Well, if she wasn’t allowed to have a man, at least she was allowed to think of it.
Artemi idly wondered which of them was the best at kissing, or would hold her the tightest - which man had known the most women and which the fewest? Her eyes came to rest on the man at the head of the group, and she immediately recognised him as LordLieutenant Silar Forllan. His blond hair hadn’t been cut in the time since she had seen him, and had taken on a somewhat wild appearance. The early signs of beard growth were visible,
but that did not detract from his looks. It was a shame she could not pursue him. Not that she had wanted him to pursue her, or make her into one of the army’s whores. No, it was just that with the choice removed from her, she felt increasingly aware of what she had been forbidden. He would probably be disgusted at the sight of her now, anyway.
The blond lieutenant turned his head suddenly, and gazed directly up at her. In fright, Artemi darted sideways from the window and pressed her back against the wall. How could he have seen her? She would barely have been a speck from where he was standing... but his eyes had seemed to meet hers. Perhaps Morghiad had informed him that they would be there. It was possible, but Silar’s reaction had seemed more reflexive than that of a man
checking on something he knew was there. The end of the far-scope, she realised, was glass. It must have caught the light from one of the street lamps. Blazes! She had to get out of there before he discovered she had been spying on him.
She launched herselfthrough the weighty door of the store room and sprinted back to the gate. She did not relish the thought of running the prisoners’ gauntlet again, but there was not much choice. They began their chorus of chanting and whooping at the sound of her as soon as she ran through.
Artemi ignored it as best she could and locked the gate behind her. Head down and hood raised, she ran between them until she hit the opposite exit.
The door opened easily, and she threw
herself down the hallway and to the stairs. She waited a moment, listening for footsteps of anyone approaching. There was no sound. Artemi padded down the stairs as quickly and as quietly as she could manage, as she did not want to alert the guards at the bottom gate. The five floors seemed to stretch into eternity below her, steps never ending - until she turned what she hoped was the final switch in the staircase, and was met by the sound of men talking. One of the voices she recognised as the bluff guard, the other was Silar. There was nowhere she could go, certainly nowhere to hide. She pulled the hood as far over her head as it would go and dropped her head.
The sound of keys jangling and the creak of metal hinges told Artemi the gate beyond was being opened. Her heart
quickened and she half-forgot to breathe. She relaxed her shoulders as much as she could and began to place one foot in front of the other. She had just been to visit her brother. She was no one - just a visitor. Silar would have no cause to examine her closely.
Artemi continued her steady walk to the exit gate and clenched the far-scope tightly in one hand, feeling the air move with his approach. Two dully polished boots stepped into her field of view. They stopped there, directly in her path, and were clearly unwilling to budge. Artemi froze, and stayed silent.
“Show me your face, woman,” barked the hitherto charming Silar.
She winced. This was going to be very awkward indeed. Slowly, she raised her eyes up his shins, to his thighs, past his sword belt,
up to his chest, over his rigid mouth and finally to his big, deep, blue eyes. They widened on recognition of her face.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed in a low voice.
Artemi could not very well tell him the truth with the other guards nearby. “I was just here to visit... someone.”
Silar’s eyes narrowed before examining her attire more closely. “Did Morghiad give you that?” He gestured at the far-scope.
She really ought to have done a better job at hiding it beneath her cloak. “Yes,” she responded.
“Hmm.” He frowned and studied her for a while longer. He seemed intent on making her feel as uncomfortable as possible. At last he spoke. “Come with me.” He turned and
walked back to the gate, before proceeding through and into the chill air of the city. There were no invites for Artemi to take his arm this time.
They walked a little way into the crowds together before Silar engaged her in conversation once more. “He really ought not to leave you unattended.”
“Well, yes. I might very well blow this whole bloody place to smithereens with a yawn, after all.” It fell from her mouth in jest, and only upon saying it did she realise that probably had been his concern. Why did she perform these pathetic attempts at wit around him?
Silar gave her a confused look and then smiled to himself. “I understand he is teaching you swordsmanship.”
“He’s doing what he can. I fear I am a difficult student.”
“And is he taking good care of you, Artemi?”
“Er... yes. I believe so. As good as a rogue... you know - can expect to be taken care of.” She folded her arms in front of her.
Silar gave a faint smile, only vaguely reminiscent of the full ones she’d seen at the feast day. “Many people find Morghiad cold or distant. Sometimes they’re right. Though he has taken to some more risk-taking behaviour lately, including you. We may yet see a change in him. But my previous offer still stands: if there is anythingI can do for you, you need only ask.”
Artemi was glad for his outreach. She put her hand out to him, but he did not take it.
“It’s simply a hand, I can’t do anything with it except the normal things that hands do.”
He looked at it suspiciously.
“It won’t harm you, I give you my word.”
The blond man compressed his lips and took her hand in both of his. His face appeared to relax once he found he was still alive. He met her eyes. “There is always something dangerous about any part of any woman, believe me. Well, I should be off to organise the scrum that will make tonight’s guard.” He squeezed her hand gently. “No doubt I’ll bump into you again. Oh, and stay away from the king.” With that he turned and walked back to the perimeter of the city.
Artemi stared after him for a little while. He had a more than acceptable bottom on him.
She clenched her jaw. Teasing herselfwith these thoughts was not going to help her situation at all! She began to make her way back to her father’s house to return the cloak, which thankfully had not suffered too badly from the prisoner’s assault. Her mother had left few things behind, and her father would not appreciate the loss of any more. Artemi pulled the cloak tight around her, and thrust forward into the cold.
whirred with the winds that blew through them. They were incredible constructions, given that no Blaze had been employed in strengthening them. There was usually a team of climbers repointing one of the towers at any time, but Morghiad could not see any from his vantage point in the central spire. He leaned farther out of the window to examine the roof of the castle below, noting where the chimneys poked their finger-like funnels through. They were a fewhundred feet below him, but still big enough to be discernable from the tops of the light wells. He turned back to Artemi, who stood calmly in her blue servant’s garb, managing to make it seem like a noblewoman’s. It had been odd seeing her in brown commoner clothes yesterday, though the dullest shades of brown somehow complemented her hair admirably.
Like autumn leaves in ancient woodland.
“Come here,” he requested.
Artemi moved toward him quietly. She was making much less noise with her walking now. It was a good sign that she had adapted to it naturally, but a touch more training would not go amiss. He guided her to the window and pointed out the chimneys. “We need to sense where the blockages are in order to clear them. It is best if we do that from here. We can then fix them from inside my chambers.” He hoped she had the intelligence to ask the most pertinent question.
She looked out of the wi
ndow. “It is not safe to wield from here though... and what about wielding through the entire network of flues? Will we partition the whole lot off?”
Yes, she had some intelligence, he
admitted to himself. “Sensing with Blaze does not involve proper wielding. Remember how you could see the energy in everything, just when it was trapped inside you?”
She nodded. “So we’ll be able to feel where the chimney fill meets the air. But when we come to clear them from your room, how will you and I remember where the blockages are?”
Morghiad was beginning to wonder how much of that intelligence was governed by hidden memories. “That is something wielders and kanaala have a particular ability for. And yes, we will have to partition the chimneys as well. That is why I’ve sent the other kanaala out of the city. They wouldn’t feel it, but there’s always a chance they could see it.”
He picked up her hand and threw
himself into the flames that poured into his body. Acting as a conduit for her power was similar to clutching at rays of hot light: at first they strove to burn him in pure fire and were slippery to catch, but once he’d made that initial connection, The Blazes would actively seek him out and their heat turned into something far more benevolent. Morghiad could absorb all of her power safely at that moment, but it would not be long before she outgrew him. Then, if he became greedy, it really would burn him to a cinder. For the moment he revelled in the beauty of it, imbibing more than he ever had before. “Can you feel the entire castle now?” he asked.
Artemi looked drunk... or sick. “I can feel the whole city. And beyond.”
He reached into every chimney he
could see from the spire with the hot, unruly fires he held. Their swirling mixture of warm and frozen air was confusing, but still markedly different from the stone that lined them. He dove further into the flues, and encountered a few live hearths along the way, until he reached something solid. Soon after, more blockages presented themselves. “Memorise each one,” he instructed.
She looked distant and it was a while before she replied. “There’s so much...”
“Stay focussed. We need to find every obstruction.” As soon as the words passed his lips he felt her pulling at the power he held. It took some effort to fend her off. “Not that focussed!” Clearly, she thought paying attention meant using him as her personal wielding tool. She would have to learn what she was doing
before her abilities surpassed his own.
They found hundreds of fills in the flues, stretching down for several feet each. Whoever had done this had certainly gone at it with all swords brandished. The search had revealed that all the chimneys from the cellars terminated in the central portion of the roof, which would make re-discovering the obstructions much easier. It was time to fix them. With some regret, Morghiad released Artemi’s hand, and she blinked as a measure of lucidity returned to her eyes.
He soon found his voice to ask her, “Could you see them all?”
“Yes. Ithink it was concrete. And bones. Were there bones in there?”
Morghiad nodded, though he tried not to show her that he was surprised by her rapid
learning. “The person who ordered this didn’t like servants much.”
That drew a sour look from her.
“Let’s return to my rooms.” He opened the door and checked the stairway below. It was important they were not seen together, and though he had specifically planned for the route to be clear of guards, he could not account for other servants or wandering nobles.
The spiral staircase was filled with cracked masonry and patched bits of dark stone, studded by polished brass ties. It wound down and down through weak lamplight, where even the arrow slits had been filled in. There was no one down there. He descended the steps with an assassin’s walk, and though Artemi’s skirts rustled above, she was otherwise quiet.
Morghiad checked the hallways at each junction, keeping Artemi an excusable distance behind him, though she did not seem to appreciate his efforts at all. Her face appeared darker than ever. Fine if the court thought he was bedding a servant in private, not appropriate if they thought he was walking about with her in public.
He supposed a commoner from the lower city would not understand such etiquettes. Morghiad stopped at the penultimate junction to his rooms, and signalled for her to wait. The corner was sharp, but no sound came from beyond. He walked through, and motioned for the woman to follow. Just as he reached the end, he heard the sound of rustling clothing and Lady di Certa emerged from the corner immediately ahead. It was too late for
himto turn back and stop Artemi; Aval was advancing on him with surprising speed. He had to leave the wielder to think of her own plan of concealment.
“My lord,” Aval curtseyed deeply. “I hope I find you in good spirits.”
Morghiad laid his hand on his sword hilt. How to get rid of her quickly? “Very good. Thank you, my lady. Unfortunately I have some urgent business to attend to, and cannot stay to chat.” Morghiad glanced back in Artemi’s direction. She was on her hands and knees, pretending to scrub the floor.
Aval came closer to him. Much too close. He could see every detail of her face, and smell every smell. “That is a shame,” she purred. “I was hoping we might retire to your rooms for some... reading.” Her bosom was
almost touching him. “I hear you like to read, my lord.” The lady began toying with her hair seductively.
He cleared his throat. “Apologies. I must decline your kind invitation. My duties cannot wait.” He gave her as neat a bow as her proximity would allow, and walked around her toward his rooms. She did not smell as well as Artemi, he remarked to himselfas he walked on. Abruptly, the sound of Aval’s angry voice caught up with his ears, followed by a dull thud and Artemi crying out. Morghiad wheeled around, drew his sword and ran back to the women. Aval was nowhere to be seen, but Artemi was hunched over and holding her side.
“What happened? Are you injured?”
Artemi’s face was twisted with anger. “She kicked me! That bloody woman... ugh!”
“Oh.” He re-sheathed his sword and assessed her. It was nothing serious.
“Oh?” She gritted her teeth. “I see that assaulting a servant is perfectly acceptable, especially if it comes from a beautiful lady with enormous breasts!”
Morghiad could not prevent it this time. A smile escaped. And then a laugh. He managed to temper it back to a smile, but Artemi looked stunned.
All of the anger had drained from her face and she was staring at him agog. It was peculiar to see her almost unreadable, but that very sight encouraged him to bring himselfback under control. “I can’t very well avenge you. Let’s go.”
The pair made it back to his chambers without further event, where Artemi remained
entirely silent. Occasionally she looked up at him as if he had become a mad man, or perhaps as if he had sprouted horse’s ears. He would have given his best sword to know what she was thinking, but dared not ask. Once inside, Morghiad seated her on the armchair and took up the hard desk chair for himself.
He delved once more into The Blazes with her, savouring its energy like the most perfect of sword moves. They commenced the exhausting work of lining the entirety of the servants’ chimney network with a partition, and the reward soon came in blasting out the material that blocked them. Artemi’s eyes came alight with the force of it, and Morghiad had to admit it was somewhat enjoyable. Blockage after blockage was vaporised, sending dust and fragments rattling through the flues. Once done,
they slowly peeled back the partition and, at last, Morghiad released his hold on her. She collapsed back into the armchair. In truth, he felt like doing the same.
“I suppose you’ll want your cloak back now,” she breathed.
“You’ll need something to burn first.”
Her dark eyes locked onto him. “You’re not going to make me produce firewood out of the air, are you?”
“No. I’ll use more traditional means to obtai
n that.”
Artemi chose not to enquire further. She closed her eyes as if to sleep and folded her hands atop her lap. Her face assumed a sort of peace that could transcend time, and wars.
Morghiad rose from his chair and
dragged it across the squeaking marble so that it was next to Artemi’s, and the noise roused her from her temporary slumber. After that, he went to his shelves and pulled out a flat, polished wooden box.
Artemi immediately recognised its contents, and curled her legs beneath her so that she was at a better angle to face him. He laid the box out on the arm of her chair and began to arrange the will-die pieces in their starting positions. “Now,” he said, “Do not make this too easy for me.”
She gave him a fiendish grin and named her first piece, “I name The Kahr. It’s always a good one to sacrifice first.”
The cold marble piece slid thickly across the soft grain of the wood beneath Artemi’s fingers, until it came to rest beside a darker stone. With an engineered flick of her wrist, she knocked over the king piece and took the throne. She decided not to wallow too long in her glory - there was the matter of maintaining one’s honour in victory. Over the last six days, they had completed ten rather involved games of will-die, and Artemi had
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 16