by Tenaya Jayne
The problem would be cutting it free. And she had no idea how she would fashion the shape of the blade once she got the glass loose from the surrounding rock. But she was determined to find a way, no matter what. And if the whole idea was impossible, Syrus would have told her as much.
Forest went to find a chisel. Her heart pounded with excitement and love for her new unshaped weapon.
After hours of cutting the glass from the rock, sweat ran down her forehead. She had to constantly remind herself to breathe, steady her hands, and work slowly. Syrus checked on her from time to time, but it wasn't until she had severed the glass from the mountain that she needed help. They wrapped the sharp block in a cloak so they didn't cut their hands and carried it together to Syrus' personal apartments in the mountain.
"Can I leave it here for now?"
"Of course. No one comes in here. It will be safe." Syrus pulled the fabric away from it. "It's a good choice, Forest. Powerful."
"I think maybe it chose me. I cut myself on it when I first touched it. The tiny slice still burns, and it still hasn't healed, even after all these hours."
Syrus looked at her cut, frowning. "You're going to have to be very, very careful. This sword may turn out to be more deadly than any I've ever seen."
"I know." Her voice was sober. "It scares me, but I can't change my mind. I already love it too much. It feels so right, but I worry about it being brittle. Will it shatter under stress or attack?"
Syrus grabbed a sword from the corner of the room and brought it down on the chunk of glass in a full, two-handed strike. The blade broke, leaving only a tiny nick on the glass. Syrus dropped the hilt of the now worthless sword on the ground and looked closely at the minute damage to the glass.
He came back to her, taking her cut hand in his, and shot a small red spark into the wound, healing it. "You should go home now, baby. Leave it with me. I have something I want to do to it."
She looked at him dubiously and then down at the glass and back to him. He gave her a look of challenge she understood. She sighed and nodded.
"Okay, okay. I trust you."
"I'll be home soon. The day is almost over."
She kissed him goodbye and went back to Len in the portal chamber, but she wasn't ready to go home yet. She opened her portal and went to see Shi.
As soon as her feet hit the ground in the wood, Shi materialized in front of her. Shi's transparent eyebrows rose as she moved through Forest's thoughts. "Interesting," Shi said slowly. "Can I contribute something to this weapon?"
"What do you mean?"
"What are you going to make the hilt from?"
"Umm…I hadn't thought that far yet," Forest confessed.
"Well, Syrus is adding something, I should be allowed to as well. I love you, too. I want to protect you."
Forest had only wanted to share her news. She hadn't thought to ask Shi to give her something other than her company and opinion. "What are you thinking?"
"Hold out your dominant hand."
Forest obeyed. Shi touched it as only a ghost can. At first Forest was confused, but as Shi moved her hand, she realized she was measuring.
"I'll be right back." Shi disappeared.
Forest paced a circle, listening to the sound of the waterfalls in the distance. In a moment, Shi was back.
"Here."
She placed the twisted hilt in Forest’s hand. The wood handle fit her grip perfectly. She marveled at its beauty. It looked like a tree—the top resembled a canopy, the handle a trunk, and the base where she would insert the blade stretched down like roots, ready to grip the sword.
"Hold it up," Shi ordered, "as though the blade is already there and you are facing an enemy."
Forest held it up.
Shi placed both of her hands around Forest's hand and slowly let them sink through Forest's skin and bones holding the new hilt. Shi closed her eyes. A sharp jolt snapped deep in Forest’s palm, and it felt as though Shi had fused her flesh to the wood.
Shi smiled and pulled back. "There. It will recognize you now. No one will be able to wield it against you. If it is ever stolen and used for evil, the hilt will break."
Forest was staggered. "Thank you."
Shi placed the whisper of a kiss on her cheek. "Go home and rest. The night comes. You should be with your love."
"So should you," Forest chided.
Shi shook her head, sighing. "He's always with me."
"Talk to him."
"I never should have told you about Ler."
"Forgive him, Shi."
Annoyance flared in Shi's eyes. "Mind your own business."
"Fine. Be miserable…I love you," Forest added more softly. "Thank you for the gift. It's amazing."
Shi nodded and disappeared. Forest sent herself home with her new prize.
She had two messages when she got home. One from Kindel, one from Redge. Both would have reports ready for her in the morning. She'd set Kindel to the task of finding everything ever written about Copernicus. And Redge would have intel from the field about the insurgents' movements.
Forest poured a glass of wine and thought about what she needed to do when she got back to work. No matter what she learned from the written history Kindel brought her, the best source for information she had was her father.
The next morning Forest found a pile of books and scrolls Kindel had dumped on her desk.
"Gah…I hate homework," she complained.
"Hey, I marked the relevant sections with bookmarks."
Forest smirked at Kindel. "Thank you. I guess you can keep your job, for now."
Ena came in with Redge on her heels. She took her seat in the corner, ready to record their meeting. "Before I forget, Baal is here," she said.
Forest looked pointedly at Redge. "Should we invite him into our meeting?"
"Up to you. I thought Rahaxeris was coming."
"So did I." Forest crossed her office and looked out the door into her waiting room. Baal stood with his back against the wall, looking bored.
"Where is Rahaxeris?"
He focused his ruby eyes on her. "Away, madam. Off world."
"Oh, he didn't tell me he was leaving."
Baal smiled slightly. "Can I help you instead?"
Forest mulled it over for a second. "Perhaps. Come in."
She shut the door behind Baal. Kindel and Redge nodded to him but made no other greeting. Neither liked Baal much.
"How may I be of service?" Baal asked Forest.
"What does the Rune-dy think about the insurgents?"
Baal's expression went blank. "Who?"
"Oh, come on." Kindel was incredulous.
Baal ignored him, keeping his eyes on Forest. She held his gaze, looking for insincerity. She got nothing, his eyes held her back, like running headlong into a wall. She didn't have time to screw around with him. It didn't seem out of the realm of possibilities that he didn't know anything. The Rune-dy, as a collective, didn't care about current events unless they were directly affected.
Forest crossed her arms. "All right. Tell me what you know about Copernicus."
Something strange flashed in Baal's eyes and then vanished. "I cannot tell you what I know. You don't have the clearance."
Both Kindel and Redge seemed to puff up with rage. Forest gave them warning glances.
"Thank you, Baal. Please inform my father when he returns that I wish to see him."
Baal smiled. "Of course."
She looked at the door. He turned and left. As soon as he was gone, Kindel began pacing the floor to burn off steam. Muttering things like, arrogant bastard, under his breath.
"I don't like him," Kindel said.
"Really? I couldn't tell," Forest retorted.
"Why does he skulk around here?" Kindel demanded.
"I need my connection to the Rune-dy. Get over it."
Redge smirked at Kindel. "You seem to hold yourself together when Rahaxeris comes around."
"That's because Rahaxeris scares me shitless. B
aal just annoys the elf out of me," Kindel said.
Redge and Ena laughed at Kindel.
"All right, let's get this meeting going or we'll be here all day," Forest said sternly. "What have you learned, Redge?"
"I've been following reports of missing persons. Probably fifty this week alone. I'd say sixty percent of those have joined the Aluka Circle, based on the evidence around the disappearances. There's been some mangled bodies pop up here and there, nothing in the way of a hit from the circle. I'd say they joined and tried to leave or somehow displeased the leader… Trying to follow their movements is proving difficult. There was a hit since we talked last…"
Forest braced herself for the news. "How many died?"
"Six. An ogre family. Three young ones."
Forest slammed her fist on her desk, pushing out her rage, so she wouldn't cry.
"We need someone on the inside, a spy," Redge said.
"I agree. Do you have someone for the job, Redge?" Kindel asked.
Redge looked straight into Forest's eyes. "It should be me."
"No," she said quickly. "No way."
"Why not? Do you doubt I could do it?"
"Not at all. I know you could."
Redge regarded her silently for a minute. "You say no from your heart, not your head."
"So? You're my friend. And Syrus' best friend. I don't want you in that kind of danger."
"With all due respect for you and your office, I have fought in the front lines of three wars, earned more medals than anyone of my rank for a thousand years, led legions to death and victory, and babysat Syrus when he was a blood addict and a spoiled brat. I am greatly responsible for the kind of man he has become… And now I work for you. You chose me to head investigations and forensics. Have I not done my job nobly?"
Forest sighed and shook her head. "I meant no disrespect, Redge. Please forgive the insult… Among your many talents and skills, have you ever worked as a spy?"
"No," he admitted. "Maybe that's in my favor. I'll find what works, adapt, without thinking about protocol."
She mulled it over, hating that she had to. "I'll think about it."
Chapter Six
Netriet stood in a large red tent in the center of a semicircle of the founding members of the Fair for her "screening." Tek, Martia, and Merick were there. Martia smiled and winked at her in encouragement. Netriet refused to look at Merick and tried to pretend he wasn't there, but being near him caused her heart to skitter and her cheeks to redden with embarrassment.
Questions about her past and illegal behavior were posed by Renee, the oldest-looking elf woman Netriet had ever seen. Netriet answered everything with as few words as possible. She told them briefly about her days as a courtier and the theft that had worked as the set up for her to be sent to Philippe. She left out details; some she couldn't remember after her transformation, and some because she couldn't stand to say them aloud.
"And how did you lose your arm?" Renee asked.
Netriet opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Merick spoke up.
"We don't need to know that. It's too personal a question."
"I don't see it as that personal," the old woman rasped.
"Because you've never suffered a serious injury. If you had, you'd understand," he insisted.
"Fine, she can answer if she wants to."
All eyes focused more intently on her. Netriet chanced looking at Merick. His face was blank, but his eyes were anything but. She looked back at those sitting in front of her she didn't know.
"Thank you for the choice to answer. I assure you all, the circumstance around the loss of my arm is nothing that will come back to haunt me here. All I will say is Philippe took it, and Philippe is dead. The rest doesn't matter."
When questions turned to her appearance, she clammed up. They asked about her scars and her eye.
What's wrong? The shadow asked, speaking for the first time since the previous day. It's time to introduce me. Why won't you speak?
Netriet held her mouth shut and shook her head, looking at the ground.
"I think we know enough," Merick said. "Let us vote."
Netriet chanced looking at him again, but he was looking away from her. She stared at his profile, confused. Why did he do that? Why was he protecting her now? She didn't understand. Had he been so awful to her because she'd come on too strong? Didn't most men like that? Oh, to hell with him and his inconsistencies.
They sent her out for their vote. She waited nervously by the front of the tent. What would she do if they didn't let her stay? She should have told them how she planned to make herself useful to the Fair even if she didn't yet know how she was going to do that. She would be alone again with no one except the shadow. How long would it take them to decide? If they cast her out, would she have to go right now? Would they consider her again if she came back after a bit of time?
Martia came out and clasped her in a tight hug. "Welcome to the Fair, Netriet! You're allowed to stay by a majority vote."
"So what now?"
"Well, I hope you will continue to stay with me and Tek until you find your feet."
The rest of the group filed out of the tent. A few nodded at her and walked on. Merick came out alongside Tek. He glanced at her uncomfortably for a second before heading off toward his tent. Last out was Renee. She looked at Netriet speculatively, seemingly interested in her velvet shirt.
"So you're the one who has Merick so tied up."
"I'm sorry?"
"Oh nothing, dear. Isn't that a beautiful shirt? Don't you think so, Martia?" Renee asked.
"Yes. When I first saw it, I thought it looked like your handiwork," Martia said. "Renee is one of our finest clothing designers," she explained to Netriet.
Netriet's stomach squirmed. "If you will excuse me, ladies, I have something…"
She walked away from them, keeping her eyes down as she passed people. They let her in. She could stay. She was so relieved and yet terrified at the same time. And all of it was eclipsed by her feelings surrounding Merick. She was to live here. How could she function around him? Would this insanity in her heart prove temporary? Could she learn to truly not care?
When she looked up, she was standing right outside his tent. Her feet brought her to him without the consent of her brain. She knew he was in there. Nothing but fabric kept her away from him. She could march right in and tell him how it was and how it would be, and that would be that. Manners dictated she should call out and ask permission to enter, but her anger over his kiss, as she thought about it again, pulled an override.
She pushed through the flap, and it all happened to her again. Her heart lost its rhythm as she fell into his eyes.
"I was wondering if you were coming in or just going to stand out there all day," he said.
All her anger and resolve drained, leaving her feeling tired and helpless.
"Why? Please tell me why you are like this, Merick? Is it just with me? Do you have a split personality like me? How can you treat me like I matter one moment and that I don't the next?"
"I don't know what you mean." His voice was harsh.
"Yes, you do."
Everything in his face and demeanor changed. He reached out and touched her cheek softly. "It's not on purpose." His voice went quiet and dark. "I'm sorry."
Her lip quivered. She couldn't stand against his tenderness, but she also couldn't trust it.
He shut his eyes tight as though he had a terrible pain in his head, and the hand on her face trembled slightly, the muscles of his arm constricting. He shook his head back and forth, stuck in some inner war. He opened his eyes again. It felt as though the ground had dropped from under her feet as he leaned toward her, both his hands now on her face.
"No blood this time," he whispered before taking her lips.
Again, she had no control. He touched her, and she gave it all up, as if control was too heavy a burden and she'd been carrying it around far too long. He held her immobile, trapped in his arm
s, but still she felt like she was falling. Falling fast, too fast—he made her vulnerable. Her heart longed for him, for what he could do, what he might do, but he'd proved unreliable. Her heart opened too fast and too fully to him, and it was too fragile. His harshness would rip it and wound it, maybe fatally.
Fool me twice, shame on me, she thought.
The memory of her embarrassment brought strength back into her body, and she pulled away, slapping him as hard as she could.
"What?!"
She stepped back from him, her handprint coloring his face.
"I get it, Merick. I'm too easy. Too desperate for acceptance and affection starved. Obviously, no other woman wants you, and I'm easy prey. Well, there might not be much to me, but what I still have I'll not give to you."
"I'm trying to help you."
"Help," she scoffed. "You're trying to use me."
"I want you!" he yelled throwing his hands in the air. "I admit it. Sorry! But I want to help you, too. I don't know how, yet."
"I'll tell you how to help me. Stay away from me. Pretend nothing ever happened between us. I'll say hello and goodbye when our paths cross, and that's it. Don't lurk outside my window. Don't think about me."
"Don't think about you?" He laughed darkly. "I've hardly thought of anything but you since the first time I laid eyes on you."
"Shut up! You're a liar."
He crossed his arms. "Interesting accusation coming from the likes of you. I know the necessity of lies just as you do. Merick is not my real name just as Nettie was not yours. I've lied in my life, when I felt I needed to, either to protect myself or others…I …" His face fell a little, and the depth of his eyes flattened. "It doesn't matter. You've made yourself clear. I'm sorry if my manners offended you. I won't bother you again." His tone was as cold as stone. He closed himself up to her.
There was nothing for her to do but turn and leave. She'd rejected him, and he'd rejected her. The gravity between them would be ignored. What might have been would become a faint memory of a moment of trial and error.