Sweep of the Blade

by Ilona Andrews

  “Did you have any titles?” Karat asked.

  “Maud the Eloquent.”

  Karat and Erast looked at each other.

  “House Ervan put great emphasis on the knowledge of ancient sagas,” Maud explained.

  “Can she use that?” Karat asked.

  Erast pinched the bridge of his nose. “Technically, no. They struck her from their records, so any titles or honors earned while with House Ervan are forfeit. They are subjective, as in bestowed upon an individual by others to highlight certain deeds. The kill count is different because taking a life is an irrefutable fact.”

  “What about Maud the Exile?” Karat asked. “Could we do something with that?”

  Erast frowned. “My lady, answer honestly. What was the most important duty in your life before your exile?”

  “Taking care of Helen.”

  “What about on Karhari?”

  “Taking care of Helen.”

  “And now?”

  “Helen.”

  “Do you desire revenge on House Ervan?”

  “I wouldn’t mind punching a couple of them, but no. I was mad at my husband, and I buried him long ago.”

  Erast sighed. “The Exile won’t work. A title like that implies an element of rebirth. Lady Maud hasn’t permitted the act of being exiled to affect her worldview. There was no seismic shift in her personality as the result of being sent to Karhari.”

  The two vampires stared at her. The frustration on Ervas’ face was almost comical.

  “They did call me something on Karhari.”

  “What was it?”

  “Maud the Sariv.”

  “What does that mean?” Karat asked.

  “On Karhari there is a summer wind that comes from the wastes. Nobody knows how it forms, but it comes out of nowhere and it picks up thorny spores from local weeds. When you inhale sariv’s breath, the spores enter your lungs and cut you from inside. There is no escape from sariv. If you are caught in it without protective gear, it will kill you. They called me that because I paid the blood debt I owed to my husband’s killers.”

  Erast perked up. “Do you have any proof of that, my lady?”

  “Would you hand me my crest?”

  Erast picked up her breastplate. His eyes widened at the mess of red. He offered it to her, and she pulled the crest off. She’d transferred all of her recordings to it as soon as Arland gave it to her.

  “Play all files tagged Melizard’s death in chronological order,” she said.

  The crest lit with red, projecting onto a wall. She knew every frame of the recording by heart. It played in her head for eighteen months. The view of a fortified town from a dusty hilltop. A crowd dragging Melizard through the street, faces contorted with fury and glee, rabid. Melizard’s bloody face as they took turns punching him, while he stumbled, caught in the ring of striking arms and legs. Him crawling on the ground while they kicked him. The stone bench they dragged out of the nearest house. The flash of a rising axe. Melizard’s head rolling. Melizard’s head on a pike rising above the gates, his empty dead eyes staring into the distance.

  Silence claimed the room.

  A light ring singled out a face in the crow and zoomed in. A huge dark-haired male vampire with a scar across his face. A caption appeared. Rumbolt of House Gyr. The recording zoomed in on the face, turning dark, then blossoming into bright daylight, filmed by a camera attached to her shoulder. Rumbolt’s face, skewed by rage, as he swung a blood mace at her. One, two, three blows, all whistling past her. Her own stab, fast and precise as it slid into his throat and opened a second bloody mouth across his neck. Rumbolt collapsing on his knees, then face down into the dirt, his blood spilling into the dust. Her blade again as she sliced across his neck and kicked his head across the dusty street, rolling and bouncing.

  The recording blinked and a woman resembling Rumbolt stared up at her as Maud smashed her face with a rock. A caption popped up. Erline of House Gyr.

  “His sister,” she explained. “The relatives came after me after me at first, but they stopped after the first few kills.”

  The freeze frame of the crowd gripping Melizard flashed again. The light circle picked out a new face, a woman with grey hair, screeching, her fangs bared. The caption read Kirlin the Grey. The recording zoomed in. A vampire in heavy scarred armor was coming at her, her neck and face hidden by a full helmet.

  “Is that an antique space-rated unit?” Karat asked.

  “Yes. She preferred to fight in it. It made her slow, but the armor is so thick, the blood weapons can’t penetrate.”

  On the recording Maud dodged the swings of Kirlin’s blade and thrust herself against the woman. Kirlin’s arm came up, then the recording reeled and rocked as Maud reeled away after taking the blow. Kirlin raised her sword, about to charge. A small dot of crimson flared on her neck. It blinked and Kirlin’s throat exploded in a gush of gore, taking the head with it.

  “Mining charge.” Maud smiled.

  The image of the crowd appeared again, singling out the new target. A lean vampire was backing away up the hill from the wild swings of Maud’s mace, moving closer and closer to the drop. She kept hammering at him, her voice a guttural snarl echoing every blow. He planted himself, aware he was almost out of ground and slashed at her with his sword. She dropped her mace, spun out of the way of his blade, and kicked him. It was a front kick, driven not up, but down, almost a stomp. She’d sank all of the power of her body into it. It landed on the vampire’s leading knee. His leg gave out and he dropped down to compensate. She punched him in the face and rammed her shoulder into his chest. He sailed off the cliff. She bent down, and the camera caught his body impaled on the spikes below. The recording blinked, and the second body joined the first. Then the third. And the fourth.

  “He had three brothers,” she explained. “They kept coming after me, so I would tell them that if they tried to fight me, they wide die in the same spot their brother did, and they followed me to the cliff. Worked every time. I already had the spikes set up. It seemed a shame to waste them.”

  Erast, Karat, and the medic were looking at her like she had sprouted a second head.

  The next target loomed on the screen, an older vampire, his hair shot through with grey.

  “This one isn’t mine,” she grimaced. “This is my worst failure.”

  The recording zoomed in. She was on the ground, her breath coming out in sharp pained gasps. The camera was splattered with blood. The vampire stood several feet away, his armor a mess of cuts. He gripped Helen by her hair. She dangled from his hand, screaming, his high-pitched shriek so sharp. Every time Maud heard it, it fell like her heart was breaking.

  “I’ve got your welp, bitch! I’ll slit her throat, so you can watch,” the vampire roared.

  He jerked Helen up. She spun in his grip, pulling her two daggers out, and drove them into the vampire’s face.

  He dropped her. Maud surged off the ground, drove her sword into the cut in his breastplate, and twisted. The armor cracked, contracting, and locked on the vampire, paralyzing him. The vampire collapsed, and Helen stabbed his exposed neck again and again, screaming.

  “This one is hers,” Maud said.

  It was so quiet, she could hear herself breathing.

  “How many are there?” Erast asked.

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “I never counted.”

  “Then perhaps we should do so,” he said.

  Chapter 7

  “Mama?”

  Maud opened her eyes. Two pairs of eyes stared at her, one Helen’s green the other golden brown.

  She must’ve fallen asleep. In enemy territory. Alarm shot through her in a chemical jolt. Instantly she was awake.

  The pale walls rushed at her, the only room she’d seen in the castle so far that was made with a sterile polymer instead of ancient stone. She was still in the med ward. The medic must’ve added a mild sedative to her medications. Combined with the additional strain of her body, exhausted from the
fight and healing at an accelerated rate, the medication had put her under. She wasn’t sure how long she slept, but the sharp pain in her ribs was gone. Fatigue wrapped around her like a soft straitjacket. Her head was fuzzy.

  “Mama?”

  “Yes, my flower.”

  “This is Ymanie.”

  Ymanie blinked her big round eyes and gave a little wave. She was about Helen’s age, although a little taller and more solid, with dark brown hair and dark-grey skin.

  Maud’s mouth was dry, but she made it move. “Good to meet you, Lady Ymanie.”

  “She also had repercussions,” Helen said.

  “I did,” Lady Ymanie confirmed.

  “They have a place,” Helen said. “There’s a big tree and it’s on a tower and you have to climb to get to the top and then there is a thing and you grab the handle and go woosh.”

  What?

  “You go woosh,” Helen repeated. “Down the rope.”

  “Are you talking about a zipline?”

  “Yes!” Ymanie and Helen said at the same time.

  “They won’t let me go unless I have permission,” Helen added. “Can I please go?”

  “Is lady Ymanie going too?”

  Both girls nodded.

  Helen had made a friend and wanted to go play. “Um… sure. You have permission.”

  “Thank you!”

  The two girls scurried away.

  Maud pushed from the cushion and sat up slowly. The medic looked up from his post near the console.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Tired, but the ribs stopped hurting.”

  “Good. The ribs should be completely healed by tomorrow morning. The damage to your internal organs was slight, but it required some repair as well, so treat yourself well for the next twelve hours. No strenuous activity today. No fighting, no training, no sex. A nice satisfying meal, early to bed, and a full night’s sleep. You may soak to lessen the body aches, but do not take any stimulants, medications, or supplements. If you do something stupid, and come back to me again before tomorrow, I won’t be as kind. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll help you with your armor.”

  Five minutes later Maud walked down the breezeway back to the tower. The transparent shield was down. Sunshine flooded down from the sky. It was late afternoon. She’d slept most of the day. Who knew what happened in the last few hours? Logic said she should be worried about it and taking some steps to find out, but she felt too groggy.

  A piercing squeal whipped her around. Hundreds of feet above, a tiny body shot down a nearly invisible rope across the open gap between two towers at a breakneck speed. Maud’s heart tried to jump out of her chest. She clamped her chest and sagged against the parapet.

  The child disappeared from view behind a forest of towers.

  It was too late to do anything about it. She would just have to hope Helen survived.

  It took her a full thirty seconds to haul herself off the stone wall and start walking. If they were in the inn, she would’ve sworn her sister stretched the distance between Maud and her quarters, artificially elongating it into a never-ending trek. But they were in House Krahr, so she just had to keep moving. She would get there eventually.

  Finally, the door of her quarters loomed before Maud. She waved at it and it slid open. She went straight into the bathroom. A square tub big enough to comfortably soak six vampires sat in the middle of the room, a dozen different bottles and canisters waiting on the shelf for her selection.

  “Water at 105 degrees Fahrenheit, fill to six inches from the rim”

  Jets opened along the tub’s rim, gushing water. She sorted through the bottles. Mint, mint, more mint. There. Soothing blend. The scent reminded her of lavender.

  She tossed a couple handfuls of the powder and dried herbs into the tub, stripped off her armor, bodysuit, and underwear, and slid into the water, positioning herself on a shelf, submerged all the way up to her neck. The hot water swirled around her.

  Water. Wonderful hot water. All the water she ever wanted.

  She could grow her hair out again. A small sound escaped her mouth, before she could catch it, and she wasn’t sure if it was a giggle or a sob.

  She was about to close her eyes, when she saw it, a small transparent sphere sitting on the edge of the sink. It wasn’t there when she and Helen left bathroom this morning.

  Maud slipped out of the tub and padded to the sink. The little transparent sphere was barely a quarter of an inch across. On Earth it would’ve passed for a tiny glass marble or a stray bead.

  A high-storage datacore, likely encrypted to her. Someone left her a present.

  She picked it up, leaned forward, and blew on the mirror. Faint words appeared, written in glyphs of the Merchant Clans.

  With compliments from the Great Nuan Cee.

  The lees. Of course. And so sleek too. A little message to her – we can slip into your quarters any time we want.

  Father always said dealing with lees was like juggling fire. You never knew when you would get burned.

  Maud returned to the tub and sat back on the shelf, rolling the datacore between her fingers. To look or not to look? She wasn’t sure she could take bad news right this second. But then if it was bad news, the sooner she found out, the better. Maud set the bead on the tub’s rim.

  “Access,” she whispered.

  A light flared within the bead, the silver glow sweeping her. The light shot out in a new direction. An open window, framed by long gauzy curtains. Whoever was filming this had to be hanging just outside of it. Knowing lees, they were probably upside down.

  The recording zoomed in through the window. Lady Ilemina reclined on a sofa.

  Ha!

  Arland’s mother was out of her armor and wearing a long blue tunic. Her arms were bare and covered with swollen patches of red. Maud smiled. She had worked Ilemina over more than she realized. A portable med unit that looked like some nightmarish robotic spider shone green light at the largest bruise. Ilemina grimaced.

  Her quarters were beautiful. The furniture was soft, carved from some cream-colored wood, and upholstered in deep blue that verged on turquoise. Two crystal vases dripped flowers. It was an elegant, uncluttered space, simple, peaceful, and surprisingly feminine.

  The door in the far wall slid open and Arland marched through, his face battered, his eyes blazing, looking like he couldn’t wait to rip something with his bare hands.

  “Hello, Mother,” he growled.

  Ilemina sighed. “Took you long enough.”

  Arland shrugged his massive shoulders. “I was detained.” “By whom?”

  “The Lord Consort.”

  Ilemina raised her eyebrows.

  “He approached me at Communal,” Arland said. “We had some words.”

  “What kind of words?”

  “He said, ‘You’re upsetting your mother.’ I asked him if he were planning on doing something about it, and here we are.”

  “Is Otubar alive?” Ilemina asked, her voice flat.

  “Yes. Although I did dislocate his shoulder. I expect he will make a full recovery by evening.”

  “I wish you would reach an understanding,” Ilemina said.

  “We understand each other perfectly well, Mother. He doesn’t care about anything except making sure you’re safe and happy. I, however, can’t afford such a delightful luxury. I have to worry about the stability of our House, readiness and commitment of our troops, and our reputation. Normally Otubar and I strive to get along with each other, because it makes things simpler. However, I’m the Marshal and I won’t allow him to take me to task like I were a child. Especially in front of witnesses. He knew this would only end one way when he started it.”

  “He knows,” Ilemina said. The medical robot moved on to her leg and she winced. “He holds back.”

  “Perhaps, the next time he could hold back enough to conduct his inquiries in private and use words, so I don’t have to bre
ak my stepfather’s arm in front of the entire House!”

  “Do not raise your voice at me,” Ilemina snapped.

  “Was this planned, Mother?”

  “Yes, Arland, I planned for you to break my husband’s arm.”

  “Did the two of you conspire to give me and my fiancé a beating?”

  “She is not your fiancé. She turned you down.”

  They glared at each other.

  “I will say this,” Ilemina said. “She isn’t a pushover.”

  “What were you thinking attacking her, Mother? What was the plan?”

  “There was no plan.” Ilemina sighed. “You’re my only son. I want only the best for you. I wanted to see you married to a strong House. To someone worthy of you. With a lineage and a legacy. Someone who would walk with you into Cathedral and the entire House would be in awe.”

  “I see.” Arland furrowed his eyebrows. “And was my happiness ever a consideration in this glowing picture?”

  “Of course! I want you to be happy! I want that most of all for you. I could have handled you marrying down, but a human, Arland? A human! And she doesn’t even want to marry you! Does she not understand who you are? Did you not properly explain your station in life? Your achievements? How dare she!”

  Water touched her nose. Maud realized she was sinking deeper into the water to hide and caught herself.

  “She knows exactly who I am, Mother. She wants to marry me. She loves me.”

  “Then why did she turn you down?”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “No. That’s between me and her.”

  “I waited for years for you to find someone. I should be knee deep in grandchildren by now. Instead you’re off, running back and forth to Earth, to Karhari, to Hierophant alone knows where. And you come back with this… this… woman. A woman exiled in disgrace! You have the audacity to demand I ready our House for her as if she is worthy of the honor. You don’t talk to me. You don’t talk to your uncle or your cousin. You don’t talk to anyone.”

  “I spoke to Uncle Soren at length,” Arland said. “He approves.”

  “What?” Ilemina jerked up, and the medical robot screeched in disapproval. “Why?”