Heddas Sword.jpg

by Hedda's Sword (lit)

  Tzigana's scent curled around him. This was her wagon. His gaze strayed to the bed. The bed looked to be big enough to sleep more than one – or for other than sleeping. Cianan curbed his wayward imagination.

  Tzigana's back was to him. "The curtains close for complete privacy."

  How much privacy did she think he needed?

  Turning to face him, she took his hand in hers. "I know you don't know us, have no reason to trust us, but I swear to you I speak the truth. You spared our lives. No one here will harm you. You're safe, my word of honor."

  "I believe you." And he did. Her truth rang through his soul. He did not make the mistake of underestimating her, however. He felt her core of toshi strength through her touch. She would do anything – anything – to keep her people safe. A powerful ally could make an equally formidable foe.

  "Now, about that massage?"

  Oh, no. Absolutely not. He stepped back. "I need to rest. It has been a long day, for both of us."

  Her dark eyes twinkled up at him. "Are you dismissing me, or running away from me?"

  Both. "I would not have our disappearance misconstrued."

  "Relax, I'm staying with Jana and Polkara. I'll have someone draw a bath. You can change and rest. Alone. Pity." She released his hand. "You're here for a reason, and I must help you along your way. In the morning I'm sending you off to Nerthus' Abbey. You'll be safer there, and you can speak to the nuns about what's been happening. Jana can show you the way."

  She turned away as if to go, hesitated, and turned back. "Polkara spoke true. You traveled here from far away, on the power of a vision. I'm not one to question fate. You aren't meant to do this alone. I speak of another enemy of Sunniva, with the most personal of reasons for bringing her down. This other woman is your destiny, Cianan. If you leave now, she'll face her fate alone and be lost."

  He stepped back, out of reach. "How shall I find her? They call her ghost with good reason."

  Tzigana smiled. "She wasn't what you expected, was she – Hedda's Sword?"

  "Nay."

  "When the time comes, she'll find you."

  Chapter Six

  Maleta hesitated as she read the wanted notice nailed to an elm tree outside the village of Lann . "Foreign spy, posing as guild mercenary. Black hair, blue eyes. Goes by name of Cianan. Wanted by the crown for questioning. Reward for live capture."

  She yanked the parchment off the tree. So the queen hunted the paladin from the Broken Blade. Alive? If Sunniva got her hands on Cianan, he'd be better off dead. She wondered how many searched for him right now. If Maleta realized nothing else from her talk with the Black Wolf, 'twas that Sunniva's ruthlessness should be ignored at Shamar's peril.

  "Ye going after th' reward, as well?"

  Maleta turned to the speaker. An old man with thinning white hair and the straight stance of a former fighter stood to the side of her, beyond reach.

  "Would meself, but me chasin' days are long done, thanks t' them cursed rievers." He took a single limping step toward her.

  Maleta's hand came to rest on the pommel of her short sword. To her relief, he retreated.

  "No harm here, lass." He spread his arms wide and eyed the notice. "Money's good. Queen Sunniva wants this'n real bad. Pretty lass like ye could lure him in afore he knew what hit him."

  The thought of turning in an innocent man appalled her. But once suggested, that evil, insidious whisper wouldn't shut up. Cianan for Jovan. She didn't know the foreigner, her brother was her only family and 'twas her best chance of getting into the winter palace.

  Maleta crumpled up the parchment but didn't throw it to the ground. She dared not go to Hedda's Tempest. If Mother Kitta learned of how she violated her oath, Maleta cringed to think of the penalty she would exact. Nerthus' Abbey, that's where she should go. Mother Tam would know what to do. Without a word, she stuffed the parchment under her belt and continued into town. She needed food for the three-day journey to the abbey.

  Once she stocked, Maleta covered as much ground as she could, considering the rough terrain. She'd learned her lesson – no more gnawing on bark if she could help it. Meat-and-vegetable pies lasted but a day or so, then she'd have to resort to winter bars. Grains, dried fruit, and nuts stuck together with honey, they were overly sweet and tough to chew. But they lasted for weeks, especially in cold weather, and kept a person going for days.

  She made camp in the shelter of a gnarled, weathered black oak. A one-eared squirrel scolded her as she built a small fire. Wondering if it had lost the other ear to frostbite or a fight, she tossed a chunk of bar at it. Winter was hard on them all – even squirrels could use a helping hand. It grabbed the tidbit and bolted. Maleta grinned. "That's the problem with this world. No gratitude."

  She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and cleared her mind for her nightly ritual. "What is Hedda's Mandate? To protect the innocent, the weak and helpless. To treasure our past and guard our future, the old and the young. To rescue the oppressed and avenge those wrongfully sent from this life. To punish the wicked. To fight so others don't have to, so we all may live in peace. For freedom, justice, and Hedda's glory."

  Tonight the Mandate brought no peace. Her mind and heart were in turmoil. She pulled out Hedda's Sword. It gleamed golden in the firelight. She marveled anew at its true power, that of showing anyone who touched its blade the truth of his existence. Every untrue thought, decision or action, laid bare to him. And to her. Some days the weight of being judge, jury and executioner could be unbearable. But her actions made Shamar a safer place.

  Only once had she been led astray, to the Black Wolf. But in that she'd been shown the greater truth – who'd really killed her family, and why.

  But would Hedda understand Maleta's deviation from Her path?

  Opening her eyes, Maleta rummaged in her pack for one of the pies, setting it close to the fire to warm. She frowned. Her parents' murders made no sense. The Wolf's talk about fomenting rebellion couldn't be true. Von Jereon had sworn to obey the crown. If Sunniva wanted Kunigonde as a home base to launch an invasion of the south, her father would have opened the gates in welcome to his queen. Taking Jovan hostage to ensure his compliance was logical only if Von Jereon lived to comply. Killing her mother was beyond comprehension.

  Maleta shuddered as she recalled that sunny day in the orchard, the smell of autumn apples crushed underfoot. She could still taste the coppery tang of her mother's hot blood as it sprayed from her slashed throat across Maleta's face, could still see her father's head roll aside his fallen body. In her nightmares, his eyes opened, and he spoke. Always the same two words: "Avenge me."

  Even now, she couldn't stomach the smell or taste of apples. All because of that day. All because of Sunniva.

  What of Jovan? Once he'd been a dreamy, artistic twelve-year-old who feared bee stings. Easily influenced, who knew what six years in Sunniva's clutches had done to him? The Black Wolf had seen him in the winter palace not two weeks' past. Frustration boiled in her blood. To think she'd been so close to him and not even known it. She must free him. He was all the family she had left. I promise, I will find a way to get you out, to get us home.

  Maleta pulled the pie away from the fire and took a bite. Squirrel meat. Sorry, little one, she apologized to her new companion, who peered down at her from a bare branch. She stared into the fire. Nervous and territorial, the squirrel made a perfect lookout. He'd warn of intruders. She might actually sleep, not just catch her usual battle nap. Thank you, Hedda.

  * * * *

  Raven clapped a bloody hand on Maleta's shoulder. "We did it. Sonja didn't die for nothing. The children are free."

  Maleta felt pure rage well up as she knelt aside Sonja's body. She held a double-edged dagger up to the sliver of a moon. "Raven, stand ye witness. Let the heat of my own blood fuel this vow. No more shall men such as these walk this land unchallenged." She curled her fingers around the blade and jerked it free. The blood ran down her arm onto the ground. "As the moon waxes in Your heavens,
oh great Hedda, let it give strength to my vow. I say no more!"

  She hoisted Sonja's body across her shoulders. Raven helped her stagger to her feet. Sister Reva berated a shame-faced Char about the tent fire. Sister Reva moved to take Sonja, but Maleta waved her off. "I'll bear her home."

  Sister Reva nodded and backed away. Maleta shuffled up the hill, to where the two wagonloads of native Shamaru children waited to go home. One little girl stared into Maleta's eyes. "You saved us. You shall save us all."

  Maleta shook her head. "I couldn't even save my friend."

  Maleta's eyes snapped open. A dream, or rather, a bad memory disguised as a nightmare. She stared at the scars across her left palm and fingers. A reminder of that first rescue mission two years ago. Burning drugs in the tent fire started by Char had slowed their reflexes. Sonja'd mistimed a block, and 'twas all it took for one of the dealer's guards to get in a lucky blow. To this day, Char couldn't look Maleta in the eye, although Maleta harbored her no ill will. It'd been a tragic novice mistake, nothing more. They'd all made mistakes along the way.

  Hers had been allowing her mother to open that trapdoor. Their escape had been blocked by more invaders. That the invaders located both of Kunigonde's secret exits smacked of betrayal. Maleta swore to find out who – and why.

  A glance at the sky showed The Bear could no longer be seen, and a faint glow lit the far eastern horizon. She rekindled the fire, taking out the last of the pies to warm. The squirrel chattered at her from its branch, and she tossed it another chunk of winter bar. 'Twas the least she could do for its standing watch all night. After eating, she dug enough dirt to smother the fire and gathered her things. She should make Nerthus' Abbey by just after sunset.

  She trudged through the frozen mud, pulling her cloak closer against the chill as she approached the ice-laced edge of a stream. She washed her face and hands and refilled her water skin. Men's rough voices from above startled her, and she hid behind the trunk of a willow tree. Three men in night watchmen gear strode over the rim, down the side of the ravine to the water's edge. They hauled five prisoners behind them.

  Maleta burned. Children. Shamaru girls, none of them over the age of ten, ragged, dirty and in chains. An odd smell wafted on the breeze, carrying a visceral familiarity. Drugs and alcohol oozed from the men's pores. She swallowed down the nausea and drew two throwing daggers. She needed to drop the two underlings afore confronting the leader. Hard experience had taught her if she didn't, the leader would hold her occupied while the other two killed the children. Then all three would gang up on her. She paused to observe who led them.

  One man stood guard while the other two quenched their thirst and refilled their water skins. The eldest of the girls spoke up, in a strong voice. "Please, sir, my sisters are thirsty. Can they not drink afore we press on? They'll travel better for it."

  The smallest of the three men, the clean-shaven one, rose from the stream and backhanded her to the ground. "Silence! Ye'll eat and drink at my discretion." His lip curled. "Ye've not yet earned that privilege."

  The girl rose, her gaze defiant as she swiped at the blood trickling down the corner of her mouth with the back of a hand. The littlest girl began to cry and the eldest moved to comfort her.

  So the two bearded oxen were the underlings. Maleta stepped out from behind the tree and whistled. As all three men turned toward the sound, she threw both dirks, catching one man in the eye with her right-hand throw and the other through the throat with her left. She frowned. She'd have to work on her left-hand accuracy. The girls dropped to the ground as the last remaining watchman drew his blade.

  Maleta drew Hedda's Sword and leapt over the girls to stand betwixt them and their captor. Her lips drew back in a feral grin. "Recognize me?"

  The man's eyes widened as his mind registered the setting sun on her breastplate, and he realized what, if not whom, he faced.

  With cold clarity she saw him raise his own sword, and her arms rang with the numbing shock as their blades clashed together. He was stronger and forced her back, but she was younger, faster and far more sober. She ducked under his reach and swept his legs out from under him, laid the burning tip of Hedda's Sword against his throat.

  His list of sins flowed long and sickening, including molesting children. She gripped the sword with both hands. "As Hedda's judge, jury, and executioner, for your crimes against the innocent children of this realm, I sentence you to death. Give my regards to my Mistress." She buried her sword betwixt his ribs and through his heart, jerked the blade free and turned to find the children searching the bodies for every coin, weapon and scrap of food they could find.

  Maleta nodded approval as she wiped Hedda's Sword clean on the dead leader's tunic, sheathed it, and gathered up the water skins. The eldest girl found the keys to their shackles and released herself and the other girls from the chains. Maleta took a clean rag from her pack so the girls could wash the grime from their faces and hands with the icy water.

  "Let's get away from here," Maleta suggested.

  "Where're we going?" The eldest stuffed money in her pocket and a knife in her belt.

  "I'm on my way to Nerthus' Abbey, and I'll take you with me. Mother Tam will help you get back home to your families."

  A shadow crossed the girl's face. "Our family's dead. Killed by him." Her voice wobbled as she indicated the dead leader.

  Maleta's heart ached. Sweet Hedda, when would it end? "I've known that loss too. What's your name?"

  "Jozsefa, an' these are Klara, Etel and Eva – they're twins – an' little Alisz."

  "What becomes of you?"

  "The storytelling's in a fortnight," Jozsefa told her. "Queen Tzigana'll find us good homes an' make sure Etel and Eva aren't separated."

  Maleta nodded. The annual Shamaru gathering was a perfect solution for the children. Mother Tam would shelter them until then. "Let's get going. You can eat on the way."

  The children gnawed on the jerked beef and dry journey bread stolen from their captors, washing it down with water. Little Alisz soon lagged behind. Maleta scooped her up and carried her on her shoulders. The other girls trotted along in her wake, but after four hours even Jozsefa began to flag. They wouldn't make Nerthus' Abbey afore nightfall, and Maleta called a halt late in the afternoon. "We're almost to Casting Creek. We'll camp there for the night. We'll get to Nerthus' Abbey in time for supper tomorrow."

  A tired cheer went up from the girls, and they gathered energy enough for one last effort. Maleta discovered an abandoned den dug into the riverbank that would shelter them from the wind, and she built a small fire by the entrance. The girls snuggled in the rear with their blankets and the last of the bread. Maleta realized she'd best save the winter bars for morning.

  "I'm going to see what I can find for dinner," she announced. She strode into the woods and set her snares in the brush, then returned to the creek. Jozsefa stood on a rock in midstream with an improvised fishing spear held aloft, made of a sharpened, forked branch, a look of fierce concentration on her thin face. Maleta smiled but said nothing as she tied her fishing line to her bone hook and baited it with a bit of dried frog leg. She recognized the child's need to contribute something.

  In actuality, the girl had good aim and better luck than Maleta. She speared two good-sized salmon in the time it took Maleta to hook one small trout. Maleta left the cleaning to the girls while she went to check the snares. She found two snowbirds, already in winter plumage. They'd eat well enough tonight.

  The fish took mere minutes to bake. The girls ate them as Maleta plucked, gutted and skewered the birds. While she waited for them to roast, Maleta used the last of her chamomile leaves for a hot tea for the girls. They ate every bit and collapsed in a heap like so many exhausted puppies. Maleta buried the food scraps, laid her short sword across her knees and curled up aside the fire where she wouldn't block its heat from the children.

  * * * *

  Maleta handed an exhausted Alisz over to one of the nuns as Mother Tam strod
e forward to clasp her hands in welcome. Startling how tiny Mother Tam appeared since the last time she'd seen her. The old nun had always seemed larger-than-life, invincible. Soft, pampered hands, gnarled with age and smelling of rosewater, the familiar round, wrinkled face and kind grey eyes. After the attack on Kunigonde, Mother Tam was Maleta's first memory.

  "Go with Sister Maire, girls," Maleta instructed. "Baths, lunch, then bed."

  Sister Maire took the girls out of earshot.

  Mother Tam frowned, her shoulders slumped. "More strays?"

  "Orphans. Night watch slaughtered their family and hauled them off to the Marcou slave markets. This was the one place I could think to bring them."

  "Curse Sunniva. We're getting stacked to the rafters with orphans, cast-offs and refugees." Mother Tam shook her head and sighed. "Well, we'll find room somehow, somewhere. Praise Nerthus, we always do." She looked up. "Something's happened."

  Maleta nodded. "How's it you always know?"

  Mother Tam smiled. "Come with me. We can eat and talk in my office." She led the way. A steaming pot of tea and hot egg-and-cheese pie awaited them. "There's dried pear bread and sauce for dessert."

  Maleta relaxed in the familiar room, scented with the comforting smell of old leather, books and beeswax wood polish. She'd missed that pie. Hunger abated, she began. "I caught up with the Black Wolf. He wasn't responsible for killing my family."

  "Ah." Face impassive, Mother Tam sipped her tea. "Go on."

  Maleta scowled. "I hate when you do that."

  "Do what?"

  "That inscrutable nun-face."

  Mother Tam grinned. "They teach us this face special, in mother school."

  "You must've been their star pupil," Maleta groused.

  Mother Tam changed the subject. "The Black Wolf?"

  Maleta wished for wine rather than tea. "One of his own men gave him up. I found him betwixt Lann and Delph. He fell afore Hedda's Sword, but when I brought the blade to bear... " Maleta took a large swig of tea, choking as it scalded her throat. "He was innocent."