“Can you use a sword?” She asked me like it was a perfectly ordinary question, as if it was quite likely that I would say yes, I can use one of those great big letter openers.
“No. They aren’t used much in my world except for ceremony so all I know is that the sharp end goes into the other guy, if you’re lucky. Guns let you kill people from further away so you don’t have to get all that sticky blood on your clothes.”
She nodded and drew the blade from the scabbard with a ring. She tested the edge “That is well. This is a blade for decorative and ceremonial purposes. The edge is dull, although it does have a point that with enough brute force you could manage to put it through someone.” She looked at my uncomprehending glance and continued.
“It is expected, as the son of noble, that you would have your own blade or the honor blade of your house to carry for the Naming day ceremony. No one in your position would be about with out a sword, a working one for those proficient in its use or a ceremonial one to avoid challenges. At least, “ she paused, “ it is that way at the Court of Twilight. It may be different here.” Here eyes searched my face for confirmation.
“Yeah, you right. Now that I recall, I remember most Fey with these overlong pigstickers running around the court. I never bothered about it during my thankfully all too brief visits here. You’re probably right.” She deftly sheathed the blade and tossed through the air. I strapped the belt around my waist and noticed that the sword seemed to be hanging in way that would make it hard for me to run if I had to. Dalia “humphed” and came to my side and rearranged the blade so that it hang at my side and attached a much smaller belt around my thing securing the blade so that it stayed in place when I moved. I was little embarrassed by the whole thing, but this was more her world than mine for all the fact that she was raised in the Court of Twilight.
“The nice thing about this blade is that it is a ceremonial one, you will not be called upon to use it. That is well, I think.” She smiled and I noticed that this little play amused her. She didn’t smile often, but when she did, it could make a cloudy day seem like clear day with an ozone warning.
“Funny. Very Funny. I promise that the cops back home would arrest me in a second if I routinely walked around with a sword strapped to my side.” I had to admit that I did feel a little silly, almost through that the sword did look pretty good strapped to my hip. Glancing in the mirror I could see that while a careful examination would probably notice the bad fit, at first glance, it looked pretty good. Given my druthers, I would have shown up in a pinstripe with a snap brim fedora, mainly because I didn’t care who I offended or how badly. But now I didn’t want any one noticing me until I was ready. Once that happened, I would be glad enough for the attention. I let my vision slacken for a moment and I saw that Dalia looked presentable and ready to go. She was wearing a plain smock under her glamour. It was serviceable and looked fairly comfortable. As my vision refocused I saw that she appeared pristine and beautiful in a satiny dress that displayed her body and yet hid all the important parts in a seductive way. There was a faint nimbus of yellow light that surrounded her hair and made it glisten like it had dew on it or diamonds. I pointed at the faint light, the question evident in my gaze.
“It’s the style. Not a halo but a crown of light. With my coloring, yellow is just right. At my age, it shouldn’t be showy, just highlight my looks and underscore my potential future prominence. At least…it would if I still had any future.”
“Hey. We’ll fix this mess, somehow. Besides I owe a few of these bastards a bloody snoot and I plan to make sure they get it. Once that’s cleared up, you should be able to go home.” I hoped I hadn’t lied to her. I knew less about the Court of Twilight than I did the Court of Dawn and I just wasn’t sure how much trouble she was in. Being forsworn was bad enough although it could be covered up with enough influence. But who knew how much trouble Jeryn Callisandra had caused since she left?
The door downstairs let us pass and I was glad to discover that it was mainly designed to keep people out rather than in. I felt a slight tingle as I passed through it, probably an alarm ward was letting the owner know that we were passing through. It was a one-way, automatically resetting ward so we wouldn’t be going back.
Once I got into avenue I tried to place exactly where I was. It had been a long time since I had needed to know which estates were where and who lived next to who and how far the estate was from the actual Court lands and all that kind of thing. I had only the vaguest notion of where my father lived and that was only good if I came in the gates I always used, not some random noble’s house. I should probably have asked directions, but I didn’t want to attract attention. Now I have heard plenty of women say that a man won’t stop and ask for directions. That just isn’t the case here. I was plenty ready to admit I didn’t know where I was, just not to anybody living here.
Looking up the avenue, I could see the street curving towards the monstrous mountain that was city and palace all in one. The Court of Dawn is divided into ten concentric rings that gradually climb up the base of the Court mountain. Each circle has its own ritual and meeting areas and apartments for when the full Court is in session or for when they have business to conduct. There are also private solons that cater to the noble and ignoble. At the top of the heap is Lord Belsoumnde’s Palace. Actually, it’s really called the House of Dawn, but it always gets named for the current Lord of the Court of Dawn, for at least as long as he lives. You might think that could take a long time considering how long Fae live, potentially for centuries, for a name change, but it’s a pretty dangerous gig. The longest reign on record is 1003 years. Next longest is 506 years. The shortest was 6 months. It had taken very long for Lord Achelmiad to have an “accident”, a fatal one, which precluded him from continuing his reign.
Radiating out from the Tenth circle were twelve roads that led to the great landed estates of the higher ranked Lords and Ladies of the Court of Dawn, like my father, Lord Stavros Melliscant, master of Lord’ Kareen’s Blight an estate named for distant ancestor’s unfortunate experiment with a magical insect, that while quite beautiful, turned out to eat like a pack of shrews. On these roads were the town houses of those who didn’t live at court. Usually these townhouses had minor lords and lordlings in waiting, second or third sons, disgraced nobles and of course, the servant classes. Of course some fine artisans lived here and there were even exiles from other places here as well. Out one of these long roads was my father’s manor. Luckily, I didn’t think we would have to trek all the way to the Blight. By custom, he would have to attend my naming day ceremony tomorrow and that probably meant that he was in attendance at either his townhouse on the 7th road, or the Road of Distant Opulence as it was known, or perhaps he was already in residence at his suite in the 4th circle. He was still considered a power at court despite being demoted from the 3rd to 4th circle, over what I had recently discovered was likely the scandal involving Dalia’s mother, my cousin.
That meant finding him would either be pretty hard or impossibly difficult. If he was in his rooms in the 4th circle there was almost no way of getting to him without a bunch of goons with little sense of humor knowing all about it. Getting arrested right now seemed like a bad idea to me. That meant that I had to hope that he was in the townhouse. The only problem was that I didn’t know where it was or how to get there. My best bet was to ask someone and that also seemed like a bad plan.
As we walked toward the Court Mountain, I considered my options. Dalia would have to do it. She was full blood and actually was raised at Court, just not this one. She should be able to get directions and was less likely to be noticed by any of the authorities that might be looking for a certain half blood son of a certain noble.
I outlined my plan to Dalia and she was delighted to help. I guess she was getting pretty tired of being a bystander in the battle over her fate and would probably have done just about anything to help her situation. Luckily, this shouldn’t be dangerous.
“What if your father is not in residence when you arrive?”
“Well, the thing is that whether he is there or not, he will have the house open. From a visit a few years back I discovered that it is customary for nobles to consider these satellite townhouses as if they were actually on the Court Mountain. Isn’t it that way at the Court of Twilight?”
“Not exactly, Jake. The Court of Twilight is located inside a mountain rather than outside it. The lord of Twilight’s Court is located deep within the core of Court Mountain. Townhouses like you describe are on the surface of the mountain and are highly desirable because of the excellent starlit sky. “
“It sounds pretty grim. Who would want to live in the ground like a rat? No offense.” I realized that I was being pretty tough on her home.
“I realize that the beauty of the night is lost on many from the Court of Dawn. You must not think that the Court of Twilight is a hole in the rock. The mountain is hollow and has galleries open to the night air, crystals refract the light of the stars and the moon and bring them into the heart of court. It is a glorious display that you must see to believe. Also consider that many of our court members are more at home in the dark than the light. While many of us can function in both a lighted and a darkened world, care must be taken for those who would be harmed by the light. You must simply come and visit the court as my guest and as my fathers.”
“I guess so. Maybe one day I will accept your invitation to visit the Court.” I motioned towards a small shop ahead that seemed to be selling candles or glowing spheres. Hard to tell with magic in use exactly what anything really is.
As Dalia made her way into the shop I considered whether she would ever be able to go back to the Court of Twilight, let alone whether I could ever take her up on her offer. See, this whole situation had stink all over it, the kind that you can never completely remove. How the hell could I ever prove I wasn’t this Count Trellsor? This was clearly a case were mistaken identity could be fatal. Dalia was naïve to think that the Twilight Order was going to ever forget that she was connected to an “agent provocateur” that had caused such mischief. I sighed and realized yet again that it was days like this, when I have been shot at by an ogre, jumped through haunted gates and been pursued by heavy hitters from both sides of the Bright Kingdom that made me miss boring loss prevention and divorce work. You hardly ever got burned out of a house by a hit squad when you were following a cheating husband.
I was keeping an eye on the street and letting my mind wander a bit. I was considering what exactly it is that women find so damn appealing about shopping. Buying I get. Shopping and not buying? What’s the point? It’s no excuse I know, but I think I might still have been a little muddle headed from Jervalas Stormcrow’s draught and that was why I didn’t notice anything until I heard the sound of breaking glass inside the shop.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It only took me a moment to gather my wits and I hoped that a moment wasn’t too long. I should have been thinking clearer and that is my only excuse for not realizing that I was heading into a trap.
I opened the door and charged into the candle shop. My eyes adjusted to the lower light level and I saw that I had a real problem. An elf, probably the shop clerk was laying in a pool of slowly spreading blood oozing from a second smile right below her first one. Spasmodic twitches told me that it had just happened. Through an open door I saw the slumped body of Dalia being carried by somebody I reckoned was probably the dwarf. They are strong little bastards and Dalia didn’t weigh very much. I started after him and I can’t really say what exactly happened at this point. I don’t know what made me glance into the reflection ahead of me instead of staying focused on Dalia. Whatever it was it saved my life.
In a dimly glowing crystal globe I saw an arc of metal cutting through the dimness of the shop, my neck its obvious goal. I threw myself down and away, sending a display of globes flying through the air. Many shattered, releasing a magical snowstorm of light and scent as each captured spell fizzled and burned quickly exposed without containment. I felt a slight sting as the tip of the blade grazed my back instead of severing my head.
I hit the floor about the same time as the glass did so I landed clean. Rolling over, unfortunately ground shards of glass into my back. Luckily, the cape took most of the damage. By the light filtering in from the street I could see my old friend from the previous day, the elf with the iron scarred face. He was wearing a glamour that made him appear normal, but I ignored it. The only good news that I could see was that he couldn’t be wearing Black Watch armor. You can’t wear a glamour and the armor at the same time. So he was only armed, not armored.
I could see hate and spite sparking in his good eye and flecks of spittle on his lips transfiguring from a noble fey into a mad dog. He swung wildly at me, shattering a display of candles. His depth perception must have been off because I can’t think of any reason for him to have missed at that range. He was fighting badly, very badly for a Black Watch member. Later it occurred to me that perhaps he actually was suffering from iron poisoning. In many Fey it can lead to dementia and death with stages of disability and madness all along the way.
He growled something unintelligible and positioned himself to make a lunging attack. He was using a short sword of some kind and I am sure that he would have preferred something with a little more reach. I considered pulling the ceremonial rapier at my side, but quickly dismissed the idea. Like I told Dalia, I know damn little about how to use one of the damn things and besides, it was for show not fighting and I didn’t want to try and play his game.
I jumped back and twisted as he lunged, committing himself to the thrust. The point passed through my cloak and tore a swath of cloth from it. He stumbled forward and as his momentum carried him forward I shoved as hard as I could into his back, sending him flying towards the floor. His blade flew away and he screamed in rage. He screamed again when he pushed himself off of the floor and the broken glass ground into his palms.
He was off the floor quickly before I could take advantage of his fall. Damn, he was quick. Before I could think about my next move, he was at me, his fingers seeking purchase on my throat. His weight was less than mine, but his pain and hate lent him enough strength to send us both to the ground.
We rolled into yet another display and this one contained burning candles that spilled hot wax on both of us and ignited the some of the lamp oil that had pooled from previous damage. His fingers hooked at my throat as I tried to break his hold. I could see his ruined face above me, his glamour falling as he lost concentration. The wound was not well healed and has split in several places with blood and a clear liquid oozing from the suppurated wounds. His good eye focused grimly, on the task of throttling me. I was using my right arm to hold him off. He was strong, stronger than me. I would hate to see this guy when he wasn’t already injured. My left hand groped for anything I could used as a weapon. I felt a sharp pain as a piece of broken glass cut into my palm, but I didn’t let go. I gripped it harder, trying to ignore the biting pain, a swung it in a low arc that cut across the bridge of his nose and into his good eye.
He screamed the agony of a wounded beast as he threw his head back. He stumbled to his feet, blindly. I hadn’t thought it was possible for his face to look worse, but the blood streaming from his eye poured down his unscarred cheek as he flailed madly about. I felt faint when he pulled the dripping piece of glass from his eye. He raged incoherently as he stumbled around the now burning shop. He sobbed as he stumbled into counters and displays, his path traced by wreckage and blood.
I looked around for anything that I could use, a piece of wood or a bit of broken furniture. Nothing. At least nothing that I could get to. His sword was clear across the shop and I would have had to go by those grasping hands to get. It was then that I remembered the largely useless sword that hung by my side. I pulled it from the sheath and it made a faint rasping sound and he jumped towards me and the sound that drawing the blade made. He couldn’t see, but
he could still hear.
I don’t know what he thought at that final moment. Maybe he was full of regret for what he’d done or what he hadn’t done. There is just no way to know. As he threw himself toward the sound he heard I raised the blade and felt his weight on the point as it entered his stomach. He stood transfixed against the light of the burning shop and I heard a raspy gasp as he stopped. Then he clawed his way, up the blade toward me.
Blood began to trickle from his mouth as he staggered toward me, the blade pushing further into his vitals. I lowered my shoulder and shoved with every bit of strength I still had and rammed the dull sword blade completely in to the hilt and shoved him backwards, impaling the point into the wooden counter. I felt his weakening hands scrabble at my back but my own momentum carried me and him forward. I felt a great shock as he fell backwards, the blade jerked from my hands.
He hung there, his hands now gripping the blade, slippery with his own blood and viscera, his mouth making little awkward sounds as he was dying. I stood staring at him, the blade protruding from his back and pinning him like a grotesque butterfly against the counter. Finally, he slumped and his face relaxed. One half dominated by that terrible scar, the other half perfect except for the blood from his eye.
I realized that I wouldn’t have much time. The shop was on fire and somebody would be coming quickly to see what was happening and I would be just as happy if I wasn’t here when they showed up. I tried to pull the blade from the body, but it was really embedded into the counter. I did a cursory search of his corpse and discovered about what I had expected, nothing except a small fortune in moonstruck silver, which I pocketed. It would have been nice to find a map that said “hideout here”, but I would just have to think of something else.
I could see that the fire that had started was probably going to be easily controlled and as much as I hated to do it, I couldn’t let that happen. Anything that slowed the court down in figuring out what was going on here would give me more time to figure out how to recover Dalia. I took some bottles of scented lamp oil and fed them to the flames. The fire was hungry and only needed a little encouragement to grow monstrous.
Naming Day (Jake Underwood Book 1) Page 24