Blade's Edge

by Val Roberts

  "What about one Bariani with a Silvergard escort?” She heard him dismount. “Could she handle that?” Still velvety, and with the faintest proprietary note, as if he could protect her from any unpleasantness from Leone. He put his hand on her arm, and his fingers were warm, even through the coat sleeve.

  The truth was that one Bariani with a Silvergard escort would be a lot worse, because it would look like official government interest, even if she was half out of uniform. And Leone would only have to lift an eyebrow for Tomascon to make a meal of any Bariani alive.

  "Go in the barn and wait for me to come back.” She shrugged off his touch and walked to the door.

  It opened before she had worked up the courage to touch the handle, and Leone's familiar silhouette blocked the electric light pouring out from inside. “Well don't just stand there woolgathering, Taryn. It's cold, and I'm not heating the whole valley."

  "I've got company, Leone.” Taryn shifted her weight and swallowed, because it wasn't easy to explain. “Seven Bariani, one of them is the negotiator. They were attacked in Balsom, when I was taking them from Transit to the palace. Three of them were killed and the rest are here."

  Leone pulled her inside and shut the door, then surveyed Taryn with her hands on her hips. “I've only got three beds free, including your room,” she said, cutting to the heart of the problem. There would be time to discuss fear and politics after the important things were taken care of. Tomascon would be sharing Leone's room; Taryn knew better than to try to oust two hundred pounds of sleep-cranky cougar from his comfy bed. And she knew from the few times she had been allowed to train in real field exercises that sleeping on a floor would leave her bruised and aching worse than she was now.

  "Shite.” Taryn sighed. “Well, it's only for one night. Maybe they're sore enough that they'll leave me alone.” She rubbed the back of her neck and looked at the wall between her and the courtyard. The tension between her shoulder blades wouldn't go away, because she'd left out the most important piece of information and she couldn't look Leone in the eye and keep her mouth shut about it.

  "Taryn? Is there something else you want to tell me?” Leone's hands dropped and she looked concerned. Well, so much for keeping the secret.

  "Mychell was leading the attackers. I killed him.” Taryn rubbed her hands down her thighs, because thinking about it, remembering the ruined face with her dagger handle still quivering in the eye socket, made her palms clammy. Mychell had been as handsome a man as the negotiator, and now there would have to be a closed-casket funeral because of her.

  "I can't say I'm surprised, but it's unfortunate.” Leone sighed and scratched the back of her head. “You'll have to go to Barian with your bad boys. You know Talyn won't stop now that she has an excuse."

  "You sound just like him,” Talyn said, irritation making her stand up straighter. “He told me I have to go to Barian, too."

  "He?” Leone raised an interrogatory eyebrow.

  "The negotiator. He's big, even bigger than you, Leone.” Taryn waved one hand to indicate height. “And I've never seen anyone move as fast as he did when they were attacked. He killed a man behind him and another in front of him with one sword stroke. Where do they learn to use swords?"

  "Same place we do.” Leone sounded thoughtful. “Big blond guy, huh? He scares you, does he?” Taryn couldn't meet her eyes and lie, so she looked at the floor and shrugged. It wasn't fear, not exactly. It was more the instinctive wariness of a female predator when a male of the same species moved into her territory. She knew he wasn't interested in eating her and taking her hunting grounds, but she was a little worried about exactly what he might be interested in doing with her, especially after the suggestion at the river that morning. They couldn't still keep concubines, could they?

  "He's not blond.” She made a face at a knot in the floor. “At least his hair isn't."

  "Oh?” Leone said in a tone of voice that implied Taryn had seen him naked. She raised her head and glared at the taller woman.

  "Eyebrows, you pervert.” She let the laugh out as soon as she got through the words, but Leone didn't laugh with her.

  "Be careful, kitten. Ten gold says he'll be climbing into bed with you tonight. He's got to be the alpha in this pack.” And she leered, as if she thought Taryn might like that. Taryn stopped and considered the way he had looked at her when the fighting was over. With a splattering of blood on his face and those aquamarine eyes, he had cut through her lacing and pulled her bodice open as if he meant to have her as the spoils of victory. If he'd been Zonan, she might have let him, and from the look on Leone's face, she knew it too.

  "I've had the classes too, you old reprobate.” Taryn turned back to the door. “He's not stupid and he knows he has to sleep sometime."

  "Six is open, right across from your room. I'll get the stew warmed up again, and kitten—” Leone waited until Taryn looked over her shoulder, “—take a bath. You smell like blood, sweat and fear."

  "You forgot feces, but otherwise that's about right.” Taryn opened the door and started for the barn.

  Blade led his horse into the barn when the Zonan disappeared into the inn, but it was inky black inside. If he'd heard correctly, her first name was Taryn, and the innkeeper knew her very well, indeed. Someone grunted and a lamp started to glow, allowing him to continue without running into a post.

  More than half a dozen stalls were already occupied, which meant the place wasn't as deserted as it first appeared. That could be good or bad, depending on how much the other guests had to hide. How bad he had no way of knowing.

  One of his guys walked over to him, not really recognizable in the gloom. “Why don't I have a bad feeling about this?” Galen's voice, echoing his thoughts.

  Blade stopped and patted the horse's neck. “They're smugglers, so they have as much reason to be discreet as we do. A normal inn wouldn't be hidden off the main road an hour away from the nearest town."

  "So I understand. Taryn Penthes is an interesting name, don't you think?"

  "You heard?” Galen nodded. “Now tell me why that name sounds so familiar."

  Galen shrugged. “Probably because the crown heir is named Talyn Penthes. There was a Commander Leone Varakis in the Silvergard about ten or twelve years ago, a very good officer. She was cashiered without fanfare and our operatives never found out why."

  And she knew Taryn well. And that scar was at least ten years old. “Maybe she made the wrong friends."

  "Mmm. Like maybe a disgraced member of the royal family that nobody ever talks about?” Galen smirked. “That would be your mission to confirm, Your Royal Highness."

  "Shh.” Blade looked over his shoulder. “Even in a smugglers’ den, I don't think it's safe to get all formal, Your Grace.” Then the implication sank in. “You want me to try to get the commander to spill something? Are you nuts?"

  "Actually I was referring to the innkeeper.” Galen started toward the barn entrance. “Even I know better than to try to make a spy out of a von Stassos when it comes to redheads."

  Blade snorted and moved on to an empty stall, because Galen was a consummate spy and a von Stassos who had married a redhead. The horse almost pulled the reins out of his hand when it realized where he was going, but stood patiently once it got into its space. He loosed the girth and lifted the saddle off to set it over the half-wall of the stall by automatic pilot, his hands remembering what to do while his brain wrestled with the mystery of their guide. He had the blanket off and the bridle hung up before he realized that he was looking for a set of curry combs in a place he'd never been before.

  "I can finish this, Blade,” Maris said as he appeared with half a bale of hay. “Your Zonan is back."

  "My Zonan? That's kind of like calling her my shaggyboar,” he said as he looked toward the figure framed in the barn entrance. “If I'm not back in eight hours, throw a wake and tell Dar that Barian is his problem."

  Maris chuckled and stuffed the hay into the feed sling. “We all have to die some t
ime. I can think of worse ways to go."

  Blade's eyebrows folded into a scowl. Maris was generally an intelligent young man and a proven warrior, but he hadn't just implied that Blade was going to get a piece of a Silvergard Commander tonight, had he? “What?"

  Maris looked a little nervous. “I just mean..."

  "What did you mean, Maris?” Yeah, he was young, but if he was that stupid, he might not get much older. She had killed four assassins without working up a sweat.

  Maris stared at the horse nosing into the hay and exhaled angrily. “She's capable. She's honorable. She's gorgeous. Even if she slits your throat because she doesn't like the sound of your voice, I can still think of worse ways to die, you know? And you're the only one she's noticed.” He shrugged.

  That was better. “When you make an effort to express yourself, I have much less of a desire to punch you,” Blade observed. “Keep working on it and a lady might give you the time of day in a couple of years.” It was better, but it still wasn't great. He walked over to the Zonan.

  "Trouble with the help?” she asked when he was near.

  "He's twenty-two and full of hormones.” Blade shrugged in much the same way Maris had. “At least he's starting to learn. The trouble was when he was eighteen and really full of hormones."

  "You've known him that long?” She seemed surprised.

  "I've known him all his life. He's my cousin.” He glanced back at the stalls. Seven happy horses and one getting combed. “We're almost done. What did the innkeeper say?"

  She grimaced. “There are only three beds empty, but they'll all sleep at least two.” There was tension in her voice, and he could understand why. She would have to share with someone, and one thing he knew about Zonans was that they all assumed Bariani were perfectly willing to rape any unprotected female in the vicinity.

  Just because that's what they had been like a few hundred years ago when Zona walled itself off from the outside world didn't mean it was still the case. Although ... he wasn't sure he actually trusted anyone else to sleep next to her and keep his hands to himself after the day they'd had. Commander Taryn Penthes was a very attractive woman, even after combat for breakfast and twelve hours on a horse.

  "That should be fine,” he said to reassure her. “Two on watch is standard ops."

  "Of course.” She pulled her coat a little tighter, making the buttoned center pucker. “Leone is getting food ready. It's just a hunter's stew, but it's hot and hardy."

  "What about a bath? I'm already tired of smelling like a horse.” Among other, nastier things.

  "Not a problem. I'm under strict orders to take a bath tonight.” She shifted her weight, still obviously restive. “Leone built here because there's a hot spring. It's piped in, so she has central heating and unlimited hot water. It smells a little sulfurous in the summer, but this time of year it's perfect."

  Blade eyed her. “Sounds like a little slice of civilization. You can stop worrying, Commander. We need to stay in your good graces if we're going to get home in one piece, so nothing is going to happen. Galen has your sword for you.” And Galen, like the courtier he was, had glided up on cat feet to offer the scabbard back to her. She took it with a palpable air of relief.

  "If you're all ready, we can go in now.” She turned and started walking back to the main building without waiting for an acknowledgment, another sign of nerves. He shared a glance with Galen and followed. They could retrieve the packs later.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Four

  When he stepped through the door, the first thing he noticed was the light: crisp, clean and even. Electric. The second thing was the heat: centralized, not emanating from a stove or fireplace. Although Taryn had said it was geothermal, no radiators were in evidence, either. Leone was, for Zona, extremely high-tech. And she believed in personal comfort.

  "I can see why she doesn't advertise,” he said as he pulled off his coat.

  "The guest rooms are upstairs,” she said, starting across the room.

  "Hey, Taryn, tell them to get a move on.” Blade looked over his shoulder and saw a true Amazon. She had to be six feet tall, and her shoulders were almost as broad as his were. She was maybe forty, if most of those years had been spent in the military living rough, forty-five if only some of them had. There was no gray in her dark hair, though, and apparently not an extra ounce of fat on her.

  "They're on the way,” he reported. “We just got the horses bedded down.” As if in punctuation, the door opened again and his escort filed in, weighed down by their meager luggage. Half of it was weaponry, such as it was.

  "After you eat, give them a warm oat mash,” Leone advised, sweeping her eyes over the assembly with an air of assessment Blade knew from drill instructors too numerous to name. “They need it in this weather, especially in steep terrain."

  "Yes, ma'am,” Galen said smoothly into the silence. “But I didn't see any grain in the barn."

  "I'll show you. It's hard to find in the dark.” Leone let the swinging door that presumably led to the kitchen shut behind her, and Galen shared another look with Blade. This was the first person in Zona who hadn't treated them like scum. Very interesting.

  "The rooms?” he murmured to the Zonan next to him who hadn't exactly treated him like scum. “We need to work out sleeping arrangements."

  She started. “As you wish, Negotiator."

  He put his hand at the small of her back in a polite gesture to guide her to the stairs, and she reached behind her and pulled it away.

  "All right,” he whispered to himself. Apparently there were limits to what he would wish.

  The two rooms were across the hallway from each other at the end farthest from the stairs. One was large, with two full beds in it and lots of floor space. The other one was considerably smaller, but the bed was very large, with two layers of pillows. It looked comfortable and it looked sturdy, which made him wonder, because he'd seen that particular combination before in military brothels. He sat on the bed and tried to move it. Nothing happened.

  "This is longer than the other two beds,” she said from where she stood by the door. She sounded as stiff as she looked. “Better for your greater height.” Oh, yeah, sure. Like this bed had been built for sleeping.

  "And wide enough for two people to sleep without touching each other,” he finished for her, carefully not adding that three could snuggle cozily, if they were bent that way. “You should probably sleep here, too.” He leaned over and looked under the bed. Yes, there were the bolts, holding frame and floor tightly together. Apparently smugglers weren't Leone's only guests. And the commander hadn't objected to the suggestion, which made his blood hum with a nice tension he wasn't going to do anything about. Really.

  "Is something wrong with the bed?” she asked, sounding puzzled. He reached over and pulled at the headboard. It was like pulling on an oak tree. Bolted to the wall, too? What kind of kink went on here? And how did he get invited?

  "No, it looks nice and solid.” He looked up and smiled at her, then lied through his teeth. “Sometimes they're rickety. I hate feeling like I'll break the bed if I turn over."

  "I see.” No expression whatsoever in that voice, and her face could have been a mask. “Well, I'll leave you to it, then. I've been told to bathe before I'm allowed to eat."

  "Where are the bathrooms?"

  She turned back. “There are two at either end of the hall, so they're right next door.” His eyes flicked to the wall the bed was bolted to, then back to her. Something must have leaked into his expression, because she squeaked and disappeared. He got up and walked around the room again, noticed the blackout-grade shutters over the window, and tried not to think about her, naked, up to her shoulders in a hot spring. Climbing out. Drying off those breasts with that hair unbound and slicked back. Oh yes, please.

  She didn't have any clean clothing.

  He was out the door and halfway down the stairs before the higher brain pointed out that it was just possible she ha
d borrowed some from the innkeeper. He stopped and surveyed the room. There was a large stewpot in the center of a round table big enough for eight, with six men eating from bowls and tearing into a couple of loaves of bread that looked home-made. His stomach growled, but he headed for the kitchen first.

  "Um, Leone?” he called when he'd stuck his head through the swinging door.

  "What can I do for you ... Negotiator?” she asked from a butcher-block table. Her feet were up on it and a paper book was in her lap. A cougar lounged next to her, looking well-fed but interested. Blade swallowed and blinked his attention from the tawny eyes to the faded blue ones. Apparently Leone was as wild as Taryn was, if she preferred her housecats in the eighty-kilo range.

  "Commander Penthes is bathing, and I wondered if you might be able to spare a change of clothes for her.” One side of her upper lip curled in what might have been contempt or amusement. He would have to explain. “We left Balsom in kind of a hurry."

  "She knows where the closet is.” Leone turned a page, but otherwise didn't move a muscle. “Most of her mufti is here, anyway."

  Blade stepped all the way into the kitchen and let the door swing shut at his back. The big cat stopped purring and sat up, looking even more interested. “She comes here a lot?” It would explain why she knew the place existed, but it raised even more questions.

  "Every annual home leave.” Leone looked up. “She likes it here. Besides, where else could she go?"

  "Maybe to see her family?” Again, he had the distinct feeling that there were a series of puzzle pieces here that he just wasn't looking at the right way to put together. Why had she agreed to sleep in the same bed with him, if this was her home base?

  Leone fixed him with that strange look again and actually put the book down on the table. “You are kidding me. You really don't know.” At least that was a clue. He blinked at her. “Come talk to me after you eat supper. You'll take it better on a full stomach.” The cat took that as his cue to stand up, amble over to Blade and try to knock him over by rubbing his legs, purring even louder than before.