Dagger's Edge (Shadow series)

by Logston, Anne

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll go.”

  “That’s my brave daughter.” Donya steadied Jael with a muscled arm around her shoulders as they descended the stairs. “Jaellyn, it might be better if you don’t look at this one. If you like, I’ll tie a cloth over your eyes.”

  “Really, Mother,” Jael protested, her indignation momentarily overcoming her anxiety. “Just because I dropped my supper last night, that doesn’t mean I’m a complete coward.”

  “I didn’t mean to say that you are.” Donya hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. “He was wearing a Thieves’ Guild token. I thought it might be someone you know.”

  “You don’t know who he is?” Jael asked, before she realized the true importance of what Donya had said. Unlike the other victims, this one was no merchant.

  “The body’s in such a condition that it’s difficult to tell,” Donya said quietly. “It’s different from the others in some ways. It doesn’t even look like a murder, more like an animal attack. The only reason I would connect it with the other murders is because of the divination shroud over it, and because the blood’s gone.” She stopped outside one of the cellar doors, different from the one in which the other bodies had been kept. “If you’re sure—”

  “I’ll be all right.” Jael had some doubts of that herself, but this was her chance to compensate for her embarrassing nausea of the night before.

  “All right, then.” There was apparently no spell on this lock, for Donya opened it herself, preceding Jael into the room.

  Jael gasped and hurriedly turned around, for this body had not been covered. For a moment the room seemed to spin under Jael’s feet, but she took a deep breath and steadied herself against the wall, forcing herself to turn back to the table.

  As her mother had implied, there was little to identify the body on the table other than the Guild token worn as a ring on the left hand. The leather clothing might equally have been that of a noble or beggar, torn and shredded and liberally spattered with gore, gaping open in the front where the body had been seemingly ripped open from throat to belly. The body had not been gutted like Evriel’s, although some of the entrails were hanging out of the torn cavity. The skin of the face had been savagely slashed and gouged beyond any recognition, and the eye sockets gaped empty. The scalp had seemingly been ripped away and the skull torn open with such strength that the head was almost split in two.

  Animal attack, Jael thought, remembering the creature she’d seen in the alley.

  Horrified, yet unable to look away from the ravaged face, Jael stepped up to the table. She reached down and gingerly touched the rigid hand, then gasped again.

  “Mother?” To Jael’s disgust, the word came out almost as a whimper.

  “What is it?” Donya laid a steadying hand on Jael’s shoulder, bending over the corpse.

  “This.” Jael pointed to the sides of the corpse’s head. On the left ear hung a thick gold ring set with three green stones. On the right ear, the lobe was missing entirely, the heavy scarring showing that the wound was an old one. Another gold ring hung from this ear, but this time from a hole near the top rim of the ear.

  Donya gazed at Jael searchingly.

  “Do you know him?”

  “It’s Solly,” Jael whispered. “The thief who found Game and Crow. He lost the other earlobe in a fight with another thief, but he loved those earrings, so he had another hole cut in his ear.”

  Donya frowned.

  “Where did you hear that?” she demanded. “That he was the one who found Garric and Crow, I mean.”

  Too late, Jael remembered that she’d read Solly’s name on Donya’s map.

  “Aubry told me,” Jael said quickly. “Sometimes I go to the Guild for news. Most of my friends are Guild members.”

  “That’s true.” Donya’s frown faded slowly. “I’m sorry, Jael. Was Solly one of your friends?”

  Jael nodded, unable to force words around the lump in her throat. She stared at the torn face, searching in the ruined features for some trace of the familiar gap-toothed smile, the laughter-wrinkled eyes that had winked at her mischievously while Solly’s surprisingly nimble-fingered hands snatched sweets or trinkets for her from a merchant’s tray or a noble’s pocket.

  She touched one of those hands now. It was stiff and still and foreign to her, not the hand of her friend. Solly had gone from those hands.

  Donya put her arm around Jael’s shoulders and squeezed her comfortingly.

  “Go back outside,” she said. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

  Jael was desperately glad to return to the corridor and lean her back against the comforting solidity of the stone wall. She scooted down the wall until she sat, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her forehead on her knees. Oddly she felt neither nausea nor grief, only a horrified emptiness that seemed to reach deep into her.

  A few moments later Donya stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind her. She held out her hand and Jael took

  it, a little comforted by her mother’s strength as Donya drew her effortlessly to her feet.

  “Let’s get out of this cellar,” Donya said, leading Jael to the stairs. “This place is beginning to give me an eerie feeling.” She tucked something into Jael’s hand; Jael glanced down and recognized Solly’s Guild token and the gold earrings, and a leather purse.

  “That’s everything of any value he had on him,” Donya said gently. “There’s some kind of dried fluid on his dagger, so Jermyn took that. Do you want to take the token back to the Guild, or shall I have one of the guards do it?”

  “I’ll do it,” Jael said quickly. Solly had been a friend of Aubry’s, too; Jael didn’t want some guard telling the Guildmaster how Solly had died, and she needed to speak to Aubry anyway. “Mother, where was Solly found, and how? Aubry will want to know.”

  “He was found in an alley behind the Fin and Flagon, not far from where he found Game and Crow,” Donya told her. “Since the murders I’ve had thrice as many guards patrolling those alleys. One of the guards heard a scream. It couldn’t have been more than a few moments before he reached the spot and found Solly just as you see him. The heart and some of the entrails are gone, but it’s more as though they were, well, eaten. The eyes and brain were ripped out. The blood on his clothes was still fairly fresh. The scream wasn’t Solly, though; it was the owner of the Fin and Flagon, who had just discovered the body on his back doorstep.”

  “How could anyone have the time to mangle him that badly and cast a spell to prevent divination, too,” Jael protested, “and still have time to carry the body to the Fin and Flagon?”

  “And bleed him almost dry,” Donya added. “Well, now we know we’re looking for a place in Rivertown. There simply wouldn’t have been time to carry the body from anywhere farther away.”

  “I’ll tell Aubry, if you don’t mind,” Jael said. “The Guild has so many people in Rivertown, maybe someone’s heard something.”

  “No.” Donya stopped and turned to face Jael. “You can tell him where the body was found and the condition of the body, but nothing else. Aubry’s trustworthy enough, and we could surely use the information his people could give us, but there are too many ears at the Guild, most of them as keen as yours. I don’t want anyone to know what we know. And you can go to the Guild tomorrow morning. I don’t want you going through the city this late at night, and by morning Jermyn may have learned something that you can tell Aubry. We’ll have to cancel your lesson, at least in the afternoon—I won’t have time to work with you now.” She sighed. “Meanwhile, there’s a message for you from Lord Urien. I put it in your room so the twins wouldn’t get into it. I also received a formal invitation from the Temple of Baaros for the family to attend the Grand Summoning day after tomorrow, at sunset. It was signed by High Priest Ankaras, too.”

  “Ankaras?” Jael’s amazement momentarily banished her grief.

  “That’s what the message said.” Donya shook her head. “Maybe you can ask Urien to explai
n. The Temple of Baaros really doesn’t concern me anymore, now that it’s stopped stirring up the people. We’ll attend, of course—inviting us was an excellent gesture. But the whole thing just doesn’t seem very important now. Go on to bed now. Argent knows I was waiting for you, and he’s left you a sleeping potion.”

  Jael found the message on her bedside table, sitting beside a small stoppered flask. Jael broke the seal on the message first.

  Dearest Jaellyn, the message read, I hope that you will forgive my impatience in the market last night. As you well know, had we been seen together under such circumstances, there might have been disastrous consequences for me, but much more importantly, for you. My soul could never be at peace if I thought I had caused the slightest hint of impropriety to stain your good character or that of your family.

  I beg that you will allow me to make amends for my unforgivable behavior. Although our temple is busy at this time in preparations for the Grand Summoning, if you will agree to sup with me tomorrow, I will gladly lay aside my responsibilities for that time. If you will only consent to come, it will be my privilege to send my carriage for you.

  Jael rolled up the scroll, smiling with satisfaction. Supper with Lord Urien might carry its own complications, but it was one thing certain to distract her from her worries.

  Jael drained the goblet; from the taste, it contained the same potion her father had given her the night before, but perhaps a little more concentrated. She was grateful; tonight she wanted all the help she could get to sleep. She touched the stoppered flask once, smiling in satisfaction, and let the potion’s warm strength carry her away.

  Aubry rolled the token between his fingers silently. At last he put it down on the table and tipped out the contents of the pouch—a handful of Suns, a dozen Moons, a few coppers. That was all.

  “These were his luck,” Aubry sighed, poking the gold earrings with his fingertip. “He never had much money—lived too fancy when he had more than a few Suns in his sleeves. But he was smart, lived within his abilities, didn’t risk himself on marks that were too dangerous for him. He always had a notion that one day he’d take a boat down the Brightwater to the coast towns. I suppose that’s why he always loitered around Rivertown.”

  “Aubry—” Jael hesitated. “Mother thinks a necromancer is involved with the murders, because of the blood and the other things that were taken. The necromancers that you spoke of, are you certain they couldn’t be involved?”

  Aubry grimaced.

  “How can anyone know for certain without a truth spell?” he said wearily. “I’d have said not. One of them came to me, offering her services and those of her associates. If they’d killed the elves and taken what they wanted from the bodies, why would they come to me and say they needed more? And if they were doing it as a bluff, to turn suspicion away from themselves, why come to me? Why not send a nameless message to the High Lord and Lady and work that way? I’d have sworn on the Forest Altars that the offer was genuine.”

  “What would a necromancer do with those things?” Jael asked curiously. “All that blood, all the rest.”

  “I asked.” Aubry poured himself a cup of wine and raised his eyebrows at Jael, who shook her head. “Blood’s for invocations. That’s common enough, even in ordinary magic. Mages often use animal blood, sometimes their own blood, too. There’s power in blood. But the blood of a victim who’s killed—that’s only used by necromantic sorcerers in dark invocations.”

  “Necromantic sorcerers?” Jael asked. “I thought a necromancer was a necromancer.”

  Aubry shook his head.

  “Most necromancers are content with divinations, spirit communion, and the like. The more powerful and less cautious ones may risk a deadwalk—animating corpses. But those are still minor magic in most cases. Necromantic sorcerers use death—parts of corpses, as well as the energy released by violent death—for other kinds of invocations. The blood from one murder, that would be enough for the creation of an homunculus or the summoning of a minor demon. This many victims, more taken each time—it must be some vine-rotting big invocation.”

  “What could they invoke with all that?” Jael pressed. Demon, she thought sickly, remembering Solly’s corpse. “And if they needed that many victims for something that big, why spread out over days? Why not all at once?”

  “I don’t know.” Aubry shrugged helplessly. “The necromancer I talked to didn’t know, either, unless it’s some kind of repeated invocation. Why was less left of the body each time? I don’t know. Why only elves? I don’t know. But now there’s Solly. He’s no elf, and no merchant.”

  “And he wasn’t killed like the others.” Jael hesitated. “Whatever was summoned up, could that have killed Solly?”

  “I think that’s likely.” Aubry sighed. “From the way you described the wounds, it sounds like nothing more than a minor imp or blood demon. Still nothing to wave aside, but hardly an invocation requiring so much death. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

  Aubry reached out and took Jael’s hand.

  “I’m pulling my people out of Rivertown,” he told her. “And I don’t want you even wandering the west side of the market or Guild Row. If any of my Guild members see you there, they’ve got orders to bring you away, even if they’ve got to pick you up and carry you; understand?”

  “I won’t argue,” Jael said, shivering. “I saw Solly. You couldn’t give me enough Suns to poke a toe into Rivertown now. Even though I’ve got one to spare.”

  “Speaking of Suns—” Aubry glanced down at the few items on the table. “You know the custom—belongings to the finder. It’s yours.”

  “I didn’t find him.” Jael looked at the gold and shivered. “I’ll take the earrings. Give the money to his apprentice. I don’t need it anyway.”

  Aubry picked up the token.

  “We’ll miss him,” he said quietly. “Fair journey, Solly.”

  “Fair journey, Solly,” Jael repeated. She picked up the earrings. “My ears aren’t pierced. Would you do it?”

  A few hours later, Jael donned one of her new tunics, gazed in the mirror, and admired the earrings sparkling in her still-smarting ears. They didn’t match the necklace Urien had given her, but the gold looked warm and lovely against her bronze hair, and the green stones twinkled prettily. In her new clothing, her short curls as neatly combed as possible and jewels sparkling at throat and ear, Jael was almost satisfied with her appearance for once. As a final touch, she belted on her sword; there’d be no one to challenge her tonight, and the scabbard at her hip looked impressive. Surely Urien would be impressed, at least.

  Jael waited until she was almost out of the castle before she caught one of the servants and told him to tell the High Lord and Lady that Jael would not be at supper. It was entirely possible that given the recent violence in the city, her mother and father might actually forbid her to leave, even in the carriage; better simply not to ask. That meant taking no guards with her, but Urien always sent guards with his carriage, so there should be no danger.

  Urien’s carriage was waiting for her outside, well guarded, as Jael had expected, but to Jael’s surprise, Urien was inside it waiting for her.

  “My lesser priests are at my home, purifying themselves in preparation for the Grand Summoning tomorrow,” Urien apologized. “If you don’t object, we’ll go to the Basilisk’s Eye for supper again.”

  “The Eye’s fine,” Jael smiled, more relieved than disappointed. “Mother and Father received an invitation to the Grand Summoning from Ankaras.”

  “From High Priest Ankaras,” Urien corrected her. “I’m tentatively returning the robe to him for this ceremony. I believe he’s beginning to adjust to the change in doctrine, and I think his resentment at being deprived of his station is all that prevents him from again becoming a worthy High Priest of the temple. I’ve allowed him to conduct most of the preparatory rituals, and I think this gesture of trust will do much to lessen his hostility toward me. The worshippers will prefer the Hi
gh Priest they are familiar with to conduct the ceremony, and temple tradition discourages different priests from performing the Lesser and Grand Summonings. If all goes well, I may be able to return him to his station permanently.”

  “So you’ll just watch?” Jael asked. “Perhaps you could sit with us and explain the ritual.” She wanted to ask Urien what would happen if he was no longer needed to keep Ankaras in line, but she had a suspicion she wouldn’t like that answer. Most probably he’d simply return to his home.

  Urien shook his head regretfully.

  “I fear my presence would be an unwelcome distraction to High Priest Ankaras, and convince him of my distrust,” he said. “For the sake of the success of the Grand Summoning, I can’t attend. But here’s the Basilisk’s Eye; let us discuss more pleasant things.”

  The supper was, if anything, even more sumptuous than the other time Jael had supped there.

  “I hope I didn’t offend you in the market,” Urien apologized as soon as they were comfortably settled at the table. “I was surprised to see you there, and concerned that you had been left alone, and worried that a worshipper from the temple might see us together. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “If I didn’t, I’d hardly be here,” Jael said practically. “I was surprised to see you in the market, too.”

  “I suppose many nobles would simply send their servants to shop for them,” Urien chuckled, “but no merchant would pass by the chance to assess the local market.”

  “Merchant one night, priest the next,” Jael said, grinning. If Urien was interested in the market, perhaps that meant he’d stay in Allanmere in some capacity, even if he wasn’t needed to run the Temple of Baaros. “Which one am I eating supper with tonight?”

  “Neither,” Urien said, smiling as he joined the game. “I left the priest at the temple and the merchant in the market, so tonight you’re only supping with simple, secular Lord Urien.

  But after supper, I thought I’d show you the temple while it’s decorated for the Grand Summoning, and while all the priests are gone. I’m certain you’ve been wondering what the temple looks like.”