by Pemry Janes
Leraine worked her mouth, then shook her head. “No, forget it. My questions can wait. Come on.”
***
Slyvair grew increasingly certain that Perun had been right. He hadn’t caught a glimpse of the living sword himself, but that woman was fleeing from something. She was in a hurry, kept looking back, but didn’t take the time to make sure she wasn’t being followed.
That was the only reason why he hadn’t been spotted yet. He’d done his best, used all the tricks he knew, but he stood out. Even the night couldn’t hide him if she’d really looked. It did help that she’d ducked into the Inza’s stoneworks the first chance she’d gotten. It had been an issue when she’d ascended one of the staircases to the buildings placed on the Outer Ring of the Creator structure. Hard not to make noise on them, but up here it was easier to follow.
Mage lights wouldn’t work here. Here and there were a couple of oil lamps and braziers that did nothing more than ruin the night vision of anybody who looked right at them.
Could have done with a weapon.
Perun followed, quieter than him, in truth. He’d always had a knack for sneaking about, right from the start. His lip curled into a smile as he remembered the little snot almost getting away with Ceran’s supplies. But Ceran would never cook for anybody again. And Perun could die too if he wasn’t careful.
“If I tell you to run, you don’t question me. You run,” he said, not looking back at Perun.
“And leave you alone? I can fight. Gerd and Hanser have been teaching me.”
“And you didn’t learn much. What’s the first thing a man needs to learn to be a soldier? Well?”
“To obey orders.”
“So when I order you to run . . .”
“I’ll run. I’ll go find Silver Fang. Then we can rescue you.”
“I’ll be fine. No, you’re going to find that priestess, the one with the antler stick. We’ll need more than one blade if this goes wrong.”
When this goes wrong.
Perun stayed silent, but Slyvair was content to wait. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” And he didn’t breathe out his relief. Slyvair kept his eyes on the cloaked woman. She’d stopped, but not to look back but around. She was searching for something but didn’t find it because she set off again. Almost running.
His ears caught it before she did, the noise of several people tromping up one of the staircases. Slyvair froze with his hearts pounding in his chest, they were coming up right behind him. Slyvair risked getting a little closer so he could squeeze himself into a slit between two buildings. Perun had a much easier time of it.
The glow of a lantern heralded their arrival. He shut one eye so not to ruin his own night vision entirely and watched the odd group pass by. The one carrying the light was armed, the rest carried something long and flat between them wrapped in cloth.
None looked in his direction and Slyvair just dared to relax when an angry voice cut through the silence. The voice was not so loud he could hear what was being said and it petered off quickly, but the light didn’t move. Not for a good long while.
Perun tapped his thigh. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I think they know each other. But something didn’t go right.” In his experience, people rarely started shouting on a dark road if everything was fine. Though what the problem was, he couldn’t guess.
Whatever it was, it got resolved. He could hear them move on, the light fading. Only when darkness had returned did Slyvair pull himself out of his hiding place and crack his other eye open again.
He didn’t see the cloaked woman right away, because he wasn’t looking at the right spot. She led the group and they were moving quick. Slyvair followed, more careful now. There were more eyes to spot him, even if they’d all be half blind from the lantern.
It wasn’t for long, about a bowshot from where they’d met, the woman called for a halt. She alone approached a particular building. He saw nothing special about it; it looked as flimsy as most of what was built on the rings. At least they’d taken the time to decorate most of the houses here. He’d never understood the Irelians’ preference for plainness.
The thief, if she was that, knocked on the door. Light spilled out as it opened right away and she stepped in as soon as it did. The others hesitated for a moment before following her in.
Send Perun away now? He eyed the boy. No. He’ll argue and we don’t know what’s going on here. It still might be nothing. But it doesn’t feel like nothing.
Slyvair inhaled deeply of the cool night’s air. The scent of wood awoke old memories, though this was the wrong kind. The subtle hints of smoke brought others up, made the skin on his skull go taut. But there was something else there . . .
A plank creaked and Slyvair dropped, leg sweeping the ground behind him. A figure tumbled, but he wasn’t alone. Slyvair rolled over the prone human and swung his leg up and down, but they dodged back.
“Captain, it’s us,” the cloaked figure hissed as the one underneath Slyvair croaked something as well. They threw their hood back and bared their teeth. Starlight reflected weakly off a silver tooth.
“Shouldn’t sneak up on me.” He got off—yes, that was Eurik. “What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that,” Silver Fang said, though she spoke in Linesan. Right, Eurik’s Irelian was pretty bad.
“I saw a woman with Misthell. Wasn’t you, I figured he got kidnapped,” Perun said. “We here to rescue him.” The boy had been getting better with his Linesan. The sword had helped there.
Silver Fang’s head dipped before she squared her shoulders. “That’s my sister, Resting Python. She’s . . . helping the face stealer. Called it a mirror demon.”
“We followed a mirror they’re carrying for her,” Eurik said. He looked down the narrow street. “We saw them come up here. Did they go into one of the buildings?”
“Yes, that one. And what is that mirror for?” The old burns grew tighter even before he heard their answer.
“We think it will use that mirror to leave Chappenuioc. Maybe mirrors act like a portal for their kind.” Silver Fang shrugged. “There’s a lot we don’t know yet. But we can find that out later.”
“Yes.” He switched to Irelian and placed a hand on his child’s head. “Perun, time for you to find that priestess. Tell her what we know and where we are. Hurry.”
He saw the rebellion grow on Perun’s face, but he was smart boy. He just nodded, then turned to Eurik and Silver Fang. “Ya better save him or ya’ll regret it.” He didn’t wait for their reply and ran off, silently disappearing into the dark.
Slyvair let out a breath. “I don’t suppose either of you have a spare weapon for me?” Eurik, of course, shook his head. That one relied too much on his unarmed combat techniques. And his weapon had gotten stolen. But Silver Fang only offered a knife, which he turned down as he drew his own. At least that was steel he knew, steel he could trust.
Chapter 32
Breaking Down
They closed on the building that held Misthell, and the mirror. Eurik could barely feel it through the chiri-starved wood. They stuck to the shadows as mice fought in his stomach. Neither Slyvair nor Silver Fang looked anything but calm, but Eurik couldn’t help but be concerned.
“They’ve set the mirror down, ground floor.” He could hear people moving inside, but not sense them. There was just so little here, like he was underwater. Except this sea had no floor.
“And they’re coming out,” Slyvair said.
“We don’t have time to wait for them to leave,” Silver Fang said. She took out her buckler and shortened spear. “They’re men anyway, they’ll get out of the way when they see us.”
“Will they?” Slyvair smiled a little. “They’ll still be in the way. Even if you are right. And going in the front is not the best approach anyway. Follow me.” He ducked into a narrow alley, not looking back.
Silver Fang seemed torn, only
to relent when Eurik passed her and followed Slyvair into the passage. “We don’t know how many we’ll be facing. I can’t sense much.” There was steel in there, but there were hints of steel and iron everywhere. It could be pots, nails, or swords. No way to tell from this distance in this place.
“Fine. But hurry.”
They reached the back of the building and found a narrow door there. No lock, but it simply rattled in its frame when Slyvair gave it a little shake. “Barred. It’s around here, I think,” he said, tapping the door about a hand above the rope loop that functioned as a handle.
All of them could hear a door open, the sound of men talking grew louder. The group that had delivered the mirror was leaving.
“Right. We’ll have to go in loud, then. Get ready.” Slyvair took a few steps back, then ran forward and punched the door.
***
Leraine had barely had time to grasp the sun-man’s meaning when he charged at the door and punched right through it with his metal arm. She felt the impact reverberate under her feet. The sound of splintering wood shattered the night. But Captain Slyvair wasn’t done.
Pulling back, he tore the door of its leather hinges and cast it away. Rock reacted faster than her, already slipping past the sun-man and into the building. Biting back a curse, Leraine followed with Captain Slyvair right behind.
She could hear the alarm inside, but also confusion. They hadn’t realized yet what was happening. Leraine stormed through the dark kitchen, hanging spoons clacking against each other in Rock’s wake. This had to be a feasting hall; the kitchen was too big for a simple house and a larger dwelling would not be so empty as this building felt.
Rock neared the door, but didn’t slow down. Instead he took his lead from Captain Slyvair and sprang forward, kicking the door open with both feet. Something broke as the door swung away and light spilled in.
“Yes, they did follow you,” someone said. A familiar voice, an impossible one.
She and Rock fanned out into the room, but there was no immediate opposition. Days-old straw lay on the floor, with dark stains in the wood beneath it. Long tables and benches stood on the sides, leaving a large space in the center free for dancing or brawling—or to set up a large freestanding mirror.
The last of the men took one look back and fled into the night through the front door. That cleared one escape route. Captain Slyvair had stopped in the door opening, effectively blocking that off. Leraine barely took notice, most of her attention was on the three in the center of the hall.
Resting Python was one of three, with Misthell still in her hand. She’d already discarded her cloak on one of the tables. Still Pool, not a surprise to find her sister’s retainer here. Hand on the blade, but not yet drawn and her eyes bounced from them to the last member of their little conspiracy. Tense Coil smirked as she looked them over. She stood closest to the mirror and had a bundle under one arm.
“You are an idiot,” her sister said to Leraine. “Every chance to walk away and you just walk to your death.” She grabbed the handle of her segmented sword with her free hand and whipped it out.
Leraine released the clasp of her cloak and let it fall to the floor. “Someone has to uphold the honor of our family.” She took a couple of steps to the left, hoping to lure Resting Python away from her allies.
Her sister rolled her eyes. “This act grows tiresome, little sister. Our family has always strived for power. Because that’s what matters. Honor is something you can afford to affect later.” She turned enough to keep an eye on Leraine, but wasn’t moving farther.
Eurik called out from across the hall. “Give up Misthell. Surrender. Please.”
Resting Python just laughed. “Give up a living sword?” She admired the blade. “After sampling its power? I can see why you like him, little sister. He’s as great a fool as you are.”
“Python,” Still Pool said, her blade rasping from its scabbard. “We don’t have all night.”
“I can stand to hear more,” Tense Coil said. It had to be the mirror demon. But who did it think would be fooled by that guise? Or was it just its way to twist the knife? “How about you, oircaid? What is your stake in this?”
Captain Slyvair growled softly. “You speak my language.”
“Yes. Comes in handy when you visit Ainchang Ystoil,” the demon said. “Yes. I’ve walked the silver streets of Telleiproap, watched the Crimson Empress appease Yellow Smoker.”
None of it meant anything to Leraine, but it obviously did to Captain Slyvair. “Enough. I don’t care what you do with your sister, Silver Fang. But that one,” he said, pointing at the mirror demon, “I want it alive. It will answer my questions before it dies.”
Leraine didn’t acknowledge his words. Something felt off about this. Where is her confidence coming from? It’s three on three, she knows what Rock can do. And Resting Python isn’t that good herself. Is it Misthell?
That thought didn’t feel right. The living sword was a peerless blade, but its illusions lost a lot of their power if you knew they couldn’t hurt you. Then again, she had killed a blooddrinker with exactly that power. But Resting Python didn’t think that way. She thought in moves, get at her enemies from behind, from hiding.
The floor vibrated as Captain Slyvair stomped into the room. He’d drawn his knife and had grabbed a pan from the kitchen. Her sister’s posture shifted, a tension left. But Captain Slyvair joining the fight only improved the odds. Unless . . .
Ambush.
Leraine looked about, then realized this was a hall. It had a high ceiling.
***
Eurik bounced on his feet, kept his arms moving. The wind chiri running through his body urged him on, to it stillness was death. Something the demon said, it niggled at him. Ystoil. He’d come across the name before.
Not relevant right now. He’s not closer to the mirror. Silver Fang is facing her sister. I should handle the demon. Leave the other to Slyvair.
He was ready, but Silver Fang wasn’t. Eurik drew deeper into the winds. He’d act as soon as she would. But she was taking her time. He sensed his own breath, quick but deep. Slyvair’s was a gust. Silver Fang’s breathing gained speed; she’d move soon.
But there were more breaths stirring the building’s air. Many more. Not just in front of him. Eurik looked up at the same time as Silver Fang did.
He saw nothing, just empty rafters cloaked in deep shadows. But he could sense their breathing, hear clothes rustle and bows creak. Eurik whirled his arms around, and the wind picked up the discarded cloaks and sent them flying into the rafters. A curse, cloth ripped, someone fell out of thin air, and everything rattled as the body hit the floor.
The room exploded into chaos. Silver Fang and her sister leaped at each other, arrows flew, and so did a pan. Slyvair grunted when one arrow found him, but the pan he threw smacked the woman with Resting Python right in the face and sent her reeling.
Three arrows were meant for Eurik. They flexed in flight; his shoulder dipped just underneath one, his hand slapped one away, the third ripped his pants and caressed his skin. But the wind carried the pain and the fear away. The wind didn’t let itself be held back by anything.
Eurik danced through the room. He still couldn’t see them, but he didn’t need to. A flick of his hand sent a gust of wind through the rafters. Someone stumbled around up there and nobody loosed another arrow. Nobody got knocked to the ground either.
If the fish don’t come to you, you go to the fish.
He bounced off the wall and up into the rafters. It was like plunging into the sea. From in the boat, you couldn’t see much between the waves and the sun reflecting of the water. But once through, another world opened up. A gloomy one of wooden beams and armed warriors.
They’d seen him come, two already aiming for him, but he wasn’t stopping. He couldn’t. An arrow thunked into the beam next to his head, the other hit the slanting roof behind him. A hop, bounce, jump, and he was among them.
&n
bsp; “Kill him, kill him!”
Fervent’s here. Why’s she here? No. Question later. Focus.
One fighter had drawn another arrow, but rather than putting it on her bowstring she tried to stab him with it when he landed next to her. Eurik spun and swept her legs out from under her. The beam shook as she landed on it and her fingers scraped the wood when she slid off.
But they weren’t the only ones on that particular beam. The other one had also drawn another arrow and shot him from four steps away.
***
Leraine’s arms blurred as she stabbed out with her shortened spear, caught an arrow on the buckler, then fell back as her sister lashed out with her segmented blade. She held Misthell in her left hand, and Leraine had to keep an eye on it. She knew how sharp the living sword was; her gambeson wouldn’t stop its keen edge.
Can’t stay away though. They can’t shoot me so easy if they risk hitting their leader.
“Do they know what this is about?”
“They know enough,” Resting Python said, then she jumped back and Leraine’s gaze darted up. She still couldn’t see a thing, but she heard a commotion up there. Rock had jumped up there and had not come back down yet, alive or dead. The arrows had ceased as well.
“Looks like your plan isn’t going so well,” Leraine said. She risked a look around, things didn’t look so bad. Her liver shrank at the sight of Still Pool, blood dripping from her shattered nose, a knife buried in her chest by Captain Slyvair. At least the one that had fallen from the empty air had been a stranger, a warrior from another sept of Snake. This conspiracy involved members of the entire tribe, then.