by Ryan Kirk
The fact was problematic in more ways than one. If Tatsuo established himself firmly among the nobility, dislodging him might be more difficult than Mari had anticipated. She still awaited replies to the missives she’d sent days ago to the other nobles. Despite her strength, had she already been beaten? The thought terrified her, but she refused to give it credence.
The next afternoon, Mari asked Asa to escort her to the city center. There was an open council meeting scheduled. If tradition still held, it was an opportunity for people to air their grievances. Mari’s father had felt the practice was one of the key ways the house held its people together. Everyone needed to know that their voices could be heard.
Asa walked silently behind her, and Mari wondered what the nightblade thought about. Asa rarely spoke unless spoken to, which was the opposite of most people who tended to surround nobility. Most days Mari appreciated the difference, but today she would have paid good money to know what was really going on in her companion’s head.
They arrived at the courtyard, about a hundred paces long and thirty wide. People were gathered on benches on both sides. Mari recognized some of the faces, but not all. Some were present in order to be heard. Others watched, and still others schemed. From a glance, Mari felt as though she could tell who was who. For as much as the world changed, some parts of it, the parts she considered a pestilence, persisted.
Her father had been honest with his children. He wanted open council to be a time to judge the mood of the house lands. If it was within his power to right wrongs, he wanted the chance. But actions taken in public often returned to haunt them. Nobles and commoners alike used previous rulings to attempt to force their lord to acquiesce to ridiculous demands. The open council had been a mighty strain on her father.
When Tatsuo entered the courtyard, it was all Mari could do not to order Asa to kill him. She wasn’t sure Asa would even obey such an order, but her desire was strong. Everything aggravated her, from the way he walked to the way he sat at the head of the courtyard as though he was born to be there.
The first few plaintiffs were easily dealt with. A lord needed more seed for his land. A merchant wanted to open a second stall, as his first was too busy to support all his customers. Mari almost felt as though the scene in front of her was scripted. It very well might have been. It set the mood of the council, elevating Tatsuo’s easy decisions.
The atmosphere changed when a poorly dressed man stood before Tatsuo. From his clothing, Mari assumed the man was a farmer. From the looks on the faces of Tatsuo and the council, it didn’t appear like the man was supposed to be there.
The man began slowly. “My lord, I come before you today because food I have earned is being taken away from my family.”
Tatsuo seemed bored. “Be more specific.”
The farmer stuttered. “My lord, the agreement I reached with my master specified that one part out of every five would be for my family. When the master’s men came last, we were only allowed to keep one part in ten. My family goes hungry, my lord, and I’d ask that you insist on the terms of the agreement. I’m certain a word from you would resolve this.”
Tatsuo glanced lazily around the courtyard. “Do you have any evidence of this?”
“My word, my lord.”
“Against a noble? Tell me, who is the master of your lands?”
“Yoshinori, my Lord.”
Tatsuo scowled at the man. “Yoshinori is an honorable man, and you dare to come here, trying to destroy his reputation?”
The farmer looked shocked. Mari had no trouble deciding if the farmer was telling the truth. His clothes were old and patched in places, but even more telling was the way they hung off his shoulders. He was hungry. She turned to Asa and whispered, “What do you sense in the farmer?”
“I do not think he is lying. His energy is very weak.”
Asa’s words confirmed Mari’s belief. The farmer was likely in the right in this situation. Worse, his argument was true: a single letter from Tatsuo would solve the problem, and it was unlikely Yoshinori was going hungry.
But there was more, Mari suspected. Yoshinori’s lands lay in the valley below Stonekeep. Given the proximity to the capital, he often played an important role in court affairs. It was easy to believe there was an agreement between Tatsuo and Yoshinori, an agreement which deprived the farmers of their crops and loaded the coffers of the two men.
With a new perspective, Mari watched Tatsuo. The lord dismissed the farmer. “Your complaint has no merit. I believe you were likely selected by the enemies of the house to weaken us. Leave now and you will not be imprisoned.”
The farmer was at a loss for words. His jaw moved up and down, but no words came out. He recognized, suddenly, the danger his complaint had put him in. One part in ten wasn’t enough, but it was more than his family would receive if he was imprisoned. He turned around and slunk out of the courtyard. Behind him, Tatsuo grinned.
The lord raised his voice so everyone, including the retreating farmer, could hear. “Mark this well, everyone. Our house is strong, and we will not be torn apart by those who seek our destruction.”
Mari fought the desire to step down into the courtyard. There were still too many questions, and she couldn’t allow more chaos. Her action, when she took it, needed to be decisive. After seeing Tatsuo in action, she knew just how decisive her action would be, too. He would be lucky to escape her wrath with his life.
She tore away from the audience, following the farmer with her eyes. Asa fell in silently behind her.
Mari found the farmer after he had taken only a few paces out of the courtyard. She put a hand on his shoulder to stop him and he jumped. She could feel how thin he was, so thin she worried that she might break his shoulder if she held on too strongly.
When he saw it wasn’t a guard, he immediately relaxed. Mari allowed him to see her face. When he did, his eyes lit up. “Lady Mari.”
Relief flooded the man’s eyes and Mari experienced a wave of guilt. If she had made better decisions, perhaps this farmer’s life wouldn’t have come to this. “Say nothing of this. I will make things right, though.”
Mari handed over a small bag of gold to the farmer. In all likelihood, it was more money than the farmer would make in cycles of work, but if Mari’s plan came to fruition, it was only a very small part of what would be available to her. House Kita may lack people, but it didn’t lack for gold.
The farmer started to get down on his knees, but Mari held him up easily. “No. Again, say nothing of this. Change is coming, but my presence must not be known.”
She could almost sense the disapproval emanating from Asa as the farmer walked away. She answered the nightblade’s unspoken challenge. “Perhaps that wasn’t necessary, but dynasties have risen and fallen on less. He will not speak of me, but when I make my move, he will tell everyone what happened here today.”
Asa didn’t reply, but Mari didn’t expect her to. “Come. It’s time to take back my lands. Tatsuo will regret the pain he’s brought to my people.”
4
Asa hated cities. Because she was gifted with the sense, they pressed upon her mind like a never-ending nightmare, crushing her beneath the weight of so many people. Stonekeep was even worse than most. The space it was built in was small, so to accommodate more people, they had built upward. Buildings three or even four stories tall were common, packing people in like cows before a slaughter. There were too many people and far too little space.
She remembered the first time she visited a city. She had only seen a handful of cycles, and her parents had decided to celebrate a good harvest. They rarely visited cities, or even villages, for that matter. Their family stayed in their little corner of the world. Today, Asa understood it was because her father’s untrained gift made him wary of crowds.
They didn’t even make it to the city proper. By the time they were in the outskirts, Asa’s head had felt like it was going to collapse in on itself. Her father, recognizing the signs he himself suffere
d from, turned them around, much to the disappointment of Asa’s mother and brother. They had never spoken about what happened, but that must have been when her parents learned she was gifted as well.
There were limits to the sense. It differed from individual to individual, and although scholars had speculated endlessly on the topic, no one was quite sure if there was an absolute limit, or what factors set the limits for each individual. From a pragmatic standpoint, part of it was mental ability. At its most basic level, the sense brought in more information. The farther one’s gift expanded, the more information it brought in. At some point, the mind couldn’t handle any more. If a blade continued past that point, it was speculated, they either went mad or died. Of course, no one had returned from either destination to confirm the theories.
In cities, filled to breaking with lives and intentions, the amount of information brought in was too much to bear. In an empty field, Asa could let her sense wander for hundreds of paces without issue. Inside Stonekeep she didn’t dare let her gift expand more than ten.
Focusing her gift saved her from blinding headaches and pain, but it didn’t give her the knowledge she was used to. Archers could strike and she’d never know the arrow was coming. Even a child with a strong arm and a throwing blade could be a threat she never sensed. She tried to compensate with her other senses, but it required constant vigilance. No matter how attentive she was, though, she always felt exposed and vulnerable without the ability to expand her sense.
Her training last winter with Daisuke helped. He made a heightened state of awareness almost second nature to her, but she still tired easily being inside a city with so many people packed so closely together. She ended every night exhausted, even if all she had done was walk around.
Mari’s days were as filled as Asa had ever seen. She held meetings in secret, sent letters and notes, and collected more information with every passing moment. Asa felt as though she was watching a master put all her pieces in place before striking. Despite Asa’s anger at even being here, she couldn’t help but be impressed. She could see why Koji felt so strongly about the lady, and why he had wrung an oath out of Asa to protect Mari.
Thoughts of that last argument still stung. Asa disapproved of the way in which Koji tied himself to Mari’s fate. Part of her feeling was tradition. Blades weren’t supposed to align with any one ruler. But that ideal had been destroyed over the past few moons, and Asa was still uncomfortable with their new role. Aligning with rulers made them partial, and with the strength of the blades, even reduced, that loyalty would cause greater problems in the future. The Kingdom relied on the blades to be as impartial as possible.
She recognized that they had been caught in a web of their own making, a web she’d had no small part in creating when she’d killed Kiyoshi. What truly angered her was that she had no desire to be attached to any political causes. If she believed in anything, it was helping the blades survive this crisis. In her mind, there were far better ways to accomplish that than guarding Mari all day.
Koji had insisted, though, as stubborn as any mule. Eventually Asa had let herself be convinced, even though the cause was not her own. Koji’s conviction overrode her ambivalence.
So every morning and afternoon was spent following Mari around as she tried to gather support. They had been in the city now for five days, and Asa worried that if Mari didn’t make her move soon, it would be too late. It didn’t take long to solidify power. Mari must have felt the same, because she worked even longer days than Asa could handle.
Keeping Mari safe was proving to be no small task. No attack had materialized yet, but Asa’s worries grew by the day. Stonekeep was a city of sharp corners, narrow passageways, and tall buildings. She understood from a military standpoint it was almost invincible, but the same qualities that made it so easily defensible made it perfect for ambushes.
The inn was another source of strife. The guests in the common room seemed to be permanent fixtures there. Optimistically, Asa figured that perhaps they were in the same situation Mari’s guards were: trapped in the city for an extended stay with no better place to sleep. But Asa couldn’t help but see spies everywhere, and there was no shortage of people interested in their little party. To make matters worse, Mari had shown her face, however briefly, in the common room when they first arrived.
They were returning from yet another meeting. Mari had decided to return to their rooms early, as she was expecting a collection of new intelligence today. Asa followed her, all her senses working constantly to keep them safe.
They arrived at the inn without incident, but even so, when they stepped inside the common room Asa immediately checked the surroundings. A number of the usuals were there. A big man with two deep cups of beer in his hands laughed heartily. A woman with a small scar down her cheek sat reading in the corner. One particularly nasty man, wearing no fewer than three swords, was staring at them as they entered. He always stared at new arrivals.
Asa forced her hands to remain still. It would be so easy to draw any of the weapons hidden on her, but she couldn’t attract attention, not now. She could only defend, never attack.
The nightblade walked with Mari to her room, then relaxed a little. There were two honor guards inside. They couldn’t stand outside, or they’d draw attention. But Mari was safe until she left the room again. Asa could afford to get some rest.
Knowing it would be difficult to calm her mind, she went downstairs to the common room and ordered beer. She took the overflowing cup to where a few of Mari’s honor guard were drinking and playing a dice game. She sat down next to Takahiro and politely declined to join in the game. Gambling had never interested her.
Takahiro glanced away from the game. “You look like you could use some sleep.”
Asa held up her cup for his inspection. “I’m working on it.”
“What’s bothering you?”
She looked around, then spoke softly enough that only he could hear. “I don’t know how you stand being a guard. There are too many avenues for attack here. Trying to track them all is exhausting. Isn’t there any place we could be that is more secure?”
“Not unless she comes out in the open. Until then, this is the best we can do.”
“Aren’t you suspicious? The people here seem quite interested in us.”
“Of course, but until there’s something solid to defend against, there’s nothing we can do.”
“Can’t you buy out the whole inn?”
Takahiro’s response was dry. “That would also attract attention.”
Asa cursed. Life would be a lot easier if Mari would just make her move. In an uncharacteristic moment, she gulped down the remaining half of her beer in one swig. Perhaps that would be enough. Bidding the guards farewell, Asa turned to go to her room, desperate for sleep.
Asa followed Mari through the winding streets of Stonekeep. Even though they had been in the city for days, Asa still only had the barest of ideas where they were at any given time. Mari navigated the streets like the local she was, taking narrow alleys and tight corners with confidence. Because Mari shifted directions so quickly, and because the high walls often blocked out the sun, Asa fought for her bearings at every turn, only to have them pulled away moments later.
Today was no different. Another day of meetings and letters had passed, and Asa’s unease had only grown. Mari needed to act. Her time was slipping away. The sun was setting, and from what Asa could observe, Mari seemed no closer to taking action.
The lady took another corner into a long alley, dark in the falling light of the early evening. Here in the mountains the sun set earlier than Asa was used to, and although the sky above was still light, Stonekeep fell to darkness early. Mari walked confidently, Asa muttering under her breath as she followed.
A few moments later, a woman came into the alley from the direction they were heading. She was unremarkable, of medium build and height. Asa noticed that she moved well, her steps always in balance, but paid the other woman no more
mind. As they passed, Asa noticed that the woman had a small scar on one of her cheeks.
The hair on Asa’s arms suddenly stood straight up, and she knew she was missing something. Then it struck her like a thunderclap.
The woman was a regular in the common room of the inn.
Asa reacted before she could even process a thought, knowing the coincidence to be too unlikely. She spun, her arms coming up to draw the blades hidden on her back. The woman with the scar was already turning, though, and Asa now sensed her intent. A knife glittered in the darkness, but Asa wasn’t the target.
Asa snapped her right arm down, slapping the attack away less than a heartbeat from the moment it hit. Asa wasn’t fast enough to stop the blade, but she sent it spinning, causing the hilt of the throwing knife to strike Mari in the back, warning the lady that something was wrong.
Asa had deflected the attack, but it distracted her from drawing her swords. Her left arm, still close to the hidden hilt of one blade, reached back, but she suddenly felt the cold bite of a chain as it wrapped around her left wrist.
She cursed. How was she not sensing the attacks?
The chain pulled hard on her wrist, and she received part of her answer. The attacker was on the roofs above, high enough to avoid the detection of her sense.
Asa sensed the scarred woman’s next attack, a slash aimed at her neck from a large knife. Asa managed to twirl around her outstretched arm, just managing to avoid the cut. The woman positioned herself for the next attack and Asa realized just how poor of a situation she was in. They were in close quarters, the alley so narrow even Asa’s short swords were potentially too long. Her left arm was trapped overhead, greatly limiting her movement and abilities.