I change clothes. We can spar in my chambers.”

For a moment, I thought Druskin would just stare at me. Then he said, “Well, you are not Angari.”

I smiled and stepped back to close my door. Fishing the pins out of my hair I braided it instead. It only took me a moment to shed the fine blue clothes and don my breeches, shirt and my leather jerkin. I pulled on my boots, buckled on my knives, and waited for Druskin to return. I was sipping water and wondering how I would get breakfast when a knock sounded at the door.

Druskin was standing in the hallway holding several wooden practice weapons. His eyes went to my harness of knives. I stepped aside, “Please, come in.”

Hesitantly, Druskin stepped into the room and watched me close the door behind him. “Don’t make a habit of shutting men into your rooms,” said the Captain, tossing me one of the practice swords. “It would easily create scandal. Especially in Gar Morwen.”

I tested the weight of the sword, grateful the Angari preferred curved blades. I’d encountered broadsword fighting in the past, and it did not play well to my advantages. “Noted. Perhaps in the future you should train all your leanyodi to fight so that we can practice in a more conventional setting.” I made the first strike without warning.

Druskin blocked and parried with ease, tossing a couple shorter wooden sticks onto the bed as he advanced. The space was tiny to start with and seemed to shrink the moment swords started swinging. We were careful and calculating. Swords weren’t my best weapon, and I noticed a rhythm to the match which suggested Druskin was playing with me. At least we could establish that he was no slouch with a weapon. It wasn’t long before I was sweaty and ready end it. On my next attack I feinted, he moved to block and I darted inside his guard. I abandoned my sword to block his sword arm from swinging back and drove my left fist into Druskin’s diaphragm. Druskin stumbled back as the air whooshed from his lungs.

“Are you alright?” I asked, dancing back out of reach just in case.

The Captain of the Guard grunted, “I’m fine.” He looked up, a glint in his eyes, “And you’re unarmed.” He lunged forward, swinging for my ribs. I twisted away, knocking into the wardrobe but reducing the strength of his blow. His eyes flashed in triumph, and I grinned back, I was next to the bed now. I caught up one of the short sticks and threw it. He tried to dodge, but the stick still struck him in the thigh. The next stick hit him in the shoulder before clattering harmlessly to the ground.

“If those were blades, you’d be in a lot of pain,” I said.

“If this were a blade,” he saluted with the wooden sword, “You’d be dead.”

I snorted as I touched two fingers to my heart, the salute of Villaba. “Merely wounded.”

“Where did you learn to fight?” asked Druskin, bending to pick up the various sticks, including my sword, from the floor.

“Anywhere anyone would teach me.”

“Sacrificing your weapon was unwise.”

“Normally I’d use a knife instead of my fist.”

Druskin looked down at himself. “I appreciate your restraint.”

“I thought you might,” I crossed my arms and watched him bundle all the weapons under his arm. “I’m not a bodyguard, Captain. You should not think of me as such. My life is not sworn to the Countess, nor will it be.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Hian Ruddybrook.”

“Please, call me Zephra.” Even that pained me, but it was better than the formality of Hian Ruddybrook.

“Zephra,” continued Druskin, “I will not rely on you as one of my guard, but I now know your worth in a fight.”

“Do you expect there to be a fight?” I asked.

“I hope so,” growled the captain, moving toward the door, “Swords and knives I can handle.”

*

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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2-Teeth

The river was clear where it closed over my head, but just a few feet away the cloud of silt roiled through the water. Dark shapes thrashed in the cloud but judging by the amount of red tainting the river, the cow didn’t have long. I swam toward the fray, my efforts hampered by the current. I reached out to the river, just make room for me, I coaxed, that’s all.

It ignored me.

Fine, then.

Even without help, a few powerful strokes pushed me into the cloud of silt and immediately a long hard shape slammed into me. I tumbled, my free hand scraping against scales. I grabbed ahold of a ridge of spikes and found myself whipped through the water. I bumped over the now limp form of the cow and then slammed into another coil of scaled muscle. Large savage claws were in the bleeding flank of the cow. Eloi, what was this thing?  I hoped it had an obvious head. I let go of the coil and grabbed the claws, thrusting my long knife at the creature’s wrist. The impact jarred through my arm as the knife barely pierced beneath the scales. The claws yanked from the cow, nearly tearing the knife from my grip.

With a swoosh of current I came face to face with the jagged teeth and wide fish eyes of the head. For one heartbeat my whole soul was overcome with conviction that in front of the teeth was the one place I did not want to be. I dove toward the creature, closing the distance between us and striking out with the knife. The monster slipped to the side, easily dodging my blow. I swept past it, turning to attack it from behind. A coil slammed into my back, forcing me down until I hit the river bottom. My ribs protested. For a few seconds I struggled to push off the coil, stirring up silt in blinding clouds. The rocky bottom offered tantalizing leverage, but I couldn’t get my legs under me to push upwards.

Even with those teeth and claws, I realized this creature preferred drowning its prey. A wry smile touched my lips; we could be here a while. I willed my body to relax. My hands floated up from the coil, limp and moving gently in the river’s current. I could see shadows moving around me in the murky water. The legs of the cow rolled by in a sickening motion before vanishing again. I waited, listening to the water and the beat of my heart. The silt had nearly settled, outlining the long body of the beast moving gently through the water, by the time the hideous head again turned toward me.

Stay still. Stay relaxed, I reminded myself. I hoped it wasn’t smart enough to know the knife I still held wasn’t a part of my anatomy.

The creature nosed my body, moving from my legs toward my head. The urge to strike burned inside me, stoked by every proprietary touch from the monster’s snout. The monster shifted its coil, loosening so it could get better access to my torso. The jaws opened, its teeth tearing at my shirt. I struck. Blood stained the river as I drove my knife into the monster’s eye. The beast jerked back, wrenching the knife from my hand. I let it, putting both hands on the coil and writhing free.

Bubbles exploded everywhere as another body hit the water. Loops of long, scaled body flailed, knocking me back and then going rigid. I caught the river bottom with one hand and pulled another knife with the other. Shudders ran through the scaled body, I saw a clawed foot flex and pull at the riverbed. Swimming through the silty water, I angled the knife carefully ahead of me. The monster’s head appeared in the glittering silt, my knife sticking from its eye still, its jaws slack. Behind it, shadows took form into the familiar shoulders and bleached head of Ayglos. His hands were still wrapped around his own knife hilt where it protruded from the base of the monster’s skull, leeching blood into the water.

Our eyes met, and Ayglos asked, “Are you alright?” using the language of clicks and whines nymphs used under the sea.

“Splendid,” I replied in the same language. I sheathed my knife and caught hold of the monster’s jaw, helping Ayglos tow it to the shore.

The cows were long gone when we broke the surface of the water and hauled the heavy carcass up behind us. It was thirty feet long when we finally got the whole thing out of the water. We stood back, hands on our hips and regarded our catch. Covered in muddy green scales, the back third was nearly flat for powering through the water, four short legs with webbed feet and savage claws in the middle third, a long flat neck crowned with glassy eyes and massive toothy jaws…

“It looks like an eel with legs,” I said.

“Crossed with that…dinrodile monster from Haim.” Ayglos gestured to the head. “Teeth of a dinrodile.”

“What’s it doing up here?”

My brother shrugged. It was a good question, but the answer wasn’t our business. Unless someone wanted to pay us to find out. “The real question is, will Hook and Rood be willing to haul it?”

I wrinkled my nose. Our horses were all the way back at the main barns for the cattle operation, since we hadn’t wanted to risk them getting eaten by whatever took the cows. I didn’t want to walk back for them and didn’t think we could whistle loudly enough to summon them. My lips twisted as I pictured them, ears askance and eyes wide, should they arrive and see the monster. “Let’s just take the head.”

*

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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Legendary Art

Took a break to paint!

Typically, I have The Badlands Job, The River Rebellion, and the new story open all at the same time so I can work on them concurrently. There are so many moving parts, I’m so looking forward to launching this in the new year.

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97-Stone

A figure loomed above me, black against the lamplight. I stiffened, then I recognized Ayglos and bleated in relief. I went limp as he grasped Khattmali’s shoulders with bloodied hands and pulled her off me. He crouched by my side, “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned. Since I wasn’t dead, I decided to try pushing my arms under me and sitting up. My right arm protested, and my chest seized a little…but I sat up.

His hands went to my arm, gleaming with blood, and then he gingerly touched the gash in my breastplate and whistled. “That blow would have felled a boar.”

Craning my head down, I could see the ravaged leather. And beneath…shining silver links caught the lamplight. The links were damaged, but not sundered. I touched the gash. I’d gotten used to the weight of my chain link armor and had forgotten about it. I drew a deep breath. Dear Heaven, breathing hurt. But it wasn’t the same sort of pain as the pain from my broken ribs. It was more radiating than stabbing. I turned to him. “What about you?”

He grimaced. “That fight was a long time coming. I’m fine.”

I looked him over; in the lamplight, I could see the blood slicking his shoulder, and over his armor. It didn’t appear to all be his—couldn’t all be his. “You look terrifying.”

“Thanks.”

I looked over at Khattmali, tumbled where Ayglos had left her. “Is she dead?”

Ayglos crawled forward and put his fingers to her neck. After a moment he said, “Yes,” and crawled back to me. The Ambassador who’d killed and imprisoned the nymphs of the Bandui was dead. The irrational, slinking, terror that had filled the passages was gone, leaving nothing but quiet in its wake.

We scooted to lean our backs against the wall, the space so narrow Ayglos’s knees bent to fit, and his feet propped against the opposite wall.

“I don’t like Huntsmen,” I said after a moment.

Ayglos coughed a laugh. “I’m sure they don’t like you either.”

In silence we took inventory of our bruises. It was a small victory. But it was a victory. I waited for pain, or joy, or perhaps sorrow…now that the deed was done, and the lightning had ebbed from my body. Instead of emotion, I became acutely aware that we were still in the palace and needed to get out. Now.

I grunted, “We should go,” and shifted to crawl across the passage and pick up Shiharr and Azzad from where they’d fallen. I wiped them clean before sheathing them on my back.

Ayglos was also moving carefully as he gathered his feet under him and walked to retrieve the lamp. When he reached the lamp, he froze, head cocked and one hand raised to signal a halt.

I was on my knees still but obeyed, holding my breath to listen. There were footsteps running toward us…from the direction our friends had gone. Ayglos doused the lamp and I bit back a curse as total darkness enveloped us. The footsteps slowed to a cautious pace and got very, very quiet.

Aching, I got to my feet. There was no light at all in these tunnels. I drew a knife from my thigh and edged along the wall, wincing when I came to the Huntsman’s corpse, his sword still wedged in the wall right at head height. I ducked under the sword, right at the crossroads, with Ayglos only steps away.

“Zare?”  The voice was right beside me.

I jumped straight up, and narrowly stopped my hand mid-strike. “Quill!”

“You’re alive!” his voice had the gasp of relief.

“You gave me a heart attack,” I replied, sheathing the knife. “Why are you back here?”

He snorted. “Needful heroism aside, Namal would kill me if I left you two behind. Even if you did try to get left behind.” The last few words had a bite that made me blink.

“Are you…angry with me?” I asked.

“Even if you were obvious about trying to sneak off, you should have said something.”

“Wouldn’t you have just tried to stop us?”

A match fizzed to life as Ayglos re-lit the lamp.

Golden light again illuminated our pale faces, Quill looking straight at me, eyes burning with fury. He’d certainly processed his relief quickly. “Holy heaven, no! I know what needed to be done. But you don’t leave without saying something. Even if–especially if–you think you’ll die.”

“You would have let us go?” I asked again, sharply. “You wouldn’t have argued or tried to go in my place?”

The fire in his eyes flickered, but he growled. “You don’t leave your unit ignorant they’ve lost their rear guard, you don’t leave your friends wondering what happened to you.”

Ayglos broke in, “You’re right, we’re sorry.” He looked between us, his expression firm. “I’m glad you came to get us.”

Then I noticed that Quill’s clothes were spattered with blood, and he was holding a long talon shaped knife that was dripping red.  “What happened?” I demanded, cold fear shooting through me.

“Met some soldiers on my way back to get you.”

Ayglos whistled. “That could have been more exciting than I would have liked. Again, thank you.”

Quill had the good grace to tip his head in acknowledgement before looking us over critically. He noted the jagged hole in my breastplate, and then looked at the corpses past us. “Is that…a woman?” he asked.

I glanced back, “Khattmali.”

Quill paused, obviously collecting all the questions he wanted to ask and putting them somewhere safe to bring out later. “We should go.” He turned to leave, offering his free hand to me. “You can douse the lamp again, I know the way and I would rather not broadcast our presence.”

I took Quill’s hand and offered my other to Ayglos. My brother again killed the light, finding my hand in the darkness as we already started to move. I could still feel Quill’s anger simmering off him as we moved through the tunnels. I wanted to talk to him, to explain, to justify, to argue. Then I thought of the blood covering all of us, and instead squeezed his hand in silent apology. His fingers tightened in response.

Quill led us quickly, and silently, stopping only once or twice to listen. The only noise we made was when we tripped over the bodies of the men he’d killed. I had no notion of where we were in the palace, and thought ruefully that Ayglos and I would never have found our way if Quill hadn’t come back for us. Eventually, Quill stopped and let go of my hand. I heard a clank and the sound of a heavy door swinging. Quill’s fingers closed around mine again and we stepped through the door, he turned back to close the door and I heard the grind of a lock. This passage was colder than the other and felt damp. Our breaths bounced off the walls and echoed back at us. Here, everything was stone. The floor dropped in a smooth, steep descent, that had us shuffling our feet for fear of slipping before it leveled off. I heard water dripping somewhere. The sounds bouncing around us changed, and I guessed that the passage had widened into a proper cavern. I couldn’t sense the walls close beside us any longer, and Quill moved more slowly.

Pausing, Quill crouched and tapped his knife on the rocks, the same little knocking pattern that opened the King’s secret door. I fully expected the rumble of moving rock, but instead there was an answering tap from somewhere ahead and to the left. Quill adjusted his course and I stumbled as my foot caught on the uneven floor. The tap sounded again, much closer this time. The walls were getting close, not because the cavern was shrinking but because we were heading into a small corner of it.

“Stop!” a voice hissed from the darkness ahead.

I froze, sensing Ayglos go rigid behind me, and Quill said, “Lord Rakov?”

“Quilleran, you return. Were you successful?”

“I have them.”

“Good, come ahead—careful, it’s narrow.”

Quill led us forward. He grunted in pain, “You aren’t kidding.”

“Sorry,” Rakov’s voice floated ahead of us, “The door is very heavy, we didn’t open it far.”

“Watch your feet,” muttered Quill. I felt him swivel ahead of me and I copied his movement best I could. I sensed stone at my back and leaned into it, shuffling gingerly until my boots bumped the threshold and I could step up and wiggle through the narrow opening. I would have been more graceful if my hands weren’t monopolized holding onto Quill and Ayglos. Once Ayglos cleared the door I heard Rakov say, “Watch yourselves.” Then a slow grind rumbled behind us and the distinct sound of a lock thunking into place. This space was significantly smaller than the cavern on the other side of the door. The air was colder and more fresh.

Rakov moved around us, I felt him brush against my shoulder in the cramped space. “The others are this way, a little closer to the cave mouth.”

Ten more steps, then we stopped again, and I noticed new smells: dirt, straw, and possibly animal scat.

“They’re back,” said Rakov.

Movement, shifting clothes and the faint clink of armor. Trinh’s voice came from the left, and low, “Good. We should get moving. Only a few hours before dawn.”

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96-Blood and Blade

 

I felt her presence only a heartbeat before her voice slivered through the darkness, “Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”

I turned, fighting the irrational terror that assaulted my senses. Lamplight was already brushing her clothing as she approached, and I shifted my grip on my knives. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder where I could hear the clang and shuffle of Ayglos’s fight still going. Seconds, only seconds had passed since the fight started.

“Ambassador,” I said.

She stopped just as the light illuminated her eyes. She was dressed in leather armor, not the gown and layers of jewels that I’d expected. Her dark hair was pulled back in a braid and she carried two wicked fighting knives. My skin crawled at her aura even as thoughts of revenge thrilled through me.

“Regent, now,” corrected Khattmali. “I confess I’m surprised to see you here, Analie Meredithe…or should I say Zare Caspian.”

So, Bel had told her. The brooch felt like it might burn a hole through my armor.

“Is that betrayal I see in those eyes?” She laughed softly, “All my warnings about the charms of men, and you don’t heed a single one. Valredes is exceptional, isn’t he?”

I forced my lips to tip knowingly. Inside, I hated her for talking about him that way, and hated myself for caring.

She continued, “…and I almost didn’t believe Valredes when he told me.  After all this time I’d started to think Gillenwater had been lying about their catch, despite our problems with rabble rousers.” A measured glance behind me at the Huntsman slumped against the wall, dying. At the fight still going on beyond that. “How many are you?”

I didn’t answer.

Her eyes returned to me, coldly taking in the Galharan albatross emblazoned across my breastplate.  “Did Kegan know who you really were?”

“You don’t know? That must gall you,” I purred.

Khattmali’s lip curled, “To think I had a Galharim drugged and helpless in my control. You certainly convinced Valredes you were a harmless doe when that sap sent you back to your lover.” She struck, quick as a viper, but I dodged.

“Just Valredes?” I crooned back to her, throwing a strike of my own.

Khattmali blocked and countered.

“When did you sleep?” Khattmali asked, following up her strike with another which I barely parried, “Out all night causing trouble, then a king to please, and then making appearances around the palace—though,” she tipped her head, “Is that why we never saw Kegan’s little lover at court? Why you never bothered to politic?” Her dark eyes glinted, “How did you stomach sleeping with him after he ordered all those nymphs—your people—killed?”

Your order. “You’re just jealous,” I replied, trying a quick one-two attack, managing to rip her sleeve.  “Do Regents usually prowl around doing their own dirty work?” I asked, “Or are you in trouble for failing to control the King?”

“I was first of the Huntsmen and awarded my assignment here; It was a privilege to manage the wayward oaf of Dalyn, to rule in his place,” she moved closer again, “I would have seduced him eventually, but you interfered, and my Queen was done waiting. I was done waiting.”

My gut tightened at her inference that it was my fault they’d resorted to killing Tarr Kegan. “You’ll pay for what you did to him,” my voice was low as I again saw the light wink out of Tarr’s eyes.

“Unlikely,” Khattmali shrugged, her lips turning up at anger in my face. And then she struck so quickly I didn’t dodge fast enough. Her blade bit into my arm as I tripped over the fallen Huntsman. I pushed off the wall and ducked to strike low. Khattmali dodged easily and slashed back. She taunted, “How did it feel to watch your king die?”

It felt like hell, thanks for asking. Snarling I caught her knife with Azzad and slipped Shiharr though her defenses to leave a bleeding tear across her right arm. I would finish this. Blood trickled down from the gash above my bracers, I ignored it.

She spared her arm a glance and advanced on me again. A cruel sneer curled her lips, “You cared for him.”

We met in storm of blows, steel ringing with every strike until I feinted high with my knives and aimed a kick at her knee. Khattmali cried out as her knee cracked and buckled under the blow. Her guard waivered and I struck again, landing a hit on her good leg before realizing the trap. Her bared teeth were the only warning before her knife slammed into my chest, the force of the blow knocking my breath from me.

I stumbled back, stunned, and gasping down at the knife sticking out of my breastplate.

Khattmali watched me reel, then she straightened and took a step toward me on her smashed knee.

Holy Heaven. That shouldn’t be possible. I gaped, struggling for air like a fish on land.

Our eyes met, she said, “You won’t die. Yet. I have so many questions for you, we’ll spend a lot of time together these coming weeks.”

Shiharr and Azzad slipped from my fingers and I grasped the hilt of the knife in my chest. Gritting my teeth, I tried to yank it out but Khattmali launched herself at me, slamming my body against the wall. I couldn’t help the strangled cry as we both toppled to the floor with Khattmali on top. The knife in my chest was slammed aside by her weight. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs and arms around her before she could pull back and stab me again. I would not be staked to the floor until her minions came to help her. I would die here or not at all. Lessons from Quill in the squat little house in the garden came flooding back as Khattmali struggled to escape my grasp. I didn’t feel pain as I trapped one of her arms with both hands and shifted my legs, using her attempts to pull back to shift until I was controlling her shoulders and head in a vice. A vice that closed slowly, crushing Khattmali’s neck against her own shoulder until she stopped trying to free her hand and clawed at my legs trying to free her head. I laid both my hands on her hair and pulled down. Her fingers on her free hand fumbled with the knives strapped to my thighs. I let her.

I breathed slowly, surprised at the calm pulsing through my veins as I focused every last ounce of energy into holding her in place. Moments passed, her struggling subsided and her body sagged, but I kept holding. I needed to be sure.  Breathing hurt. My chest hurt. My energy began to fizzle out like kindling on wet wood. I wanted to sleep. I didn’t dare let go in case Khattmali was pretending. Or in case she wake up when I let go. I would not let go. I would hold until the world faded for me, too.

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