Path of Honor

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  Reisil paced away, the sword an unfamiliar weight on her left hip. It rocked back and forth and in and out with every step, jouncing against her calves and tangling in her cloak, the pommel poking her side and knocking against her elbow. She walked back and forth, feeling very foolish, as if she were dressed up for a masquerade.

  “All right, that’s enough for now. Take it off. We’re going to be working with practice swords for a while.”

  It took Reisil several minutes to sort out the buckles and unwind the belt from her waist. Kebonsat showed her how to loop the belt around the scabbard to keep it from tangling or dragging. Next he handed her a dull-edged practice blade, scarred from heavy use. Its wire grip was long enough to be held with two hands. Kebonsat showed her how to hold it with her thumb lengthwise along the grip for control, and he encouraged her to take several practice swings.

  “It doesn’t feel heavy now, but trust me, before we’re through your arms will feel like porridge. Now keep your wrist stiff but flexible, like that. Same with your elbow.” Kebonsat prodded at her, bending her arm into position. “The gauntlet is going to make it hot and strange for you, limit your movement some, but chances are you’ll be wearing it whenever fighting becomes necessary, and no one is going to give you time to strip it off, so you may as well learn to fight with it on.”

  Kebonsat grabbed another practice sword and took his position opposite her.

  “Keep your shoulders square to me. Narrow your stance. You’ll need to keep your weight forward on the balls of your feet and keep them under you—shoulder-width apart. Now, let’s jump right in. This is just to get you used to handling the sword and for me to see what you can do, so just concentrate on not getting hit. Don’t try to block blows with strength alone. Winning most often comes down to who gets tired first. Raise your blade and step to the side, shoving away my blade along the line of the blow.”

  With that Kebonsat launched a slow series of blows that Reisil was forced to counter. Her sword vibrated in her hands as he struck, and she only just barely managed to keep from dropping it, dodging away like a scared rabbit.

  “Keep your grip firm, just as if you were chopping wood with an ax. Same principle. Let your arms absorb some of the blow, and push the rest aside. There you go,” he said as Reisil deflected the next strike, turning awkwardly and dropping her swordpoint nearly to the ground. “Face me directly—you can’t fend off a left-sided attack if your body is turned to the right. Keep your feet under you—no, don’t fall back on your heels. You’ll have no power behind your sword at all.”

  The lesson ended more than an hour later. Reisil was drenched, and her entire body shook with strain. She could no longer hold her sword upright, and her heart pounded.

  “Good,” Kebonsat said, hardly winded. “It’s a good beginning. You need conditioning, though. I suggest at the very least you run up the stairs to your room as quickly as you can manage every time you go up. If you can find an opportunity to chop some wood, that would benefit you as well: harden your hands and put on some muscle. Try also squatting rather than sitting, and you’ll want to practice diving and rolling. Tomorrow we’ll begin in earnest.”

  Reisil stared at him, unable even to swipe away the sweat trickling down her forehead. “In earnest?”

  “Today you simply got a feel for the sword. Tomorrow you’ll start learning form and technique.”

  “Tomorrow I won’t be able to move.”

  “True. But give it a week or so, and you’ll start feeling better.”

  “I need a bath. A long, hot one. And my cloak,” Reisil said, shivering as the chill wind cut through her damp clothes. Yohuac leaped to his feet from the place he’d been sitting and settled her cloak over her shoulders. Reisil pulled up the hood and snuggled inside, wishing for a cup of hot kohv.

  “Maybe this will help,” Kebonsat said, and brought out a basket containing bread, cheese, custard tarts and a tall corked jar. Reisil reached eagerly for the cup of kohv he held out. He held the other out to Yohuac, who shook his head with a slight smile.

  “You have done the work this morning. I would suggest hobbles for her feet tomorrow.”

  “Hobbles? Like a horse?” Reisil asked incredulously.

  Kebonsat nodded. “Similar. Keeps you from putting your feet too wide. I hadn’t thought about it, but it would be faster.”

  “There are also some exercises that may aid in strength, flexibility and reflexes,” Yohuac continued. “She has a habit of dropping her left shoulder. And she wants to stand too close, probably because she trusts you.”

  Soon he and Kebonsat were involved in a discussion about her training, of which Reisil understood only a bare one in four words. She sat down cross-legged and began munching on the food and sipping the kohv with half-lidded eyes. Her body was one big ache, and already she was beginning to stiffen. Reisil thought longingly of her bed.

  She felt a movement behind her and found Baku curling around her. She leaned gratefully into his bulk, feeling sudden warmth radiating through her back. Reisil sighed.

  ~Thank you.

  ~You are welcome.

  Reisil felt Baku relax beneath her as a long sigh shuddered down his length. There was an easing in her mind, as if he no longer needed to cling with such a desperate grip. Suddenly she became aware that Yohuac and Kebonsat had fallen silent. Kebonsat was frowning at her while Yohuac bit into a custard tart. He chewed, eyeing the pastry with a surprised, pleased expression. Kebonsat cast a sidelong glance at the other man and then looked back at Reisil.

  “About last night,” he said, trailing off meaningfully.

  About the assassin’s attack, he meant. “Go ahead. Yohuac already knows.” At least that someone was trying to kill her. Probably he knew all the details that Baku had rummaged from her mind.

  ~I am his ahalad-kaaslane, Baku said acerbically.

  Even if Yohuac was determined not to be. How long could Baku chase after Yohuac if the man remained steadfast in his denial?

  Kebonsat’s frown deepened. “All right. My man found nothing to suggest that anyone inside Koduteel is responsible for the attack. Many seem to think it would be a good idea—a quick solution to an irritating problem—but no one here seems to have taken that step yet. That said, Rocis could find no hint of who might be responsible. He may, in time, discover more, but he is very good, and for him to have found nothing at all—” Kebonsat shook his head, his expression troubled. “This is well planned and well financed. Whoever’s behind it isn’t using local talent. Our assassin is good enough to keep hidden, and yet he’s managed to get into the palace, all the way to your quarters.

  Reisil chewed her lip. She had to tell him about the first attempt on her life. He couldn’t help her without knowing the truth. “They. There were more. There may still be more.” Then she told him about being chased down the bluff. “I killed three,” she said tonelessly. “At least one got away, maybe more. I couldn’t tell. If my magic hadn’t come at just that moment . . .”

  Suddenly she stiffened.

  ~It was you! The presence in my mind, the thing that answered when I called. Your magic sparked mine somehow.

  Was it possible that Baku’s magic had somehow tainted hers? Had it been his rage, his brutality she had felt at killing the assassins?

  ~Magic is itself. I quickened yours, it is true. But how you used it—that was you. Your choice. You choose your own path. We all do.

  Reisil slumped. All her. There was no escape.

  ~Thank you, she said finally to Baku.

  ~Do you wish you had not killed them?

  ~Yes. No. I know it was necessary. I wish it hadn’t been. I just hate how much I liked it.

  ~Did you? Or did you like the magic answering at last?

  ~Isn’t it the same? Reisil asked bitterly.

  ~Is it?

  Baku fell silent, and Reisil rubbed her ear. Was he right? She thought back to the moment. The brilliant fire from her hands. The ashy outlines on the ground. That release of fier
ce joy and triumph. She shook her head. She couldn’t separate it out. Her lips tightened, and she felt her face harden. It didn’t matter. She had to stop stewing about it and get on with stopping the plague and figuring out what to do about the nokulas. About the Iisand.

  Reisil set her cup down. She had no doubt that they were being watched. Dared she speak?

  ~No one will overhear.

  And then Reisil felt something move through her and outward toward the edges of the clearing. She went cold. She looked quizzically at Yohuac.

  “The na—” Yohuac broke off, correcting himself. “Reisiltark would speak. Baku has made certain no one will eavesdrop.”

  Reisil waited until the wary Kebonsat had seated himself. “I am told the Iisand has become a nokula. Nokulas are altered beasts and people,” she declared bluntly. Kebonsat jerked upright, his dark eyes flaring.

  “Altered how?”

  “Whatever your wizards did at Mysane Kosk. Their magic has been spreading, twisting all it touches. Yohuac comes from a land that has been infected by it. The plague is also the result of the magic done there. And I have no ability to cure it. I have tried. It has already begun to creep into the Fringes. Soon it will spread throughout Koduteel.”

  Kebonsat seemed curiously unsurprised at this news. “It was spreading this way. It could not be held off for long. What are you planning?”

  “I wanted to go to the wizards. They cast the spell in Mysane Kosk; they ought to know how to repair what they’ve done. But with the sorcerers here now . . . Sodur thinks it would be dangerous to leave. After what our guests did at the reception last night, I can’t disagree. I have to stay in Koduteel. Yohuac adds another wrinkle to things. He was sent here to find me—” Reisil broke off.

  Yohuac repeated what he’d told Reisil the night before. When he was through, Kebonsat glanced at Reisil, smiling ironically. “Everyone seems to think you’re the key, and no one, not even you, knows how. Not a position to envy, that.” He turned from Reisil back to Yohuac. “How did you come to be ahalad-kaaslane if you are not even of this world?” Kebonsat asked.

  “I am not.”

  Before Kebonsat could ask anything more, Baku tensed.

  ~Someone comes.

  “Someone comes,” Yohuac echoed, climbing to his feet with Reisil and Kebonsat.

  ~A servant. From the Vertina Emelovi. She seeks Kebonsat.

  Yohuac repeated the report to Kebonsat, who looked astounded.

  “How can you know that?”

  “Because Baku can speak to whomever he chooses. And pick information out of their thoughts,” Reisil said before Yohuac could answer.

  “Useful,” Kebonsat said, looking disturbed.

  Reisil understood. Were no one’s thoughts safe? Would Baku know everyone’s secrets? And thus Yohuac? The potential for his ability was staggering. He could spy out the plans of their enemies, of the sorcerers, of anyone at all. Was that why the Lady had sent Baku to Yohuac? Sent them to Reisil? But no. It lacked . . . honor. Perhaps she shouldn’t be concerned with honor when the safety of Kodu Riik hung in the balance. But remembering Upsakes and what he was willing to do in the name of the Lady and the good of Kodu Riik, Reisil felt queasy.

  “I think we have to be careful. I don’t think we can rule out asking Baku for help, but—” She gestured helplessly.

  “But neither friends nor enemies will trust us if we violate their minds indiscriminately,” Kebonsat said.

  “I don’t have very many friends. I would very much like to keep them,” Reisil said wryly.

  “None of us do. Not here.”

  “Baku,” Reisil said, turning to the coal-drake where he crouched on the ground, the tip of his tail snapping back and forth, his white teeth gleaming like daggers along his jaw. For a moment Reisil didn’t know what to say. He was already angry, already resentful. He had a great gift to offer, and now she was going to tell him his skills were unwanted. Just as Yohuac did not want him. But then Reisil realized it wasn’t that way at all. She laid a hand on his head, meeting his hostile gaze earnestly.

  “Baku, we must trust you. You are the master of our secrets. You are a great advantage to us—through you we can communicate with one another. We can ask you to pass messages more quickly and reliably than we might otherwise be able. But the trust between all of us comes from knowing that each one of us will reveal what is important when it is important. And to trust that our friends will do the same. So we must ask you not to share all that you hear in someone’s mind. We must ask you to consider carefully before you divulge what you think we must know.”

  She was extending him a great trust, one that could put their lives in danger.

  ~I will guard well.

  Reisil nodded and straightened. “It will be well,” she said to the two men. “But here comes the Vertina’s messenger,” she said, hearing a crackle of twigs and ice beneath stolid feet.

  Kebonsat frowned. “She hasn’t spoken more than five words together to me. What could she want? And at this time of the morning?”

  “You’re about to find out.” Reisil’s heart twinged, watching him step to meet the liveried messenger. Baku nudged at her arm, and she turned to give him a smile and then collected up the basket and crockery.

  ~We are friends. He sounded uncertain.

  ~We are friends. She and Baku and Kebonsat and maybe even Yohuac. And don’t forget Juhrnus and Metyein. You have more friends than you had a few days ago, she told herself, her heart feeling suddenly lighter.

  “My presence is requested for breakfast,” Kebonsat said, folding up the note and tucking it in his belt. “I must be off. Same time tomorrow. Don’t forget. Take your sword with you and wear it.”

  He waved and disappeared through the trees, carrying with him the practice weapons.

  “I want a bath,” Reisil said. “And I’d like to hear more of your land, if you will.”

  Yohuac gave that bow he’d given her the night before. “I would like that.”

  “And the nahuallis. I definitely want to hear about them.”

  Yohuac picked up her sword and followed after her, not answering.

  Chapter 29

  The long winter had at long last begun to release its icy grasp on the land. The days were warming, and spring rains had begun to fall. It was a cause for celebration, as hungry people prepared garden plots for carefully hoarded seeds. The days passed swiftly and uneventfully, if one did not count the expanding numbers of plague victims in the Fringes. It had become more difficult to enter the city. No one was admitted without proper documentation and inspection. Those who departed could not be certain they would be allowed to return.

  The sorcerers had done little as far as Reisil could tell, either to aid Kodu Riik or to attack. On the single occasion Reisil had cornered Sodur in the three weeks since the Scallacians’ arrival, he informed her that it had been decided it was too early to trust the sorcerers with the truth about the Iisand. The Scallacians would have to prove their good intentions and abilities by first curing the plague. Then a nokula would be captured for them to cure. And finally, if all was well, they would be asked to aid the Iisand.

  Sodur was peculiarly distracted and evasive. “They have been quite cordial, I am told. Our Lord Marshal does not trust them. Of course. But that is his job, after all.” He dodged her gaze.

  “You haven’t asked about Yohuac and Baku,” Reisil began.

  Sodur waved a hand. “No time. They want you. Don’t tell them anything. Don’t trust anyone. Anyone!” He stared piercingly at her for a fleeting moment and then hurried away, Lume trotting at his heels. The lynx turned back once to look at Reisil.

  Sodur’s behavior was nothing less than Reisil had come to expect, and yet his obvious eagerness to be away from her opened her wounds afresh. All over again, Reisil felt betrayed, and angry that she should feel so. Worse was his lack of interest in Yohuac and Baku. Nor had any of the ahalad-kaaslane welcomed them. It was almost as if their contact with her had tainted them, ma
de them untouchable. If only she could have news from the ahalad-kaaslane who were still her friends. Fehra, Reikon, Felias, Bethorn. She wouldn’t feel so alone.

  She continued her morning sword lessons. As agonizing as that first week had been. Reisil was proud of how far she’d progressed. Being able to swing a sword to some purpose was liberating. Not that she could hope to defeat anyone with any skill. But she was no longer an easy target, and with time and practice, she’d do better than just hold her own.

  Few had noticed the addition of the weapon to her wardrobe, with the exceptions of Juhrnus and Metyein, both of whom snickered at her obvious discomfort, though they applauded her for learning. Not that she saw much of either of them. Metyein could not speak to her publicly, making his remarks under his breath as if talking to a bowl of crystal ornaments or a shelf of books, while Juhrnus was occupied by the sorceress. When he wasn’t with Kedisan-Mutira, he was with Metyein, scouring Koduteel for information. And there wasn’t much good news.

  As she expected, Yohuac and Baku’s arrival had stirred up a storm of animosity and suspicion against all three of them. Yohuac and Baku were her constant companions wherever she went. Yohuac, despite his quiet, brooding demeanor , enjoyed a good joke and would divert her with songs and tales of his land. Reisil returned the favor, her presence easing the tension between Yohuac and Baku.

  They accompanied her to the Fringes, where she did her best to help the plague victims with her store of medicines, offering comfort when she could do nothing else. In the last week, the numbers of plague victims seemed to double every few days. Reisil couldn’t begin to guess how many were infected or how many had already died. With the citizens of the city growing more and more frightened, blaming the Fringe population for the spread of the plague, the Fringe folk kept the sick hidden.