The Dread Hammer

by Linda Nagata

  She shook her head in disbelief. “You never understood the value of anything, little brother. Coin least of all.”

  “I understand Britta is my daughter and she wasn’t for the Trenchant to sell.”

  Nedgalvin rose from his seat and went to the door. “You stand here and argue with him, Takis, but you are Trenchant. What will you do when Dismay refuses your command?”

  Takis turned her angry gaze on him, but he was already walking out.

  “He’ll betray you,” Smoke warned again.

  “Not while Tayval is watching him.” Then she crouched again beside the bed, and in a low voice she said, “I need you, Smoke.”

  “What for?”

  “When you’re healed, when you can run the threads again, I want you to go with Nedgalvin back to the Lutawan Kingdom. I want you to protect him and help him buy his way back into the ranks. And when the time is right, I want you to kill the king, and put Nedgalvin in his place.”

  “That’s completely crazy,” Ketty said.

  Takis ignored her. “Smoke, I want to end this endless war, but I need a rational man on the Lutawan throne to do it.”

  “Does Tayval think it’ll work?” Smoke asked.

  Takis shrugged. “We have to try. Will you do it?”

  Ketty’s voice went shrill. “Of course he won’t do it! It’s crazy!”

  Smoke closed his eyes. “I have to find Britta first.”

  “Smoke—”

  He kissed Ketty’s hand. “Only when Britta’s safe.”

  “I want you safe,” Ketty whispered.

  Smoke felt himself fading, while the voices that prayed for murder grew louder. He spoke over them, though his voice was only a whisper. “Takis, I don’t think Nedgalvin’s the man you’re looking for. I think he’ll betray you, but for a chance to kill the king? I’ll try it.”

  “Very sweet of you,” Takis said. “But you won’t have a chance if the Hauntén have already killed you.”

  Ketty squeezed Smoke’s hand, and kissed it. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

  Smoke opened his eyes again, made suspicious by her tone.

  “Smoke, I know that what you know is how to fight and murder . . . but I think Takis is right and the Hauntén will kill you if you attack them. So we’ll go together, you and I, and we’ll go in peace, and we’ll ask for Britta back. When they understand how much we love her, they’ll let her go.”

  Smoke started to chuckle, but it hurt too much. “Oh Ketty, you’re so silly. That would never, never work.”

  Ketty dropped his hand. She shoved back her chair and stood. Takis looked up at her with one eyebrow raised while Ketty crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve never had to ask nicely for anything in your life, have you?” she demanded.

  Smoke gave her a surly look. “Not until I met you, Ketty of the Red Moon.”

  Eventually, of course, he was forced to agree that they would go in peace and ask nicely because once Ketty set her mind to something it was only ever a matter of time.

  Back in her apartment, Takis took on another battle.

  “You should kill him!” Nedgalvin told her. “Now. While he’s weak. Once he’s recovered, you won’t be able to control him. Dismay is a threat to you, Takis. He’s a threat to the throne.”

  She rolled her eyes, beseeching the Dread Hammer. “Smoke is not a threat to me, and there is no throne. This is not a kingdom, Ned. The Trenchant commands the army, but that’s all. The people rule themselves.”

  “Whoever rules the army, rules the people.”

  “Not here.”

  “That can change.”

  She walked to the window and looked out at the green pasture of Everwatch Ridge. Of course Smoke was right. He would betray her—if she kept him here. “There’s no room in the Puzzle Lands for your ambitions, my love.”

  He drew himself up, even glanced over his shoulder as if he expected a cadre of armed guards to come bursting through the door.

  “It's not my ambition to bring you down Nedgalvin, but to raise you up.”

  He smiled. “You said those same words that first night we spent together.”

  “I want to be a kingmaker,” she went on. “I want you—a rational man—to sit on the Lutawan throne.”

  His smile was gone. He was angry again. “You’re sending me away to my death?”

  “Maybe,” she acknowledged. “But I hope not. It will be dangerous, but I’m sending my best weapon with you to improve the odds. Smoke has agreed to help you.”

  “Dismay?” Nedgalvin was incredulous. “That demon will cut my throat while I’m asleep!”

  “No. He’d rather cut the king’s throat than yours, and I promised him he’d have that pleasure when the time was right.”

  “And what about his quest for Britta?”

  Takis scowled. “He’ll do that first, but he’s promised to do it peacefully—”

  Nedgalvin snorted. “And you believe him?”

  “—so he might survive. In any case, you can stay here with me awhile longer.”

  Nedgalvin looked past her. She could see him weighing things. Finally he said, “So Dismay is going to walk into the land of the Hauntén. You said he can’t travel there as a spirit?”

  “That’s right. I imagine he’ll take horses, though. Ketty’s going with him.”

  Nedgalvin’s brows rose in surprise and he laughed. “The way northern women command their men will never cease to amaze me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You’ve enjoyed being told what to do, from time to time.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll go with Dismay and help him plead with the Hauntén.”

  Takis was blindsided. She looked at him, aghast. “What? Why?”

  “If you want me to lead a revolution against the king, I’ll need allies, and what better allies than the Hauntén?”

  “The Hauntén don’t make alliances. They protect only what is theirs.”

  “I want to meet them anyway.”

  Takis weighed the value of arguing with him; she considered forcing him to stay. But he had not earned the rank of general by being compliant. She knew him well enough to know that forcing him to do anything was a dangerous strategy. Better that he was gone, than that she had to kill him.

  “All right,” she said coldly. “Please just don’t start a war.”

  ~

  For a time my brother was distracted by his wounds and the loss of Britta and it slipped his mind that he’d sworn vengeance against an innocent merchant woman in Nefión.

  Recovery

  Smoke woke again in the evening, feeling well enough to get up and walk about the room. Ketty wasn’t at all pleased with his progress. “You should not be walking! You’re too weak for this. You’re going to fall.”

  He couldn’t remember anyone fussing over him before. It was oddly pleasant, though kind of insulting too. “The Bidden aren’t weak, Ketty. If we don’t die outright, then we recover quickly.”

  “You haven’t recovered yet. Look how swollen your poor shoulder is. You haven’t even eaten yet—and I watched half your blood drain away!”

  “I have blood enough left to fill me when I look at you. Ketty, you’re so beautiful. If you want me to lie down again, then take off all your clothes and come lie down with me.”

  The scathing look she gave him could have melted candles. “What kind of man are you that you can even think of your own pleasure when our Britta is gone?”

  He frowned at her in puzzlement. What did one have to do with the other? “Why shouldn’t I think of you when you’re here beside me and it’s been so long? I’ve been dying for you. It’s long past the second moon.” He slipped his one good arm around her, and though she turned her face away, he kissed her neck and wheedled, “Please?”

  It took some work, but eventually he persuaded her into bed. He was surprised to discover she was as hungry as he was. She helped him into her sacred gate. Then she grabbed his hips and thrust herself against him, her lips nibbling at his neck and
his chest while he leaned on his good arm. How was he supposed to know the effort required of him would ignite such a fiery pain in his shoulder? Ah, but it did. A red hot poker thrust through his flesh would surely have been no worse.

  Ketty was so deep into her pleasure she didn’t notice. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, crushing his left arm between them. “More, Smoke, more,” she whispered, as he tried not to scream. “Ah, such sweetness, I love you so much.”

  He held on until she finished. It was a matter of pride. And was she grateful afterward? No! She berated him for half an hour just because the pain got so bad he was left retching on the pillow.

  Takis barred anyone from entering Smoke’s room except herself, Tayval, and Ketty, while Smoke was not allowed to leave—not by walking anyway. “The Koráyos hate you,” Takis told him bluntly. “There are many who would kill you if they could, for murdering Dehan.”

  Smoke shrugged it off. What did he care? “It was Dehan who forced me back here. I didn’t want to come.”

  “Do you think that matters? The people loved Dehan. They don’t love you. You will stay here in your room, so no one will be tempted to be the hero.”

  But she broke her own edict a few days later by bringing a stranger to his room.

  Smoke’s recovery had continued its rapid pace. Ketty had gone out, so he’d shoved the sparse furnishings against the walls and was practicing with his sword, to get the knack of fighting with his left arm strapped and useless against his chest. Takis had given him a new blade, and its smooth, sharp edge whistled through the air as he progressed through the exercises. He was shirtless and sweating, his honey hair bound up in a top knot when the door opened without a knock and Takis came in with a Koráyos soldier. Or maybe he was a former soldier; though he had the bearing, he wasn’t wearing the uniform.

  Smoke ceased his exercise, but he didn’t put the blade away just yet. He studied the soldier for a moment, then, “Seök,” he said, recalling a name and face from at least three years before. “So you’re not one of those who wants to kill me?”

  “How do you know Seök?” Takis asked in surprise.

  Smoke gave the memory a moment to fully surface. “You served in the borderlands, right?” Seök nodded. “Your company had the misfortune to stumble onto the irregulars when we were at work carrying out the Trenchant’s orders—but he’s not the Trenchant anymore, is he? We were carrying out Dehan’s orders. You didn’t know about the village massacres before that, did you?”

  “I didn’t, sir, and we were told not to speak of it.” Seök was so on edge his voice was little more than a whisper. If he’d been armed, Smoke didn’t doubt his hand would be tight on the hilt of his sword.

  “I’m sending Seök with you,” Takis announced. “I know you’ve never bothered to learn the paths through the East Tangle, but Seök will guide you. He knows them all.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s afraid of me.”

  “Does he have reason to be afraid of you?”

  Smoke shrugged. “No more than anyone.”

  “Swear that you won’t hurt him or his kin, that you’ll hold your temper in check, that you will not seek vengeance for any perceived slight—”

  “When do I ever do that?”

  She smiled. “Everyone is afraid of you, Smoke. Death is your nature. I think only Tayval knows how many you’ve slain, and maybe even she doesn’t know all. Men, women, children—”

  “I didn’t want to kill the women and children! Dehan demanded it.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yes, all!” But that wasn’t quite true. “Almost all,” he amended. “There was one—”

  “Yes?”

  With a sudden sick feeling he remembered how it had felt to drive his sword through the midwife’s heart. “She cursed me for it, but it doesn’t matter.”

  Takis’ gaze was stern. “Swear you will not assail Seök, or his kin, so he will not need to be afraid in your company.”

  Smoke shrugged. He was a murderer; he had a fearsome demeanor. It was natural for people to be afraid. “I swear it. I will not assail either Seök or his kin and if it’s in my power I’ll protect them from harm.”

  Takis turned to Seök. “You may go now.” When the door had closed behind him she walked up to Smoke. “Hand me your sword.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it!”

  “Why are you always in such a bad mood?” But he handed the sword over to her.

  She stepped back, turned the blade around, and with lightning speed she set the point against his throat. “If you try to run the threads, I will pin you.”

  He drew back, but she moved with him. “What’s wrong with you Takis? Have you gone crazy?”

  “I want to tell you something before you find it out on your own. Seök is the one who saw you in Nefión. He’s the one who brought word of it to Dehan. He is the reason Dehan found you.”

  Seök? Then it was not the midwife’s curse?

  Rage flushed through him as he thought on everything that had changed. If not for Seök, would he even now be happy in the Wild Wood with Ketty? If not for Seök, would Britta be safely asleep in Ketty’s arms? Seök. His babbling tongue had wrecked everything! It occurred to Smoke that he should cut out Seök’s tongue prior to killing him. He would have gone in that moment to do it too, except for the sharp pressure of steel against his throat. That was the only thing that kept him grounded in the room.

  “Remember your oath,” Takis warned him.

  “You tricked me!”

  “I did.”

  “But I don’t remember Seök! I remember a woman in Nefión—not the one I killed, the other one, and I should have killed her too, I will kill her—she’s the only person who saw me and lived.”

  “You will not kill her,” Takis said, pressing a little harder with the blade. “That woman was Seök’s sister. There’s no complaint you can make against her. She still believes you were a visiting Hauntén. Seök knew who you were, but he didn’t tell his sister.”

  “Then he was there? In the store?”

  “He was there, determined not to be noticed by you.”

  “He betrayed me, Takis—”

  “Seök did not betray you. He faithfully served the Trenchant, and at great risk to himself. He understands Koráyos loyalty far better than you do, brother. He’s an honorable man, you have no complaint against him, and by your oath you may bring him no harm.”

  Smoke tried to see a way around it, but she had taken his oath, and now he was bound to it. It was a defeat, and it put him in a foul mood. “Stop sticking me with my own sword. Give it back to me now.”

  Takis lowered the blade but she did not give it back. Her gaze was hard and angry, the same as it had been most days since he’d murdered their father. “You’re always against me now,” he complained. “But I love you still.”

  “You have no choice.” She handed the blade back to him. “You will leave in the morning with Seök and Nedgalvin.”

  “And Ketty.”

  Takis shrugged. “You are not Bidden, Smoke, and you don’t belong to the Puzzle Lands, but you’re also not Hauntén.”

  “I am Dehan’s demon son. I am what he made me.”

  “I hope the Hauntén don’t kill you.”

  “I share this hope.”

  “I hope you live long enough to bring woe and ruin to the Lutawan king—and to set up Nedgalvin in his place.”

  “You’re a very strange woman, Takis, to send away the man you love. I would never send Ketty away.”

  “We do what we must, Smoke. In the end, even you might find it so.”

  ~

  Nedgalvin is a dangerous man, bloody handed and ruthless. The very same words may be said about my brother, Smoke—but Smoke is bound by his word.

  The Road East

  The sky above the fortress wall was pink with dawn when Seök led two horses, saddled and provisioned, from the stable. One of the stable boys followed wit
h two more.

  Seök had Smoke’s oath, along with the assurance of the Trenchant Takis that her demon brother would not seek revenge for his loyalty to Dehan, but he had a bad feeling for this venture all the same.

  Bidden Hall’s tall doors opened. Takis and Tayval came out together into the morning cold, along with the tall Lutawan. Seök had been shocked when Takis introduced him to Nedgalvin, but the talk in Samerhen was that even Dehan had condoned the man, though no one knew why—so people were curious. As soon as the trio emerged onlookers began to gather: soldiers on their way to the mess hall, stable hands, tradesmen, housekeepers—all eager to know what passed.

  Nedgalvin bowed to the Bidden twins, Takis and Tayval. His dark gaze lingered on Takis for longer than seemed polite. Then he descended the stairs and took his horse from the stable boy.

  Motion drew Seök’s gaze upward, where a snaking plume of gray vapor spilled down along the stone face of Bidden Hall. From the onlookers there came anxious gasps and angry murmurs as Smoke materialized between his sisters. He was dressed in britches and boots, but his torso was bare except for the sword on his back and the sling that still bound his left arm against his chest. His honey-brown hair was tied in a tail on top of his head so that it cascaded down his back. One by one his gaze picked out those soldiers and servants who dared to speak against him and very quickly there was only silence in the courtyard.

  Then the girl Ketty came running out the door with a leather satchel slung across her shoulder and a look on her face that said she was afraid that if she was late she’d be left behind. Smoke took her hand. He said something to his sisters that Seök couldn’t hear, then he brought Ketty down the stairs.

  Seök took one of the horses forward for Ketty to ride.

  Smoke stuffed Ketty’s satchel into a saddle bag, then he boosted her onto her horse. He took a few minutes fitting the stirrups. Then he turned to Seök. Death looked out of his eyes. “My sister has gifted your life to you. If not for her—”