A Glimmer on the Blade

by Rachel E. Baddorf

  ***

  Lyceo

  Anoni

  Two hours later, someone burst into the private billiards room on the second floor of the inn. “I told them I wanted to be left alone. I meant it,” Anoni growled back at the door as she lined up for a shot. The room was dim, lit only by a single lightfish in a globe above the green-felted billiards table. The only other furnishings were a leather couch against one wall, and a small table holding a collection of wine bottles, most of them empty. “I said leave.”

  “It’s Corin Deviida. I wanted to talk to you about the palace. The innkeeper said you were thrown out of the common room for picking a fight. And you’ve practically emptied half a cask of wine yourself.”

  She didn’t look at him. “I made an inappropriate offer to a man downstairs.” To herself she added, “Just wanted some company.”

  “I’ll keep you company, Mizrahi. What’s the problem?” He came over to lean on the billiards table, puzzled.

  She gave him a disgusted look. “You can’t give me what I want.”

  “What? Because I’m not a Dragon? Because I haven’t killed fifty raiders with my bare hands?” he sneered. “I thought we were friends, but you don’t take me seriously. I’m not a child; I can tell there are things you aren’t saying. In the capital, we’ll be surrounded by spies and traitors. The secrets you’re keeping could get us killed.”

  She took the two steps between them, fisted her free hand in his shirt and took his lips in a bruising kiss. He froze. After a moment she drew back, pushing him away. Corin still knew her as Ryelis Mizrahi, a young homely man with messy dark hair. Her laugh was drunker than she thought, her mind in a dangerous place. “Leave me to my wine.” She couldn’t seem to control herself tonight. The man in the bar downstairs had not taken well to being propositioned. Her split lip was bleeding again. She turned back to the billiards. “You can’t give me...”

  “Um...I...met your lover. The woman in the hot spring,” he said, very confused. “Not that I have any room to talk, but she’s beautiful. Why...men?” questioned Corin.

  Anoni covered her mouth with a hand for a moment, choking on hysteric laughter. She leaned heavily on the billiards table, shoulders shaking. She had forgotten her own ruse in the hot springs. A brand new kind of mistake. “You thought she was beautiful?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, fragile and rough in her male voice.

  “The lady of your heart? Yes,” he said, confused.

  A strangled echo of “yes” slipped out. She coughed, trying to clear her throat of emotion, and moved around the table so that she could see him as she lined up for a shot on the three ball. “Life is a complicated gamble, Corin. Don’t assume you want to hear all the secrets held against you.” She took the shot in a slow stroke. “Don’t worry. My versatility in partners is known to the men. They still trust me.” She thought of the young acolytes, tortured for what their tongues would not release, for what Alcyenne and she had kept hidden from them. Bile burned the back of her throat. “For whatever good it does them,” mumbled Anoni. She shook her head to try a clear it and then asked, “Does it bother you that I enjoy the taste of men?” She shot another ball into the pocket. “That I enjoy their skin?” She sighed, tiring of her own need to push everything. “Just leave me. In the morning I’ll have my head together and you’ll be safe from my attentions.” She took a moment to run her hands through her hair and rub her face in frustration. Her soul-deep weariness of the charade and the emotions touched off by the prince’s impending marriage to another woman was catching up to her. She had been spoiling for a fight, or something. Maybe just something to prove I’m still alive in here, she thought.

  “I’m not that shocked, I’ve been in the court for a while now,” Corin said, having come around the table to her side. “I’ve known people who preferred bed partners of their own sex. I just wasn’t expecting—”

  “Ah. Here, I got blood on you,” she brushed the smudge of blood off the corner of his mouth.

  His eyes were a little wide.

  “Sorry, I need to get my wits about me,” apologized Anoni. She went to drop her hand, but he grabbed it before she could.

  “Shut up,” he pulled her in, slanting his mouth across hers. They grappled, both seeking purchase in their haste. She buried one hand in his hair, the other was feeling along his belt line at the smooth skin there. She pulled his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, and ran a hand down his muscled chest. He sucked her hurt lower lip for a moment, making her hiss as the slight twinge of pain, before returning to her mouth. She backed him up to the couch and they sprawled onto it in a tangle. She managed to straddle him without doing any damage, kissing deeply. He ran his hands down her back, clasping her to him. He seemed determined to feel each of the muscles that made her up and she reveled in his smooth skin and his hot and knowledgeable mouth.

  One of her moonpearl necklaces slipped out of her shirt, catching unnoticed on the button at his cuff as he moved to touch her. The fine chain snapped and the necklace slithered off. His eyes were closed when the light flared, surprising them both. Her male features disappeared with an explosion of sand that fell all over him, her hair dissolving right out of his hands. Coughing, he tried to scramble away, knocking her unceremoniously to the floor.

  She hit the carpet in her natural form, gasping, as her tailored male street clothes started cutting off her air supply. “Oh, hell,” she cursed as she writhed, ripping her shirt open, trying to get air in her lungs.

  Hacking, Corin managed to ask, “What are you?” His face was white as a sheet. The light from the lamp shone on the hundreds of moonpearls and their shiny settings that made up her undershirt, baring glimpses of Anoni’s white skin beneath it. Dizzily sitting up, he found the necklace near him on the couch. “Yupendra has got to have something for...intense hormonal...hallucinations...” mumbled Corin.

  “I’m a woman,” she managed, starting to shiver as the cold of being covered only sparingly with the moonpearls set in. “Damned transformation spells,” she ran a hand down her abused flesh, so recently constricted by the shirt.

  “I got to go,” Corin mumbled, lurching for the door.

  “Corin wait!” She scrambled after him. “Corin, look at me,” she urged desperately. He did, looking nauseated. Her hands were up and out in the same way a person would try to calm a horse about to bolt. She badly wanted to explain herself to the first person she had invited intimacy with since Master Gurin in Oruno. “I’m Anoni Kanin.”

  A horrified mask slipped onto his face. “You’re dead. In the Daro Wastes.” He shook his head in denial, shock causing him to blink reflexively.

  “Exile. Alcyenne gave me a temple relic to hide me when I left. When she found out about the treason against the prince, she wrote me a letter,” explained Anoni.

  Corin shook himself. “I can’t...it’s impossible.” His face went blank and then he blushed. “It was you in the spring.”

  She nodded, but backed off, giving him air. “I’m sorry to tell you this way...I got some bad news from the palace tonight and the wine got to my head.”

  “Bad news?” asked Corin, not fully focused on the conversation. He was too shocked to absorb it.

  “Just about the wedding. Not important,” she said.

  He looked at her speculatively. “He hasn’t picked anyone yet.”

  She stared at her feet for a moment. “Understand that my past is complicated. I hate him for what he did to me, but I couldn’t let him die. Listening to his marriage prospects is about as pleasant as surgery without anesthetic.”

  He flinched. “He’s not what you think.”

  “I know. You can’t control your heart,” said Anoni. “Goddess knows I’ve tried.”

  He nodded dully. “He spoke of you. Called you a flighty girl.”

  “Yeah well, now I’m flighty and battle-trained,” she said grimly. “He left me to die. And the pain of it wasn’t in the Daro. It was having to leave him. At the time,
that’s all I could think of. How it would be better to die than leave him. Stupid children grow through pain,” explained Anoni, bitterly. She tilted her head back for a long moment, squeezing her eyes shut to try and clear her wet eyes.

  “Your eyes haunt him,” he said.

  These words brought her gaze back to his face.

  He studied her face minutely, eyes searching every feature with an intensity that confused her. “You haunt him,” Corin said finally.

  “Good. After I finally get rid of Markham and it’s all settled, I’ll give the prince a surprise that’ll top even this one,” she said, half chagrined.

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” Corin mumbled. He cleared his throat and said, “Look, I have to go,” as he moved for the door.

  She tried to salvage her pride, fighting tears. “The truth is harsh calluses from the sword. The truth is scars from Daro raiders. It’s skin that tears and hardens. If you can’t handle it, that’s your problem. Not mine.” Angrily, she snatched up the moonpearl and pushed past him, hurrying out of the billiards room.

  “I just have to think about this,” he said.

  She didn’t answer him and she didn’t look back. The past seemed branded on her body and she couldn’t outrun it any more than she could outrun her feet.

  ***

  Imperial Palace

  Ildiko

  Ildiko shifted, trying to get more comfortable, and blearily realized she had fallen asleep at her desk. Sitting up, she saw she hadn’t missed much. Alcyenne was still reading records in an armchair in the corner, a cup of tea at her side, and Armsmaster Franco was still reading a library volume on Cavanii Province. Her guilt over having fallen asleep was tempered with warmth. These important people were in her office. She had an office: a small but comfortable room in a corner of the library. She wondered why these people had come to her. They hadn’t really needed her help to find the books they were reading, but she had the feeling those books didn’t contain the information they were seeking. Did they want company?

  “Ah, I see you’ve returned to us,” the Sybil said dryly.

  Ildiko straightened her spectacles. “I apologize, Lady. I’m not used to the late hours.”

  “That’s all right, girl. I’m glad you are awake though. Could you go up to the palace message office and collect the mail?”

  Ildiko blinked. “All right.” She got up, discretely stretching, and made her way out into the library. She passed through the darkened stacks, most of the lightfish taken back to their holding tanks for the night, and into the main room, footsteps now echoing up to the domed ceiling. She did a quick visual check peering past the balcony railings above as she crossed the marble tiles, making sure there were no lights on any of the four levels. They were dark, as they should be. No one lurked in the corners, planning the deaths of her sisters and brothers. No one was there, she told herself, hurrying anyway.

  She went under the main arch and nearly ran into the young man standing guard for the clergy. Stuttering an apology and trying to calm her pounding heart, she took the corridor down to the servants’ levels. Here, activity in the palace never ceased. Cooks prepared foods for the next day or stayed up in case courtiers had late night orders. Lightfish tenders switched out the occupants in globes along these busy hallways, making sure the fish were fresh and bright. Ildiko nodded at the servants she knew, or passed a blessing sign to those who bowed.

  The office of Imperial Messengers was a large establishment with many pigeonholes behind the counter. A sleepy young messenger leaned on the counter.

  “Hello, can I get the mail for the Sybil?”

  “Sure, Lady,” he slouched down the rows of pigeonholes and came back with a small pile of letters.

  “Thank you,” said Ildiko. She signed the log book and gave a blessing sign on her way out, ignoring the boy’s pointed staring at his tip jar. If he wanted something from the temple, then he would have to show up at services. Once back at her office she gave in to a sheepish urge to knock, and went in.

  Armsmaster Franco was talking to a wall.

  “No Mizrahi, I need to speak to you NOW.” He paused, “Look soldier, I don’t care if you’re having a bad night. I figured out a way to get rid of the hostages.”

  Eyes wide, Ildiko crossed to the Sybil and handed her the mail. “Don’t mind him, he hasn’t gotten the hang of the communion stones yet. Makes him feel better to order people out loud,” the Sybil said with a disdainful sniff. Sybil Alcyenne quickly went through the letters, and set them down with a sigh. “I haven’t heard from Brother Ammon, and neither has Anoni. I begin to fear the worst.”

  Franco ignored them. “Get me Norsson. All right. Do you know where Shaiso’s forces are?” He waited for a response Ildiko didn’t hear. “Good. How many? What are their positions?”

  “Here,” the Sybil handed Ildiko a moonpearl necklace. “I think you are ready for it. Don’t put it on yet, though. He tends to shout.”

  Ildiko took the necklace, masking her surprise. “Thank you.” She wondered if the Sybil had gotten mixed up somewhere. She was known to favor the rich noble sons and daughters who brought substantial monetary donations when they entered the temple. Ildiko had spent her earliest years in the same room little Priya did. She was just as much an orphan, yet she was being invited to join the allies of the Scion.

  “Lady, do you mind if I head off to bed?” Ildiko asked.

  “We’ll lock up when we’re done,” assured Sybil Alcyenne.

  Ildiko bowed to the Sybil and left, closing the door quietly on Franco gesticulating over troop placements. Her own name was on a brass plate on the door. She never expected to move in such exalted circles. She put the moonpearl around her neck, taking care to leave it outside her robes for now. She would wait for a more germane moment to throw her thoughts across the miles.

  ***

  Northern Border of Terastai, Lyceo

  Anoni

  The Border Wall stretched away east and west, becoming a yellow smudge in the morning mist. Atop the wall were a series of large basket-like nests, built together like tenements. Hundreds of tiny white and black birds flew in and out of the nesting holes throughout the nests. The gate was a foot-thick oaken monstrosity, preceded by an old style spiked portcullis that looked well maintained. The city of Lyceo was serious about keeping Ozuk and raiders from the Safiro Wilds outside. An area one hundred feet deep outside the gate and along the wall had been cleared of trees to make an effective killing ground for the defending city guards. The guards on duty had a patchwork collection of clothing and mail, suggesting Aquillion was not taking the responsibility of funding this post seriously. Anoni did notice that their swords and crossbows were utilitarian, but very good quality. Someone was making sure these men could do their jobs. All guards without exception wore a non-magical moonpearl around their necks marking them as part of the faithful. As she waited with Yupendra, Giovicci, and Wix for Copelia and the rest to drag themselves out of bed, a strange tableaux was playing out. The guards were getting ready to open the gates for the day. Anoni observed that half the men making preparations were bald. The group of men with beards and hair came out of the barracks and sat down to have both their face and head shaved by a barber. All the hair went into a basket. After the last man was as bald as his fellows, the barber took the basket up a ladder to the top of the wall and left it for the birds. The little birds looked like large finches, milk-white except for black eyes and a black edging on the beaks and wing tips.

  “Excuse me.” Anoni caught the attention of a burly and heavily scarred guard.

  “We’ll be ready when we’re ready,” he barked, spitting on the ground.

  “I just wondered what kind of birds those were?”

  “Old-Kenya Buffalo Weaver birds, the ghostweavers of Lyceo,” he said in the bored tone of someone who has answered the same question a hundred times.

  Anoni raised her eyebrows, curious. She had never met an Ozuk, but she knew that while half of Aquilli
on thought they were myths, the people who believed in Ozuk had a variety of strange customs to try and ward them off. “Why do you shave your heads?”

  The guard gave her a pitying glance. “Offering to the Goddess. Hair of the baptized gets taken by the birds, they put it in their nests and strengthen the Border.” Anoni must have looked as confused as she felt because the guard took pity on her and explained, as if she was an addled child, “She’s in here, and that keeps Them out there.” He pointed over the wall. “Birds are good in other ways. They know when one of Them is coming.”

  “Oh,” she said, lamely. He must be talking about the Ozuks, thought Anoni.

  He rolled his eyes skyward. “Hope you got guards, lady,” he said, and went back to his work. She blinked, and remembering she was indeed a woman, she mounted her horse and pulled her hat down low, hunching into her coat and flipping up the collar. With Corin in the loop now, there was really no reason to stay in male form but her head ached and she did not want to deal with Copelia’s dramatics yet this morning. Vansainté, Copelia, Corin, and the rest of the Dragons rode up with the wagon in tow, most of them looking as hungover as she felt.

  “So this is the Border Wall,” Vansainté grunted.

  “Begun in the twelfth year of Ardmore Miliarnes’s reign, it stretches five hundred miles from the sea through plains and the Iyekas Mountains, before curving northeast into the much vaster Yukiya Mountains,” Giovicci said. “Finished by his grandson, Galvino the Builder.”

  “You giving tours now?” Nekobashi jibed.

  “Hey, we know next to nothing about where we’re going. Every little bit helps,” Giovicci said as he shrugged.

  The portcullis was raised and the gates winched open by a few of the guards in the gate house. It was charitable to call what was revealed a road. Muddy ruts had hardened over the summer into thin trenches.