Black Blade Blues

by J. A. Pitts

  The air felt thicker for a moment, and Qindra took a few shallow breaths. Blood had been spilled, and more, she was certain.

  Nothing more for it then. She strode to the ballroom and threw open the doors. Those maids who had lingered in the great hall scattered like church mice, into the cubbies and crannies that they each had as a safe place. This was not the first time the mistress had lost control.

  Smoke hovered in the ballroom, but parted as Qindra waved the wand in front of her. It was almost as if a breeze emanated from the tip. In the center of the room lay several broken and partially eaten bodies. One would be Su Chi, the mistress’s Eyes. She would have been the one screaming. Su Chi read to their mistress now that Nidhogg’s eyesight was failing her in her old age.

  Qindra strode to the left, not looking to the back of the room where the dragon huddled. Anger and confusion radiated through the room. With a quick intake of breath, Qindra began to sing a quiet song in the language of her mother. An Icelandic lullaby that pleased the mistress. She continued to walk the right perimeter, keeping her gaze from the dragon, as any eye contact would be seen as a challenge, trusting her instincts and experience to alert her if things went awry.

  Two boys—she assumed two, but the mess could have been the remains of three—lay scattered near the open veranda. Somewhere on the balcony lay the remains of Nidhogg’s dinner. Something light, I suppose, Qindra thought. Now she’s gone and eaten several of the children. She glanced around. Or at least large parts of several children.

  When she was past the door to the veranda, Qindra began to hum the same melody, but without the words. After a few steps, she could feel the rage of the dragon dissipating. There was a cough, and a retching, then the dragon fell silent.

  Only then did Qindra look to see her mistress in all her decrepit glory.

  Nidhogg—the Corpse Gnawer—was a mighty creature. Her scales shone white and silver in the light of the candelabras scattered about the room. Only the blood on her muzzle and the carnage strewn about the room marred her beauty.

  “You will be angry with yourself on the morrow,” Qindra said quietly to the dragon. “Mei Hua was a beautiful child, don’t you think?”

  The dragon cocked her head to the side, so like a bird that Qindra often thought they shared a common heritage in the long dark before the gods of Asgard brought man onto the earth. Migard, she reminded herself. Know the enemy, know thine self.

  “Jai Li will be useless without her twin, you realize?”

  Nidhogg would hear her. Would drink in the words and remember them later, but now she only understood the tone of Qindra’s voice. No other mortal had stood before this great beast and uttered words of reproach—of disappointment.

  “They were your favorites of the new generation, and now you’ve spoiled the set. Whatever shall we do with Jai Li now? You cannot send her to Jean-Paul and his brothels. She is too delicate.” Qindra found where the girl had been killed; a cross-stitch lay abandoned on the floor, the pillow she sat upon was shredded and covered in blood.

  What transgression was committed this time, Nidhogg? What minor fault sent your aging mind into such a rage?

  “I’m sure the meal Cook prepared for you would have been much easier on your stomach than what you have consumed at this point.” She stepped gently over the blood smear and righted a rocking chair. The chair where Nidhogg spent much of her time these days.

  Qindra placed a hand on the outstretched wing tip, gently stroked the corded muscle and tendon.

  “You should sleep now, settle your mind and return to us.”

  The dragon moved to the side, away from the carnage, and tucked her head beneath her right wing.

  “Good,” Qindra said, moving closer to the great, heaving chest. “Settle your spirit, ancient mother. Let your rage sink back into the earth.”

  Silver mist rose from Qindra, a fine fog flowing from the tip of her wand, to flow over the dragon. Exhaustion washed over Qindra. She had not slept in the last twenty-four hours and the magic took much from her.

  At least now the air smelled of lilacs.

  Even after the dragon had fallen into slumber, Qindra could feel the great heart beating through her hand pressed against the ancient beast’s chest. What has happened to frighten you so, she thought. I do not remember word of you changing like this in my mother’s mother’s time.

  Only a dramatic change, an awakening of the enemy or a disturbance in the fabric of the world, could cause such an event.

  Nidhogg slept while the house staff waited, fearful. Thralls to the last, servants since birth, still they were not empty-headed fools. Their lot was harsh, but not unpleasant. They had decent lives under the circumstances, and this shook the foundation of their understanding.

  Qindra would deal with them later. Her first priority was to see that Nidhogg did not kill anyone else in a rage, that she did not burn down the great house, and most of all, that she did not hurt herself. She was a very old woman, after all. The stress was horrible for her.

  Fifteen

  I FELL INTO BED AROUND THREE THIRTY. I DID TAKE A SHOWER, just couldn’t face sleeping with all that sand in my hair. I couldn’t believe how much sand was in the tub when I finished. Of course, by the time I drifted off to sleep, I realized I hadn’t checked my messages.

  When I crawled out of bed at nine the next morning, I found I’d missed a call from Katie. She’d left me a message asking that I call to talk about what happened at Jimmy’s. She sounded upset. Not that I could blame her. I hit my forehead with the phone a few raps, but I didn’t feel any better for it.

  I called her place, anyway. Of course I knew she was at school, but she sometimes checked her voice mail from work.

  “Katie.” I hated this. “Sarah. Listen, I’m sorry I freaked out yesterday. It was just, well . . . you know.” Good, best material in years. “Anyway. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Really sorry, actually. Things did not go well last night and we have to shoot again tonight. Don’t be mad, ’kay?” Not good at all. “Call me, please?”

  I hung up and leaned my head against the wall. This was so high school.

  Just to be sure, I also sent her an e-mail. Lame, I know, but I wanted to make sure she understood I was canceling for the night.

  I swung by the car wash on the way to work. Three dollars in quarters later, I’d vacuumed out half of the Sahara and left my car only slightly gritty.

  I pulled into the shop just before ten and Julie was packing her truck. Big day at the Circle Q. I hoped they were cool. Hated those uppity owners who hovered over everything we did.

  “How was yesterday?” Julie asked, closing the tool chest she kept in the back of her truck. “You see Katie?” I liked how she didn’t look at me when she asked, just in case.

  “Yeah,” I said, scuffing my Doc Martens in the gravel. “Had a pretty good afternoon, but things got a little off-kilter late in the day.”

  She nodded and walked back to the shop. I followed, sullen, my hands in my pockets. I hate being sullen, but Julie sometimes made me feel like a schoolgirl again, being judged by the teachers.

  Of course, she was teaching me. I had to remember that, too.

  “Had a little tiff over some PDA out at Jimmy’s.” There, I’d confessed it.

  Julie knew Jimmy from horse circles. “He’s a good guy. You working on sparring?” And just like that, she sidetracked it all. I had a lot to learn from this woman.

  “Yes, and making an ass out of myself.”

  She barked a short laugh. “Now, that surprises me.”

  I looked over at her, indignant. “Hey, I’m not that bad.”

  “Sarah, you are wound tighter than a mare about to foal.” She chuckled all the way out of the shop.

  I pulled my kit off the shelf, added my favorite hammer, and grabbed a box of shoes I’d made last week. I was good at shoes. Simple work that cleared my head. More and more farriers were using premade shoes to start with. Cheaper, too. Julie, however, didn’t trust t
he work. Didn’t want to buy from little kids in China.

  I added my gear to the back of the truck and grabbed a second propane tank while Julie made sure she had her laptop. She kept meticulous records of every horse, donkey, mule, or pony we ever touched. The owners sometimes called us to figure out which animal needed what kind of care.

  I called my voice mail before we left, just to make sure. Katie hadn’t responded yet, but it was early.

  We popped through the drive-thru at Monkey Shines and got coffee. Julie didn’t press me for details and I was glad.

  Throughout the morning, I caught her watching me. Mostly keeping an eye on my horse work, but there was something else.

  Six horses today. That would give us enough money to make the trip worthwhile, and give the Circle Q folks something to judge us by.

  I loaded the gear into the truck while Julie chatted up the hands.

  Something I hadn’t noticed until just now was that Julie was flirting. I’m only twenty-six, so Julie at forty-one seems more like my parents than a peer. But the guy she was talking to was flirting back. Now that I thought about it, it had gone on all day, I’d just been too absorbed in my own stuff to really notice.

  The owner of the Circle Q, a lovely woman named Mary Campbell, handed Julie a check and thanked us for our conscientious work. She even shook my hand, which I admired. I noticed the calluses on her hand, which made me smile. I loved a woman who wasn’t afraid of hard work. Today, she was dressed for town, but I bet she was a jeans-and-denim-shirt gal most of the rest of the week.

  On the way back, Julie whistled something that made me think of two-stepping. I cringed, but liked the way her eyes looked. She was really happy. I didn’t mention the two guys from the farm, but if I had to guess, I’d say she favored Jack over Steve. Jack was taller, leaner. More whipcord and leather. Steve was broad and deep. Like a bull. Both were cute as hell, but what do I know.

  Julie took the laptop into the office and began to download her stuff to the server she kept off-site. Too many accidents can happen at a smithy, she’d told me that first day. Better safe than sorry.

  I finished unloading the truck and was putting the tools away when Julie let me know I had a message on the business phone. I checked my cell immediately and saw that I had a message there, too. Damn, how’d I miss that? No vibrating jokes please; holding on to a squirming horse while you attempt to nail a hunk of metal to his hoof tends to keep your attention.

  She handed me the phone and it was Katie. Katie was very polite, professional even. Asking that I please return her call immediately as it was a matter of some urgency.

  I deleted the message and handed Julie back the phone.

  She looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Should I ask?”

  “Ditching her tonight for Carl,” I said, punching up messaging on my cell.

  “Ouch,” she said, shaking her head. “Work over love will get you nowhere.” She turned back to her desk, filling out a few invoices and adding bits of notes to her database.

  I listened to Katie’s voice on my message. This one was not professional at all.

  “Sarah, I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but after the stunt you pulled last night, you have the nerve . . . the nerve to cancel on our friends again?”

  I closed my eyes and listened to her anger. This was indeed the third time I’d cut out on dinner with Melanie and Dena. But I had a good reason. Right? Even I thought I was copping out. But I made a promise to Carl.

  Yes, how come Carl’s promise means more than the promise to Katie? Well, work, first of all. Carl paid me to work there. Katie had to understand my financial situation, we’d talked about it often enough. Things were tight, and she just had to understand.

  Of course, I hit the occasional auction. But that’s professional interest.

  Sigh. Frankly, I didn’t like Melanie because I couldn’t compete with her. She and Katie had history I could never have. They were comfortable in their own skins, and neither of them gave a damn what the world thought of them.

  I, on the other hand, felt like a fish out of water. When the nagging voices in my head started up—you know, those old teachers, or cranky relatives that live in your skull and tell you how much you suck, or what an abomination you are—those voices rose loud and clear when I thought about the public aspect of it all.

  When we were alone, that was a different story. She was intoxicating. I could just lie with her forever, holding each other, sharing the most intimate of moments. It felt right. Pure. And I felt loved.

  But when it became public, I was back in high school, listening to my friends make fun of anyone who was different. “Wonder what her favorite flavor of carpet is” rose loud and clear when the head monkeys began to chatter. And I would feel the shame all over again.

  I needed sleep, and a drink. Not necessarily in that order. But I was getting neither again anytime soon.

  Sixteen

  I CLEANED UP THE SHOP, PUTTING AWAY THE TOOLS, UPDATING the inventory sheet we kept of supplies used, and sweeping. Julie made sure I swept every day. Not that the smithy needed it often, but it was an excellent habit to get into.

  I waited for her on the back stoop, bottle of water held tightly in my fist, when she locked up. I had to be in Everett in a few hours, but I had a bit of time to kill.

  “Something on your mind, Sarah?” Julie asked once the shop was locked up. “You look like you need to talk.”

  I took a long pull on the bottle and screwed the cap back on before I spoke. “It’s Katie. I have to work tonight, and we were supposed to have dinner with Melanie and Dena.”

  “Should I know them?”

  I waited as she sat on the stone wall beside me, just far enough to not crowd me, but close enough for me to feel her presence. It was comforting. “Melanie and Katie were lovers in college.”

  “Ah,” she said, nodding sagely. “I see.”

  I turned the bottle over in my hand, end over end, waiting. When I realized she wasn’t going to elaborate, I stumbled on. “So, anyway. The shoot . . . well, things were bad last night for some reason.”

  “Your fault?” she asked.

  “Well, I was late,” I said, feeling the frustration start to build. “But after I left Jimmy’s, this huge guy in a Hummer ran me off the road, then punched my car.”

  “Really?” she said, shocked. “I saw the damage, was going to ask if you’d fallen asleep at the wheel, or, you know. Something else.”

  I assumed “something else” meant drinking and driving, but I didn’t usually drink—and never when I had to drive. “No, I was late because of the asshole in the Hummer, but things were bad before I got there. Carl has reached crazy stress overload.”

  “And with you being the poster child for patience, you helped the situation with your calm approach?”

  “No, well . . .” Damn her. Okay, she was observant, but I didn’t like how folks thought they had me pegged. “Things went long last night, and we need to work again tonight to catch back up to schedule.”

  “And did Carl understand you had other plans?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you did make a commitment to him. And if he is putting any kind of responsibility in your hands, it will cost him money if you miss.”

  “Exactly, thank you.” I got up and paced, waving my hands. “I don’t know why Katie doesn’t understand that.”

  Julie watched me, pushed her black Stetson back on her head, and crossed her long legs out in front of her, hooking one booted ankle over the other. “I bet Katie understands completely,” she said. “But this isn’t the first time you’ve canceled on her, right?”

  I stopped pacing and hung my head. “Right.”

  “So, it’s about you picking what’s important to you. She’s hurt you won’t visit with those people who are important in her life.”

  “I see Jimmy and Deidre,” I said defensively. Always defensively these days. I wanted to punch something.

  “Sarah
,” Julie said sweetly, standing and brushing the dirt off her jeans. “You love this girl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She nodded slowly. “Does she love you?”

  There it was, the gut punch. “Yeah, she claims to.”

  “Interesting word, claims. Come up to the house and I’ll make some tea.” And she started walking, not even looking back.

  I stood there for a moment, checked my cell for the time, and turned to follow. I’d wanted this conversation. She was the master, and I the apprentice. Maybe I could learn more than smithing. Fifteen years of additional life experience was a world of difference.

  I didn’t knock, but just walked on into her trailer. Well, double-wide manufactured house, as she reminds me frequently. No wheels on this sucker, not like back home where I grew up. Her place was palatial compared to my apartment, but it still felt like the little pig’s house of sticks to me.

  She held the teakettle under the running tap. Two cups were on saucers and lemon and sugar sat on the table in their little dishes. Julie was a kick-ass cowgirl who could take a punch and throw down tequila like it was nobody’s business, but she was also a girlie girl when it came to domestic things.

  I sat on a bar stool and leaned on the counter, slumped over like I used to do at my grandmother’s counter. This place had the same vibe.

  “You gotta understand something about love,” she said as the water began to heat on the gas stovetop. “When she told you she loves you, did you tell her back?”

  “No,” I said, feeling sheepish. “But she said it yesterday for the first time.”

  “Were you naked?”

  I blushed then, of course, damn the pale skin. “We’d just gotten out of the shower.”

  She nodded. “If she said it when you were both vulnerable like that, it’s different than if she said it at the grocery, or over the phone. We are conditioned to say it in certain conditions, but being naked and vulnerable gives us more pause, makes us both wary and free, if you understand.”