A Play of Shadow

by Julie E. Czerneda

  “There’s more.” The next, Lila didn’t know, not yet, and would be hard to hear. Bannan looked a warning at her.

  “What?”

  His fingers closed over the tokens. “These followed Semyn and Werfol to Marrowdell. To me.” Surely that would be enough.

  He sighed inwardly. Surely not.

  With his free hand, he signed, What now?

  Green flashed in her eyes and her fingers moved in answer, quick and sure.

  Captain Ash.

  Eyes with ominous gold in their depths. A jaw gone hard, muscles working along it. Stance become threat, any warmth of expression wiped clean. Jenn watched Bannan change, and it was a transformation as profound to someone who knew him—who loved him—as the cobwebs to cloak of the yling.

  This man was a stranger.

  It hadn’t been shaving the beard that had disguised Captain Ash, nor keeping secret his gift. It had been that Bannan Larmensu, young and ready to hope, had cast him out.

  To bring him back, now. Jenn looked to Lila and if she’d seen triumph or even satisfaction, she would no longer care for Bannan’s famous sister.

  Instead, she caught a glimpse of grief so profound, her own heart bled too.

  Before resolve carved those delicate features in stone.

  After an unreadable glance at Bannan, Herer took out his clockwork. “M’lord—our allies will do what they can to delay, but if we’re to present this, we must go.”

  Ancestors Distant and Disregarded. She’d brought them together but wasn’t part of this, Jenn reminded herself, being a miller’s daughter from what she now recognized was a tiny village beyond the rest of the world.

  Yet . . . wasn’t she? Bound by love to Bannan, by Bannan to his sister, by his sister and Werfol and Semyn to Emon who’d come to Channen for the noblest of reasons, to bring peace.

  To have this family threatened.

  Bannan gave himself away to help. What could she do? Jenn let herself feel the expectations of the turn-born for this part of the edge, drawing them in as if they were her own. Peace. Privacy.

  Through people as well. Preserve magic’s source. Protect the Verge. Keep secrets. Whether intended or not, the turn-borns’ desire had led to the Artisans’ Market. To paintings that sang and magical beer mugs and so much more.

  As well as the Shadow Sect and its court.

  Woven through leaves and water and turtles and stone, their expectations, as in the Verge. No one thread to pull. No thread safe to cut. Everything was intertwined and dependent, and part of her admired their magic, seeing it as neat stitches and needful.

  While another part twitched, as though uncomfortable. As if bound. Annoyed.

  Which she wasn’t, Jenn decided firmly. She was respectful and careful. Mistress Sand would be proud, to see her use such good sense. “I dare not help,” she said out loud.

  Herer and his fellow companions frowned as if she’d interrupted her elders, but Emon smiled. “You’ve done so already, Jenn, bringing us together. For that, you have my deepest thanks.”

  Captain Ash, who knew full well what she meant, merely nodded. Lila, who claimed to have seen her in a dream and whose “gift” Jenn was beginning to suspect, frowned as well, giving her a considering look, but asked no questions.

  “I’ll check the way,” Bish said briskly and Dutton turned with her.

  With one smooth step, Lila Larmensu had her knife to Herer’s throat. “I’d like you to meet my little brother first.”

  “When you’re ready, Dear Heart.”

  Those who didn’t know Lila exceedingly well would think that an even tone. Might even think her calm.

  They’d be wrong. Captain Ash met Emon’s gaze, saw the same awareness there. Death hovered a hairbreadth above that blade, more than eager.

  Good.

  Herer, unaware, tried to protest. “My la—” He shut his mouth as the knife penetrated skin, blood beading, then starting to flow.

  “You cannot deceive me,” Captain Ash told the man. He glanced at the other two. “Or flee.” He looked beyond them.

  Bish turned her head very slowly. Eager for violence, the kruar had closed in, eyes rimmed with red, lips curled back from what belonged to no horse. Dutton, seeing her attention, looked as well.

  The house toad, not to be outdone, bared its needle teeth.

  “We’ve—” Dutton stopped.

  Few kept talking, once they knew who listened. What listened. It mattered not.

  “Someone here has betrayed their lord,” Captain Ash began. No need to raise his voice; once they saw his face, they never looked away. “Has conspired with those who would betray Rhoth. Has aimed harm at innocents. Someone here would see Baron Westietas dead before allowing his mission to succeed.”

  He paused to allow protest, that ever-revealing lie, but there were none.

  Ah, well.

  The truthseer’s attention returned to Herer. He took a moment to study the face, looked deeper. “Know this. I will see your lies. I will know the truth. Have you betrayed your lord?”

  The knife eased its pressure to allow an answer. Eyes hot, cheeks livid, Herer shouted in fury, “I have not! Would not. I owe m’lord my life and more. I would die for Baron Westietas, whether you ‘see’ that truth or not!”

  So it was one of Emon’s oldest friends, or both. Unlikely to be neither. Deception. Mistrust. He sensed them, was drawn like a hound to a blood scent. “I see the truth,” Captain Ash said and nodded.

  Lila took her knife from Herer’s throat and spun to Bish, as Emon himself, followed a heartbeat later by Herer, drew their weapons on Dutton.

  “Ancestors Bloody and Bent!” Dutton swore. “It’s none of us, m’lord!” He took a step.

  Emon lifted his sword to forbid a second.

  At that, the other man seemed to crumple. “I’d give my life for you, m’lord, you know that. I didn’t betray you. I never would. Tell them, Bish,” he pleaded. “Hurry and say it so they know.”

  Pleading signified nothing, nor did shouts nor sobs nor outrage. The truth counted for all and it shone in his face. How convenient, Captain Ash thought, nodding once more.

  Everyone looked then to Bish, whose lips remained pressed in a thin line.

  Ah, silence. How predictable.

  How futile, against the fullness of his gift. “You’d help, at the estate, ready to take the baron’s sons,” Captain Ash said conversationally. Truth, there, in her face. “When that failed, you sent a pursuit—” No. “Or did you merely inform of the chance to gather in not only the sons and heir, but to locate the baron’s brother-by-marriage?”

  A hint of panic. “How—?” Her lips clamped shut.

  Truth. Captain Ash gestured, as if being generous. “Only the baron and you three knew the baroness was in the Distal Hold. Only you could have betrayed her.” He didn’t bother to look deeper.

  The baron’s face was terrible to see. Lila’s?

  Bore the smallest of smiles, as if sharing a secret between close friends. For they’d been close, she and Bish, since Lila came to the Westietas’. Fought together. Betrayed? It was too small a word.

  And mattered not to Captain Ash. He savored the hunt, lived to catch the lies. The best was to come, he could tell. “Having failed in all your attempts, what’s left? Ah. Assassination. Secret, perhaps. A knife in the back.” No. He smiled. “Public, then. Much better. The Rhothan baron linked to the treaty brought down in the heart of Mellynne. Ordo’s not fond of Westietas, but the Eld would take it as a threat. They’d demand a show of strength and resolve. You’d win.”

  “Lies! All lies, m’lord! None of it’s true, I swear!”

  Everything was. He had her. “I condemn you, Bish Fingal, for betraying Rhoth, your lord, and all those who’ve called you friend.”

  Done. Always, victory was a disappointment, leaving
him spent and grim, tarnished by the lies.

  Fingers wrapped around his, warm and sure. Unexpected. Captain Ash started and looked down. Letters burned along his neck and . . .

  He drowned in eyes like a deep endless pool, blue—no, they were purple—eyes that held the truth . . .

  And his name.

  Bannan.

  He gasped as though coming up for air, Captain Ash stripping away from him even as he reached for Jenn Nalynn and buried his face in her rose-scented hair.

  For an instant, an eternity, but it wasn’t over, Bannan thought, heartsick, and looked up.

  Emon stood closer to Bish. “Say you were bound by foul magic,” he told her, his voice breaking with anguish. “Coerced!”

  “Coward, I say!” Bish looked at him with such hate, Lila forced herself between. “You let my city be split apart. Gave away everything we’d fought for—everything we’d bled for and for what?” She spat.

  “Peace.” He turned away, shoulders slumped; his crows circled his head in silence and no one else moved.

  Bannan watched Lila. She stared after her husband, then said gently, “Emon.”

  After a long moment, he lifted his hand, then flicked the first two fingers.

  Lila turned back to Bish and bared her teeth. “Who is with you? Where were you to strike? When?”

  “NOW!” With that shout, the other woman contorted her arm and silver flew through the air toward Emon!

  Lila was quicker, knocking the weapon aside.

  While Dutton’s sword buried itself to the hilt.

  The world became the rooftop. Jenn couldn’t move, couldn’t take her eyes from the man who clasped the woman to him, holding her as she collapsed, easing her down as life left her. He pressed his lips to her head with a shudder.

  She’d thought it impossible to bear, watching Bannan become Captain Ash, but he’d come back to her. This—this couldn’t be changed. Couldn’t be fixed.

  Hearts were broken.

  When Emon approached, Dutton looked up, tears in his eyes. “I didn’t see it. If anyone should have, it was me. I’ve failed you, m’lord.”

  The baron laid a hand on his shoulder. “We failed her. Ancestors Dear and Departed.”

  “Bish made her choice,” Lila reminded them bluntly, putting away her sword. “Haven’t you somewhere to be, husband?”

  “Lila.” Jenn heard the pain in Emon’s voice. “I was a fool.”

  “Never that.” She had a lovely smile, when she chose.

  “If this had failed?” His gesture included Jenn and Bannan.

  Lila raised an eyebrow. “Need you ask?”

  Implying plans upon plans, Jenn thought, like layers of a cake, though what else Lila might have done, had Bannan not been there to see the truth, she couldn’t imagine.

  But Emon nodded, as if he’d expected no other answer, and for some reason, Dutton looked worried and Herer went pale. “Then we’ll be off. May I leave this to you, Dearest Heart?”

  A faint smile. “Always.”

  Leave what? wondered Jenn.

  ~We could help,~ offered a kruar eagerly.

  Oh.

  Bannan gave the baron the tokens, queasily glad to see them leave his hands.

  “Pity we don’t know the poor truthseer who was the victim of this plot,” Emon said, looking to Herer.

  The man bowed his head. “Unnecessary information, m’lord. We’ve more than enough for the court.”

  “I concur. Dutton?”

  “Aie, m’lord.” The older man stood. After pulling free his sword and cleaning the blade, he shed his bloody tunic, laying that over Bish’s face. “We’d best change our route,” he advised heavily.

  As they gathered themselves, Bannan looked for Jenn. She’d gone to stand by one of the roof’s gargoyles, her hand resting on its head. When he neared, she whispered, soft and puzzled, “They were friends.”

  “More.” Dutton and Bish had been lovers, off and on, but Jenn didn’t need that grief too. Bannan said only, “Bish was one of Emon’s guards when he was a boy.” He put his arm around her waist and leaned his head against hers. “Ancestors Dear and Departed.”

  “What happens now?”

  He lifted his head and stared into the night.

  “Emon stops a war,” Bannan said at last, “while Lila and I deal with Glammis.”

  Jenn turned, her hand flat over his heart, her face shadowed. “Not alone,” she said.

  And he heard thunder.

  He didn’t doubt her resolve or power, but this she couldn’t do. The truthseer covered her hand with his. “It’s beyond the edge, Dearest Heart. Where you—” where she didn’t exist. Throat tight, he finished, “You could wait. There’s the house the sect had for us.”

  The air fell still, mist unmoving.

  “Jenn?”

  “I’ll wait,” she agreed, when she might have protested, and he took an easier breath. “But—” this in a tone so like Peggs’ he almost smiled, “—I’ll come with you as far as I can, first, to see you safely there.”

  He kissed her. “Thank you.”

  His ease vanished in the next instant. Their faces still close, Jenn whispered, “Just be prepared, Dearest Heart. When you leave the edge, Lila may forget me.”

  “She dreamed of you—of the dragon. The Verge. Her gift—” He stopped. His hadn’t saved him. They’d been within the edge when Lila’d spoken of Jenn.

  He’d had no letter from his sister since Jenn had become turn-born, becoming part of the magic others forgot. Leaving no way to know except one. Leaving the edge.

  Heart sinking, Bannan touched noses with his wise and gentle love. “Then I’ll remember for both of us,” he vowed.

  ~We could help,~ the kruar insisted with brutal enthusiasm. ~Tasty!~

  “Tasty” referring to a person who’d followed her moths and come to her—who’d been lost, and stayed so—Jenn had to swallow twice before uttering a meek, “No, thank you.”

  She felt queasy as it was, watching Lila and her brother handle the matter with capable and—horrible as the thought—practiced ease. Having stripped any valuables to make the death seem a robbery, they heaved the body over the side of the roof and out, to land with a splash in the canal.

  Where the nyims, the little cousin unnecessarily assured her, would do the rest.

  Jenn eyed the toad, who eyed her back. It had gobbled Dutton’s blood-soaked tunic while Lila and Bannan had been busy, using its front feet to shove the last section of fabric into its mouth. It didn’t appear to be making anything from the garment.

  Yet.

  A tidy creature, the toad, and helpful. That being said, she would not, under any circumstances, ask what it found “tasty.”

  When the Larmensus came to where she stood, both looked for the tunic and Jenn nodded at the toad. Bannan grinned. “Don’t ask, sister mine,” he suggested, unwittingly agreeing with her. “Some things must be seen.”

  Lila nodded. As they prepared to leave, Jenn caught her giving the toad quick looks as if to surprise it in action. The toad, meanwhile, let Jenn lift it to its favored spot before the saddle where it flattened, claws in the kruar’s hide, eyes intent. The kruar swung its head around, glaring, but didn’t try to shed the little cousin this time.

  The great beasts approved of Lila; Jenn’s would carry both women. She went to mount first.

  “Wait,” Lila said quietly, stopping her. “Soldiers know. Their bones rarely go home.”

  Something Aunt Sybb might say, meant to comfort, but Bannan’s sister wasn’t like Aunt Sybb, not in this, so Jenn waited for the rest.

  “You aren’t a soldier,” Lila said then. “What’s happened here—you need take part in no more of it. Please, Jenn, don’t come with us.”

  Bannan, already mounted, gazed down. “Waste of breath, Dear Heart
.”

  Lila hadn’t taken her eyes away. At this moment, she couldn’t be sure of their color, Jenn realized, nor was the other woman’s face easy to read. “You doubt me,” she decided suddenly. “You think I put the two of you in danger.”

  An eyebrow curved. “Am I wrong?”

  Bannan’s chuckle had a grim sound. “If we’re ever in danger because of Jenn Nalynn,” he assured Lila, “so is Channen.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Jenn said quickly, not wanting Lila afraid of her.

  But Lila’s lips formed a silent “Oh,” at this, and her eyes held a new and alarming consideration.

  Jenn turned and swung herself atop the kruar, determined to avoid whatever that “Oh” might mean. She offered Lila a hand to mount behind her. Accepted the other woman’s hold around her waist.

  Accepting what had just happened—how Lila could so easily lie to her family, force her brother to do what he hated, a friend kill another, toss a body aside—?

  What sort of person could do all that?

  A callous person. Unfeeling. Bloodthirsty as a kruar. She mustn’t—couldn’t—judge, Jenn told herself. All she knew of Lila came from Bannan’s stories.

  Until tonight.

  The kruar sped away. They’d go by rooftop until the next canal. Jenn watched numbly as chimneys and spires flashed by, held on as the great beasts leapt down and down again.

  The house toad rode along, seeming to relish the speed.

  All at once, despite having no neck worth mentioning, somehow it turned to gaze back at her with one limpid eye.

  ~Elder sister.~ Filled with foreboding. ~Was the truthseer’s sister wounded?~

  Why would it think so? Jenn dared let go of the saddle to feel Lila’s hands. Like ice, they were, and trembling.

  And it wasn’t the rooftop ride.

  It was all that a soldier saw and a soldier did and understood, being a soldier, they might do again and see.

  It was a mother, desperate for her sons. A sister, leading a brother back into terrible danger. A woman, having left her lover to do the same.