Seven Blades in Black

by Sam Sykes

  I held my breath as her hand reached out and took a step backward and found only stone behind me. I stood, stock-still, as her hand—those thorns jutting from her fingers, her knuckles—trailed across my shoulder, toward my throat, and rested there contemplatively for a moment before sliding carefully down my chest. They drummed thoughtfully on my stomach for a moment before slithering over to my arm. And there, beneath the cloth of my sleeve, upon the muscle of my bicep, she lay a single, thorny digit.

  And then came the blood.

  She pressed it in slowly. I could feel flesh part, sinew open, blood flow beneath the talon as her claw found its way into my flesh. I could feel my body shake with the scream I refused to give her. I could feel the chill of her eyes, of her voice, as she looked on me and whispered:

  “How does it feel, Sal?”

  She twisted her talon. I nearly bit my tongue off to keep from screaming. You’d have thought, maybe, that I’d be mad for preferring to drown in my own blood than give her a single note of a shriek. But if you did, you didn’t know Galta the Thorn.

  “I still get new ones, you know.” She spoke calmly, not so much as raising an eyebrow as the blood seeped out onto her finger. “I just wake up and my face isn’t what it looked like when I went to sleep; my fingers don’t look right; my body isn’t the way I remember it.”

  I wanted to retort. I wanted to say something clever. And, if I wasn’t a good twist of a knuckle away from shitting myself, I might have. But if I opened my mouth, the only thing that was going to come out was a lot of crying—not the pretty kind.

  “Years of chugging potions, just to keep my body functioning so it could make more power, more magic for the Imperium.” She shook her head. “I still did it. We all did it. Me, Taltho, Vraki.” She narrowed her eyes. “Jindu.”

  Hearing that name didn’t hurt as much as the talon. But it came close. And when she pulled her claw free and left that weeping hole in my arm, that name was still wedged inside my skin like a blade.

  “We served the Imperium, faithfully, loyally, and without hesitation.” She held up that bloodied digit. “And in exchange, we asked only one thing.”

  “Understanding,” Taltho rasped from the darkness.

  “The old emperors, they understood,” Galta said. “They knew what the Lady Merchant asked of us. They knew the price we paid to build the Imperium, to keep it safe. Even if they weren’t fighting the wars, they knew what we were giving up to do so.”

  A look of shock crossed her face, as though she could barely believe it even as she spoke it.

  “But a nul? A nul emperor?” she asked. “What would he know of sacrifice? What would he know of Barter? He’d sit on his little throne that we won for him and never know what we gave up so he could warm his ass with our blood.” Her face contorted in rage as she looked at her finger, red with my blood. “I never know who I’m looking at in the mirror anymore. I can never touch anyone without hurting them. I paid the Lady, I paid the Imperium, and what was my reward?”

  “Power,” I grunted through the pain. “More than most people have, or ever will.”

  “What would you know of it, either?” she sneered at me. “You knew nothing of sacrifice, what we went through. But Vraki did. That’s why he was going to give us a new emperor, a true emperor.”

  “A Scrath,” I said. “A monster in a fancy fucking coat.” I looked at her through eyes hot with fever pain. “And he’s going to do it again. He’s going to kill children to do it.”

  She didn’t deny it. She didn’t even flinch when I said it.

  “He’s going to look out for us,” she said. “No one else will.”

  “No one else needs to,” I spat out. “You fucking can’t die. You have your power. What more do you need? A kiss on the forehead?”

  “Don’t fucking talk to me like you’re a saint,” she snarled, thorns clicking as her brows furrowed. “I know what you’ve done to earn your name. I know who you’ve killed. I know how many are dead. What the fuck makes you different than us save that we’ve got a vision and you’ve got however much metal they give you?”

  I straightened up. I looked her dead in the eyes. And if she was going to kill me, then I hoped she was ready to be staring at these eyes every time she closed her own.

  “Because they tell stories about me,” I said. “And they’ll tell the story, one day, of when I put a blade in you, in Taltho, in every last one of you. They’ll say Sal the Cacophony watched Galta the Thorn’s corpse hit the dirt. They’ll say she turned around and never spoke your name again.”

  Galta, like I said, was paranoid. She lives her life in pain and it made her cautious. But paranoia isn’t careful, the same way panic isn’t self-preservation. If all you think about is pain, all you see is the ways the world can hurt you, and all you want to do is hurt it first.

  Just like Galta wanted to do when she reached down to my belt she wore around her waist, tore the Cacophony from his holster, and put it up against my head.

  And I had to hide my grin. She knew the name of the gun, I’d wager, but she didn’t know the gun himself. But I did. I could feel his heat as the barrel pressed against my brow. I could feel the smile in his metal. And I knew what he was going to do once she tried to pull that trigger.

  But she didn’t.

  A hand wrapped in bandages appeared on Galta’s shoulder. Taltho stepped out of the shadows, looming over her. He turned his bloodshot eyes upon her and rasped.

  “Remember.”

  And Galta looked at him. And I could see her finger twitch and her face tremble as she swallowed back the urge to do it. And I had to fight down the urge to scream when she lowered the Cacophony.

  “We weren’t here for you, you’re right,” Galta said. “But he knew you were going to come. And he told us we should kill you.” She looked at me, scrutinizing. “Vraki said to make it slow. Painful.”

  I waited for the second part of that thought, whether it was going to be a word or a knife in my gut.

  “But Jindu asked us not to.”

  It was words. But I wish it had been the knife.

  That name cut me just as deep. And what came flowing out…

  Jindu’s voice, laughing and smiling. His eyes, bright and curious and with no room for war. And his face, just as sharp as it ever was. After all this time, I could still recall it, trace it in my head like it was just one more scar on my body. And I wondered if he remembered my face. And if he did, if he remembered what it looked like when he saw me last.

  “I said you didn’t deserve it.”

  Galta wrapped a thorned hand around my arm, pulled me deeper into the mine. My legs, shaking and bloodless, could hardly resist as she hauled me into the darkness.

  “I said you’d kill us all one day,” she said, “like you said you would.” She paused, bitterness creeping into her next words. “Like you killed Kresh.”

  “You know about that, huh?” I asked.

  “I know Vraki sent Kresh after you. I know you’re here and Kresh isn’t.” The anger crept back into her voice. “So yeah, I know he’s dead.”

  “Then you know the rest of you are, too,” I replied coldly.

  “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe you take your own advice. Maybe you look at the people you killed and decided you had enough. Maybe you take this chance Jindu asked us to give you and do something with it.” She glanced my way. “I know what Taltho made you see. I know who you thought you were shooting.”

  “Disturbing,” Taltho rasped, following us.

  My brow furrowed. My jaw clenched. It wasn’t Liette, I told myself. It was a shadow, a trick, a bunch of dust and lies. It wasn’t Liette.

  I hadn’t killed Liette.

  I wasn’t that woman. Not yet.

  “If you think you’re going to lecture me on killing,” I muttered, “just fucking kill me now and spare me.”

  We came to a sudden stop. Galta dragged me to stand before her.

  “Jindu asked us not to. We agreed.”

>   She gave me a sharp shove. I staggered two steps forward. The third hit nothing but darkness and empty air.

  “Don’t make us liars now, Sal.”

  There was so much I still wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her Vraki could be the smartest man in the world, Jindu the quickest, Galta and Taltho and all the other names on my list the greatest mages who ever lived and it wouldn’t matter.

  They were all still going to be dead.

  I tried to find my balance, but my arms were tied behind me. I tried to curse her, but all that came out of my mouth was a scream.

  Then I saw the steam rising off the hand clutching the Cacophony. I felt the heat radiating from him.

  Took him fucking long enough.

  Galta shrieked, dropped the gun. She lashed out, driving me backward. I fell. The Cacophony bounced off the rock and followed me as we both tumbled back into a great, yawning darkness.

  And together, we disappeared.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  SOMEWHERE DARK

  My dream starts beautifully. And that’s how I know it’s a nightmare.

  I open my eyes and he’s standing there. He stood that way he does, effortlessly tall—his back straight as the sword at his hip, his eyes locked on a horizon so far away I can’t see it, but it all looks so easy for him.

  I guess for Jindu everything came easy.

  He raised a perfect hand to a perfect brow and he looked down over a valley I’d never seen before. The wind stirred the grasses, made a tapestry of green that shuddered and sighed like a living thing. Clouds, so white they barely held back the sun, drifted lazily overhead. And the breeze fell silent when he spoke.

  “Where’s it going to be?”

  His voice was deep, and so solid you could lean on it.

  I stood beside him. I stared down into the valley, to the little river winding its way from the hills into the lake, a single blue thread in my green tapestry. I pointed to a flat stretch of land right beside it.

  “Right there.” I had to speak loud to be heard over the wind. “Two stories.”

  “Two?”

  “What? Don’t I deserve two?”

  “You deserve twenty,” he laughed. “But the land isn’t level enough for that.”

  “I’d bring in a couple of mages, move some earth, sand it down until you could balance a glass of wine on it.”

  “All right, all right. Two stories. What else?”

  “An art gallery in the back. A nice, deep cellar for wine, naturally. A bed big enough that I’ll have to file a permit for it.” I scratched my cheek and I couldn’t feel a single scar. “Two kitchens. Two dining rooms. One guest room.”

  “Why only one?”

  “Three guest rooms tells people I’m ready for them at any time. It encourages them to drop in anytime they please. I don’t need that. I could be doing anything in there.”

  “Like what?” At my glare, he grinned, held his hands up. “All right, all right. Why not two, then?”

  “Two guest rooms is no good, either. A lady with two guest rooms is a lady who enjoys people’s company. It says, ‘Come on by, I have some friends I want you to meet.’ Who’s got time for that shit?”

  “Reasonable. What does one say?”

  “One guest room says I’ll put your ass up for a little bit, but don’t get comfortable and don’t come without a bottle of something expensive.”

  “You’ve thought about this.”

  “Since the day I joined.” I pointed to a spot to the left. “Over there, a livery and corral for riding birds.” I pointed to the right. “There, a garden.” I pointed to the river. “There, a little dock with a little boat to row down to the lake.”

  Jindu nodded slowly, taking it all in. And with those big eyes of his, that could see anything, anywhere, I knew he was seeing it. A smile tugged at his lips, turned into a laugh.

  “Birdshit,” he said.

  “What?”

  I hated how petulant I sounded.

  “No, it’s beautiful, but… it’s not you, is it?” He looked at me and smiled. “Okay, the bird corral is and the wine cellar, sure. But you’d never use the kitchens, you would never have enough company to justify one dining room, let alone two, and the boat? Really?”

  “I like boats.”

  “You like big boats. The kind we ride on missions. On that river, you’d have some kind of gondola like they have in Cathama’s canals.” He held up his hands, grinning. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s a Cathama noblelady’s wet dream.”

  He held his hand out to me.

  “But it’s not you.”

  I studied his hand. His palms were creased, calloused where they should be from years of holding a blade, letting a hilt dance across his hand like a living thing. But the tips of his fingers were still soft, the kind that could pluck a harp, the kind that wouldn’t feel coarse when they slid down your skin.

  Not a killer’s hand. An expert’s hand. So pale and clean that I couldn’t ever imagine it sullied.

  I took it.

  I always did.

  “You asked what I wanted once the war was over,” I replied. “I mean, if we’re going nuts, I’ll take the Empress’s crown jewels, the sages’ secret manuscripts, the biggest, loudest gun the Revolutionaries can make, and you, atop a carriage full of metal pulled by two big white birds.” I winked. “But I thought I’d keep it realistic.”

  “And realistic to you is… a house?”

  “A nice house.”

  “You could have more.”

  “You didn’t ask what I could have. You asked what I wanted.”

  “I did.” He laid his hand on top of mine. It felt warm. “And you want me?”

  “I want everything.” I looked long to the sky overhead. The sun began to set. The clouds became orange with its dying light. “And you.”

  His smile was the opposite of the rest of him. Its softness, its tenderness, looked so out of place on a man who carried his blade so close. But when his smile vanished, the empty place where it had been was a frown, sharp and cruel and a perfect fit for him.

  I was afraid to ask. I always was. He could never just be angry, just show me what he was thinking with his face. He always let that frown creep in. He always made me guess.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “It’s a nice dream,” he said, soft as a dagger leaving its sheath. “But the war won’t end. Not while the Imperium is still corrupted.”

  “Not again,” I sighed. “Can we talk about something else for once?”

  “Something else?” That sheath-soft voice became a blade, drawn and naked and screeching. “Something else besides the Imperium we served, that our friends fought and died for, being twisted by a… a nul?”

  “He’s the Emperor.”

  “He shouldn’t be. That shouldn’t happen. Vraki told me—” I looked away. But I still felt that sharp frown. “What?”

  “I don’t want to hear about Vraki. Not here. Not ever.”

  “He has a plan to—”

  “Ever,” I snarled. “We came here to talk about the future. Not the Imperium and not whatever that fucking freak thinks is wrong with it.”

  “I am thinking about the future. I’m thinking about a future we mages built, a future we mages protected, a future where the Imperium is safe and you’re safe within it.”

  I felt something prick on my finger. I looked down. A droplet of blood blossomed upon my fingertip where he had touched me.

  “And for that. For you.”

  He drew his fingers down across my wrist. Bright red furrows appeared in my flesh, carved by the barest touch. I felt the panic before I felt the pain and tried to pull my hand away. He held me so gently, his fingers just barely pinching around my wrist. I could see my blood leak down those soft tips, pool in that creased palm.

  “I would give…”

  I grabbed my hand. I dug my feet into the earth to pull away. The ground turned to black mud beneath me, choked with grime and the dead. The clouds swir
led overhead, gorging themselves on the dying sunlight, becoming as bright and red as the blood staining my hand.

  “Everything.”

  His voice was a thousand miles away, to that faraway place only he could see. He grabbed me by the shoulder. His fingers sliced through my coat, my fabric, my skin. I felt blood burst beneath his touch. I felt the skin part away like cloth beneath scissors. I looked at him as he leaned forward, his mouth full of knives and every toothsome blade perfectly polished.

  He pressed his lips against mine.

  I screamed.

  And I choked on my own blood.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  VIGIL

  Breath comes first. My lips parted. I sucked in a cold lungful of stale air and dust. It filled me like a living thing, flooding my lungs, making sure that I was alive enough for the next part.

  Pain comes second.

  My body woke up before I did, the aches and agonies crawling through me on spider legs. The landing had been hard, but the fall had been brief; no bones felt broken, at first impression.

  But it was hard to tell, what with my arms being twisted behind my back.

  To my credit, I managed only to cry out a little as I worked my wrists free of the ropes. I could hear my bones pop back into place, rubbed the agony of my arms and wrists as I pulled them back in front of me.

  Tight knots, they had rubbed my wrists raw. But they hadn’t been good ones. Galta never could do anything right that wasn’t killing people.

  Turns out, she was even shit at that.

  I slowed my breathing, let the pain work its way out of me, settle down to a dull hangover of an ache.

  After that, the world came back to me in pieces, a broken window I put back together. I struggled to my hands and knees, felt the cold stone under my fingers. I breathed deep of stale cavern air. And, as I got to my feet, I could feel the darkness closing in around me. It was alive down here, a writhing, curious thing that slithered around me, coiled up close to me, whispered in my ear.