The Silent Blade

by P. S. Power

  Anders had expected to find himself alone, standing outside the palace, before light even came, that day. He was, as he was well aware, probably making himself seem like a ghoul of legend, waiting for a life to be taken, for his own amusement. That his real goal was different than that, to only make certain that Prince Lassa wasn’t allowed to escape and therefore come back at them again, later, might well be missed by the good people of Barquea.

  Instead, he found himself in a courtyard, near where the boy was being held, ready to fight anyone who came to steal him away under cover of darkness. He wasn’t alone, either. There were ten guards, all of them as sleepless as he was, around the edge of the building. All of them seemed uneasy, as well, though Mikail had waved to him, and nodded. Seeming to understand his reasoning. At least he might have. It was that or the man thought his plan was very different, and he agreed with it.

  If so, he was in for a disappointing morning.

  At an hour before the sun was set to rise, he was joined by several others. The guards stiffened, at first, as did Anders, until he realized who was there. Depak Sona, Princess Salina and Princess Lissa. He frowned at all of them, but then shook his head.

  “I understand why you have all come. I would have spared Lissa this duty, but...” He looked away then. “But you’re also an Apprentice Great One, so need to be here, even if it’s brutally hard to see to your own brother this way.” He glared a bit, at Depak.

  The look he got in return was equally hard.

  “Truly, Anders... I brought her in case we had to fight you, to see justice done. Note, I did not insist my father be here? Or Martya? They would, perhaps, fall in on your side too easily, no matter what you ask for. If I may, what plans do you have here?”

  All three of them looked at him, as if he hadn’t been there all night already. As if, had it been his wish, he couldn’t have walked into the cell, through the very wall, and flown away with the boy within. Still, he blinked for a bit, into the darkness.

  “I’m here to make certain the Sula’s will is carried out. It’s a dark thing, but Lassa didn’t just try to kill his brother, he functionally did it. If I’d been delayed by more than a moment on the trip back from the market, he’d be dead right now. I understand that we can’t be everywhere, so, I’m not blaming myself for that, but I was the one tasked with helping him correct his behavior and I...” Anders cleared his throat, choking up more than he probably had any right to. “I failed. I don’t even really know what I’d thought to do. I’d... Most people, when they learn self-discipline and control over a field or skill, they tend to simply become... If not good, then not so much of a problem for others. Lassa didn’t leave enough time for that to happen.”

  It was all true enough, but he felt horrible, saying such things in front of the man’s own sisters and his great-great grandfather. Then it occurred to him that Lassa was, by their rules, his own side-uncle. Family. Enough so that he was being included in that way, without anyone screaming that he, an outsider, didn’t belong there. So far, anyway. That would probably come, at some point. Even if it was only out of anger.

  Depak, seeming hard, instead of sad, nodded. It was a slow thing, barely seen in the dark of the night.

  “No one blames you for what he did.”

  Salina spoke then, her own words more subdued sounding than the men she was with.

  “That’s a simple truth. You fought to save him. You gave your own time and effort in that attempt and paid for special lessons in magic for him. After he tried to kill you. That was... It was real, wasn’t it? A lot of people wondered if he’d been playing and got caught up, or someone had put him up to it, as a prank. It’s rare, but people here can do that kind of thing, from time to time, meaning only to be humorous. It’s... I think we don’t always assume that consequences are real. Not for us. So a thing like a knife in the gut can be laughed at, because, why, won’t the healer simply come and fix it for us?”

  Which, after a fashion was what had happened with Naveed.

  “I can see that, for me. I wasn’t harmed at all, and Lassa had been thrashed for it and humbled in public for the attempt. Then, not wanting more death in my life, I made a mistake and tried to fix things. Even now, I wonder, if I’d had more time, or... I don’t know.”

  Depak Sona turned to look at the building where Lassa was being held.

  “We never will. Not truly. Now we must make certain he cannot act again. There will be ceremonies, to ensure he does not come back as a restless spirit, seeking vengeance. Then he will be beheaded, as dawn breaks. There will almost certainly be an attempt to free him. He isn’t a popular prince, but out of two hundred he managed to work to fifty-ninth place. That speaks of a certain amount of favor, from the Sula.”

  The words were poised, and carefully spoken. Anders moved to Istlan, for the question they brought forth from his mind.

  “You fear the Sula will have him removed from justice? Can’t he simply order that?”

  Princess Lissa rolled her eyes, and snorted softly. It wasn’t the kind of thing she normally would have done, being most polite and considerate of others. That meant either he was being incredibly foolish, or she was truly stressed by the happenings of the day as well.

  “Oh, Father could order that done... If he wished to lose Barquea and probably find a blade in his own back, inside the week. Naveed is his named heir. Allowing someone to kill him, or even to try to do that would be disastrous amongst his own people. Even looking the other way when it happened to you caused ripples of dissent and worry, Anders. You’re ten away from the seat of power right now and still half the generals in the army were asking if they needed to overthrow the Sula. Only the fact that you, publicly, asked for a chance to redeem Lassa caused them to hold their hands. This... I hate it, but Lassa did this to himself.” She growled a bit, a low and frustrated sound. “Which is why I had to come, to fight you, if you tried to take him away.”

  There was no speaking for a long time, then, in the end, she grinned.

  “I was counting on the fact that I’m your favorite, to prevent my death, in case you were wondering how I expected to make that work.”

  The words seemed a bit out of place. For one thing, Anders knew that he couldn’t defeat even Depak Sona in a battle of magic. He could, perhaps, take Salina, being a better fighter than she was, but even that might well end in his own death, even as he took hers.

  Lissa was young. Also incredibly talented and powerful, at the same time.

  “There’s that, but it won’t happen. As odd as it sounds, trying to be a good person caused this to happen now. The Sula might have wanted it, at the time, but I was the one who made the mistake.”

  He looked down, which had Salina touching him on the shoulder, gently.

  “Hey! None of that now. Even I can see that this is the kind of thing that we all have to do, time and again, in hopes that it will work. That there are some mistakes that people are supposed to make. Being too kind, to a person who may not deserve it, is one of those things. If the spoiled princess can see that, certainly you can, Anders Sona. You were the one who showed me that lesson, after all.”

  It was a thing that he also knew, on some level. Depak heaved a large sigh, then touched his well-groomed mustache.

  “Well spoken, Salina. A good thing to remind us all of. Still, now that we know what we do about the boy, we must see to protecting the world from him.”

  They stood in silence, without lights, for a long time. At half an hour before true light, just as the holy men and women came to say their prayers for the dead over Lassa, a group of nine armed men, with horses and a wagon, rushed into the courtyard.

  Depak waved in their direction.

  “Try not to harm them? Salina, if you’d disable the wagon? Take the wheels off, perhaps. Princess Lissa, if you could handle the horses? Remove the saddles, by breaking the straps. Anders...”

  Anders had already started a spell though, so the older man fell silent.

  “S
wa et li swa, ere ot ere, seve foru, fen.” He was tense and it showed in his voice.

  Then, after finishing the whisper, seeking all of the men, who were about a hundred feet away, with his mind, to show where the spell needed to go, all of their blades, knives and swords, fell into four, fairly even, pieces. It made a bit of a clatter. Then, as they tried to run, their saddles came apart, as Lissa did her own muttering and wizard seeking.

  Finally, nearly a minute later, Salina caused the wagons wheels to fall off, with a crash. Even though all of the men had been taken at sword edge by the real guards there.

  Depak gave her a long-suffering look. She simply looked away.

  “They were too far away, I had to use that trick with the wizard location, to do it. Which, I mean you two did faster. I’m just not as good, I guess.”

  For some reason Depak seemed almost angry, as if doing it that way, using wizard skills to extend personal range, was normal, and should have been her first thought. Anders didn’t disagree, but making too large of a deal of it could harm her education, instead of it being a lesson that aided her in the future.

  “You did it though and can already do it faster, next time. Now that you know to keep that ready all the time. We can practice a bit, but you probably already have that one now.” It was more or less the truth.

  Unless the girl was distracted by the death of one of her own brothers, which was to happen shortly.

  The would-be saviors, who were other guards from the palace, as it turned out, probably put up to the task by a Sulana, if not more than one, were simply held in a group to one side. They weren’t even tied up or guarded closely. Then, they were more or less totally disarmed. Unless one of them knew some magic, of course.

  Anders had thought of it, so turned to the others.

  “Salina, can you watch those men, using your mind? For magic or further rescue attempts. If anything starts to happen, you handle it? Try to do so without death, if at all possible?” Anders didn’t know what would happen to the guards who had gone against the Sula’s wishes like that.

  It could be death. If so, then they would be well motivated to do everything they could, not to fail.

  The Princess crossed her arms over her thin robe. She did it as if she was cool, which made sense. Anders wasn’t bothered by it, but the night wasn’t warm, really.

  “As a punishment for taking too long to do the wagon wheels? I’d complain and ask if you could do any better, but I know that you really can, so it takes all the fun out of it.”

  Anders shook his head.

  “Not that one. You’re an Apprentice Great One. You aren’t scolded for your failures. You’re simply expected to correct them and move on as quickly as possible. The scoldings will be saved for the big things and matters of principal.” He didn’t let himself smile. “The bad part of that is that you’re pretty much never allowed to be lazy again, either. I’m just making these rules up now, but they kind of make sense. The title isn’t Halfway Good One, after all.” It wasn’t humorous at all, but Depak managed a rather grim smile.

  “I agree, if you both do, girls? It makes much more sense than me having to feign being upset about you being slow on doing a thing that took me until last year to learn to do myself. A hard path is being set, however.”

  Both Princesses seemed to think for a bit, then both nodded.

  Salina spoke as well, explaining her own thoughts.

  “Agreed. I’ve probably not been taking this seriously, so far. I can do better. So, I’m on the errant guards. Lissa, would you watch the Sendeks?”

  Anders had been to Barquea before, so understood that those were the magical priests and priestesses who handled the dead and those about to die. Blessing them with a better life, or cursing them to a lesser one, on their return. They also prevented people from returning as dark entities, Anders thought. Devica, except that Barquea tended to think of such things as fearful beings, not potential friends. Slough or Sluoagh. Slough meant only spirit, but the latter word was basically calling the being evil for its very nature.

  If that was how one thought of such things, making certain people wouldn’t return as one to harm you made a certain sense.

  There was a clutch of people there, dressed in robes, with no use of a torch or light, other than that of the sun. They moved into a semi-circle, and stood there, as Lassa, no longer a prince, was brought out to be taken care of. He was blessed by the clergy, his spirit asked to do only good and not return, as he cried, rather piteously.

  When a commotion came from around the corner of the building, the Sula, his wives and the other family members, who numbered in far more than two hundred, all arriving at once, the errant guards tried to run to Lassa, to free him.

  One of them did seem to have a spell upon him. Rather, he was chanting the spell, over and over. The effect was fascinating, though not a thing Anders would have ever thought to try, if he wasn’t seeing it work.

  The man had, without changing anything physical about himself at all, made himself incredibly slippery. Even the spells that Salina was using seemed to, in the main, dance away from him.

  Anders touched the man with his mind, and did two things.

  “Hom Rutha Fen.”

  That was simple, and only ended the man’s current spells.

  “Nisk Marit Fen.”

  That stopped the chanting. The skin of the man’s lips merging. Sticking together, so that his mouth couldn’t open to make noise. There was a muffled struggling, after that, and Salina held all of the men, including that one, on the ground. They lie there, unable to move, after a moment.

  All of it happened fast enough that even Depak was happy with it.

  Lissa cleared her throat.

  “There... Sendek... Villiam? He’s about to use a talisman that will whisk Lassa away.”

  Depak Sona simply moved over, walking, and politely spoke to the man.

  “Sendek? I understand your drive to preserve a life, but allowing this particular one to escape might lead to the death of others. Perhaps you should hold your hand?”

  Several of the holy types looked at the Great One, but only one of them hung his head, as if ashamed of what he’d thought to do.

  The Sula, took a shuddering breath, in the distance.

  “My words mean so little that even the Sendeks turn against me?”

  Depak shook his head.

  “I do not think so, Darian. He was ready to act, if it was your secret will, and no more. Do not think ill of him? We have not openly shared the crimes committed.”

  That got a nod, and instead of the Sula calling out, another man, who Anders had never even seen before, an older fellow, in plain brown robes, with long pale hair and a large, white, tidily kept beard, spoke. His words carried to the masses, even though he was not loud at all.

  It was almost shocking, regardless, in the quiet of the morning, as the sun rose gently, into the sky. There was no hint of breeze, and the only sound in the background was the piteous crying of the condemned man.

  “Lassathian Degrud Morigan Eta attempted to kill Prince Naveed, the rightful Heir, last night. He stabbed him in the neck and back, over a hundred times. Prince Naveed lives and is here, saved by magical intervention and healing. Lassathian has, in the recent past also attempted to murder another prince, Anders Brolly Eta Caldas, who out of kindness, asked for the boy to have a second chance to prove himself. That, clearly, was an attempt to stop an unneeded war, with our allies in the north lands. Prince Lassathian confessed to the crime. To both of them. The sentence is for his title, riches and lands to be stripped from him, and for him to be put to death. That judgment will now be carried out.”

  A golden glow moved from the man in brown, over to where Lassa was curled on the ground. It didn’t simply remove his head, however. Anders watched as the boy was pulled around, as if a tied-up parcel, and held, face down, in front of a large man in all white. He was holding a giant scimitar, the curved blade shining in the glow and light from the risin
g sun.

  The man held the blade up, not seeming to see anyone else there.

  Sula Darian muttered, softly. It was heard anyway, since everyone else was silent. Even Lassa had gone quiet.

  Then, Anders realized, he was already dead. The golden glow had snuffed his life out, and then the man in brown had taken over, working the flesh like a puppet. One without strings. It was well done, to be honest. The body even seemed to breathe, but there was nothing left inside.

  That meant, when the large silver blade cut the head from the neck, there was no pain for the boy. Indeed, he didn’t soil himself in death, nor did his mouth move or legs kick, as he lie dying.

  Anders, not knowing why he did it, bowed. Bending in half, his arms out and palms up to the sky. The bow one used when entreating supernatural forces, or a great unknown. Slowly, even if it clearly wasn’t the custom there, everyone else did the same. Except a clutch of grieving women, who screamed in their pain.

  Then, as if all were done, the errant guards were allowed to find their feet. Anders quickly separated the lips of the man who’d made himself slippery, and double checked to make certain he wasn’t deformed or harmed by that action. It actually took him closing with the man and doing some moments work to make certain it didn’t look like he was sneering constantly, from then on.

  As that man, dressed in deepest blue linen, walked away, Hoatha and Lady Martya came up to him.

  Hoatha spoke, as Martya gave him a hug.

  “Are you well? This kind of thing is always... well, you’ve seen it before. At least this time the one beheaded deserved it.” He glared in Lassa’s body’s general direction.

  Others were doing that as well, even though Anders didn’t bother with it. The situation was done.

  “This is over now. Well, as much as such things ever are. I imagine there will be more deaths over the years, what with people taking revenge and all that.”

  Martya held him for a bit, then stood back. She looked fresh, awake and well made up, but different for it, having used the style of the land they were in. Also, her skin tone was different, though the face remained the same. It was a smooth, rich tan color.