A Glimmer on the Blade

by Rachel E. Baddorf

  She needed more power and she needed to get his attention. She could feel his emotions now. He didn’t want to leave where he was. Or maybe he had been in the magic so long, he didn’t know himself. She studied the lines, those on his skin and those stretching into the air. In a flash of memory she realized where she had seen the pattern before.

  The lines were the same that only she had seen covering the skin of Corin Deviida.

  The truth rushed through her. It made sense to send the prince on his Dragons’ Quest, to teach him what life was like out in the real world away from the palace.

  She blushed in embarrassment at the memory of how immature she had acted around him. Shaking her head to banish the memory, she concentrated on the prince. She had to bring him back. She leaned over him and spoke in a clear, commanding tone.

  “Corin Deviida, remember who you are. You are Corinado Matthias Miliarnes, last son of the Miliarnes Dynasty. We need you.” Taking a deep breath, she studied him, adding, “Anoni needs you.”

  She sensed a slight response, but not enough. In despair, she grabbed the metal font piece and used all her will to thread the spell lines back through it in a loop. She poured all the power she could draw from the Goddess into the loop, and it went from her, through the spell in the font, into his body, and then out to where his soul was. The power started flowing back from his soul down the other side of the spell and back into the font. It gained force, bouncing in and out of the body. Finally, with a roar she heard like a wave crashing the power broke free of the paths of magic, shattering the metal font into a million hot flying shards. Copelia fell back with a cry, trying to protect her face. There was a gasp that dissolved into coughing. Copelia looked over to see the prince on his side, hacking and choking frantically on air.

  She sat up, feeling three or four small stinging cuts on her face and arms. Glancing around she found Ketchkei batting at a smoking pinhole in the couch. Ildiko had a cut over one eye and was surrounded by several pieces of broken glass from where her glasses had been shattered by the shrapnel. The metal shards lay sprinkled around on the floorboards, burned into the wood. Copelia brushed out part of the circle for good measure. The silver bowl had melted into the floor, the water burned to steam.

  Ildiko said urgently from her pallet, “Highness, are you all right?”

  Copelia, head still ringing a little, looked closer at the prince. He was breathing hard and raggedly, his green eyes blinking rapidly. She reached over and gave him a gentle swat on the shoulder. “You're going to hyperventilate.”

  ***

  Aquillion, Caruda House

  Corin

  His highness Corinado jerked at the contact, spasming in the pain of his entire body waking from pins and needles. Looking around in a daze, struggling to get his eyes to focus, he rocked back and forth until he was on his stomach. He was in an office, he thought. There was a couch, a chair, and a desk. Bookshelves. Three blurs in clergy robes. He was on the floor; he glanced down, and he was naked again. He struggled to breathe in this newly unfamiliar body. He heaved and stretched, needing to feel this whole body was his. The muscles worked and the feeling of pins and needles fell away. He could feel every muscle from his neck to his feet. He wiggled his toes, becoming aware of the hard floor under his face and body.

  He was back. In one piece. He was afraid to believe the Quest was over.

  “Highness, are you all right?” the voice asked again.

  Goddess, he must look like a fish flopping on the shore. He stilled, nodding into the floorboards, searching for his voice. “Give me a moment.” Oh thank the Goddess! It was his own melodious tenor. His own singing voice. He blinked, eyelashes trailing through the wetness pooling on the floor. Tears, he realized. His own. Clearing his throat, he got his hands beneath him and levered himself into a sitting position. The room spun lazily for a moment. “Clothes?”

  “Oh, we forgot to get you some,” came a young startled voice. Corinado turned his gaze up to see Copelia, in a silver robe. “You can borrow some of my brother’s.”

  “Wha—Vansainté’s?” Corinado shook his head and then grasped it to keep it from rolling off his shoulders. Monstrous hangover.

  “Sarousch!” she yelled at the door, like a knife to his ears. A moment, and then she cursed, getting up and yanking a bell pull.

  A young woman in a maid’s uniform opened the door. Her eyes fell on Corinado and her mouth fell open.

  “Would you grab a pair of pants and a shirt for His Highness,” Copelia ordered.

  Blushing furiously the maid hastily shut the door.

  “Where am I? Why are you here?” Corinado asked, liking the sound of his own voice.

  “You’re at my house in Aquillion,” Copelia supplied.

  “Vansainté’s house? Caruda House?”

  Copelia gave him a knowing smile. “Yes, Corin.”

  “You know me?” Corin asked.

  Copelia nodded. “I recognized the spell pattern on your skin from when I was leaving the Dragons.” She explained to the other two girls. “His Highness Corinado’s soul was in the body of Corin Deviida, the ‘Prince’s Observer’ on the Quest. Welcome home. Where was your soul? It wasn’t on this plain. What happened?”

  He tried to order his memories. “Well...I think I died. Sort of died?” He looked at the clergy, trying to get confirmation.

  Copelia and the other two girls exchanged looks of shock, tinged with nausea. Swallowing convulsively, he added “I almost stayed dead, didn’t I?”

  Copelia gave a nod, looking like she was going to throw up.

  Resolutely, putting this close call aside with a mental note to process later when he wasn’t in front of people who needed him to act sane and stable, he nodded. “Okay, Copelia. Let’s not tell people about the being dead part. Let’s just say the Prince’s Ordeal was completed and the Goddess is ready for me to be crowned.”

  “It’s accurate, seeing as she brought you back to life,” muttered the blonde girl with a snort.

  CHAPTER 23

  Aquillion

  Copelia

  Copelia leaned on the back of a chair the Caruda House’s little-used music room, under the choir loft, quiet as a mouse. Light streamed through the high arched windows onto the wide floor and the prince was at the piano, starting to play the beginning of the same song over again, expanding into variations of melody. She had never heard the song before today. It was a lilting soulful tune, rippling with little sweeps and flourishes of sound.

  The door opened behind her and she turned to see her brother. Containing her urge to throw herself at him for a hug, she jerked her head in the direction of the player.

  Vansainté came up beside her, giving her a strained smile.

  “He’s been doing that all day,” she whispered.

  “I’m glad to see him safe,” he said, nodding with approval.

  She grinned. “We’ve made ourselves an emperor, you and I.” Copelia watched as Vansainté paused to listen to the music. She gave him a sound hug. “Is Anoni here?”

  Looking troubled, he shook his head. “She came ahead...”

  “He told me about the Ozuk. That presents some problems, but it does explain why we had Stellys and three guards dead in our alley a few nights back.”

  Vansainté frowned. “She hasn’t come in?”

  Copelia shook her head and said, “I’ve heard nothing from her.”

  “What did you do with the bodies?”

  “What do clergy normally do with bodies?” She grinned again. “They perform funerals for them.”

  His teeth flashed white in the dark. “Never thought of that.”

  “How did you get into the city, by the way? I had people stationed to pass the word as soon as you got through the city gates.”

  “Tradition dictates returning Dragons check in with the city guard of Aquillion, who then arrange a procession to the palace. Seeing as people are still trying to kill us, I made sure we did no such thing. We came in the east gate in o
nes and twos still dressed as mercenaries.”

  “They are never going to know what hit them,” she said, putting her arm through her brother’s. “Come and meet him.”

  She cleared her throat when there was a break in the music, and pulled her brother with her up to the piano. “Your Highness,” she bowed her head. “You seem to already have been introduced.”

  Corinado stood from the piano bench as Vansainté bowed low. “Your Highness.”

  Corinado betrayed nothing in his face, though his green eyes were alive with laughter. “How’s the arm?”

  Blinking, Vansainté flexed his sword arm safely clothed in a black shirt with gloves covering his hands. “Fine, sir. In fine fighting shape.”

  “Any illuminating aftereffects? No glaring changes in effectiveness?”

  Copelia snorted with laughter at the very bad pun, while her brother looked from her to the prince, confused. “I don’t...” stuttered Vansainté.

  She burst out into real laughter and Corinado couldn’t hold it, joining her. “I’m sorry, I can’t...” she managed through tears. “Vansainté, meet Corinado Miliarnes, lately known to you as Corin Deviida.”

  Vansainté flushed. “But...how?”

  “Magic,” the prince replied. “I wouldn’t suggest the trip though. Packs a wallop of a hangover.”

  “The Ordeal,” Copelia explained, wiping at the tears. “Sends the prince out to perform the quest without benefit of money or name.”

  “I...meant no disrespect back then,” Vansainté stammered.

  “Don’t! Don’t apologize for being my friend. Only promise me you will continue to act the same way. Also, I appear to be wearing a pair of your pants.” Corinado grasped Vansainté’s hand in a shake. “You can’t stand on formality with a man borrowing your pants,” he finished lamely.

  “All right,” Vansainté said, clearly not sure of his footing.

  “So where is my lady of the blades?” the prince asked, looking around as if she might be hiding back in the shadows.

  “She came ahead by Ozuk. She thinks you’re dead. It’s crushed her. She’s broken from the Dragons and is planning something for the coronation ball,” Vansainté said in an exhausted rush.

  Corinado’s brows shot up. “Knowing her, I should expect blood and fire, flood and destruction.”

  Vansainté nodded grimly. “That’s about the only kind of party Anoni ever plans.”

  The prince blinked. “Shit.”

  ***

  Aquillion

  Anoni

  The noon sun shone down on Crescent Avenue, the street running from the city gates, straight across a star bridge and up to the palace’s main gate. Anoni, wrapped in her cloak, was eating lunch at a stall only a few blocks north of the main city gate when she heard a fanfare. Squinting over the crowds to see what the fuss was about she saw a gathering of people with a great many black horses in formation coming down Crescent Avenue.

  At first, all she could see was a bunch of people in black, silver, blue, or green. Another trumpet sounded, and was answered from the direction of the palace. There was a flare of light and the people began riding in formation. They went slowly, walking the matching black horses in a parade. It was the clergy and the Dragons; it had to be. Excited shouts passed down the street as the people parted.

  First came a woman on Nightswift. She was resplendent in a simple silver shift with a full skirt of many folds. Just covering her shoulders was a mirror-bright piece of plate armor, carved ornately with the animals of the Goddess. Covering her head was a hood of ring mail. Anoni looked closer and could see that the hood covered all of the woman’s face except her mouth. The tail of auburn hair hanging down the back of the mail confirmed it was Copelia. Only Copelia could come up with such a spectacular way to spit in Shaiso’s eye.

  The girl had the glaive Nekobashi had given her, its crescent blade glowing bright silver bright enough to hurt the eyes. She rode with the bottom tip of the glaive’s hilt in a holder on the saddle and her left hand clasping it near the blade, holding it as if it were a flag. The casters on her hands and bare feet shined in the sunlight. In a wedge formation behind and to the left and right of Copelia rode green robed novices, all with silver-chased staves held the same way. The acolytes formed the perimeter of the formation, including a rank that brought up the rear. Behind Copelia’s group rode Vansainté in his jet-black dress uniform. To his left and right was a line of blue robed acolytes with more staves that formed the next layer of the formation. Inside the circle of clergy rode a circle of Dragons in their jet dress uniforms, and inside that circle rode the Imperial Prince in his white dress uniform. He scanned the massing crowd with a triumphant smile on his face. The double cranes of Miliarnes were embroidered on his court robes and a long wooden box was tied behind him on the saddle. The crowd cheered him and the clergy, the latter of which waved and smiled back.

  Anoni followed alongside them in her disguise. She couldn’t stop herself, throat thick with emotion. It wasn’t quite pain at seeing the Dragons in their place of glory and not being with them; it was a fond memory of things past and not to be again. Copelia had amassed the hiding clergy, and made sure everyone knew the prince was back. Shaiso’s last opportunity to assassinate the prince in the shadows was gone and she wished she could be there when Shaiso heard. When the formation reached halfway to the palace, they stopped.

  Copelia stood in her stirrups and brandished her glaive for silence. It was given grudgingly. When it was quiet, Copelia touched a stone moonpearl necklace at her throat. When she spoke, it was in a preternaturally loud voice, sounding clear, confident, and only a touch young.

  “People of Aquillion, today is a great day!” There was a roar of approval. She motioned for silence. “Enemies of the Empire have struck at the Temple. The old Sybil has fallen and an impostor has tried to take her place.” The crowd hushed, furtive motions betrayed their anxiety. The Temple never made announcements to the people. Anoni spared a moment to hope that Copelia hadn’t learned the theatrics from her. The girl was holding the folk on the tip between joy and riot. “The impostor was taken by the Goddess for her betrayal. A new Sybil has risen!” She brandished the glowing glaive above her head. The crowd roared. “The Goddess’s will has returned to Aquillion!” The cheering rose like a tide.

  Copelia turned her horse and the formation parted for her. “But that is not all, faithful of Aquillion.” She stopped, Nightswift nose to nose with the Delkeran the prince rode. “The Goddess’s son has returned victorious from his Ordeal. And his Dragons have brought the sacred moonrose back from the Ozuk haunted north!” The crowd screamed. Copelia leaned over to clasp the prince’s hand. “Tomorrow he will take up his rightful place as emperor!”

  The crowd took a while to quiet when they realized the prince wanted to speak. He let Copelia’s hand go and raised his own to the crowd. His voice also was loud enough for half the city to hear. “People of Aquillion, spread the word and rejoice. Today starts a week-long festival in honor of the Goddess and the Empire.” The crowd cheered; there was usually only two days of celebrating after the prince was crowned. “Pray for me, for a long and prosperous rein, and for a good marriage. Pray the Goddess sends me a good woman for my union.” The people laughed at this somewhat self-deprecating statement. “Make merry and light the streets! Tomorrow an emperor returns to rule!”

  Copelia rode back to the head of the formation and they rode on toward the palace. Anoni let them go, though following them to the palace was tempting. Copelia had drawn the line against Shaiso and his conspirators. She must have emptied the Caruda stables to do it. Talk about making a statement, thought Anoni.

  Later that night, Anoni walked into the temple in the merchants’ district. She nodded to the acolytes tending the incense and took a seat near the front on a pew. She relaxed into the posture of prayer, and gazed at the darkened skylight. It was not yet midnight; the moon was not high enough to shine through. Anoni made the motions of an opening prayer as
the pain returned to her. The prince was back in the palace, under the eyes of his enemies. The clergy were back in their temples, generally safe now. She reassured herself that Vansainté and Copelia, unexpectedly, had it under control. The people of Aquillion, if not all of the people of the Empire, knew that the prince’s divine mandate was still true. The Goddess had accepted him as emperor by allowing him to complete the Ordeal. She thought that whatever the trouble, the people would rally behind their Goddess now. Besides, the enemy would have their leader cut from them tomorrow night. It was like cutting the head off a snake. They might thrash, but they were lost without a leader.

  Grimly satisfied, she tried to clear her mind. It was her last night on Earth, her last chance to make peace with the Goddess before she went to meet her. She rubbed her suddenly sweaty hands together. Feeling the spell scars, she hoped the Goddess would understand. She sighed, settling her hands again, and began to pray.

  She thought back to the people who had trusted her, the ones she hadn’t been able to save. She spared a few thoughts to the hundred or so people unable to get free of Esau when the waters came down, freed by Norsson and his handy catapult. She had caused their deaths. She hadn’t been able to save Corin. She had not been there because she had let her anger run away with her. A good man who she had only just realized how much she cared as he slipped away.

  There would be a few to mourn her death, perhaps. She wondered about whether Koseichiro had freed the rest of himself from the cavern under Tall Grasses. When she died would her part of him rejoin the other part, glutted on her memories? Free to roam and kill? For all of his bloodthirsty words, his thoughts carried a sophistication that belied the label of simple beast. Considering the strength of the Goddess in the Empire now she didn’t worry that Koseichiro would be terrorizing her empire. He would remember her, though, long after the rest of the men and women she had loved and lived beside were gone. What did the Goddess think of her? Had she forgiven Anoni for turning away from the call to be Sybil? Would dying to kill the emperor’s enemies be enough to save her soul? She directed this question to the Goddess, praying as hard as she could, hoping for an answer.