Blade's Edge

by Val Roberts

  "Me?” The mare moved under her, restless to get to the rest of her herd. “I can't work a Bariani machine."

  He smiled. “Neither can Grigor, and Maris has no reason to be strong in front of him. But whimpering at you isn't an option for him, which means he'll actually take enough pain medication to sleep and let the nanites do their work.” He clasped both sides of her waist below the cut and pulled her from the horse, then set her on her feet with only a low twinge. Whatever he had done that morning had been very effective. She felt her brow furrow. “Ready for your adoring public?"

  "You are so—oh, never mind.” She tried to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around her and dragged her closer.

  "I'm so what?” She looked up and his eyes were glowing with amusement.

  "Bossy,” she spat at him, then yanked herself away hard enough that she almost fell over when he let her go. “If I have to go babysit your cousin, you can take care of my horse.” She turned and stalked into the dark opening, almost running into a rock wall that loomed up about eight feet in. She turned right, because it was darker that direction, and sort of felt her way around another corner and into soft overall illumination. A glance up showed a series of electric lights sunk into the rock at a height of about ten feet.

  At least he hadn't been lying about light. And the light trap at the entrance was a nice touch. She moved on, because she could hear voices.

  * * * *

  The speech Ramondar was working on blurred and vanished, replaced in his holographic display by a live rendition of Degusta Matamoss's face. Deg must have invoked highest-security overrides to break into the king's virtual space, and though his expression was serious, the system faithfully reproduced a mischievous twinkle that really didn't bode well for Ramondar's peace of mind. He must have news about Blade, and it must be news he liked.

  "Your Majesty,” Deg said formally. “These still images were taken approximately three hours ago at Broken Pine Pass by BOAS 2. We would have had video, but the memory cache is being used for some big science project."

  The first picture flashed and began to resolve itself while Deg's face shrank to a small frame and retreated to the upper right-hand corner of the projection field.

  "That's nice,” Ramondar said to the pixels in front of him. “What is Broken Pine Pass?"

  In the corner, Deg's face grinned. “The border crossing of a clandestine trade route between Barian and southern Zona. Didn't you see Blade's report on it?"

  Ramondar suppressed the automatic frown and circled the center of the satellite picture for magnification. When the projection field zoomed in, he saw a group of horses from directly above. He counted silently and came up with eight, which meant everyone who had made it out of Balsom alive had made it to the pass alive.

  "The casualty appears to be Garid Maretski, a crown guard sergeant in Blade's personal detail for two years,” Deg said gently about the time Ramondar's eyes discerned something different about one of the equine outlines. The tiny image shifted mentally and became a picture of a body draped over the saddle. Ramondar shuddered.

  At least it wasn't his son, his last piece of Julesan. He looked again and identified Blade's figure by the long hair streaming out behind. To his left and a little behind there was another long-haired figure, which had to be the Zonan. Ramondar felt himself frown, because she was riding too close to his son.

  "Oh, it gets better.” Sarcasm might have dripped from Deg's voice if it hadn't been electronically reproduced. A second picture moved in from the left margin of the projection field, sliding over the first. The strawberry-blond figure was farther back, almost behind the rest of the riders. “And better,” Deg continued, with another photo sliding in, this time from the right. She had turned her horse, pointing its nose back to Zona. Blade, however, had also reversed the direction of his mount. It was like an extremely slow motion film. “But this is my favorite,” Deg finished as a tiny dot started to spin in the center of the field, getting progressively larger and spinning more slowly, until it overlay the image behind and came to a stop.

  Ramondar's hands tightened around the edge of his desktop, his knuckles turning white. This still had already been magnified and re-centered, and there was no mistaking what was going on in the scene even with the severe foreshortening of satellite imagery. Two horses, pressed side to side. Two figures, practically twisted together like plies of a rope.

  "No.” Blade had done the unthinkable. He had caught her, had kissed her in the open, had obviously seduced her into leaving Zona with him. A Zonan. He would never have done such a thing if he hadn't been serious about the damned girl, and she was Zonan.

  "Yes.” The last image simply appeared without the fancy presentation, obscuring the horrifying scene that preceded it. His son, leading the Zonan's horse through the pass, a lone figure waiting for them on the Barian side of the border.

  "No.” He looked up at the projected face of one of his oldest friends, silently begging Deg to take it all back. She would desert Blade. Dear gods, she had already tried, turning back at the border like that.

  The tiny representation of Degusta froze, lips unmoving as his voice came over the network. “Give it a rest, Ramon. He's almost thirty-five and he's not going to let you tell him he can't marry a woman who is obviously suitable by right of birth as well as political expedience, no matter what the circumstances of their meeting were."

  "I can't let him be hurt like that again, Deg.” He let go of his desk and rubbed his hands over his face. “The gods only know what he's thinking, but I allowed it the first time only because there was no way to keep her around without verifying every prejudice they have about the Bariani."

  "Ramondar,” Deg said, his frozen face vanishing and leaving only the image of Blade leading a mounted Zonan woman out through a mountain pass, “this is his life, and we've already established that he's not as dumb as he pretends. Let him make his own mistakes.” He paused and Ramondar inhaled to try to explain again, but not soon enough. “Although I don't think this is going to be a mistake if he can pull it off.” Ramondar closed his mouth with a snap. “Gods and demons, Ram, at least meet the woman before you decide she's evil incarnate. Besides which, there's no guarantee Blade will be able to talk her into it. He might have used up all his karma getting her to save her own life by crossing the border."

  "Save her own life?” Ramondar echoed. “What in cold hell are you talking about?"

  "Ah.” A telltale rustle meant Degusta was smoothing his hair, going into spin-control mode. “Well. This isn't the only imagery we captured."

  "This is how Sergeant Maretski was killed, isn't it?” Ramondar glanced back at the virtual pile of still images. “You know what happened."

  "Yes.” It was cautious and drawn out almost to the point of a drawl. Then Deg sighed and started into an explanation that set Ramondar's nerves on edge.

  "You're sure they left off attacking my son to go after her?” he questioned when Deg came to the end.

  "Twenty to one, Ram. Her own service turned on her like a school of eaterfish.” Deg's voice was quiet, but with an underlying current of outrage. Ramondar could relate, because he felt a vague helpless outrage just from hearing the story. Degusta had seen the imagery, so it had to be worse for him.

  He levered himself out his chair and began to pace, thinking hard. What possibly could have prompted Silean Penthes to order her personal bodyguard to kill the daughter she had spent nearly three decades trying to keep quiet? Was it because continuing the girl's obscurity was impossible? Was it because she'd been tainted by exposure to Barian males? His blood pressure tried to rise at that thought, but Silean had never been jingoistic in the decades he'd dealt with her at arm's length. She was tough, a shrewd negotiator who knew how to get as much as possible out of a weak position, but she wasn't a true believer.

  Then why try to kill her daughter today? He shook his head, because it made no sense, unless ... he stopped and stared into space. “Is there anyone else who cou
ld have given the order to set up that ambush, especially anyone who could have done so without Silean knowing about it?"

  "You mean other than the Captain of Silvergard?” From the sound of Deg's voice, he was frowning in thought.

  "Yes, someone who could order the captain around but not have it cleared through Silean,” he confirmed.

  There were several seconds of silence, then Deg's face reappeared in the projection area. “Yes.” He looked Ramondar straight in the eye. “The Crown Prince, who gave Commander Penthes the facial scar."

  "And thirteen or fourteen years later, she's still trying to kill her.” Oh, it just got better and better. Blade had saved her life by pulling her across the border. What other lengths might he go to in order to ensure her safety? On the other hand, knowing she couldn't run away to Zona might be a good thing, but was a life as Barian Heir Consort forced by fear of death really any better than the sexual slavery Julesan had talked about?

  And if the Zonan crown heir considered her anathema, was Commander Penthes, prince of Zona, capable of cementing the necessary alliance to bring Grant Barian back together and get Timarron into the DW federation? He needed more information. He needed to talk to his son. He needed to calm down and think about this logically, only logically.

  "Rammy,” Sabinet's voice broke into his reverie, “it's time for tea and you said we could talk about the situation in Zona today.” He stopped and looked up from the rug, and there she was in the doorway, as lovely as ever even if she didn't make his heart soar the way Julesan had.

  "Of course, my dear. I've just received some good news, too.” Sabinet's shoulders sagged, ever so slightly, probably from relief that he hadn't forgotten again. Guilt stung him a little as he faced Deg. “When he coms in from the cave, I want it patched through directly to me, immediately.” Please, gods, let the boy use the com at the cave tonight. He turned back to his wife. “Are we in the garden or your salon, dearest?"

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  Chapter Ten

  Taryn disappeared into the cave, her fear of it banished in irritation with him. Blade smiled after her for a moment, still feeling the glow from her presence.

  "So you did,” Galen said from his shoulder.

  He turned around to look at the older man. “Did what?” Yes, he knew exactly what Galen was talking about, and it might have started out political, but now it was ... private.

  "Let's just say this morning was the first time in my life I've seen a woman collapse into hysterical sobbing and you not turn tail and run.” Galen folded his arms. “You slept with her, and I'm talking about the hot, sweaty, breathing hard kind of sleep."

  Usually Galen could take a hint, but apparently not today. “Yes. I had my reasons.” Like her best friend had told him it was the only way to save her life, and when he'd seen her asleep in the light from the hallway after just long enough for the alcohol to kick in, he hadn't been able to keep his hands off her. When she let those walls down, there was a lot of woman behind them, and he was only human.

  "Perhaps you should share them with your Chief of Staff, Your Royal Highness.” That tone meant he had better share them, and immediately. Blade sighed, then explained Taryn's complicated family structure and Leone's plan. “And just what do you expect to get out of this?” Galen asked carefully when he was done.

  "What do you mean?” He felt his forehead crease, but he had no idea what Galen was talking about. “Hells, my father has been nagging me to get married since I turned sixteen. I expect to get a consort and some kind of heir, eventually."

  "Gods, Blade, she doesn't know who you are.” Galen stamped a foot and exhaled frustration. “Putting aside for a moment that Ram would have a stroke if you brought home a Zonan wife like an adopted puppy, if she doesn't want to be a secondary heir to Zona, what in the dozen worlds makes you think she wants to be the Barian Heir Consort? She's never been out of the thirty-thousand square kilometers of Zona. How in Hells is she going to react to mucous-covered offworlders?” He turned his back and started to pace.

  "Plus there's the coercion factor, since anyone entering into a Sanctuarian bond has to give informed consent. And then there's Zonan culture. They don't believe in permanent sexual relationships, in case you forgot.” Galen gestured as he talked, ticking off points in the air. “You have—what, two more days, maybe three, to get her to fall in love with you, agree to marry you, and accept the fact that she's essentially a treaty bride between Zona and Barian."

  He stopped and stared at the westering sun for a moment. Blade waited, because what he had said made sense. The plan was crazy, just the sort of romantic happy-ever-after a woman would come up with. Except Galen's expression had taken on that faraway look that he got when he was playing chess in his head. And Taryn was ... important. He would die before surrendering her to Zonan butchers, and he would take as many of those butchers with him as he could on his way out.

  "I would have told you it was insane before that episode this morning. She was determined to drown herself in their blood,” Galen said. “I don't know what happened when you two were on the other side of that rock, but that was the quickest trip back from a suicidal depression that I've ever seen.” His eyes focused and the look he gave Blade was flinty. “This is so crazy that it might just work.” Then he walked back and poked Blade in the chest. Hard. “But I'll tell you this. Crown Heir or not, if you don't tell her the bare-assed truth before she talks to Llamass, I'll bury you up to your ears in dung and piss in your mouth. Taryn is royal from the toes of her boots to the bloody tips of her fingers, for all she's a Zonan wildcat. I will not stand by biting my tongue while you trick her into abandoning her life for political expedient."

  Blade threw his head back and laughed, because Galen of all people suddenly sounded like a protective father dressing down a prospective suitor. “Guess you've discovered a fondness for uppity women, Your Grace,” he said when he got himself back under control. He swept his arm forward in a formal court bow. “Bury me in dung? Man, you've been in the Jags too long."

  Galen bristled visibly, which was even more amusing. “I mean it, Blade."

  "Right.” Blade looked into the cave entrance. “I'm going to save her from her crazy sister, impregnate her, marry her, declare her my consort, and then screw her over.” A chuckle escaped, and he looked back at his best friend. “When we get home I'll give you a credit for that clue purchase, Galen."

  He started into the cave with the two horses and heard the faint mutter, “Gods above, he's in love.” It made him smile because he knew better. Two days was not long enough for that, but ... if he was going to love any woman, she would have to be a lot like his feisty Vixen, deadly in combat and fascinatingly seductive outside of it. Her little walk through the inn's public room had proved she possessed a deep, abiding sensuality lurking far enough down in her subconscious, maybe her very cells, that she wasn't even aware of it. It had been a long time since a woman had made him throb just by walking past him. And an even longer time since kissing a woman had forced him to endure long hours on horseback while aroused.

  After the horses had been coaxed into their underground stable and taken care of, he went back to the main cavern. Taryn, coatless in the warmer air inside the cavern, was crouched in a corner near Maris, who was looking a little doped but a lot less strained, and smiling up at her dreamily. She, however, was scowling at the redimeal container, clearly unsure what to do with it. He watched her turn it around twice, probably looking for directions.

  "Hey, Maris, how's the leg?” he asked as he ambled over. There was no point in rushing to help, because it would only annoy her more. Vixen was proud as well as feisty, and Galen had been right about one thing in his tirade. She was royal, every millimeter of her, and some part of him had recognized it the first time he'd laid eyes on her, or he wouldn't have been considering the general concept of marriage before the attack in Balsom.

  "Hurts a little,” Maris said with a languid movement of shoulders that migh
t have been a shrug. “Grigor said there's a hole in the bone, so I'm supposed to stay as still as I can. Vixen's going to feed me.” He smiled lazily, which made her shoulders hunch.

  "I don't think so,” Blade said to defuse the bomb that would go off in a minute. His cousin was clearly tranq'd to the gills, and he had enough trouble watching his mouth about Taryn when he was cold sober. “She's wounded, too.” He knelt and pulled the container out of her fingers. “There's nothing wrong with your hands, so you can feed yourself."

  "No, he needs to stay still or he'll get marrow in his blood,” she protested, reaching for the container. Blade pushed her hands away, activated the heater and pulled off the lid.

  "Grigor shot you up with phage and nanites, didn't he?” he asked as he handed the fish and pilaf to Maris, who nodded with wide eyes. “Then they'll take care of any blood clots and knit the bone back together in a few days. Faster if you move, you lazy bum.” Make that lazy, infatuated bum. He turned to Taryn, who looked like she was biting her tongue. “And how is your side?"

  "Fine.” The one word was clipped, and the fingers of her sword hand traced her scar, back and forth. He reached for that hand and pulled her to her feet as he stood.

  "Uh-huh. And what did the analyzer have to say about it?” All the color drained from her face as her throat worked in a hard swallow.

  "It said it was fine,” she tried to lie, but she wasn't any better at it than he was, because her eyes slid away from his. He knew they were tight-minded about technology, but she was going to have to overcome her fear sooner or later. And in this case, sooner was better.

  "Fine isn't in the stupid thing's vocabulary,” he said and dragged her across the cavern to the equipment lockers. “You didn't get checked with Maris, so you'll have to wait to have supper. That's what happens when you misbehave."