The Way of the Blade

by Stuart Jaffe

  Shual ruffled. “And you take their faith in you and waste it on such a ridiculous question.”

  “Ridiculous? Please, Father, you know better.” The man walked to the stage as he spoke. “Let’s not pretend we don’t know what she is, that we’ve never seen the likes of her before. Strangers from far off lands have no place on Carsite, Pali, Scarite, or even the vast, unnamed islands. Have you all forgotten we’re at war?”

  Canto said, “Nobody’s saying —”

  “You just told them that you believe her to be telling the truth. When have outsiders like her spoken the truth? Not to us. The war began because of her kind, and her presence here will be the end of us all. She is the final step in a plan to cut us down so that no Carsite or Scarite remains alive. Then she and her kind will take over our lands. They’re probably strong enough to kill the Pali Witch as well.”

  The crowd’s hushed whispers grew louder. Shual struck out his hand. “How dare you speak the name of that vile creature in this place.”

  Malja wanted to defend herself, but she knew she would only make things worse. Anything she said would be either ignored or turned against her. Instead, she pressed her left foot harder and reached back for Viper’s handle. She scanned the stage — cut down Canto first, the most dangerous, then the guards, burly but slow, release Fawbry and Tommy, then turn to face the old man and whoever else had the guts to storm the stage.

  Shual thrust out an accusatory finger. “Spreading words of fear will not help us.”

  “I’m not afraid, and neither should any of us be. But we should not act like a naive girl lured to a man’s bed with false promises of love. This thing that sits before us wants you to believe that she and her army —”

  “There’s only three of them.”

  “— would simply have hidden in the woods and then left without ever harming us in anyway. Isn’t that what we were promised before? Isn’t that what happened when the Scarites were our friends? But the promise was broken in moments, the Scarites were mutated into our enemies, and our lives have been nothing but painful struggle ever since. Kill this monster and her two animals, and we can finish our Waypoint project. Together we can end this war without groveling at the feet of the Scarites.”

  “Enough,” Canto said. “You have had your say, but you are not the leader of this or any town. Shual leads us because he has shown great wisdom, patience, and humility. He has saved our people more than once, and I believe we should listen to him again.”

  Shual’s face reddened as his fingers curled in fists. “Both of you, with me. Now.”

  Canto and the other man followed Shual through a side door. Before he left the hall, the man turned back and said, “Don’t forget the past. It will happen again. We will be hurt just as it happened when Harskill came here.”

  Malja called upon all her strength and will to keep a steady face, but her heart pounded in her chest. Harskill.

  Chapter 4

  Javery

  As he followed his father and future brother-in-law to the deliberation room, Javery’s ears rang with all he had heard — or more accurately, all he had not heard. This woman and her companions had been quiet, calm, and amiable. Harskill had behaved far differently when he appeared on a blustery winter day ten years ago.

  Javery had been a boy when Harskill arrived. Still several years from becoming a man, he had been busy all morning performing his daily chores around the farm — feeding the cortocks and polys that provided eggs and milk, hauling water from the river to fill the tanks above the house, and stealing a bit of time to read from the scholarly texts he had smuggled out of his father’s study. The commotion had broken out down the hillside in the center of town, and as Javery headed home to wash for breakfast, he saw several adults racing for the house. Before Javery could walk half the distance home, they had Father and Ronnic outside, hurrying back to town. Javery followed. Partly because he wanted to know what could be so important that they needed Father, but mostly because his older brother, Ronnic, had been included.

  Shaking off the memory before he relived that horrible day, Javery entered the small room that had nothing but stiff chairs lining the walls and bare wood on the floors. A single chair on the far wall had a purple cushion and above it hung a single portrait — Carsite and Scarite with Pali between them. Shual lumbered across the room and eased his wrinkled body on the cushioned seat. Canto plunked down on a chair opposite Shual. They each waited for Javery to do the same.

  Stomping his feet once against the hardwood, Shual said, “Stop being petulant. You wanted to be heard, you’ve always wanted to be included in decisions, well here you are. The least you could do is show us a bit of respect.”

  Javery sat, crossing one leg over the knee of the other, and glared at Shual. The old man would not be baited, however. Shual glared back but said nothing.

  At length, Canto broke in. “The two of you can deal with your family problems later.”

  “They’ll be your family problems soon enough,” Javery said.

  “Then permit me, my dear brother-to-be, to tell you that you’re being a hot-drop.”

  Javery held back his laughter. Not since childhood had heard the term hot-drop — a description of the way feces in the winter smoked like hot coals.

  Canto ignored Javery’s mocking face. “This is a serious threat to us, and you’ve done nothing but stoke up the fear of these people.”

  “They should be afraid. Or did you forget all the lost lives we’ve seen in the last ten years?”

  “I’ve seen that these three are different. They didn’t burst into our town demanding our praise. They haven’t promised us knowledge and power. All they wanted was a few apples.”

  Shual scratched his cheek. “That is strange, isn’t it?”

  “And the woman’s answers,” Canto went on, “bothered me more. She had no arrogance to her voice, no condescension to her words. It was as if she believed the things she said.”

  Javery jumped to his feet. “You told the people you believed her. Now you’re talking as if you think she lied.”

  Canto remained seated but his broad shoulders pulled back. Javery didn’t miss the suggestion that Canto had no need to stand in order to argue with such a scrawny adversary. “I asked her questions under the assumption that she would lie. I told the people I believed her because I wanted her to think she had fooled me. And I wanted to keep the people calm. If they react to your inflammatory threats, we won’t be able to control the situation.”

  “It’s not ours to control, and certainly not through such devious methods.”

  Canto’s muscles tightened. “Are you suggesting that I’m less than honorable?”

  Shual stamped his foot on the floor. “Jave, stop causing arguments.”

  “Isn’t that what this room is for?”

  “Don’t try to make me a fool. Sit down and conduct yourself with some dignity.”

  “How is it that you find fault with me when I’m the one who told the truth? He’s the one lying to the town. He’s the one that claims tolerance yet behind closed doors is telling us to be wary.”

  Shual stabbed a finger toward Canto. “It was his excellent handling of the situation that has kept that god from ripping us to pieces. It was his lie that allowed us to survive, despite your best efforts to have us all killed. And by lulling her into thinking she has us fooled, it will be Canto who rids us of this evil creature.”

  “That’s right,” Canto said. “We’ll kill them tonight while they sleep, and in the morning, we can tell the town that they left as they had promised.”

  “It is a wise choice. Simple, as I had instructed.”

  Javery shook his head and clamped his mouth shut for fear of saying something that would worsen matters. He caught an odd look cross Canto’s face and knew it at once — he had suffered that look on his own face too many times throughout his life. Shual had somehow danced around his original decision, whatever it had been, and manipulated Canto in the process. With th
ese two playing linguistic knot-tying in order to accomplish what they wanted, Javery decided he would have to be equally cunning. And the first step would be taking the correct stance.

  He sat down, crossed his legs again, and placed a hand on his stomach. “I apologize. I failed to see the ingenuity of your approach.”

  Canto hesitated but Shual nodded. “Good. Then let’s return to the hall.”

  “There is one thing, though.”

  “What now?” Shual gripped his kneecaps, his knuckles whitening.

  “Only that you’re missing a great opportunity with this woman. The kind of chance that may never come our way again. And one that, if we fail to take advantage of, may turn around and harm us worse than when Harskill had come.”

  Shual jumped to his feet, his body quivering, his eyes blazing, all his muscles taut as he tried to control himself. In a cold, dead tone that prickled Javery’s hair, Shual said, “Nothing will ever be worse than when Harskill came.”

  An image of Ronnic’s face straining in agony flashed through Javery’s mind. He pushed it away, along with the sound of his brother’s tormented cries, and said, “One god came here and all our lives changed. We have powerful enemies where before we had none. We struggle for basic needs when before we had plenty. We have the face of Death watching over us when before we had the embrace of Life. All from one god.” Javery walked to the door and placed his hand on it. “On the other side of this, awaiting our decision, sit three gods. Three. What do you think they’ll do to us if we turn on them?”

  Canto scrunched his forehead. “Now you want to be friendly? You walked into the hall provoking her with anger and now —”

  “You coward and fool. I am trying to save —”

  “I am no coward, and I’m smarter than half this town.”

  “And humbler than none. You both have set up this woman to believe that you are friendly towards her. I tried to play the part of the lone angry voice that might turn people around, but you did a good job of negating that as well. So, what other options do we have? Our best move now is to be as friendly as you have pretended. If we’re lucky, she and her friends will take some more food and leave this place, never to return. If we’re unlucky, we’ll see how much worse things can get.”

  “You want to gamble with the lives of our people?”

  “You both accomplished that already. I’m trying to salvage things.”

  Canto looked to Shual who had not moved from his rage-filled stance. The longer they took to speak, the worse for Javery. He had played fast with his mouth in hopes that they wouldn’t look to closely at the nonsense he had spoken. Shual exhaled with a long hiss and moved closer to Javery. “You said before that we were missing an opportunity. I still don’t see what you refer to.”

  Javery managed to keep his face calm. He knew Father so well. He had won. “Because we have little choice, let us treat these gods well. Let me spend the next day with them. I’ll make them feel welcome, help them see who we really are.”

  “What use is that?” Canto said.

  Javery raised his eyebrows like a teacher making the final, simplistic point of a complex lecture. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful, instead of getting rid of this threat, to turn them into an asset — to have three gods on our side?”

  “That’s crazy. She won’t do it.”

  “I can get her to agree,” Javery said, but he saw the distaste in Shual’s eyes. “At least, I can try my best. If I fail, we are no worse off. And if I succeed, we may have another way to end this war.”

  “Another?” Canto said, pacing the back of the room. “Oh, of course. Your Waypoint project. Do you know what they call it down in the center of town?”

  “I hardly care.”

  “The Way-pointless project.”

  Shual raised a hand to quiet the room. He lowered his hand until he pointed at Javery. “I don’t like your plan, and I abhor your methods. You have manipulated this situation so that you could take full advantage of it. I tell you this, so that you know I am not fooled.” Javery tried to protest, but Shual raised his hand again. “I also recognize that your view of the situation is accurate — even if it’s a situation of your own creation. Therefore, I will allow you to attempt recruiting these gods for our cause.”

  As Canto growled his disbelief, Javery nodded stoically. Deep inside, however, where even Druzane could not see, Javery’s mouth rose wide, flashing his teeth as he tasted blood.

  Chapter 5

  Malja

  Things had taken a strange turn. When the wiry fellow, she heard him called Javery, stepped back into the hall, his attitude had reversed. Despite the scowl on Shual’s face, despite Canto’s imposing physical stature, Malja, Fawbry, and Tommy were released. Javery apologized on behalf of the entire town, offered to show them around, and invited them to drink.

  “A drink sounds wonderful,” Fawbry said, picking bits of gag-cloth out of his mouth. “Much better way to treat guests.”

  Javery led the way. Malja wanted to stop whatever angle these people had taken and simply find out about Harskill, but experience had taught her that the weapon of words often failed under such a direct approach. She would have to be quiet, listen, and wait for her opportunity.

  As they climbed aboard a large version of the dish Malja had flown up on — this one had room for twelve and a private pilot — Malja smacked Fawbry and Tommy on the backs of their heads. “Stealing? You could’ve been killed.”

  “It was a misunderstanding,” Fawbry said. “And you could’ve done us far more harm. I saw the look in your eyes when you came in. You were ready to use Viper. Think where we’d be then. Not about to be treated to a drink, by Kryssta.”

  Tommy said nothing. He never did. Not since the day Malja rescued him from slavery. Before that, she could only guess.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Javery said to the pilot. The young man nodded and handled the controls with ease and care. Javery chuckled. “This autofly is his little baby.”

  While the dish gently descended, Javery served four glasses with a pink liquid. Fawbry knocked his drink back and smacked his lips. “Delicious.”

  Javery refilled Fawbry’s glass. “The fruit of the wratcher vine is extremely potent. I don’t recommend doing that again.”

  Malja sniffed the drink — ripe fruit. She tasted it — fermented, strong, and sweet. She was about to take a long sip, when she saw Tommy knock back his glass. Tommy gagged.

  Fawbry slapped him on the back. “Go slow, my boy. It takes experience before you can handle this kind of stuff like I do.”

  After Fawbry indulged in another drink, they settled into their seats — Fawbry flopped into his.

  The dish, Javery called it an autofly, increased its speed, and the roar of the winds made it difficult to talk. Hundreds of smaller autoflys dropped around them as the townspeople returned home. Malja’s leg bounced, itching to be up and moving around. She caught Javery noticing her impatience and forced her leg to still.

  When they reached the ground, she set her glass down. “I’m sorry about all the misunderstandings from earlier.”

  “Mistakes happened all around.” Javery fluttered his hand in the air as if the mistakes were blowing away. “It’s the past. What’s important is where we go from here.”

  “I agree. In fact, I think I know exactly where we need to go.”

  “Oh?”

  “You mentioned a person, Harskill. He’s someone we’ve been searching for.”

  There was no mistaking the coldness that overcame Javery. “What is it you want with him?”

  Fawbry swayed as he disembarked the autofly. “Don’t you worry about us. We’re no friends of that bastard.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Javery said. Malja opened her mouth to pursue the subject further, when Javery waved toward the town around them — but not before peeking at Malja.

  Is he judging my reactions?

  “Welcome to the town of Raxholden — named after my ancestors and one of the most p
rosperous towns in all of Carsite.” Javery beamed at the people resuming their daily lives. “These buildings, these people, their welfare is the entire purpose for my family.”

  The town looked paltry compared to some of the massive cities Malja had seen in her lifetime. Dirt roads and dirtier animals. No trees except for the tall brush on the perimeter of the town — the only shade came from the floating farms above. All the buildings were utilitarian — plain, tan walls, rectangular, with a bare minimum of windows. The only decoration was an etching over every door, similar to the proscenium statues. And single floors everywhere. Not one building that she could see had a second floor. However, the world she had come from, Corlin, had been wiped out by the Devastation — a time when magic killed off the majority of living things and mutated many of the survivors. The cities and towns she knew had been cobbled together from rubble. Here, at least, the people had built something fresh, however meager.

  Javery pointed toward one building. “Follow me, please.”

  Malja opened her mouth again, ready to press further about Harskill, when the ground rumbled. All the townspeople froze, and many looked toward Javery as if he, indeed, would save them simply because he was of the Raxholden family. For his part, Javery inched down to place his hand on the ground. Another rumble. Pebbles and dirt rolled.

  Javery shot up and cupped his mouth. “Wellspiker!”

  People rushed inside. Others sprinted towards their autoflys and soared into the air. Mothers shouted for their children. Fathers barked commands to anybody who would listen.

  Javery looked from Malja to the autofly and back. His lips disappeared as his face screwed up tight. “Damn,” he said, then pointed to the autofly. “I’m sorry. Our tour will have to be postponed. Quickly, now. We have to get in the air.”

  “What’s the problem?” Fawbry asked, his speech a bit slurred.

  Twenty feet away, the road erupted in a shower of dirt and rock. Malja heard a series of short, deep barks followed by an incessant rattle. She and Tommy stood still, watching a cloud of dust billow around the area of the explosion. Javery attempted to corral Malja and her friends into the autofly, but only managed to get Fawbry to stumble aboard.