by Ryan Kirk
But she did, she reminded herself. There were three women on the council. Even though her status didn’t count for much in the Kingdom, she was still the sister of a lord and the owner of tremendous wealth. Her voice would be heard.
The hall of the council was filled with blades. The council sat in front of her, but the walls to each side were packed three deep with blades who had come to hear her speak. She hadn’t considered that she’d have an audience. But she remembered her lessons. The council was generally open to all, and with the lack of outside contact as of late, her presence was likely one of the most interesting events happening in the city.
She bowed deeply, and the man she believed to be Hajimi spoke. Her memory of him was vague, dulled by the passage of time. He looked much older than she remembered, his hair gray and brown eyes restless. Perhaps he had just aged poorly. Perhaps the events of the past cycle had made him this way. Either way, he didn’t look the part of the strong leader that Mari had expected.
“Greetings, Lady Mari. If my memory serves, we have met before.”
“We have, Master Hajimi. I am pleased you remember.”
“Thank you for your patience and for your efforts in coming before this council. What brings you before us today?”
Mari noted the shift in language. Traditionally, a person before the council was asked how the blades could serve them. Hajimi’s language was an ominous start to the meeting.
She pressed forward. “I come to beg for your assistance in maintaining peace in the Kingdom.”
Hajimi frowned. “There is little peace left to be kept, my lady.”
“Making what remains far more precious than gold. The people of the Kingdom are suffering, and the lords do not see it. I am convinced the only way peace may be attained is through the intervention of the blades.”
Mari’s eyes traveled over the room to see what effect her words were having. There were several who seemed interested in what she had to say. Her shadows were fairly certain no other house had come before the blades since Shin’s proclamations. If nothing else, Mari provided the only way for the blades to legitimately come back into the life of the Kingdom.
Hajimi ran his fingers through his long gray beard. “I agree that the people of the Kingdom are suffering, which pains this council greatly, but I am not sure I see how even our strength can stem the flow of events overrunning the land at the moment.”
Mari had considered her offer carefully. At first, she had thought to bring the blades in as a neutral fourth party. Perhaps their strength could keep the houses at bay long enough for a peace to be negotiated. Yet the more she had considered the idea, the more she had rejected it. The blades were too divided to be useful in that capacity, and the risk they ran to themselves was too high. The three houses could use their combined might against the blades, destroying them completely.
“I understand how this offer sounds, but I come before you today to request you align with House Kita.”
There was a collective intake of breath around the table. What Mari was proposing went against countless cycles of tradition.
Hajimi shook his head. “You know as well as anyone the blades cannot align with any of the great houses.”
“If there were another way, you can be certain I would propose it. But there is no other way, and you yourself have set precedent. My information indicates that your liaison to the king, Minori, supported Shin in his rise to the throne.”
Hajimi snapped, “A decision, not passed by this council, that has placed us in the situation we are in today!”
Mari eyed the leader of the blades. His outburst was the first real emotion she had seen from him today, and it confirmed what Juro’s last letter to her had said. Perhaps the council hadn’t explicitly backed Shin, but Hajimi had given Minori the freedom to do whatever he cared to. The council may not have been guilty, but they certainly weren’t free from blame, either.
“The past is now behind us. There’s nothing we can do to change what has already happened. I seek only to protect the future. Alone, the blades cannot effect the change needed in the Kingdom. It is too likely the houses would band together against them. However, with a house and the blades aligned, we have a chance of ending this civil war before it truly tears us apart.”
A woman beside Hajimi spoke up. Her white robes indicated she was a dayblade. “If you are right”—Mari noticed the distinct emphasis in the question—“why should we align with House Kita?”
Mari bowed. “I know what you would expect me to say. I could talk about the riches of my house and how we could continue to support your people. I could talk about how we’ve given you this land to build your home on. Perhaps I could make an argument about how my house has the Kingdom’s best interests at heart. These statements, I believe, are true. But all the same, I would rather you side with any house than remain neutral or stand alone. Better a peace under the rule of another house than war.”
The blade who had asked the question gave Mari a bow herself. “I commend you for your honesty and your values. Such beliefs are rare in this age.”
Mari felt a flush of pride but ignored it. This couldn’t be about her.
Hajimi’s next question made her wince. “I agree. Your ideals are rare and a jewel in these tough times. But would your brother agree? It seems unlikely that you are here on his command.”
Mari grimaced. She knew the question was going to come up, and she had debated long and hard how to address it. Finally, she had decided to tell the truth. Blades didn’t have any magical ability to detect lies, but they were trained to be more observant, and their gifts gave them the ability to better understand others. Besides, lying would only be more harmful in the long run. A successful mission based on deceit was built on shifting sand.
“I do not know what my brother would think. I have been excluded from his councils.”
The statement had the effect she had dreaded. The council, which had been leaning forward in their chairs, interested in the discussion, suddenly leaned back, and their eyes wandered. Surrounding them, Mari could hear the whispered muttering of the gathered blades.
Mari cursed to herself. She couldn’t lose the council. They had been interested.
“Masters! I realize how my plea must look, but you must take action. I am certain that if you approached my brother, he would see reason. The only wrong decision here is to do nothing. The Kingdom needs you now more than ever! At the very least, send out the dayblades in disguise to heal those who need their care.”
The hall burst out in shouts, some in agreement, some in anger. Mari wasn’t prepared to be assaulted by the uproar. Hajimi stood up, causing silence to descend almost instantly. When he spoke, his voice was hard.
“Lady Mari. Your character is obvious to this council. You have brought us a proposal, and we will consider it.” He held up his hand for silence, Mari’s words dying before they could leave her lips.
“You have my word on this matter. I do not say this to rid ourselves of you. This council will hear arguments on both sides, and we will summon you within the next day to inform you of our decision.”
Mari knew she wasn’t going to get any better than that. She got down on her knees before the council and bowed her head all the way to the floor. In all her life, she had only done so once before, on the day that Juro took over as head of their house. Someday soon, she would do so for Hiromi, but they hadn’t yet had time to prepare a formal ceremony. She was still a lady of the Kingdom, and there were few who commanded such respect.
She held the pose for longer than she was comfortable with, and the entire room was silent, recognizing her display. She felt tremendously uncomfortable and exposed, but still she held the position.
Finally, she stood up, turned, and left the hall of the council, Takahiro falling in behind her. Hopefully her words and actions had been enough.
Mari was tempted to speculate endlessly on what the council’s judgment was going to be. She ran over her plea time and time again,
satisfied that she had done everything that was in her power to do. The day wore on as Mari wore a path across the floor of her room.
Takahiro had grown impatient with her pacing and left the inn. He’d received an invitation to join young nightblades in training and been itching to go since they’d first arrived. Mari had finally convinced him there was no place she was safer than in Starfall. By itself, the argument wouldn’t have compelled him, but he needed space as well after the audience with the council.
As promised, Mari was summoned the next morning. Her escort gave her no indication of what the council’s decision had been. The debate had been public until sundown, and then the council had retired to their private chambers to continue debating the matter. All her escort knew was that they hadn’t left until the moon was high in the sky.
That, at least, was a positive sign. Mari was grateful that her proposal had started a discussion. Whether or not it had turned to her favor, she was less certain. All she could do now was hope.
The hall was even more crowded than yesterday. Blades were milling about outside, and inside the standing space was as packed as possible. Had the building chosen that moment to catch on fire, a healthy portion of the blades would have been wiped out.
Mari took her position in front of the council. Hajimi patiently waited for silence and then spoke.
“First, Lady Mari, I must again make clear that the council was impressed by your character. We have decreed that no matter what happens, we will always offer you sanctuary here. Our doors will always be open to you.”
Mari’s heart sank.
“This council has debated long and hard, my lady, but despite your heartfelt plea, we cannot do as you ask. The situation is too volatile, and the safety of our people must come first in our minds. As much as we are impressed with your character, without some guarantees from your brother, we fear that any action on our part will only deepen the problem that we currently find ourselves in. I know this is not what you wanted to hear, but we believe this is best for everyone.”
The room exploded in an uproar that washed over Mari. Even guessing the worst was coming, she wasn’t prepared. Hajimi had been her last hope.
A flicker of hate stirred deep in her gut, but it was quickly overwhelmed by despair.
A memory came unbidden to her mind, drowning out the angry shouts on both sides of Mari. She had been a child who had stolen one of Hiromi’s toys after being beaten at a game. Hiromi had cheated to win, and Mari had thought to teach him a lesson.
Hiromi had told on her, of course, and the resulting argument led to them both being sent to their father, the most severe punishment available. The complete truth had come out, and they had both been sentenced to strict punishments by their father, whom they didn’t dare disobey. But Hiromi had been dismissed from their father’s side, and Mari had been told to stay. Mari didn’t remember her punishment anymore, but she remembered, as clear as yesterday, what he had said.
“Mari, what Hiromi did was wrong. But what you did, in my mind, was even worse.”
Mari had stopped crying long enough to ask why.
“It is easy to be nice to people when they are nice to you. But your quality is only truly displayed when others cheat you, betray you, and disappoint you. If you can act with honor in those moments, I will have done well as your father.”
Mari swallowed her despair. If ever there was a moment to impress the blades, this was it. She took three determined steps forward, and the uproar in the room was cut off with the sharpness of a legendary sword. Hajimi looked at her, confusion in his eyes.
Mari’s voice was stronger, stronger even than it had been presenting her case the day before.
“I understand your fear, even if it has led you down the path of cowardice.”
Mari didn’t need to be a blade to sense the barely unrestrained anger in the room. She delivered her final blow.
“Despite this, I came to your gates offering funds to support the blades. In honor of your past service to the Kingdom, I will leave all the wealth I carried here, except enough to bring me home again.” Mari bowed deeply, turned, and left before Hajimi could respond.
The gesture would probably mean more to the blades than it meant to her. The gold she had brought was a small fraction of what she possessed, but it was still no small sum.
She walked quickly back to the inn, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to pour down her face. No one was willing to stand for the Kingdom. No one was willing to stand for anything besides themselves. Maybe the Kingdom deserved to implode for becoming too weak, lacking any heart.
At the inn, she immediately busied herself with a bottle of wine, quickly giving herself to the blissful, uncaring state of inebriation. She fell asleep in the early afternoon and didn’t wake until the middle of the night. She heard Takahiro pacing the room next to hers and went over.
When she entered, the relief on his face was palpable. “My lady, I heard the news! I was worried for you.”
She managed an unconvincing smile. Her head was pounding. “We’ve done all we could. We’ll leave in the morning. How was your training?”
The shift caught her guard off-balance. “It was wonderful, but that hardly matters now. The entire city is talking of your actions in the hall of the council. Is it true that you gave away the gold we came with, even though they refused to help?”
Mari nodded. “Whether or not they realize it, the blades are the only hope for the Kingdom. The money will support them while the war rages on, but more importantly, the gift will hopefully remind them the Kingdom is still worth fighting for.”
Takahiro looked as though something was bothering him, and after the silence had stretched out long enough, he spoke. “Mari, I’m afraid I’ve underestimated you. I didn’t think coming here was a good idea, but you’ve made a name for yourself among these warriors in just a few days. My sword is yours, no matter what comes.”
Mari bowed at her guard, a gesture of honor he wouldn’t have expected. “Thank you, Takahiro.”
The next morning dawned cloudy and gray, omens of another storm. Mari bitterly thought that if the blades wouldn’t try to stop this war, at least the weather might try.
The two left their rooms, surprised when they came upon a group of blades waiting in the common space. The inn had been empty their entire stay, and even if the locale had guests, the visitors would be civilians, not blades. About a dozen of them, including four women, sat in the room. As Mari entered, they all stood and bowed.
A man who had probably seen about forty cycles stepped forward. “Greetings, my lady. I’m sorry to startle you, but my name is Jun.” He gestured toward his robes. “As you can see, I’m a dayblade.”
Mari returned the bow. “I’m pleased to meet you, Master Jun.” She tried to figure out what was happening. Was she in danger?
Jun spoke softly. “I was among many who saw both your appearances in front of the council. To say we were impressed, well, wouldn’t be saying enough. There are those of us who believe in the Kingdom, and we have decided you are worthy of our service. If you will accept us, we will join you on your journeys.”
Mari needed a few moments to understand, but once she did, possibilities suddenly opened in front of her. She had been planning on returning to her ancestral castle at Stonekeep, to sit and wait for the war to end, if it ever would. Now she had options that came with risk. She had no doubt this help wasn’t sanctioned by the council, and Shin’s proclamation still made the blades criminals.
Her hesitation was momentary. The benefits far outweighed the risk. Also, she thought with a mischievous grin, Hajimi had declared she could return to Starfall for shelter. She suspected he had never predicted this.
“I would be grateful. Do you have the uniforms of our house? I fear that outside these walls, our options would be limited if your skills were obvious.”
Jun nodded. “We anticipated the request and are prepared to leave whenever you are.”
Despite
the failure in front of the council, Mari grinned.
Chapter 10
Koji stumbled in the late afternoon sunlight, catching himself on his hands, which immediately reminded him that snow was cold and he wasn’t prepared for the weather. He could never remember being this tired, this sore. He had run since leaving the farmhouse, realizing too late that he should have paced himself better.
The last time he had run for a distance was cycles ago, when he was training as a nightblade. Although his strength was excellent, he had lost the skill of distance running. Still, he pushed on, moving as fast as his weary legs would carry him.
He passed several other farms on his journey. All had been devoid of life. Although Koji didn’t check, he was certain what he would find if he did. Corpses, brutally murdered as they had been at the first farm he had checked. The actions of his fellow blades drove him. They couldn’t be allowed to have a village.
Koji sensed River’s End before he saw it, telling him that he was too late. There were too many present with the gift.
Koji collapsed to his knees. He was so tired, but there was nothing to be done. Too late, he saw the smoke rising from River’s End, and although he couldn’t see what was burning, he was certain it was the corpses of the villagers.
As his knees froze in the shallow snow, Koji wrestled with his anger. He wanted to attack, but the idea was beyond foolish. Perfectly rested, he would still be slain by such a force of blades. As he was, he would be just as successful if he fell on his own sword.
In the distance, two shapes crested the hill. Koji cursed. In his exhaustion, he had forgotten that if he could sense them, they likely could sense him as well. So much for the element of surprise. He thought about drawing his sword, but then thought better of it. His arm would barely respond to his commands.
The two shapes solidified, and he heard one of them yell his name. Of course, he thought, they remember me from their meeting.
Koji attempted to stand to greet them, but his legs gave out from under him and he collapsed, his last vision of the white snow fading to black.