《The Liar's Throne》 Chapter 1: The Patricians Bride When Elves can live for five thousand years, and only elders inherit titles, the game of succession is one that must be played with utmost care. If you commit sedition to advance yourself, nobody can know: Five thousand years is a long time to have enemies. And if you are found out, you must be thorough in your victory. To the ruthless go the spoils. Chapter I The Patrician''s Bride Ladies arrived for the f¨ºte above Barren Cliffs in droves, drawn from the furthest reaches of S?xe by the promise of marriage prospects. Uniformly, these were beautiful lasses with finer breeding than the remoteness of the manors might imply. Any House could buy fine wardrobes for their daughters. The poorest mother knew how to arrange a young doe¡¯s hair to emphasize her neck and decollete. The only obvious marker of status was the size of the daughter¡¯s entourage: lone keroterase and a single brother escorting the least of them; a full hexant keroterase and a Lord Mayor escorting the greatest. It was widely accepted that Patrician Lorent would be drawn toward the latter. Lorent was heir to Great House Vulasir; he would one day become Lord Mayor of S?xe and required someone well-bred to make his heirs. Yet Lorent surveyed dozens of beautiful females and felt nothing besides impatience. The parade of females had distinct aromas, each of them more pleasant than the last: this one like freshly baked bread, that one like lavender, another like spun cloudthread. They resembled one another visually aside from altering palettes. None of them were thicker in the waist than around his bicep, all of them had long legs, each one was flawless in skin. These does wore their hair hanging loose in straight lines down to their waists, and whether it was red, gold, black, or otherwise did not seem to matter greatly. Without needing to search the Heraldry records for details, Lorent knew that they all came from old Houses, if not necessarily Great Houses. None had grown up outside a manor. They were clearly mujan dwellers with those weak skinny feet. Muscled hands without any scars suggested embroidery, but not hard labor. A few did not have the posture given a lass by her finishing, but most of them looked too young for it, rather than suggesting their families were without coin. Lorent came from a well-appointed family, but not so well-appointed that he could afford to marry poor. He was nonetheless unmoved by the sight of Lady Ornonea of Great House Karwe. He did not rise to greet her until his mother prodded him to do so. Lorent offered a cursory bow. Jaw-length curls swept in front of his features just in time to conceal an eyeroll. Of course a Lord Mayor¡¯s daughter was powerful, and she was equally beautiful. She had been dressed to display her finest attributes. Her bare shoulders were the color of unripe plum, her lips as juicy, her bosom as round. Her fruit pit eyes batted heavy lashes. She was graceful in the practical way of such well-born ladies. Nary a Light had passed where Lady Ornonea had not been shaped into a bride by a maiden-of-the-garden. ¡°Do you spy any hint of personality, or has that been cut out to make room for larger breasts?¡± Lorent muttered to his Uncle Sorlen. He spoke quietly, hoping his mother wouldn¡¯t hear. She heard. She pinched him hard enough to bruise his ribs. ¡°My son asks for your first dance this Light,¡± said Lady ?anveswe. ¡°It would be my honor,¡± replied Lady Ornonea. In a musical undertone, she said, <> All of the High could sing at the exact same time as they spoke, and only someone who understood the tongue could perceive their dual meanings. <> hummed Uncle Sorlen as she glided away. ¡°If you two cannot be kind, I will have you both made into keroterase,¡± said Lady ?anveswe. Lorent winced. ¡°You would never do that to me.¡± Male keroterase were eunuchs. He couldn¡¯t exactly carry on the family line in such a condition. ¡°Sorlen, on the other hand...¡± ¡°She¡¯d render me a kerotera,¡± said Sorlen. ¡°Without thinking twice,¡± said Lady ?anveswe. Her tone was threatening though her smile remained fixed. ¡°Sweet Lore, you know I love you so. Yet you should also know that if you embarrass me at this f¨ºte, I may decide to prefer your brother.¡± <> ¡°Come now,¡± said Lorent. ¡°Inheritance is Tat¨¤¡¯s choice, not yours. And I don¡¯t think my father cares about this nearly as much as you do¡ªelse he would be here.¡± ¡°He trusts me to attend these sorts of matters,¡± said ?anveswe. ¡°That is the value of a wife. Having someone who knows better than you about most things. Someone with your frivolous heart will need a much wiser one!¡± With that, ?anveswe stormed away, seeking another drink of wine. She was a beautiful doe herself. Her finishing had not been forgotten after a thousand years; her posture, stride, and even the reach of her fingers grasping for wine were more graceful than any possible bride. ¡°You do look like an automaton,¡± said Uncle Sorlen. ¡°I have no idea what you mean,¡± said Lorent. ¡°You¡¯re not taking this seriously. Your mind is a thousand spans away.¡± In fact, Lorent¡¯s mind was sixty-two spans away. That was the distance to the marina where his swoop was docked, waiting for him to break free of his obligations so they could sail again. ¡°I don¡¯t know what would give you that impression,¡± said the young Patrician, trying to look clueless as possible. ¡°You know I¡¯m eager as my mother to find a ?anvens?ko that pleases.¡± ¡°I think she¡¯d settle for a ¡®s?te. Any chance for an heir would lift a mighty weight from her delicate shoulders.¡± The guest list to Great House Vulasir¡¯s f¨ºte did suggest desperation. Lore had never met many of the cousins still filing through the gates of Nipande Courtyard; his mother had invited every manor from the strait to the Sou¡¯eastenlands to attend. That included the most thin-blooded relatives who shared great-great-great grandparents with him but worked humble professions to afford life as nobility. Barely even High ¨¤lvare. Lorent had rejected every possible match from the nearer family and their social circle, too. His mother¡¯s net had no choice but to cast wider. ¡°I¡¯m glad you came, Uncle,¡± said Lorent. ¡°It¡¯s nice to have a little masculine energy amid all the...¡± He couldn¡¯t think of polite words to finish the sentence. Nipande Hall was nearly full to capacity and so many ladies attended that their colorful robes flooded the courtyard like glitter. The general pitch of combined voices approached soprano with very little in the lower register. ¡°I came not for your benefit, Nephew. I should seek a mate too,¡± said Lord Sorlen. At last, Lore fully regarded his uncle. Sorlen was an attractive ¨¤lvar in his middle years, perhaps approaching his third Millennium, and the glassy shine to his flesh smoothed all creases. The sweep of dark-russet hair over his forehead could have been spun from marsh silk. He concealed the wisdom of an ancient tree behind features which looked no older than those of his fourth-century nephew. His ?anvens?ko had been lost to Wasting around the time Lore was born, yet Sorlen was not old, really; he had plenty of time to get lonely. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you would take another wife,¡± said Lore. ¡°Time moves onward,¡± said Sorlen. ¡°Familial expectations do not.¡± Lore hoped that Sorlen would find a match at the f¨ºte. His mother might leave him alone another century if she could be occupied with someone else¡¯s marriage and efforts to reproduce. The next young doe approached.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. This female possessed only one guard as escort¡ªclearly the poorest cousin of Great House Vulasir. She wore the same dark-blue-and-gold as Lorent. It was their only resemblance. Lorent emulated his mother¡¯s learned mask of politeness flawlessly; this new lady¡¯s expression was forcibly blank rather than schooled. She also lacked the careful posture of one raised by a maiden-of-the-garden. She must have been young¡ªshe was dewy-skinned and large-eyed¡ªyet she moved with confidence. Shoulders back, chin lifted, strides long. Her hair did not possess a singular color, but shimmered in the smoky haze of lanterns heating a cool desert Light. The hair was onyx and ebony leaf, but it was also tannin-rich sumac, with a hint of potash blue in the shadows. It was cut short except for two long braids, which were pulled back to be pinned at the nape of her neck by sparkling gold clips. It was a few millennia out of fashion. She was exquisite. ¡°Who is that?¡± Lorent breathed. ¡°Lady Enura,¡± replied Uncle Sorlen. He was holding a leather journal folded open to a page of guest names. Enura. Lorent took the name into himself like it had a flavor worth considering. He thought, based upon Enura¡¯s frozen features, her name would have tasted like sour of fruit¡ª needing only a pinch of cane to make it sweet. She reached him and curtsied. ¡°I am your cousin, my lord.¡± Lady Enura¡¯s voice was husky. ¡°I come from Liverwort Manor, an outpost on the Federation¡¯s border. My father shepherds the old tribal lands and repels efforts to resettle.¡± Now Lore recognized the family. At least, he recognized the role they fulfilled in governing Orkish lands. He¡¯d always thought of ¨¤lvare settling freeports and colonies as a classless type, incapable of comporting themselves in accordance with blood demands. They were looking for excuses to fight and hurt. Anyone normal would choose a cosseted life at some inland manor and pass the millennia without ever seeing a lesser Illuminated Being. Did that not mean they were sadists at worst and fools at best? Neither insult struck Lorent at the sight of Enura. His observations denied him easy assumptions about her upbringing. Her hands were strong, but so was the rest of her; she wasn¡¯t scarred enough for labor, but she wasn¡¯t old enough to look so wiry otherwise; she radiated maturity but looked hardly older than a fawn. His complete absence of certainty left him speechless. He was still not so ill-mannered as to ask her age, no matter how badly he craved to know it. ¡°You traveled a considerable distance for this event.¡± ¡°When the ?anvens?ko of Lord Mayor C¨ªrin calls, who may refuse her?¡± asked Enura. ¡°Let¡¯s dance,¡± Lore said abruptly. She said, ¡°Pardon me?¡± and the kerotera stepped forward with a hand on his belt knife. ¡°My apologies,¡± said Lorent, holding his hands out in a gesture of peace. ¡°That was ungentlemanly. I only meant to offer my company. I¡¯m sure you are among strangers so far from home; I offer a dance if you like, a chamber in the palace, and a guide throughout the xilcadis for the week.¡± Enura curtsied and murmured thanks. ¡°Nobody warned me there would be such generosity here. From what I am told, the xilcadise are filled with savages.¡± She remained at the bottom of her curtsy. Her eyes were averted. There was no searching her expression for sincerity or sarcasm. ¡°I must return home as soon as obligations are fulfilled; I¡¯ve no use for quarters or a guide.¡± ¡°I see,¡± he said, disappointed. ¡°Surely you can spare one dance for my nephew,¡± said Uncle Sorlen. Lorent kept his smile fixed until he turned so that Sorlen could see him, but his cousin could not. ¡°Do not insist on my account,¡± Lorent said through clenched teeth. ¡°I can handle a doe.¡± Sorlen laughed. ¡°Terribly sorry for trying to help.¡± ¡°I will take that dance after all,¡± said Lady Enura. During Lorent¡¯s brief aside with Sorlen, Enura had taken an aside with her kerotera, too. Lore assumed their exchange had been enough to shift her heart. Lorent¡¯s heart leaped. ¡°Wonderful!¡± He extended his arm, Enura curved her hand around his elbow, and she allowed herself to be led onto the floor. Other couples danced under the watchful eyes of S?xe nobility, escorts, and keroterase. Lady Enura¡¯s kerotera kept an especially sharp eye on them. He was distinctive: red-haired, scarred, and far more fixated on his charge than any other of his kind. He followed their every move. ¡°He¡¯s protective of you, isn¡¯t he?¡± Lorent asked. She nodded. ¡°He knows you are safer here than anywhere else in the sise, does he not?¡± She nodded again. Lorent took Enura to the line of does and he joined the end of the buck¡¯s line. Immediately, they were drawn into the chain of dancing. These were courtly dances, of course; physical contact was limited to passing moments and partners occasionally changed. Enura stepped in time with Lorent, circling as the other couples circled, and he was captive in her eyes. There was a single fleck of pink on her right iris, like a blossom fallen on the tepid surface of a pool, or a drop of ink at the end of a love letter. ¡°I would remember if I met you before,¡± he said. ¡°Where in the House are you, cousin? What lord fathered you?¡± That earned a twitch at the corner of her lip, which he thought to be a smile. There was a scar at the corner of Enura¡¯s mouth. Lorent imagined a handmaiden had touched it with a spot of face-paint to diminish its appearance. Once he spotted it, he could trace its route across her face to her ear, and another curving over the bridge of her nose. Once, she seemed to have nearly lost her face. He imagined it was from falling off an elk or a branch striking her in a storm. Lorent banished thoughts of tracing the scar with his fingertips. The kerotera wouldn¡¯t have been the only one offended by that. When they stepped shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite ways, he could not help speaking. ¡°You are so beautiful,¡± said Lord Lorent. Lady Enura¡¯s mouth did not even twitch. The orchestra increased its tempo. Lorent could perform every dance automatically, skipping through four centuries of practice. It left his full attention to analyzing Enura. She was graceful and practiced as much as anyone else in the line. He wanted to guess she had been dancing for at least a century, but he couldn¡¯t be certain. She didn¡¯t look even fifty. They came together to step in a circle. Their arms braced their bodies apart from one another, but it left their faces aligned around the axis of their turn. Her plush lips, round nose, and high brow made her look mildly wondering. She studied him as he studied her. She did not bat her eyelashes and demur the way other ladies did. ¡°I¡¯m not a marriage prospect for you,¡± said Lady Enura. ¡°Dismiss the thought.¡± ¡°You¡¯re so confident you know what I¡¯m thinking,¡± said Lorent. ¡°Life is not easy on the edge of civilization,¡± she replied crisply. ¡°Confidence is often the decider between life and death. I came by obligation, but practicing courtly comportment doesn¡¯t benefit my ordinary lifestyle.¡± ¡°Does pragmatism dictate everything you do?¡± ¡°No,¡± said Enura lightly. ¡°Sometimes I am also motivated by blood lust.¡± She smiled. Lorent smiled too. ¡°Hilarious.¡± She spun out of his hold back into the line of does. He counted the steps until she came back. ¡°Roc wax,¡± he said. ¡°You have a queer manner of exclaiming randomly, don¡¯t you?¡± asked Enura. ¡°You smell of roc wax, such as I use to oil the strings on my lyre. Do you play?¡± asked Lorent. For the first time, Enura missed a step. She stumbled against his chest. They stopped as the lines of dancers continued around them. ¡°I haven¡¯t played lyre in some time,¡± she said belatedly. He imagined she had some other use for roc wax. It must have been decadent against the skin. He had noticed her hands felt terribly soft. ¡°What do you do for fun, my lady?¡± asked Lorent. She did not miss another step. If anything, she swept into the next bout of turns and exchanges a moment too early. The increasing tempo became more difficult to keep up with¡ªand certainly didn¡¯t allow for Lorent to gaze at Enura any longer. Several of the dancers began confusing the moves of the dance. It was a little too quick. But the joyous music encouraged them to laugh rather than grow frustrated, and Lorent was lifted by the mood too. He grinned at Enura over the heads of others until they came back around again. Enura stumbled into Lorent. Her hands clapped against his sides. He didn¡¯t mind. <> she sang, and her tone was a full octave deeper than he expected. <> Lorent begged to differ. ¡°Do you have to leave?¡± he asked, brushing a few stray hairs off her cheek with the back of his hand. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°Right now, in fact.¡± She broke away. Lorent would have followed if he could have, but the movement of the crowd divided them. He couldn¡¯t resist being pulled into the spin. He stepped out at the first opportunity, stumbled back to his dais, and got up on a step to look for Lady Enura. She had already vanished. ¡°I think I¡¯m in love,¡± said Lord Lorent breathlessly. He didn¡¯t feel the ache of a needle thrust under his arm until she had already walked away. By the time he found a spot of blood, it was too late. Chapter 2: Enuras Fate Chapter 2 Enura''s Fate The true Lady Enura was rotting on the floor of her bed chamber thousands of spans away. Her handmaiden¡¯s dead body was within arm¡¯s reach. With windows left open to the humidity of the swamp, both were already beginning to smell. Corpse flies picked at their delicate features, which had collapsed without blood flow. They grayed with the surface decay of skin oils. The blood of the dead had attracted birds, which bit pieces off every time they fluttered into the house through an open window. ¨¤lvar flesh was too bitter for most carrion eaters. Only starving gorecrows risked it. Enura¡¯s robes were caked with browned blood at the breast. The serrated knife of her murder had been left behind. Hundreds of flies clung to its hilt; the leather wrappings were rotting too. That blade had been responsible for the gash on the handmaid¡¯s throat. Maggots writhed within the aging wound. The bedchamber door slammed open. Flies and gorecrows alighted. A kerotera fell into the chamber, arm clutching her gut, cheeks nearly as colorless as those of the dead. Rivoras an Danoras gave a horrible moan at the sight of Lady Enura¡¯s body. She had been meant to protect Enura. ¡°No. No...¡± For a week, she had sought strength from drinking her own tears and chewing fistfuls of grass so she could drag herself, length by length, up the manse¡¯s mujan and find her charge. She had been left for dead on the edge of the swamp. She had nearly died. But there had been nobody else left on the property. Nobody to tell her if Lady Enura survived. There was another time Rivor would have been relieved to be alone at the manse. She could never let down her guard; she could never unbind her breasts, strip to her skin, and bask in the Light she so craved to absorb. If only the quiet had meant peace. If only... Failure and grief struck her at once. She sank to her knees at Enura¡¯s side. ¡°No...¡± It felt as though this great crime could be undone if only Rivor refused it loudly enough, fiercely enough, with the strength of her entire voi. But she cried so much that the last moisture exited her body through her tear ducts, and Lady Enura did not move again. Rivor could have vomited her own guts if only it were willing to unmoor from within her ribs. Enura was gone, and it was Rivor¡¯s failure. When she died, Lady Enura had been snacking on slo bread. A stale, hardened slice was near her body. There was also a glass of wine, miraculously unspilled. Its surface was covered in dead flies. Rivor drank the vinegary wine, flies and all, and soaked the slo bread scraps in the last drops. Her dry mouth managed to chew it enough to swallow. It was not much, but it gave her strength to stand up and draw her dagger. She held its blade into a shaft of dusty light. It was not an ornate dagger, nor a particularly expensive one, but it was well-made. Rivor kept its edge sharp. It could kill anything that breathed. ¡°One oath failed,¡± she rasped. ¡°One oath remains.¡± An oath of vengeance. The promise to slay Enura¡¯s slayer. * * * Vinbor an Vindalor took the so-called Lady Enura away from the f¨ºte with all the urgency of a true kerotera. But he was not a kerotera, and the doe at his side was not actually Lady Enura of House Vulasir. As soon as they were out of the courtyard, Vinbor flashed a grin at her. ¡°What do you think, Neen?¡± he asked. She took a quick step in the shadow of a pillar and lifted her hand to look at the blood staining her palm. Until a few moments earlier, she had been concealing a poisoned thorn in the pad of her palm. Now it was gone inside Lord Lorent¡¯s body. She believed she had deposited it between his third and fourth rib. She must have nicked an artery; he should have barely bled. ¡°They¡¯ll find the wound soon,¡± she replied. Her ¡°kerotera¡± caught her wrist and looked at the blood on her fingers. ¡°You made a mistake?¡± Vinbor asked. She yanked her hand free. ¡°Never.¡± With a yank at her chest¡¯s ribbon, the dress fell around her feet. She wore supple leather greaves underneath. Normally she would have also had breastplate and vambraces, but fashion of the High demanded a certain amount of feminine skin. Gloves were tucked into her belt. She broke into a sprint. She was not Lady Enura, but Nina Silverhand. She used to have a longer formal ¨¤lvar name. Ninahel Aven Linora plus a couple more names. Nina was better. Silverhand had a reputation. Nina wouldn¡¯t risk that reputation because Patrician Lorent distracted her. As she fled, the f¨ºte¡¯s music faded to an indistinct hum. Nina and Vinbor darted through saplings growing to the north of the courtyard, in the direction of the Barren Cliffs. She moved faster once she kicked off her fancy slippers; with toes bared, she leaped off the edge of the mujan. She landed on the netting and rolled off again before striking the forest floor. A desert chasm encircled the southern wall of the courtyard. The difficult approach didn¡¯t need to be guarded from below; nobody could survive the raging river that cut such a deep canyon. The nearest guards were on a cliff overlooking them a half-span away. Nina stayed behind crenellations to conceal her movement from those eyes. Light had fallen to darken the space between wall and cliff, so nobody would be able to see her climbing down the cliff to the point where she had left a crossing rope. Every movement she made, Vinbor stayed at her back. He was never more than three steps behind. ¡°You know, you would be a good kerotera,¡± Nina tossed over her shoulder. ¡°I assume you¡¯d tell me if you meant that as an insult,¡± said Vinbor. She flashed teeth when she smiled. Nina crawled up the rope toward the cliff hand-over-hand, legs linked loosely to keep her body hanging underneath. Her gloves were roc hide. They could have easily survived a quick ride back down the rope if she needed to change course. She wasn¡¯t seen before reaching the cliff. Vinbor was slower to follow. He shed the kerotera¡¯s armor first, letting it fall down the cliffs into the river. He was wearing only loose-fitting black linen when he swung across the chasm to join Nina. ¡°Won¡¯t be missing any of that armor,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s a terrible design. These S?xe keroterase are begging to be cut down from the rear.¡± ¡°Noted,¡± she said. They climbed the remainder of the cliff face using no equipment, only fingers and toes. They were as smooth-moving as any ¨¤lvar could climb his home thickets. Quickly, they drew level with the mujan, then climbed higher yet to the top of the cliff. A small security outpost stood on the edge. Two guards were stationed overlooking S?xe. Their telescope, intended for surveillance purposes, was aimed at the dancers in the courtyard. Ashrik and Keledor had been watching the entire party. ¡°It¡¯s my turn now,¡± said Ashrik. ¡°Let me have a look.¡± Keledor was glued to the eyepiece. ¡°But they¡¯re doing a new dance. I don¡¯t know this one.¡± ¡°I want to see it!¡± They half-heartedly grappled with one another. It was the most entertainment they¡¯d had for their posting, which would last a dull, immobile season. S?xe had known peace for vetone. The cliffs were too perilous to be a target of regular mischief. Even if something happened, they assumed one of the other guard towers up and down the cliff would ring an alarm. The first few fortnights had been pleasant. The nearer they reached the end of their three-month post, the less they could endure standing vigil.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Neither of them heard Nina coming. She entered the guard tower crouched low, a knife in hand, bare feet noiseless. She slit Ashrik¡¯s throat from behind so quickly that he barely gurgled. Keledor didn¡¯t even look away from the telescope until he heard Ashrik hit the ground, and then he met the sharp edge of her knife too. They died quickly, as she¡¯d intended for them. Her hands never faltered. Why did she make a mistake with the poison thorn? In the same amount of time, Vinbor skewered two other guards with his short sword. Nina left Vinbor to arrange the bodies. Their patron had paid extra to have them staged within the tower. In fact, the patron had included illustrations with very specific configurations for each body. They had been hired by someone as particular as they were wealthy. The previous Night, Nina and Vinbor had concealed a bag under overhanging rocks. The perimeter Drakalban were looking for outside threats, not anyone coming from the xilcadis. It had been all too easy to place the weapon that would murder Lord Lorent unseen. From the bag, she drew a powerful shortbow and a single needle-tipped arrow. Its point matched the needle Nina had driven into Lorent¡¯s side. The needles, taken from the jaws of a vosaik, longed to be together the way waves longed to devour the shore. The shaft was odol, the point odon, and the whole thing vibrated with intention. Lord Lorent was a tiny dot among many other dots, hardly a different shade of gold than anyone else under midday Light. Nina had memorized the way he strode, the glint of his hair. Now that she had been in his arms, she could associate his movements with the memory of his salty scent, the dimple that marked only his left cheek, and the way he had looked at her¡ªlike she was the only doe in the entire si?e. She didn¡¯t need to recognize him. Nina strung the bow, kneeled smoothly, and steadied herself into position. She drew the bow once without an arrow to ensure it was still pliable after exposure to the weather. Then she nocked her special arrow. She pulled red-and-black fletchings to her cheek. Her fingers buzzed as she pulled back on the string. Release. The arrow flew. She dropped the bow, stood, and turned to help arrange the still-warm bodies of the guards. Ashrik was still twitching a little. She slid a knife under his chin again before dragging his body to Vinbor by the ankles. Vinbor was tying ropes to the outside of the guard tower, prepared to display the bodies as the client requested. He helped Nina get the first body up high. They hung him with his head on the bottom, arms spread out so that he formed a five-pointed star with his body. Ropes on his wrists kept the angle just right. They hung the other guard underneath him in a mirrored configuration. ¡°Bloody,¡± Vinbor remarked once they were done. He used the cut clothes to wipe off his hands. ¡°Didn¡¯t have time to let them become less fresh,¡± said Nina. She grabbed a pair of dirty uniforms from the tower. Most of the wooden plates fit over her body suit. She had to skip some because she was too short and the plates overlapped. Vinbor fit his uniform better. He got everything laced from cloak to boots. Nina said, ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here.¡± ¡°Not going to make sure you hit the target?¡± asked Vinbor. ¡°I hit,¡± she said. * * * At the moment, Patrician Lorent was having a conversation with his steward behind a decorative trellis. ¡°Make sure the guards know, Lady Enura can¡¯t leave the xilcadis,¡± said Lorent. ¡°She intends to go back to the Orkish border. We can¡¯t allow that to happen.¡± ¡°Is she a criminal?¡± asked the steward. ¡°No, no,¡± said Lorent. He had found one little spot of blood on his tunic, but anyone could have accidentally jabbed him with a fork or suchlike. The dancing had gotten very rowdy. Keroterase had gotten involved sometime after Lady Enura left. ¡°Don¡¯t treat her like she¡¯s a criminal. I just think my mother will want to speak with her.¡± The steward bowed deeply. Lorent had only taken two steps away before needle reunited with needle. The arrow came whistling out of nowhere, arced by some unseen wind, and whipped around the trellis to impact Lorent. The odon-flint point struck rib bone. The punch of the arrow was like a mallet on drum. Lorent looked down¡ªhe had reflexively gripped the arrow¡¯s shaft ¡ª and he initially felt nothing but surprise at the sight of so much blood cascading onto his feet. Fleetingly, he worried how angry his mother would become at the mess. ¡°What the hexes?¡± he asked, momentarily too confused to be worried. ¡°That hurts.¡± The room was darkening around the edges. His mother approached. ¡°Son? What¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± said Lorent. ¡°I think it¡¯s bad.¡± His legs wobbled. His vision blurred. Lady ?anveswe screamed: ¡°Assassin!¡± Keroterase scattered in an explosion of activity, removing the ladies they protected. They needn¡¯t worry, thought Lorent distantly. No second arrow came. The only target was Lorent. He could not even draw breath. His vision dimmed as he fell to his knees, tipped onto his side, and floundered in a puddle of his sticky blood. The last thing he saw was his mother¡¯s slippers retreating as she tried to avoid the encroaching line of blood. Then Lorent saw nothing. * * * Rivoras an Danoras found more of Lady Enura¡¯s family dead elsewhere in the manor. The killer had been merciless. Her brother was strung up by his ankles with the kitchen staff, no better or worse than the scullery maid. A visiting cousin was hanging in the foyer. Enura¡¯s father was cold in his bed. They had all been placed with methodical care such as only the most monstrous killer might devise, much less execute. Who could bear to slaughter and pose an entire family? Rivor had trained for many scenarios on the path to becoming kerotera, but none prepared her for this. ¡°Rivoras an Danoras. Come to me.¡± The voice echoed from outside. Even clinging to the edge of life, Rivor adjusted her posture to masculine confidence before responding. She stepped out the foyer, dragging her feet and clutching her wounds. A dark figure stood just beyond the arch of the front door. When she set foot on the step, the figure retreated. It remained out of reach without seeming to walk. And it cast no shadow. Rivor shielded her eyes from the Light, seeking to distinguish details in the middle of its oversized cloak, but there was nothing to be seen. This was some elemental piece of the slow-moving waters and mangroves, grown out of the rot that collected under sedge. It was said that dead things never decayed all the way in the substrate. Sometimes creatures died and then came back angrier for it. Considering how many Ork were surely caught in the swamp, the anger could have been mighty indeed. She feared to reply to the shadow-thing. She wavered in the doorway, afraid to go forward, afraid to go back. ¡°You are too weak for the revenge you desire,¡± said the creature. He had a masculine voice with a rough edge like buzzing flies. She could not identify an accent that was Orkish or ¨¤lvar. Rivor fell to her knees, muscles liquid. A mosquito landed upon her sweaty brow. ¡°I will get revenge,¡± she said under her breath. She thought if she spoke to herself, she was not speaking to the shadow¡ªit could not harm her. ¡°I know your desire,¡± said the darkness. ¡°I will give you power to fulfill this oath. I¡¯ll grant strength, speed, and flight like the eagles. You may take strange powers like mine: fists of wind and whips of blood. All this and more, you may have until your quarry is dead.¡± ¡°No,¡± said Rivor, still speaking only to herself. His bargain was not worth considering. There would be a price. There is always a price. ¡°Of course there is a price,¡± he said. The flies were biting, the Light was growing hotter, and Rivor was dizzy for want of blood. She could not lift her dagger again. ¡°We crave the wicked,¡± the creature continued. ¡°We would take the hearts of those you kill until you fell your final opponent. For collateral, you will give us your capacity for love.¡± ¡°I cannot love already,¡± said Rivor, sinking onto all fours. She couldn¡¯t deny that they were in conversation now. She looked up at him, and still, she could see nothing but a blotch against the deepest shadows of a harshly lit afternoon. ¡°The capacity for love was cut out of me long ago.¡± ¡°If so, you have nothing to lose. I will take the love from your breast and fill the hole with power. Power to sate your needs and mine. Fulfill your oath and you will be free.¡± The kerotera had not loved before, and love remained far from her priorities. She could not get so close to anyone while she was hiding her true self. What little feeling penetrated her bloodless haze was hatred, despair, rage. ¡°We think it¡¯s a fair price, even if you kill only one victim for us,¡± said the creature. ¡°And you will be so strong, you may do anything you please. Anything at all.¡± Except for love. A useless vestigial appendage of one¡¯s voi. A fair price. ¡°A fair price,¡± she rasped. ¡°Yes.¡± As quick as that, she was taken in the grip of a dark hand. Life flooded into Rivor¡¯s body. She was pulled upright, and it felt as though she were given bones as strong as the ancient trunks of spreadroot trees. Her veins raced with quicksilver. Her heart beat faster, color drained from the swamps, and her master¡¯s house seemed to dwindle. Biting flies could no longer penetrate her skin. The Light grew distant. ¡°What should I call you, my patron?¡± asked Rivor from the depths of premature Night. ¡°I am Hollow,¡± replied he. ¡°I can only be filled by the likes of you. Make me full, Rivor.¡± When he released her, she fell again to his knees on the mujan. True Night had arrived, and the twin crescents of the anti-god¡¯s eyes seemed to smirk at her. A fair price... Chapter 3: The Halls of Healing Chapter III The Halls of Healing At first, the healers were certain Lord Lorent would never awaken. ¡°Vosaik toxins are difficult to heal when delivered by surface wound,¡± Healer Orantsa said. She had extracted the two needles, contained them in a jar, and placed that jar within another larger jar before showing them to Lady ?anveswe. ¡°These penetrated bone. Poison festers within his marrow yet.¡± Lady ?anveswe gravely considered the needles, bloodied by her very own son¡ªher only son. The remnants of venom etched the inner jar. ¡°Is there no hope for him?¡± ¡°Hope is a choice we make,¡± replied the healer. ¡°Bring every choir in S?xe to my son¡¯s room,¡± said the lady. Hexant choirs, each with hexant healers, gathered within that very Light. They encircled Lord Lorent, colorless and sweating in his bed, to sing hexant hymnals in sacred harmonies. Their songs were somber. None of them believed he would recover, either. Still, Lady ?anveswe sent for hexant carriages led by the swiftest elk to bring more healers to the xilcadis. She also sent a lone rider to the coast. ¡°Find Lord Mayor C¨ªrin.¡± She had already demanded the Heralds and Osurmite convey the news of Lorent¡¯s attack, but some information didn¡¯t belong in such songs. The solitary rider was meant to tell C¨ªrin the full, unfiltered truth. The initial choirs of healers sang without rest until carriages returned with replacements. A handful of Lights passed. Lord Lorent remained unconscious. <> his heartsick mother murmured from his bedside. She only left when Lord Lorent¡¯s half-brother Earinon arrived to stand vigil at his bedside. A cousin took the next vigil; Uncle Sorlen took the next thereafter. Finally, color washed over Lord Lorent¡¯s cheeks. With excitement, the healers applied fresh poultices to his wounds. They drew more poison and rot from within. The injuries grew less inflamed. Outside, blossoms fell, and fruit began forming. Cherries the color of the sunset-stained desert grew fat on the trees. Lingering snow on distant mountains melted into surging rivers. Then, at long last, with Uncle Sorlen at his bedside, Lorent awakened. The first thing he said was this: ¡°Where is Lady Enura?¡± * * * While unconscious, Lord Lorent¡¯s confused, sickly mind had slid from delusion to memory to dream with no distinction between them. He remembered talking to his mother before the march of brides. She had been holding one of his hands in both of hers, which were far daintier, with much longer fingers. ¡°Realize that the other Great Houses in Belarion hold us in low regard. We lack the breadth of Kovenor holdings. The Enantir have enough liquid capital to drown us all. Neither would remember to include us if listing the oldest families.¡± ¡°Those other families are also constantly mired in games of war, manipulation, murder,¡± Lorent had replied. He grinded his teeth as he tolerated Lady ?anveswe adjusting his sleeve. ¡°I¡¯d much prefer a happy life in a well-nurtured sin?os to their drama.¡± ¡°You are a lone tree in the greater grove of your dynasty. You must think about your responsibilities as if you are a grown adult.¡± ¡°I am grown,¡± he said. ¡°My dear ¨¤ma, I am half as old as a millennium. I have long sat on S?xe¡¯s throne as Patrician and it has thrived under my care.¡± She reached up to cup his cheek as she smiled pityingly. ¡°It is not a challenge to serve the xilcadis in the same palace where your Lord Mayor manages the si?e. You will lighten his burden if you marry well¡ªdo you realize that?¡± Lore had kissed his mother¡¯s knuckles and lowered her wrist. Firmly, he said, ¡°Short of marrying the eldest Enantir, no marriage could make our Great House compare to the Enantir in wealth. I don¡¯t think your expectations are even reasonable.¡± This had left his mother momentarily wordless. Patrician Lorent had only recently begun arguing with her, and after the first decade, she still never expected it. She learned slowly. She would see him as a doting child until she died. ¡°It is never one maneuver that wins a war,¡± said Lady ?anveswe so coldly, like the night in desert winter. In the dream, he suddenly felt miniaturized before his mother. ¡°See how young you are, to think so small?¡± Lorent¡¯s height dwindled on every one of her words until he drew eye-level with her belt of keys. She spoke with the restrained impatience of mother to child. ¡°Our generations elapse a thousand years, and eras will elapse a thousand generations.¡± She was a span taller than Lore. ¡°Our smallest decisions will ripple out and change the future for ¨¤lvare we will never know. We must make these choices with the gravity it deserves.¡± ¡°I must live every Light and Night for these thousands of years! I will only marry for love regardless of wealth!¡± He had to shout to hope she would hear him, he had become so small. ¡°You think you know everything,¡± said his mother. He was so small, he fell through a crack in the floor. He slipped away. Sleep was turbulent. Lorent had dreamed of floating in a Night-blackened sky where the Everhalls hung amid thunderheads. Each Everhall blurred into different colors than the pinpricks he often viewed through the telescope in his mother¡¯s orrery. The Everhalls were huge when he swam among them, and they contained a spectrum of vibrant worlds. Orotio was crimson like the desert at sunset; Daledus was golden like fading reeds. Lorent stretched out his arms to embrace them. But they never came near. He could only admire the shine they cast upon storm-weighted clouds. Lightning sparked distantly, giving volume to the sky and diminishing Lorent among it all. He was nothing. Not even a soaring bird, or the feather torn loose from its wing. He was a mote in comparison to the Everhalls, the storm, the sky. Then he began to fall. The Everhalls fled as wind battered his body. Clouds absorbed and released him. He barely registered the xilcadis roofs before they became huge¡ªand he punched a crater into the palace, entering his own body like a world tree falling on an elk. Lorent gasped and flailed into consciousness. ¡°Where is Lady Enura?¡± he asked, his tongue clumsy, his throat thick, the words muffled. ¡°He awakens!¡± <> A Healer ran away to alert the staff. Lore rubbed at his eyes, bleary from his long rest. It wasn¡¯t the first time he had roused to find himself on one of those bleached white Healer beds, but last time, he had only gotten a shoulder dangerously tangled in a rope on his swoop. This time, the pain suffused his entire body. His fingers felt like they had turned into twigs. His feet were swollen and numb. Hexes, his hair was hurting. He could barely see a thing. A nearby hand clasped his, and it comforted him enough to cease his fight against the bedsheets entangling him. He relaxed into a sensation of dulled pain¡ªthe source of the numbing. He needed more time before he could see well enough to delineate the choir of healers from the walls they stood against. A full hexant choir attended Lorent¡ªsix well-trained L?s¨¤lvare in clean white robes with hymn books in their hands.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Thank Setar, you¡¯re alive,¡± said Uncle Sorlen. The one holding his hand. Lorent meant to say something like, ¡°Was my life ever in question?¡± His deviant tongue refused to shape the words properly. His eyes told him that there was nothing on his chest, yet he felt like a cart had rolled on top of him anyway. He struggled against the invisible weight of it. ¡°Calm yourself. Settle,¡± said Sorlen. ¡°You were struck by an arrow at your mother¡¯s f¨ºte. The arrow was cursed, so we suspect an assassination attempt.¡± Even sedated, Lorent could tell his uncle was holding something back. He weakly flailed. Sorlen pushed his hands down. ¡°Calm,¡± Sorlen said again. This time, he sang it too. <> ¡°Your strength is amazing. The poisons in your system would have killed an entire squad of Orkar, and here you are, trying to get out of bed two weeks later.¡± Two weeks? Lorent had no sense of time passing. An ordinary Night spent meditating felt endless, but those two weeks may as well have not existed. Sorlen continued. ¡°What matters now is that you¡¯re safe. Your mother will be relieved to hear you¡¯re well.¡± ¡°And you?¡± asked Lorent. ¡°I suppose I¡¯m glad too,¡± said Sorlen with a gentle playfulness. Sorlen left to alert Lady ?anveswe, and for a time, Lorent simply luxuriated in his respite. His bed chambers had the windows thrown open to permit fresh S?xe air to flow around him. Birdsong chattered playfully from the branches just outside. Leaves rustled in the wind, providing hushed percussion to the healers¡¯ continued song. He lie halfway in beams of midday Light, bathing his lower body in warmth. The fact he felt any pain in such circumstances must have meant he was ill indeed. In fact, Lorent didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever felt such pain that healers could not alleviate it within minutes. He meditated on that vicious ache. How could it be worse than dislocating his shoulder on the swoop? Breaking an ankle? Or falling off an elk? He¡¯d even taken an arrow once before, glancingly, in the training hall, and he hadn¡¯t suffered because the healers swiftly soothed him. The door opened. Captain Idanedien arrived, and all worries flew out of Lord Lorent¡¯s mind. Idan was a warmer bedside companion than Sorlen. Wearing studded Drakalban armor would have made anyone else intimidating companionship, but Idan had an easy smile, a quick wit, and a limitless well of temperance. He was the captain of the S?xe Drakalban¡ªa policing force that protected the xilcadis. Idan was new to the job, and the youngest captain to ever serve; he was less than a decade older than Lord Lorent. The captain arrived at Lorent¡¯s side and set his gloves on the floor so his touch upon Lorent¡¯s hands would be softer. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d see you wake again,¡± Idan said. His searching gaze felt tangible over Lorent¡¯s features. ¡°What a relief to see your pupils contract at the shine of my lantern.¡± Lorent could barely say, ¡°Tell me exactly what happened.¡± ¡°This is a target,¡± said Idan. He took a vial out of his vest pocket. ¡°A thorn that attracts the arrow. Once a thorn is inside someone, that arrow will strike true no matter how badly fired. It¡¯s the kind of thing you use when you want someone dead and no indication of the killer. She could be whole spans away when she shoots. In this case, the killer shot at you from across the chasm. She used a guard tower. Took down four rangers.¡± ¡°Lady Enura.¡± That was the one thing Luc could clearly say. Her name felt reachable no matter the weight. ¡°What about her?¡± asked Idan. She was the only significant thought Lorent could seize upon. ¡°Lady Enura. The assassin.¡± ¡°We do suspect¡ª¡± ¡°What if the assassin hurt Lady Enura?¡± asked Lorent. He rose to a halfway seated position to clutch Idan¡¯s hand. ¡°Did you ever find her? Is she safe?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve got good reason to think Lady Enura is the assassin,¡± said Idan. ¡°How could that possibly be?¡± They had been collecting evidence for two weeks. No records showed Lady Enura¡¯s arrival to the xilcadis, her entourage had been registered as four individuals rather than the two who arrived, and nobody had been able to find either of them since the incident. But Idan only needed one grim truth to explain his certainty. ¡°The real Enura and her family were killed in their manor by the same assassin who targeted you.¡± * * * Rivoras an Danoras had initially reported the deaths. He arrived in S?xe only two Lights after the f¨ºte, bleeding from still-open wounds. He had ridden an elk so long that it collapsed with him at the gates. Rivoras roused after some rest and medicine. The elk did not. He had identified himself as kerotera to the real Lady Enura. He looked far different from the kerotera who had accompanied the assassin to the f¨ºte. Rivoras was narrow-shouldered, stiff-backed, and long-legged. His ears suggested he was a L?s¨¤lvar, though what would lead one of the High into such an emasculating profession was not obvious. Rivor had been eager to speak to the Drakalban. ¡°I believe an assassin is targeting Great House Vulasir,¡± the kerotera had said. ¡°We already know,¡± said Idan. ¡°An attempt was made against our Patrician.¡± Rivor muttered a prayer and crossed himself. ¡°Then I was too late. The only gift I bring is poor tidings.¡± He reported that he had left the manor for a few hours to check the perimeter fencing and repair the path to the main road. Rivor had been working as the groundskeeper for several seasons now, though a kerotera ordinarily did not do such work. Liverwort Manor had lost several staff members to Orkar unrest. New employees were difficult to acquire so remotely. Since his lady should have been safe in her office, he had spent a lot of time working the grounds, leaving her out of sight. Rivor had been attacked, knocked unconscious, and hogtied. He¡¯d struggled an entire Light and Night to break free of his bonds. Then he found the entire family killed and put on display. ¡°Lady Enura and I had been about to depart for S?xe,¡± said Rivor. ¡°The assassin took some of her dresses, her carriage. The invitation.¡± When Rivor finished his report, Idan went to the nearest Osurmit to communicate with other such military towers. A relay down to the Orkar Federation led to a team of Inquisitors traveling to Lady Enura¡¯s manor. After a few hours, confirmation came back from a similar relay: Everyone in Liverwort Manor was dead and mutilated. It was suspicious that assassins had allowed Rivoras an Danoras to survive while the rest of the family had not, but Idan found many things about the situation suspicious. He had never seen so elaborate an assassination attempt. Idan had subverted many assassination attempts against nobility, and the only attack nearly as complicated had been against a visiting Magistrate. Hexes, who could even afford a true-strike arrow? Patrician Lorent never should have survived. Of course, Lore represented a lot of impossibilities. He was entirely too absurd to have such noble birth. Only a dictate by his fond father meant Lore had become Patrician of xilcadis S?xe. He oversaw the local xilcadis and sin?os with all the reverence of an overgrown child. Lore¡¯s first act as Patrician had been to create three more esbats in honor of Setar, the Aspiration of Celebration, and then import fifty wagons of his favorite wine. He was considered a just mediator with an unusual skill for charming vassals out of disputes. His hundredth act as Patrician (he kept a count) had been to add another three esbats for Setar. A youthful hedonist should have promptly bankrupted himself, but Lorent also had good taste in employees, and he rightly trusted his bookkeepers. His parties were fabulous, his people enjoyed themselves, and he never embarrassed his Lord Mayor father too badly. Idan loved Lore terribly, but he was absurd. It had been a very long two weeks while Lore underwent a potion-induced slumber and choirs of healers sang over him. Idan had hovered and paced and yelled at other Drakalban. None of it had proven productive. They had already located the guards murdered by Assassin Enura and identified the fatal poisons on the arrow¡¯s tip. They knew Enura was not Enura, but only thanks to the surviving kerotera. Idan kept standing over Lore and trying to think of any other time he¡¯d felt so helpless. Only someone too silly to die, like Lore, could have come back from that kind of attack. And he had. * * * Now Lore was fighting his way out of his sick bed, acting like it hurt terribly and also like the All-Mother herself couldn¡¯t have stopped him. He had been wearing only a loincloth in bed, but he dropped it as soon as he stood, shouted for clean clothes, and stumbled to the vanity for a comb. ¡°What in the Everhalls has possessed you?¡± Idan asked. Lore tripped over his own feet. Idan caught him. ¡°I¡¯ll have to speak to my father about this,¡± Lore said. ¡°Perhaps he can help me find this false Lady Enura.¡± ¡°Lord Mayor C¨ªrin is not in S?xe,¡± said Idan. ¡°You mean¡ªmy father didn¡¯t come to my bedside?¡± ¡°He¡¯s still on his hunt.¡± The Captain looked profoundly unhappy about this, and his grasp turned into a half-embrace. ¡°Your uncle, mother, cousins, and I were all here. The advisors have been worrying about you.¡± ¡°But Tat¨¤ still hunts.¡± Lore tried to shove off his friend and failed. ¡°I¡¯m already weeks behind the search for the assassin. I can¡¯t wait another moment.¡± ¡°There are ample paladins on the hunt for her.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure my mother has seen to that. But I¡¯m the only one who will be able to find her. Ah, my servants! Dress me!¡± He made the demand grandly, arms wide, as if he were not being held steady by the captain of the Drakalban. The servants hurried over to do as demanded. ¡°What makes you think you¡¯ll be able to find her?¡± asked Idan. ¡°Fate, my friend. Fate! It¡¯s not every day your future wife tries to assassinate you!¡± said Lore. ¡°I¡¯d love to know why.¡± And Idan said, ¡°Your future what?¡± Chapter 4: Converging On Kalexo Chapter Four Converging on Kalexo The client was meant to pay Nina Silverhand at a cemetery eight Lights hence. Nina had performed the assassination of Patrician Lorent quicker than expected, but didn¡¯t notify anyone of her success; she took the extra time to stake out the meeting point. She picked a spot on the roof of a shroud singer¡¯s shop where she was shaded by the eaves. She could see out to the hooks hanging recently dead as easily as she could see the memorial gardens below. Nina made herself a statue observing the cemetery through Light and Night and storm. She watched visitors weeping below the hanging shrouds. She observed garden Affinites making bushes bloom. She saw mourners hurry away when the rain fell, droplets shivering on the tips of her chin and nose, and she saw nobody preparing any traps. ¡°It¡¯s a trap,¡± said Vinbor. He only joined her three Nights before they were due to meet the client. He had taken longer to reach Kalexo by evading all patrols, ensuring nobody spotted him, and concealing every mark he left upon passing. It was paranoia of the highest order. ¡°What suggests a trap to you?¡± asked Nina. They were the first words she had spoken in over a week; her jaw creaked like bending wood. ¡°It¡¯s so concealed from the xilcadis,¡± said Vinbor. ¡°Yes. They usually meet in sin?ose.¡± ¡°But we¡¯re not even under mujan!¡± The cemetery was servicing dead Low families who could not afford services in the xilcadis Church. Their bodies didn¡¯t hang as high as even the lowest mujan, the edge of which was a span away. There was nowhere to climb higher than the shroud singer¡¯s roof. No quick escape. ¡°It¡¯s a trap.¡± Nina said, ¡°I have seen nothing suspicious.¡± ¡°Even you can¡¯t see everything,¡± said Vinbor. ¡°You don¡¯t have to get paid, if you don¡¯t want.¡± ¡°They should pay us the normal way. Just leave an offering where Guild eyes watch.¡± But the Assassin¡¯s Guild had accepted a policy where regular clients could meet the assassins to pay them. It was a matter of mutual trust. ¨¤lvare lived long lives; identifying themselves in the interests of leverage could foment strong bonds. Occasionally, it led to quick deaths. Nina never met a client without extensive surveillance wherever they meant to exchange payment in crowns. Vinbor sweated beside her. He wasn¡¯t posing as a kerotera anymore and wore only scant, torn leggings with toeless boots and a leather vest. He could not afford to decline the payment, yet he seemed to be pushed toward the precipice of refusal. He wiped the sweat off his face only to remain glistening as he sweated harder. His hand was actually shaking. ¡°Look at you,¡± Nina said disdainfully. ¡°You worked yourself into such a froth leaving S?xe, you have broken your own willpower.¡± ¡°You weren¡¯t as careful,¡± he said. ¡°It makes it easier for them to track you. Prepare for you.¡± Nina didn¡¯t need to be as careful. She knew how to melt into crowds of travelers and leave behind only traces that an ordinary traveler would leave. She chose invisibility in numbers instead of attempting to achieve actual invisibility, which would one day fail Vinbor. ¡°Perhaps you are right to be nervous,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m not taking the payment,¡± Vinbor said. ¡°You¡¯re too reckless, Nina. It¡¯s too much. We shouldn¡¯t have taken that job. Do you think¡ªwould you maybe¡ªthe fee that the Guild takes¡ª?¡± ¡°No,¡± said Nina, growing irritated. ¡°I won¡¯t pay your Guild commission.¡± ¡°Hexes. Bogrenders. I¡¯m not taking it anyway. I¡¯ll find another way to pay off the Guild.¡± Thankfully, Vinbor left after that. He wasn¡¯t any good at invisibility. His boots scraped on the shingle roof of the shop with every step, his hands clutching ropes made a telltale scraping sound, and the very scent of him lingered when he was gone. Nina remained, noiseless and motionless. Emptiness gnawed at her gut. She was hungry, but would not need to eat for Lights yet, so long as she remained a statue. She rested her chin upon her folded knees. Her hands hung loose at her sides, empty of blades, prepared to draw. She watched the cemetery. *** Vinbor fled. Kalexo¡¯s sin?os was enormous compared to the xilcadis; the tallest palace trees quickly flowed out into low-lying ?msive, rows of rickety sheds sung in quantity for public housing. Docks edged a river that flowed brown. Vinbor remained on the roofs, where there was less traffic. He swung from tree to tree on dangling ropes and seldom landed until he reached the Night Market. Orkar caravans camped in front of locals¡¯ shops. Their sickly green lanterns cast the entire ward in a poisonous glow that sucked the warmth from ¨¤lvar flesh. Everyone shopping looked like they may well have been dead, tattered as they were, muddy on the legs like Men, ears drooping from malnourishment. They argued pennies and talons over vegetables that had gotten moldy because the villagers wanted to buy the bags for clothes. On one end of the street was a cart selling remedies meant to alleviate any illness from rickets to Wasting. On the other end, a toymaker sold sharp-toothed models of monsters that could claw the air with a switch wiggled on their backs. To the toymaker went Vinbor, smoothing his sweaty hands over his leggings. He feigned interest in the vicious little clockwork spidren. ¡°Have you any great roc?¡± he asked, trying to sound calmer than he felt. A vibrato still found its way into his voice. The Ork behind the cart lifted her hood to survey him. She was furry-faced with a narrow nose and frowning pink lips. ¡°I have what you see on the shelves.¡± Her Interlingual was so guttural, she nearly sounded like a dwarf. ¡°I seek a great roc with fish scale feathers,¡± said Vinbor. Recognition lit in her eyes. ¡°My master has been working on such a thing.¡± She lifted the blankets hanging on the end of the cart to reveal its innards, which was just big enough for two to stand inside. ¡°He works yonder. You may ask him yourself.¡± Vinbor climbed inside over the yoke. She let the blankets fall shut behind him. The cart¡¯s innards were dim and cluttered. Tools hung from a net on the ceiling and broken toys piled in a crate for repurposing. An ¨¤lvar crouched over a narrow work bench, ratty hair veiling whatever was in his hands. His candle had burned past the half-mark and threatened to eat the quarter. ¡°I almost stopped waiting for you,¡± said Hailin. He wore magnifying lenses over one eye, which caught the firelight when he looked up at Vinbor. ¡°Did you do it?¡± ¡°I did it,¡± Vinbor said. ¡°You have to get me out of here before she realizes.¡± Once Nina Silverhand noticed that Vinbor had placed a tracker on her, she would kill him. And she would not let him die quickly. ¡°You¡¯ll only need evade notice a little longer,¡± said Hailin. ¡°And then you¡¯ll only need to evade the Assassin¡¯s Guild for the rest of your natural life.¡± ¡°Better the Guild than Nina,¡± said Vinbor. Hailin set down his work. It was not a toy roc, but a wood carved figurine of an ¨¤lvar. The exacting details looked perfectly realistic. He had picked out facial features that looked too distinctive to be fabricated, and the thoughtful but angry expression was eerily realistic, as if the scowl might suddenly turn to bared teeth. ¡°You can¡¯t tell me you¡¯d rather be on the unfriendly end of a hundred daggers than confront a single assassin.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know this assassin,¡± said Vinbor. * * * ¡°She must be the cruelest monster to walk Disunam?,¡± said Rivoras an Danoras. ¡°I have never seen bodies displayed the way my family was displayed.¡± The kerotera kneeled before Patrician Lorent, head bowed as she detailed once again the death of the entire manse. They were meeting in Lorent¡¯s private garden, which was central to a ring of rooms comprising his suite. He had several Fruitful Trees around the edges where they would only get partial exposure to the harsh Light of midday, and under their petite canopies grew plants that loved shade, like basket plants and ferns. The center of the garden had a fountain flanked by a pair of weapon racks, both of which held several staves, training swords, and axes.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°Your family,¡± echoed Lorent thoughtfully. ¡°You were quite attached to them, were you?¡± ¡°I served them for years,¡± said Rivor. Attached would have been too strong a word, though. They had fed and housed Rivor; she depended on them. After all, Lady Enura had known Rivor¡¯s secret. Enura had liked having a doe as kerotera, and didn¡¯t mind Rivor¡¯s desire to keep her sex a secret. Enura hadn¡¯t been an especially pleasant client, but her ill temper had been formed in the forge of the borderlands; she knew what does risked on the edge of the Orkar Republic. ¡°You can¡¯t keep me safe without keeping yourself safe first,¡± Enura had said. Enura had also hung that secret over Rivor¡¯s head to ensure she never stepped out of line. ¡°They didn¡¯t deserve to die like that,¡± added Rivor, if only to remind herself. ¡°Nobody does.¡± ¡°Did you see who did it?¡± asked Patrician Lorent. ¡°Briefly,¡± said Rivor. ¡°I could not describe her to you.¡± ¡°Bested by a doe,¡± said Lorent. ¡°Embarrassing for you.¡± Rivor agreed, although she would have been embarrassed to be bested by anyone. ¡°It will not happen again.¡± It couldn¡¯t, now that she was filled with something evil and hungry. Hollow had made it clear Rivor was trading her heart for power, but he hadn¡¯t specified that meant Hollow would stay with her. She could feel him inside her chest. He was prickly, hot, unpleasant¡ªand that heat had kept her alive on the ride from Liverwort Manor to S?xe. She could feel the swamp¡¯s deathly rage boiling inside her breast at that very moment. ¡°Are you a good fighter, Rivoras?¡± asked Lorent. ¡°Yes,¡± said Rivor without ego. Lorent rose from his stool to draw a stave. ¡°Show me your skills,¡± he said, swinging his weapon in a figure eight. ¡°My lord?¡± ¡°Come now, grab another stave,¡± said Lorent. ¡°We shall duel!¡± When Rivor had arrived in S?xe, she¡¯d heard the Patrician was comatose. The fact he was awake to question her was shocking enough without starting a duel. ¡°My lord,¡± said Rivor again, in a more cautious tone, ¡°I¡ªI just arrived from travels, and¡ª¡± ¡°I won¡¯t hurt you,¡± Lorent said boldly. ¡°Fight me!¡± She couldn¡¯t defy a L?s¨¤lvar. Especially not this one. Rivor rose cautiously. ¡°If it pleases you, my liege.¡± Rivor chose the simplest stave with fewest engravings on the weapon rack, and when she wrapped her hand around its shaft, her heart leaped with someone else¡¯s excitement. Fight, sang some inner voice. Ever since making a deal with Hollow, Rivor had been hearing that voice constantly. He grew impatient in idle moments. He criticized Rivor¡¯s desire to sleep every few Lights. He thought about dying, often, and delighted over the presence of blood, always. He would have been fine if Rivor killed the Patrician. You know he¡¯s like the rest of them, said Hollow. He deserves to die. They all do. Rivor took a few deep breaths as she tested the stave¡¯s weight and put distance between herself and the Patrician. ¡°Shall we wear padding?¡± asked Rivor. By ¡°we,¡± she mostly meant ¡°my liege.¡± The idea of deliberately swinging at a Patrician left her feeling hyper-aware of some invisible noose around her neck, like the shadow of the death she would suffer for his inj8ury. ¡°I¡¯m not made of glass,¡± said Lorent. ¡°Don¡¯t hold back on your strikes. I won¡¯t let you hit me easily. Come now, show me your form!¡± Fight! roared the inner voice. Rivor took a good look at Lorent: his height, a full hand¡¯s width taller than Rivor; his stance, which was well-balanced despite his recent injuries; his grip, which was confident and experienced. Her vision narrowed around him. She may have once cared that he was a striking figure. He was as masculine as Rivor pretended to be, with a strong neck and square jaw she could never possess. He should have looked foolish with hair colored like aster, and pale gold eyes like the button in the flower¡¯s center, but the faded pastels of his coloring only exaggerated the brutal angularity of his facial features. His physique suited a battlefield warrior, growing oversize arms with every swing of his blade. The very plumes of his coiled hair evoked the noble walnut tree. Striking. But Rivor¡¯s breast was empty of ill-fated hope and meaningless attraction. Hollow¡¯s interest was analysis, seeking visual hints about Lorent¡¯s condition. He¡¯s injured, said Hollow. We can exploit that. He was particularly focused on a wound in the Patrician¡¯s side. ¡°I¡¯ll give you first blow,¡± said Lorent. They were spared by the Captain of the Drakalban bursting into the garden. The Captain looked between them and said, ¡°What in Detavel¡¯s underrobes do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± Lorent dropped the stave like it was suddenly burning-hot. <> He said, boldly, ¡°Idan, this is Rivoras an Danoras. The kerotera who should have accompanied Lady Enura to our f¨ºte.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve met,¡± said Idan. This was true, but he had been wearing a hood in a dimly lit tactical meeting room; this was the first time Rivor could see his face and realize how young he was. Rivor put down the staff, which made the Hollow in her chest snarl disappointment. ¡°She¡¯s been telling me every detail about the attack on Liverwort Manor,¡± said Lorent. <> said Idan. <> He took the Patrician in hand and forced him on the nearest sedan, where Lorent could stretch out with his feet on a pillow. Rivor¡¯s eyes widened at the sight of palace staff being so rough with a Patrician. Lady Enura¡¯s father never would have tolerated it. Then again, Enura¡¯s father also hadn¡¯t tried to fight Rivor the first time they met. Fight, said the voice. Teeth gnawed at the inside of her ribs. She pressed her palm to her side, but didn¡¯t feel anything. ¡°What brings you here, Captain?¡± asked Patrician Lorent. Idan paused as if to brace himself for a battle. The inner fight was lovely played across his high brow, and Rivor studied him as she had studied his master. He is in love. Hollow made this remark in the same tone that he had reported on Patrician Lorent¡¯s injury. Love was a vulnerability. Idan said, ¡°I just received a tip about the assassin¡¯s location.¡± ¡°Which one? The false kerotera or the false lady?¡± Lorent asked. For no reason Rivor could discern, the captain seemed even more reluctant to respond. ¡°The lady.¡± ¡°Setar¡¯s blessings, what great news!¡± Patrician Lorent jumped to his feet again. ¡°Where is she? Tell me!¡± ¡°Kalexo,¡± said Idan, even more reluctantly, after a much longer pause. That was all the information Rivor needed. She had been born in Kalexo. She had disreputable family in the xilcadis. She could find the assassin. ¡°If I am no longer needed, I will be in my chambers,¡± said Rivor softly. She bowed again, twice, aimed at the Patrician first and Captain second. Lorent was too excited to care. ¡°Yes, of course. You¡¯re dismissed.¡± She left the garden wrapped in her thoughts. How to get between cities? The roads between xilcadise were in terrible conditions. Chaos had claimed some parts of the road entirely; detours were frequent and unprotected from bandits by the Magistrate¡¯s army. Other parts of the road had washed away in bad weather. She might have been faster avoiding roads entirely, but Rivor would need another elk¡ªand she didn¡¯t have any money. We can run it, said Hollow. We are quick. ¡°Nobody¡¯s that quick,¡± she muttered at him. She was halfway back to her chamber when she heard someone calling. ¡°Wait, lad!¡± It was the young Captain, Idan. He had run to catch up with her. ¡°I¡¯ve need of your time.¡± Idan was much more serious away from Lorent, his face composed into a mask of hard professionalism. ¡°Yes, sir?¡± asked Rivor. She spoke in an even lower register than usual, shoulders squared. She found that bucks postured at one another upon meeting; a failure to intimidate would have marked her as more feminine than any physical feature. Idan was even taller than Lorent. Even with a straight spine, Rivor was making eye contact with his collarbones. The Captain had long straight hair the color of almond cream. A thin band wrapped across his forehead and tied in the back, leaving leather thong loose with beads on its end. His narrow features were jarringly friendly for someone of his position. He would command at least a thousand Drakalban protecting xilcadis S?xe¡ªa task that demanded a certain ruthlessness that seemed in conflict with friendliness. ¡°Have you recovered from your injuries at Liverwort Mansion?¡± he asked. ¡°Yes, sir. The S?xe healers are of the highest quality,¡± said Rivor. ¡°Do you have a primary contract?¡± ¡°I was hired directly by Lady Enura¡¯s father.¡± She wasn¡¯t one of those keroterase who had been raised in a monastery to fight; she had nowhere to return now that her employers were dead. ¡°Would you be interested in a contract with the Drakalban? Not as an officer, mind. This would be a temporary assignment.¡± ¡°You want me to arrest the assassin,¡± guessed Rivor. ¡°You¡¯re afraid the Patrician will do it himself.¡± Idan gave a stiff nod. ¡°Our liege has strange ideas about the assassin. Even in peak physical condition, he might not try to fight her very hard.¡± Rivor didn¡¯t understand, but she didn¡¯t need to. ¡°Why me?¡± ¡°I need my Drakalban in the xilcadis. And none of them would be as motivated to find her as you are.¡± Her blood was growing hotter by the moment as Hollow stirred. ¡°Then you would pay me to capture the assassin?¡± ¡°Kill her,¡± said Idan. Kill her, echoed Hollow. ¡°She¡¯s too dangerous to let live,¡± continued Idan. ¡°It would be a problem if our liege got to Kalexo first and issued a pardon for her crimes. I have chartered a swoop and sought a weather Affinite to turn the wind. You will arrive in Kalexo late tomorrow Night.¡± Kill her. Kill her, killer, killer, killer... This was the solitary issue where Rivor and Hollow were in agreement, and she tried not to show Hollow¡¯s excitement in her expression. She did her best to mimic the Captain¡¯s stiff features. Rivor bowed deeply. ¡°I will see it done.¡± Chapter 5: The River and the Graves Chapter 5 The River and the Graves Rivor left with the chartered swoop at sunset. She had never traveled in a vessel that didn¡¯t float above the water before. The flat, narrow shape of the boat left them bobbing with the slightest wave. Unfamiliar motion left her green. Even Hollow was afflicted; he lurked in silence to pretend he wasn¡¯t miserable. She tried to meditate on the deck to distract herself from the queasiness. A figure crossed into her line of fading Light. She opened her eyes to see an overweight buck with the height and breadth of shoulders to make him look bearish more than portly. Muscle and fat meant he was twice Rivor¡¯s circumference and capable of hiding the sun. ¡°Pardon me,¡± said Rivor. She didn¡¯t appreciate having the last Light obscured by some slab of meat. ¡°I¡¯m Maeral,¡± said the big ¨¤lvar. She was annoyed until her eyes focused and she realized he was wearing a College belt. He also wore a signet ring on his thumb, which would allow him to seal letters with the stamp of House Vulasir. Rivor was wearing the same ring. Idan had given it to her. ¡°You¡¯re the weather Affinite helping me travel briskly,¡± she said. ¡°Am I correct?¡± ¡°I¡¯m responsible for the weather, yes,¡± he said. She got to her feet. ¡°Well met, Maeral.¡± She felt diminutive in front of him, though she was well-built for a doe. ¡°I am Rivoras an Danoras.¡± And Hollow. ¡°I¡¯m grateful for your assistance.¡± Maeral offered a small bow. ¡°I¡¯m happy to be of service. What sends you flying to Kalexo?¡± Rivor felt too sickly to be anything but blunt. ¡°I¡¯m a kerotera. Nina Silverhand killed the lady under my protection; she penetrated my defenses and disabled me with barely a fight. Now I must kill her killer or die in the effort.¡± ¡°Then we are companions. Thirty years ago, Nina Silverhand assassinated my septa, Aru?n,¡± said Maeral. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to catch up with her since. She needs to face justice.¡± The hairs on the back of Rivor¡¯s neck stood on end. ¡°You¡¯re not a mere wind Affinite, are you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± He lifted the hem of his tunic. A thick scar encircled half his torso. The closing stitches were like a lightning bolt. ¡°I¡¯m a Magus. Maeral of Brynulf.¡± That meant he had been chosen by one of the great wizards as an apprentice. Only a few dozen appeared in any given century. They tended to become minor celebrities, dreaded and admired anywhere they traveled. Rivor hadn¡¯t heard of Maeral, but she¡¯d heard stories about Aru?n of Brynulf. She had famously died on a diplomatic mission in the Orkar Federation, and rumors always said the Ork killed her. ¡°Does the College train Mager?¡± asked Rivor, gesturing to the belt. It was a wide strip of gold-trimmed black fabric. ¡°I¡¯m a professor,¡± said Maeral. ¡°I teach Affinites a year each decade. I just finished my latest tenure.¡± ¡°Did Idan hire you, too?¡± asked Rivor. Maeral nodded. ¡°Hired me before you, in fact. I approached Idan about hunting Silverhand as soon as I arrived in S?xe.¡± His eyes flicked up and down Rivor, scrutinizing her with unnerving intensity. ¡°You must be something if we¡¯ve been paired.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to be Nina Silverhand¡¯s killer. I swore an oath.¡± Two oaths, now. The worse of the oaths was gnawing on the back of her throat and kicking its ugly little feet against her trachea. ¡°Idan must have high confidence in your fighting abilities,¡± said Maeral. ¡°I don¡¯t know why. He hasn¡¯t seen me fight.¡± Despite his master¡¯s best efforts. ¡°You survived Silverhand once, though,¡± said the Magus. Rivor wasn¡¯t sure why. It certainly wasn¡¯t because she had won a fight. It will be different this time, said Hollow. He shot burning ropes through each of her limbs, which made her feel strong. She felt like she could have lifted the burly Magus over her head. ¡°I¡¯ll survive again,¡± said Rivor. ¡°I¡¯ll be ready this time.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you will,¡± said Maeral. * * * They sailed through the Night. Rivor fell asleep while meditating and awoke to a changed coastline. Kalexo was in the same si?e as S?xe, but they were vastly different in climate. S?xe¡¯s brushy golden desert turned into pine forest nearer the foothills in rural Kalexo. The river was segmented by locks to carry vessels to higher elevations, but it took huge teams of Dok¨¤lvare the entire Light to pump the water necessary to reach the upper canals. She was a dog gnawing at her lead, aching to bolt after a rabbit. Holding still for hours was impossible when she could see prey was around the next few turns. She ran drills against nonexistent enemies across the deck of the vessel. She had ample space to move through fighting exercises she hadn¡¯t been practicing as often. Her muscles ached in protest. It¡¯s your fault Lady Enura died, said Hollow. You hadn¡¯t been training. You weren¡¯t ready. Stubbornly, she ignored Hollow and proved she was still capable of doing every single maneuver expected of keroterase. There was a book of one hundred twenty attacks, defenses, and guidelines she memorized like everyone else. These were called tusarte. She had performed the tusarte in front of a licensing board before they allowed her into the qualifying competition, and Rivor had been the first to climb the world tree in her graduation group. But she wasn¡¯t as quick as she used to be. Not that it mattered. Nina Silverhand hadn¡¯t given Rivor opportunity to fight. ¡°Can I make some suggestions for your exercises?¡± asked Maeral, again interrupting Rivor¡¯s peace. They were at the second-to-last lock, which left them in the amazing position of looking down at a lower segment of river from the side of a foothill. ¡°Try me,¡± said Rivor. ¡°You¡¯re favoring your left. An old wound, I think. Yes?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°The left tusarte are always harder.¡± The Magus gave detailed instructions on shifting her weight through the tusarte, both right and left sides. He knew what every position was called. ¡°If you can keep loose, you will be intimidatingly quick.¡± ¡°Do you have kerotera training?¡± ¡°I went through the program once when I was bored,¡± he said. She followed his suggestions, and she found it was a little easier to move with his modified tusarte. Marked improvement made her feel that familiar heat again. The hole inside her was filling with fire at the idea she would be able to kill. Kill, sang Hollow. ¡°Not until we find Silverhand,¡± muttered Rivor. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± asked Maeral. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to find Silverhand,¡± she said louder, naturally, as though she had not been speaking to herself. It was going to be different this time. She was going to kill the killer. Her oaths would be fulfilled, and that bloodthirsty voice inside her would never come back. * * * Vinbor didn¡¯t show up to meet the client. Nina was unsurprised. She imagined him fleeing to his mother¡¯s house so that he could sleep in his childhood bed, engulfing himself in a sense of safety, pretending that his choices wouldn¡¯t catch up with him if he just walked away. Ridiculous. She would find him later. In the meantime, Nina remained at the cemetery. The time was easy to wait. She admired the work of shroud singers and others who provided services to the dead. She had been listening to songs inside the workshop all week, and she¡¯d heard one or two unfamiliar tunes. Nina so rarely heard new music. She committed these ones to memory in the idle times she spent crouched on their roof. Nina liked it best when everyone was outside working. The choir would shroud cadavers in the garden; the Church¡¯s pallbearers were obligated to get the cadaver from table to the yard across the road. In this impoverished side of the sin?os, they couldn¡¯t afford to do anything better than using the shrouds to hang the bodies on the highest hooks on the tallest trees. Nina was impressed to see how committed they were to such futile gestures. The humblest High would spend death far nearer to the Everhalls than the most accomplished Low. The reality of Empire life pantomimed in death. She watched the services from curiosity as much as caution. She catalogued every worker and visitor, memorizing faces so she would know when strangers arrived. She learned the ordinary sounds of the neighborhood so that she would also recognize a disruption: the river running three spans away, the chatter of Dok¨¤lvare on their way to and from work, the squeaky-wheeled carts which transported nearly everything. Late on the Light Nina was due to meet her client, strangers appeared. Everyone who ordinarily occupied the cemetery was inside working. These bucks had no legitimate reason to search every cranny of the open park as though they would find Nina waiting with a small army inside a bush. One of the entourage, a nervous little Affinite in a gray College belt, performed elaborate gestures and announced no magick had been cast in the cemetery. It was a standard security search. Reasonable to protect someone rich enough to be able to afford Nina. When the time to meet approached, she finally unfolded herself from a crouch on the roof. She felt barely a twinge at holding the same position for well over a week. Only her left knee disliked the effort. The rest of her body felt as energetic as though she had been sleeping and eating well the whole time. From her pack, she unfolded a simple dress that she threw over her more flexible¡ªand wildly inappropriate¡ªbody suit so that nobody would faint from being able to see the shapes of her knees. It was little more than a silk shift, but once she added a cloak, she passed for a maid. Nina tied back the longer portions of her hair. She always wore beads midway through the long braids; they clicked together at the back of her skull. Then she wrapped a scarf around her head, tucked the hair inside of it, and ensured there were no stray hairs by running her fingers along the hem. No strange hair, no strange beads, no ears long enough for Levus¨¤lvar. Skirt bunched at her side, she dropped onto a street where the guards were not looking. She walked into the cemetery like a civilized ¨¤lvar and studied it anew from that position. Everything felt oversized. She had spent many Lights observing it from an elevation that left plants and statues looking like toys. Nina always enjoyed that perspective. Once she stood on the same scale, she started feeling like everything was real, and that was when she stopped having fun. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. A wealthy buck approached from the other end of the cemetery. He was wide in every measure except his eyes, which seemed just a bit too close together. Nina noted his nonathletic stride. His hunched shoulders implied much time sitting over a desk. His robes were clearly from the north. They only made such dense dye on the other side of Tuxnus Strait. At the sight of Nina, he flashed a hand gesture. She returned with another gesture. Both were signals from the Assassin¡¯s Guild. They met by the fountain and stood opposite its basin. He had many guards lurking in the bushes. Nina had only Nina. ¡°I¡¯m Hailin,¡± he said, bowing shallowly. ¡°Nina Silverhand,¡± she said, returning the bow at the exact same depth. She never let her eyes fall from his face. Using other visible reference points, she estimated the size of his eyes, nose, and mouth, and she committed those figures to memory. She would always recognize the scar under his left eye, where it looked like a projectile had once torn through his cheek. She didn¡¯t often see her clients, but she never forgot the ones she did. ¡°Thank you for meeting me,¡± said Hailin. ¡°It¡¯s my pleasure,¡± she lied. She would have been forfeiting all payment if she hadn¡¯t met him, not to mention threatening her Guild membership. Clients had a right to transparency. Nina didn¡¯t have to like it. ¡°I don¡¯t get to meet such a skillful sculptor every day.¡± Surprise lifted Hailin¡¯s brows. ¡°How do I give myself away?¡± ¡°Your hands, primarily.¡± The muscling and scarring suggested such work. She suspected that he worked over small statues in particular. Such aesthetic junk was popular among the L?s¨¤lvare in the north; he could make more than enough coin to afford Nina. It still didn¡¯t explain his motive. ¡°Good eye,¡± he said. ¡°What do you see secondarily?¡± ¡°You travel by wagon. A small space where you sit on a bench, stooped over. Your weak legs imply that you do not travel by foot. Your strength is limited to your hands and forearms, so you are not working with heavy materials, either.¡± Hailin seemed impressed again. ¡°A shame. You could be doing something much more constructive with that skill.¡± ¡°You are kind to consider my prospects,¡± she said. ¡°Perhaps I will finally be able to afford the College of Ralen after a few more jobs. Then I can be free of this dreadful work.¡± Guilt flashed briefly across Hailin¡¯s face. The glimpse of that one emotion was enough for Nina to realize Vinbor had been right. This was a trap. Hailin thought he was about to betray a much younger, more foolish doe, and he felt guilty for it. On the bright side, Nina knew his options for betrayal were few. She had a count of every guard. She knew the surroundings better than the shroud singers. She was facing a game of numbers, and she bet she could scare off most of the guards if she killed the first couple of them in a particularly brutal fashion. It worked more often than it didn¡¯t. She continued playing ignorant. ¡°Unless you would like to request another job, I will take my payment and be on my way.¡± He produced a satchel. Given the effort it took him to hold it, Nina believed he had enough coin. He didn¡¯t look to be in any hurry to pass it over, though. ¡°Where is your associate?¡± asked Hailin. ¡°He is recovering from unrelated injuries,¡± she said. Hailin stepped back. ¡°Then I will need to divide the coins.¡± ¡°I can take them all,¡± said Nina. ¡°I will see my associate later.¡± And then she could beat him unconscious with his earnings. Hailin¡¯s guards were shifting. She tracked their changing positions by listening closely, while she remained patiently smiling for Hailin. Nina felt the attack coming from her rear. Two came at her simultaneously. With a flash of her right hand, she cut Hailin¡¯s wrist. He dropped the heavy satchel and cried out. Then Nina evaded the guards¡¯ reach by dropping to the ground and throwing herself backward between their legs. There were advantages to being small for an ¨¤lvar. She kept rolling straight into a large bush. Shouts filled the air. Boots stomped toward her. Nina came out with a dagger in one hand and an arrow in the other. She was precise enough to plant them into the breasts of the nearest bucks. There was a very small point where the bone notched together that was easier to split. A proper angle ensured she sent the points of her weapons straight into their hearts. There was no time to watch them fall. Hailin¡¯s archers unleashed and she had to leap behind a wooden carving of the Eternal Cross. Arrows shattered against the plinth, only an arm¡¯s length from the back of her skull. She took a moment to arrange four throwing knives in each of her hands. She darted across the cemetery, hanging low to the foliage. She emerged again to the right flank of Hailin¡¯s guards. Methodically, she flung the throwing knives at their throats. If she had knifed a hundred bucks, then she had knifed thousands. She felt confidence in the warmth of her muscles as she flicked one blade after another. The impact sounds were exactly what she expected; their strangled noises meant they were dying. Nina loved the satisfaction of blossoming blood. The guards went so quickly, their client shouldn¡¯t have had time to react. But Hailin was gone. Nina leaped to the nearest bodies to retrieve her knives. She only searched the first two guards before the next arrived from the south¡ªanother handful of archers, and a dozen bucks with swords. She simply didn¡¯t have that many knives. The fight sounded onerous. And Hailin still wasn¡¯t with them. Hailin and Vinbor, she thought. Her list now had two names on it. Nina hated needing a list. Instead of wasting her time on the guards, Nina grabbed the satchel Hailin dropped and ran. She exploded out the gates with payment clutched to her chest. The satchel didn¡¯t jangle with coins inside. Either they had packed her payment strangely, or she had just run away with bricks. If it were the latter, Nina would have to find a necromancer to resurrect Hailin so she could kill him again. She tucked the satchel under her arm and scaled the nearest tree one-handed. Across the canopies of anemic olive trees, Nina flew toward the xilcadis. She shed her hair scarf. She allowed the cloak to fall. She dropped the dress so that she wore only dark fabrics and leather plates again, keeping her blended with the shadows. Her grip never faltered on the payment. Nina doubled back near the mujan and hid out in a guard tower. Guards were always patrolling the higher levels, but the ground-level chambers were often neglected as storage. She wedged herself between crates that stunk like a cargo vessel and opened the satchel. Instead of crowns or bricks, she found plates of gold stamped with a treasurer¡¯s seal. It was only enough to pay one assassin. He had come ready to kill Nina. Why would he only intend to pay Vinbor? What would Vinbor hope to get out of betraying me? Things they could discuss when Nina caught up with Vinbor. She heard approaching footsteps and snapped the satchel shut. Nina stuffed it into her own bag. She drew a couple of throwing knives, stuck their hilts in her mouth, and leaped up to grab the next floor of the guard tower. Nina had already slipped out of view when someone reached the storage room. She peered through a crack in the floor panels. It was Rivoras an Danoras, though Nina didn¡¯t recognize him at first. She took time to consider the top of his head¡ªa view she had not previously contemplated¡ªas well as the fabrics he wore and his stance moving through the storage room. She tried to decide why he looked so familiar. He looked up. Their eyes met through the floorboards. The kerotera, she realized. Nina had surveilled Lady Enura, and by extension Rivor, for weeks before performing the kills. She knew those sharp-clove eyes and razor-straight hair the color of burned chestnut bark. From a distance, she had grown fond of his defined jawline and rounded brow. He was hard-working. Constantly at the call of a demanding noble family. It had not been so long since she gave this kerotera reason to hunt revenge. Nina spit the knives into her hand and threw them in quick succession. Thwip, thwip, thwip. They punched the hem of Rivor¡¯s cloak into the ground behind him. He leaped and swiped for the edge of the floor, but couldn¡¯t jump up. He was momentarily pinned. She leaped out of the tower¡¯s second floor window and slipped into the bushes across the path. She never rose above a crouch. Instead, Nina spider-crawled into the next group of bushes, continued around the corner, and snagged a new dress that was drying on a fence by the river. Still lowered, she pulled on the dress and tied the waist. Then she ducked into the doorway of the next ?msiv. The lock was easily snapped in one hand. Nina rolled inside to find a cold hearth and empty mats. Nobody was home. Nina lingered in the rear of the ?msiv, away from the windows. It was busy near the entrance to the xilcadis. Shouting guards were screening entrants, merchants were hawking wares on the sin?os side of the wall, and many Dok¨¤lvare were moving through the area. It would be difficult to hear anyone approaching. She slid out the back door¡ªmore like a gap, really¡ªand hurried down the narrow alley between ?msive toward flow of traffic. Rivoras an Danoras appeared at the end of the alley, blocking her path. He was imposing in his anger, clutching a pike in both hands hard enough that his fists shook. His eyes seemed to glow with more than emotion. Nina didn¡¯t think the sweat slicking his collarbone was the result of chasing her; he simply looked overheated. Specifically, he looked like he might catch fire. ¡°Hello again,¡± said Nina. He swung the pike forward and charged. Nina was ready for it. She leaped out of the way, tapped a foot on the shaft of his oncoming pike, and flipped herself onto the roof of the unlocked ?msiv. But she was not ready for blood to burst out of Rivor¡¯s eyes and slap her like twelve whips at once. Nina flew off the roof. She crashed through the wall of another ?msiv, and a pair of children screamed. Their family was home. She rolled across the cinders of their pit-fire, swearing in every language she¡¯d ever known. What the hexes was that? Body aching, head spinning, feet scrabbling, Nina excavated millennia of memories for a creature that made blood whips out of its eyes. It was blood, she was certain¡ªthe whips had wetly slapped against her stolen dress to leave stains. She could not recall another such monster. Nina leaped out the tilting remains of the front door and straight into the next ?msiv across the street. In the next heartbeat, she swung out the opposite door, climbed onto the roof, and doubled back at an angle. One of her long locks didn¡¯t swing freely anymore. It had been wetted by blood and stuck against her neck. She was striding for the mujan¡¯s edge again when a roof vanished under her feet. Kaboom. The ?msiv pulverized into twigs and she hit the peat foundation face-first. There was Rivor again, his hands extended, the wind still swirling through his shredded cloak. Bloody tears streaked his cheeks. He panted with heavy breath, and it smoked, like he was holding a pipe at the back of his mouth. The veins bulging from his arms looked like they might explode at any moment. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re proper cursed,¡± said Nina. ¡°You made a deal with an aelxir, didn¡¯t you?¡± He said, ¡°I was angry.¡± His voice sounded as if it came from a thousand miles away. ¡°You¡¯re a fool,¡± she said. This time, she saw the blood whips coming; she leaped off the rubble and flipped high over Rivor¡¯s head. She landed just behind him. Nina wrapped her arm around his throat, pinning him tightly. ¡°Do you know what it means to make a deal with an aelxir? To let the rage of the wilderness consume you?¡± ¡°I know it means you will die,¡± he ground out, punching at her arm. ¡°And you will be devoured by it,¡± she said. ¡°I try not to kill keroterase. You could make this easy and run away. I will not follow.¡± ¡°Why not keroterase?¡± asked Rivor in that horrible voice. The blood streaking down his face dripped on her forearm. He smeared it when he struggled against her. ¡°I like when keroterase avenge their dead clients,¡± said Nina. ¡°So few can walk away from revenge.¡± She leaned in so close that her arm choked the air out of Rivor and her lips brushed his ear. ¡°You could be one of the sensible ones.¡± In response, Rivor exploded. A wall of air pulsed out of his flesh, throwing Nina back into the air, across several streets, and into the nearest pond. She came up from the muck with an angry shriek. ¡°Kerotera!¡± Algae clung to her hair. Her scream was echoed by other screams of fright, carried by the breeze from dock to xilcadis. The sounds of her fight echoed across the sin?os. Witnesses had seen the blood-whips and epxlosions of air. Dok¨¤lvare were already fleeing. Rivor moved swiftly to leap at Nina again. He crashed into the pond without hesitation. He seized her shoulders and pushed her head under the surface. He followed her down. They plunged together. For an instant, Nina thought she might actually die. She faced Rivor with a sense of hollow peace. He was boiling the water around them. The bubbles pouring out his mouth and nose were still smoky. His eyes had lost every hint of resigned patience that Nina had observed at Liverwort Manor; now they were murderous. If he is to be my death, at least he is very handsome, she thought in a detached sort of way. Suddenly, misty-black fists of air clutched both Nina and Rivor around their midsections, pinning their arms to their sides. They were jerked out of the pond. Water streamed from their hair and clothes as they were lifted over the surface. Rivor thrashed, snarling, but Nina went patiently limp. Pondwater dribbled out of her mouth. Maeral emerged from the trees, his lifted hands in the same position as those that held Nina and Rivor. ¡°You can¡¯t kill the assassin,¡± said Maeral. ¡°She needs to meet justice.¡± ¡°She was about to meet justice, believe me,¡± snarled Rivor. ¡°I know Idan sent you to kill her, but Patrician Lorent gets to decide justice,¡± said Maeral. ¡°That¡¯s how ¨¤lvar law works.¡± Rivor, who had nearly killed Nina, was enraged. He thrashed helplessly in the magicked hands of the Magus. Nina only laughed and laughed. Chapter 6: A New Hire Chapter Six A New Hire Nina Silverhand, legendary assassin, was calm once in custody. She was chained with her hands apart and her feet weighted down. She relaxed into the chains so thoroughly, she looked like a broken doll slumped over on a shelf. Nina stared at nothing in particular. ¡°Is it just me, or is that extremely disturbing?¡± Maeral asked from the other side of the transport wagon¡¯s door. Rivor couldn¡¯t answer, she was so angry. Going underwater had been enough to extinguish Hollow¡¯s inner fire. It had also cleaned most of the blood off her skin. Maeral showed no sign that he knew of Rivor¡¯s curse, and she assumed that it remained a secret for the moment. But witnesses in the sin?os knew, if anyone cared to ask them. And Nina Silverhand knew. They were carting Nina Silverhand back to S?xe for justice. It wouldn¡¯t be long before the Captain of the Drakalban learned there was an aelxir-cursed kerotera sworn to murder, and once he knew, Patrician Lorent would know too. It took far weaker excuses for nobility to justify murdering ¨¤lvare. I always thought I¡¯d die for lying about my sex, thought Rivor. Hollow replied, Kill someone, you ugly slattern. He sounded distinctively smaller than usual, as if he were diminished by the swim. I¡¯m a very handsome slattern, Rivor retorted. And you¡¯re not very scary when you¡¯re wet. Some swamp monster! He responded by biting down on the inside of her chest so hard, she forgot how to breathe for a minute. Rivor was exhausted from the fight too. She couldn¡¯t get up from the wagon¡¯s rear bench once she sat down. Luckily, she would not be called upon to fight again. The Kalexo Drakalban had prepared themselves for much more resistance than Nina Silverhand showed. A hundred milled around, waiting to march to their new posting in S?xe. ¡°If I were more a child, I¡¯d have to pelt rocks at her through the bars,¡± said Maeral. He was sitting on the same bench. ¡°See if she blinks, you know? But I wouldn¡¯t, of course. Haven¡¯t been a child since the All-Mother had two eyes. It¡¯s not very dignified.¡± ¡°You should have let me kill her,¡± said Rivor. ¡°You said it yourself. She killed your septa.¡± ¡°I received word from Patrician Lorent personally. He needs the assassin alive,¡± said Maeral. The Patrician certainly outranked the Captain, but it didn¡¯t change the fact Rivor needed Nina Silverhand to die. ¡°Who in the world could stop you from doing what¡¯s right?¡± pressed Rivor. ¡°The Patrician doesn¡¯t have a fraction of your power. He could be disappointed, angry, vengeful¡ªbut you remain a Magus with access to Brynulf¡¯s divine power. He has little recourse.¡± ¡°And lose a friend and ally in the process? My septa shall get no deader if I play games of patience waiting for the right moment. And the right moment will come. Lorent can¡¯t protect her forever.¡± Maeral offered a fraternal pat on Rivor¡¯s shoulder. ¡°The assassin will be dead soon enough.¡± ¡°Not soon enough,¡± muttered Rivor. They were never given the signal to transport Nina Silverhand out of the xilcadis. After a few hours waiting on the local Captain¡¯s word, the Drakalban suddenly broke up. They left formation and took the wheels off the transport wagon. They attached posts that allowed four sturdy bucks to carry it. Then they lifted Nina Silverhand¡ªcart, chains, and all¡ªonto their shoulders and headed inside the Osurmit. ¡°Now what does that mean?¡± asked Rivor. She was still resting on the bench with Maeral, but the wagon was much shorter without the cell attached to it. ¡°There¡¯s an entrance to the gaol under the Osurmit,¡± Maeral said. ¡°If they¡¯re keeping her here longer, it can only mean one thing. Patrician Lorent has decided to come to her.¡± They didn¡¯t have to wait long. Rivor was stalking around the Drakalban dormitory, fuming over Silverhand and worrying about Hollow¡¯s quietude, when Maeral notified her that a Patrician¡¯s yacht was entering the dock. Lorent and Idan had arrived. And the assassin was still alive. * * * Lore had left S?xe barely hours after Rivor and Maeral. He wouldn¡¯t have known they were gone quickly enough to follow if not for Uncle Sorlen, who mentioned at dinner, ¡°Does anyone know why the Magus didn¡¯t join us tonight?¡± It lit a fire for Lore, who realized he was missing multiple guests. He had quickly summoned sentry records from the Drakalban, found an entry about Rivor¡¯s exit, and muscled the truth from Idan. ¡°Yes, all right, I sent the kerotera after the assassin,¡± said Idan. Lore fisted his collar and tried to glower, but still, Idan looked tired instead of threatened. ¡°Silverhand needs to die, not become the wife of the next Lord Mayor. I must protect you from all threats. Including yourself.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t understand. I have looked into the eyes of Fate and know I have a future with this doe,¡± said Lore. ¡°You¡¯ve never believed I have an Affinity for Fate. I beg you to entertain the idea it¡¯s all true. Fate is real, I am her greatest Affinite, and she is telling me I must be wedded to Lady Enura.¡± ¡°First of all, her name isn¡¯t even Enura. Second of all, the ?mu leaf said¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s a flawed test!¡± ¡°You sound delusional,¡± said Idan. ¡°Impassioned, more like. I¡¯m impassioned.¡± Lore called for the servants to prepare his swoop to leave by midnight. They hurried around with lanterns and bags, making so much noise that they attracted Uncle Sorlen¡¯s attention. ¡°You left before dessert,¡± said Sorlen, quick-stepping out of the way of rushing servants. He maneuvered carefully toward his nephew. ¡°Is everything all right?¡± ¡°I have to chase Fate,¡± said Lore. He remembered Idan calling this idea ¡°delusional,¡± so he added, ¡°I¡¯m only joking, of course. There is a lead on my would-be assassin. I must confront her in Kalexo.¡± ¡°Leaving for Kalexo tonight?¡± Sorlen¡¯s interest was piqued. ¡°I can¡¯t explain why, but I feel I must handle the assassin¡¯s justice personally,¡± said Lore. ¡°You have always been an impulsive lad, but such urges have served you well.¡± Sorlen took an especially heavy bag of grains one servant was carrying. ¡°I¡¯ll help load your vessel.¡± Sorlen would serve as Regent while Lore was away, as he so often did. Sorlen could be regent for Lord Mayor C¨ªrin too; it was a much smaller task to manage a Patriciate than an entire si?e. Twice a year, Sorlen took charge while Lore toured surrounding xilcadise to meet with old allies. The only difference about the routine that Night was the suddenness. His uncle lingered at the docks to say goodbye. ¡°Be careful handling the assassin. Those vosaik needles suggest sophistication I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve never encountered.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°With your blessing, I can only be successful,¡± said Lore. ¡°And with Idan¡¯s supervision, you might even survive,¡± said Sorlen. Lore laughed. He didn¡¯t hurry to leave. ¡°Second thoughts?¡± asked Uncle Sorlen. ¡°I¡¯m disappointed I won¡¯t see the Lord Mayor before I leave. He might be back from hunting tomorrow,¡± said Lorent. ¡°But he¡¯ll probably be on another tour collecting taxes by the time I come back. And then he¡¯ll be waist-deep counting out crowns for a season until it¡¯s time to collect again.¡± ¡°It¡¯s always been like that with him, hasn¡¯t it?¡± asked his uncle. Lore¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°Not always. But often. I thought it would be different if I almost died, but¡­¡± ¡°You bear burden of sharing your father with thousands of citizens. You don¡¯t need him, though. Lord Mayor C¨ªrin¡¯s focus can remain on the Republic because your mother attends you¡ªand because his brother is with you,¡± said Sorlen. ¡°Not that anyone ever remembers me.¡± ¡°I¡¯m always thinking about you. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d be sane without your presence.¡± Sorlen¡¯s eyes crimped with affection. There was also something sad about the hint of smile he dared to show. ¡°You deserved better family, Lore.¡± The Patrician and Captain sailed away on winds that remained favorable in Maeral¡¯s wake. Lore didn¡¯t plan to rely on that wind. The Patrician¡¯s yacht could also support a dozen rowers under the deck, and he had called upon one of their finest teams. The drumbeat keeping his rowers in rhythm shook through the swoop. They blazed a path upriver to Kalexo. If not for the locks, they could have crossed the distance before Light rose and Night fell again. Lore reached Kalexo exactly two dates later. He bounded off the swoop ahead of Idan, eager to reach Nina Silverhand. He was floating on the conviction that everything would make sense if he could lay eyes upon her again. ¡°Maeral!¡± Lore greeted the Magus outside the guard tower with a glowing smile and a deep bow. ¡°You did well, friend. Very well.¡± ¡°The work was largely Rivor¡¯s,¡± said Maeral. ¡°He¡¯s a...surprisingly competent fighter. Surprising in many ways.¡± Rivoras an Danoras stood beside Maeral as if he were lined up for military inspection. He looked well and truly scuffed from fighting Silverhand. ¡°Didn¡¯t let a lass beat you this time, eh?¡± asked Lore, jostling Rivor playfully. Rivor shrunk back. ¡°Ooh, sorry. You¡¯re probably all manner of bruised. We¡¯ll take you to the best healer¡ªlater.¡± First, Lore hurried to the Osurmit. He swept his hair back, straightened his cloak, and entered the gaol. Immediately he tripped over the limp arm of a dead Drakalban. Sapphire blood was still fading into the cracks of the floor. Someone had, somehow, used a chain to saw off his head, which was still in its helm a good three lengths from the jagged neck. A basement window behind the guard¡¯s desk was punched open. Nina Silverhand was gone. * * * Lore rested as a guest of the local Patrician in secure chambers. Nobody should have been able to reach him without going through fifty Drakalban, and Idan was stationed just outside the bed chamber door as the final barrier. He coiled in bed but sleep evaded him. The sounds of an unfamiliar palace kept him alert, and every footstep in the hallway sounded like an assassin coming to finish the job. It was only paranoia until it was not. In the darkest hour of Night, the assassin slipped through a window in the roof and landed quietly on the foot of Lore¡¯s bed. The soft thump of her landing may well have been a lightning strike. The Patrician bolted upright. Nina Silverhand wore closely conforming breeches and blouse, both drenched to black by spidren ink. Her hair was pulled back again. Half her face was hidden by a scarf. But that was definitely Nina. He had been dreaming every vivid detail of her. The grace of Lady Enura on the dance floor easily translated to the threatening predator poised on his footboard. Fear had sent Lore to bed fully clothed, but he may well have been naked without proper armor. The slender throwing daggers strapped to her thighs would treat his tunic like butter. ¡°How did you get up here?¡± asked Lore. ¡°It¡¯s so far from the mujan. We¡¯ll probably be in a cloud bank in the morning.¡± ¡°I know all sorts of tricks. You¡¯d be surprised how many times I¡¯ve done exactly this thing right here, right now.¡± ¡°You mean, tried to assassinate a handsome, fascinating young Patrician, only to fail¡ªperhaps deliberately, given the magnetism between you? And then he hunted you down like a fox seeking hare and offered you mercy?¡± She laughed at the idea he was the fox. Nina hooked her finger in the face veil and pulled it down so that he could see her smile. ¡°We do have such magnetism. Like one vosaik needle seeking another to assassinate that handsome, fascinating young Patrician. How did you survive?¡± ¡°I¡¯m so terribly virile,¡± he said. ¡°Can¡¯t be killed.¡± She laughed again, dropping from the bed to the floor. ¡°Amusing.¡± Nina may as well have confessed her undying love for Lore. He leaped to his feet, letting the blankets fall away. Then he remembered she really had tried to kill him before, and he faltered, leaning back against the nightstand. His fingers brushed the hilt of a concealed dagger. ¡°You can pick up the knife if it makes you feel better,¡± she said. His heart thundered, and he couldn¡¯t tell whether it was fear or desire. He did feel better holding the knife. It didn¡¯t make her posture less confident, though. Nina¡¯s amusement grew at his nervousness. ¡°I¡¯m not here to kill you. I¡¯m here so you can hire me.¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± asked Lore. ¡°Someone hired me to kill you, then treated me as a loose end. I always kill a traitorous client. I imagine you want him dead too. You can hire me to take care of him.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re going to kill him anyway,¡± he said slowly as he thought it out, ¡°then why should I pay you to do it?¡± ¡°If I¡¯m killing for my satisfaction, I¡¯ll end him quickly. If you pay me to do it, I can make it as messy as the murders at Liverwort Manor.¡± ¡°Why did this client tell you to mutilate and pose the bodies?¡± asked Lore. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Special requests are common. They can get esoteric when the killing is personal.¡± ¡°Was killing the Drakalban in the Osurmit personal?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± said Nina. ¡°He tried to touch my body. He¡¯s lucky I sawed off his head instead of something he could live with. I assume when we find your would-be killer, it will seem very personal. You¡¯ll be happy you paid me to make him suffer.¡± ¡°That¡¯s...disturbing.¡± And arousing. Lore thought he may have childhood head trauma from falling off an elk. ¡°Surely you are possessed by Chaos. An agent of the Spirits of Regret. Something eerie crawled out the gutters of Lorkullen¡¯s camps.¡± She looked as touched as though he¡¯d just listed off compliments toward her beauty. ¡°Hire me.¡± ¡°Gladly,¡± he said in some unnatural stumbling voice that made him sound prepubescent. He had lived a noble number of centuries, but standing before Nina made him feel small again. ¡°I want to find your client with you. I want to help.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need help,¡± she said. ¡°But¡ªbut I want to do it anyway,¡± he said. ¡°Like you said, this is personal. I¡¯ll pay twice your usual fee. I won¡¯t ever betray you.¡± Her smile was eerily wide. She said, ¡°So this is the dream I have again. I spend my Nights showing a lordly protege the ropes of death. He will lose his innocence. I will use it as rope to hang him. Until then, it is a rope that leashes me.¡± ¡°You are fascinatingly strange. Do you always talk like that? Does that mean it¡¯s a deal?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a deal,¡± said Nina. The door burst open. Idan charged in as if it were a battlefield. Nina left her blades sheathed. ¡°Assassin!¡± roared Idan. He thrust toward her with a sword. She ducked under his attack, leaped over the sword, and deflected the blade¡¯s second swing with her forearm brace. She said, ¡°Stop it. We¡¯re at peace.¡± At the same time, Lore was shouting and waving his hands over his head. ¡°We¡¯re at peace! She¡¯s working for me now!¡± Drakalban flooded in behind Idan, spanning the rear of the room. She used Idan as a shield against the others while continually evading his attack. The Magus forced his way into the room. ¡°Stop!¡± shouted Maeral. The walls of the chamber pulsed. The air constricted. Breath fled from the lungs of those within. When it rushed back, it tasted sour as Chaos and burned their throats on the way down. Even Idan was staggered by it. When Idan tried to take up his sword again, Lore stopped him. ¡°She¡¯s working for me now,¡± Lore said again. Idan searched Lore¡¯s features for any sign of a joke and didn¡¯t find one. ¡°I asked you to make it easy to protect you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure Nina is perfectly safe,¡± said Lore. The assassin was smiling again. Her teeth really did look sharpened, though it could have been a trick of the shadows. Her eyes were set deep enough in her face that the hollows were shaded as black as her hair. ¡°Harmless,¡± added Lore. Idan suddenly felt a horrible headache. Chapter 7: Motions of Fate Chapter VII Motions of Fate They returned to S?xe by road. It wasn¡¯t feasible to transport a full complement of guards on a river boat, and Idan wouldn¡¯t let the Patrician travel with an assassin accompanied by less. It was quicker to simply overtake the highway one segment at a time, shuttling all traffic aside so that they could cover spans without stopping. Idan rode in the same wagon as Maeral, Lorent, and Nina Silverhand. It was a tense wagon. Nina spent most of the time smiling toothily. Not only did she seem unbothered by her capture, she nearly looked like she relished it. Nearly, Idan thought, because her eyes were far too dead to suggest she enjoyed anything. His skin crawled if he looked at her for too long. He had to keep looking. If she attacked the Patrician, he needed to respond. But that empty, sharp-toothed smile made looking a struggle, and Lorent held his sword¡¯s pommel so tightly that his gauntlet groaned. ¡°This would be your bride?¡± Idan hissed to Lore. ¡°She¡¯s making an intimidating show, isn¡¯t she?¡± asked Lore, who had no trouble looking at Nina. He never stopped gazing at her. ¡°Theatricality is underrepresented in contemporary political arts. I can already tell she would be an excellent noble.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t possibly think that. Who knows how many she¡¯s killed?¡± ¡°Oh, and is that so different from the average war-mongering Northern politician!¡± ¡°Yes! Because she tried to kill you,¡± Idan said. ¡°I can hear you speaking about me,¡± said Nina. ¡°I¡¯m right here.¡± ¡°Are you? I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re alive when you sit around like that,¡± said Lore. ¡°As far as I can tell, you¡¯ve finally succumbed to your own poison and we¡¯ll have to hide your body.¡± Nina shrugged. ¡°I forget to change my face when I draw into my mind. I am lost in thoughts but frozen in body. There is no real menace to my empty smile.¡± ¡°Is it some kind of strange mental condition?¡± She laughed, and the noise made Idan try to draw his sword. Lore reflexively grabbed his arm before the blade could be bared. ¡°Yes, a strange condition,¡± said Nina. ¡°Calm yourself, Captain Idan. I¡¯m working for Patrician Lorent, and I don¡¯t double-cross anyone as a policy. A deal is a deal.¡± ¡°What happens when that deal is concluded?¡± asked Idan. ¡°How long do we have to shield our throats from your daggers?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll give you a head start,¡± she said pleasantly. * * * Sin?os S?xe was sleepy around midnight. The rural roads were empty, the brushy desert was still, and Lorkullen¡¯s slitted eye gazed upon a valley nobody traveled besides the convoy. It was equally quiet inside the village. Almost everyone was indoors working, drinking, or both. But the mood in the xilcadis was off-kilter. Half the city staff was muttering to each other in the mujan, under the stars, glancing toward the higher levels as though expecting to see a ghost. They jumped when carriages came clattering up the ramps and through the palace gates. The river ran off as a misty waterfall at the edge of the Lord Mayor¡¯s gardens, spilling down into a sin?os pond, and the rush of water was loud as the coming storm¡¯s wind. That was where Lady ?anveswe met their caravan. She wrung her hands anxiously as the soldiers spread out and Patrician Lorent emerged from his carriage. She clung to her son¡¯s sleeves. ¡°Where have you been?¡± ¡°Seeking justice, or something like it,¡± Patrician Lorent said. ¡°But you weren¡¯t with him,¡± moaned Lady ?anveswe. ¡°You didn¡¯t protect him!¡± Lorent¡¯s heart leaped. ¡°Protect who? What happened?¡± He forgot about everything except his family as Lady ?anveswe drew him upstairs. The Lord Mayor¡¯s bedroom overlooked his garden, and the windows were thrown open that Night to let in the waterfall¡¯s roar. Lord Mayor C¨ªrin was bleeding in bed. Arrayed around the far walls, healing choirs that harmonized with the elements could not seal open wounds on his chest and belly. His eyes were shadowed pits in his sweaty pale face. For a wild moment, Lore wondered if Nina had done it. ¡°C¨ªrin was hunting,¡± said Lady ?anveswe. ¡°He was due to stay within the designated hunting grounds, but he caught a trail and strayed south. You know rangers have been disappearing in marshes, you know he shouldn¡¯t have gone¡ª¡± ¡°A rebel? Orkar?¡± interrupted Lore. ¡°A tusked ratchen,¡± she said. ¡°He couldn¡¯t have gone that far south.¡± ¡°They¡¯re migrating north. The ratchen were at the salt pond, and they found your father¡¯s favorite hunting blind.¡± Tears shook her shoulders. ¡°The healers can¡¯t do anything.¡± Numb, empty, Lore said, ¡°Does Lady Niamna?a know?¡± It was all he could think, even though he knew his mother would not appreciate mention of C¨ªrin¡¯s other wife at such a time. ¡°Niamna?a knows,¡± snapped Lady ?anveswe. ¡°She chose not to be here. She never loved him as I did!¡± ¡°I know, Mother. I know.¡± He pulled her into an embrace and tried to decide how he felt. Sadness was present. But it didn¡¯t really fill him up the way he would have expected. The pale ¨¤lvar in the bed was not his father, hale and frightening and only ever distantly present. C¨ªrin was fading into death as easily as any other old buck. A mortal after all. * * * Xilcadis S?xe was the grandest in the Sou¡¯eastenlands of Disunam?. Sturdy juniper trees interspersed with fluttering black oak supported a massive mujan, where artisans from every corner of the Republic held Guilds. It was also the site of the Assassin¡¯s Guild. Nina Silverhand took a hidden door leading into the trunk of one scaly-barked juniper. The tunnel on the other side bored down to the sin?os, dropping her directly through an open floodgate in the sewers to find their door guard. Nina flashed a hand signal. The guard flashed another in return. ¡°You entered the xilcadis in custody,¡± said the guard. ¡°Were you followed here?¡± ¡°No,¡± Nina said. It had been trivially easy to slip Captain Idan. The guard stepped aside. A dark, narrow hole permitted Nina to jump down a level. She followed marks on the walls down a dry dirt path to another door and another guard. The Assassin¡¯s Guild was buried under the shallowest roots of an oak holding the palace. Politics above and blood below. There were no windows, and the Abazena who headed the Guild had been stingy supplying their seamy little manse with lanterns. Nina navigated with no more visibility than she¡¯d had in the sewer. She only found the resident guild members once she reached the dining hall. It looked like a church. Tables radiated away from an altar for Dus?rwe, murals of Eduser were painted between the pillars, and candles had been lit near several prayer mats. A chef served a rich rabbit stew from the fire. ¡°Hungry?¡± he asked, offering Nina a bowl as she passed. ¡°If I survive this chat with Mimander,¡± she said. Mimander was the current Abazena, the master assassin. She was a Halfling with two fistfuls of rings that glimmered in the candlelight. Each patch on her leather corset had been stripped from a target¡¯s back. She took delicate bites of stew and her eyes flicked upward when Nina swept a leg over the opposite bench on the table. ¡°Blessings of Dus?rwe,¡± said Mimander. Curls hung loose to her shoulders and dark-brown freckles spattered her cheeks. Her mouth was bracketed by deep lines, her eyelids were sagging, and she was tattooed from the neck down. A Halfling was hardly a third the height of an ¨¤lvar, but their adults were hard to mistake as children. Mimander looked more a grown doe than Nina. ¡°I have the Guild¡¯s commission for the failed assassination of Lorent,¡± said Nina, dropping her satchel next to the candle. Slowly, Mimander took another bite. She dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin before speaking. ¡°How did you get paid for failing?¡± ¡°I attacked the middle man and took his satchel.¡± Mimander smothered her face with a hand. ¡°Nina, what¡¯s rule seven?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t attack the middle man and take his satchel. I could prove to a Minder that he started it. He tried to kill me first.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t they always?¡± asked the Halfling. Presenting authentic stamped gold bars to pay the Guild¡¯s commissions convinced Mimander to support Nina. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°This is Great House Vulasir¡¯s stamp, you know,¡± said Mimander, turning over one bar and peering closely at its flat side. Very few ¨¤lvar worked metal. It was looked down upon as a lesser trade preferred by limited minds. Even so, the nobility didn¡¯t mind using certain metal artisans; stamped bars came directly from xilcadis treasuries. In the hands of creditors, those bars would quickly be processed into crowns and their fractional currency, talons. ¡°Yes, I think the Patrician¡¯s assassination was financed from within his House,¡± said Nina. ¡°Or someone who works for them. A close partner.¡± ¡°If you find the traitor who ordered the breach of contract, bring me the liar¡¯s tongue,¡± said Mimander. ¡°He will never make a contract with another.¡± Nina left the Assassin¡¯s Guild with one gold bar, a small sack of Dwarrow jewelry, and a belly filled with rabbit stew. The sky was beginning to lighten with the onset of morning. She needed to appear contrite in the nearest Osurmit before Captain Idanedien started trying to kill her again. She slipped out of the Guild through a grate a full span away from the entrance, then hopped onto the nearest juniper to crawl up its bark. Nina slithered between ropes to climb onto the mujan. When she got to her feet, she found herself face-to-face with an angry kerotera. Rivor was still dressed for travel. He¡¯d likely been searching for Nina since she disappeared, determined to get her alone. Away from the others. Somewhere that Rivor could properly murder Nina. Somewhere like the quiet, dark edge of a mujan in the predawn hours. ¡°Hello again,¡± said Nina. ¡°I trust you¡¯ve been waiting for me.¡± Rivor said, ¡°You want to provoke me into attacking you. You want me to entertain you with my vengeance.¡± ¡°I recall saying something like that, yes.¡± ¡°You killed my Lady Enura,¡± said Rivor. His voice was so hard. So angry. ¡°Had you not taken the contract, then another would have. Killing you will not sate me. I must seek the same enemy as you and Patrician Lorent.¡± Nina¡¯s head tipped to the side as she looked over Rivor¡¯s narrow figure. He was very threatening. That wasn¡¯t easy, given the fact his hips and shoulders were near equal width, his skinny legs had been whittled own by running, and he had features as threatening as a mouse¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯ve always liked keroterase,¡± said Nina. ¡°You have?¡± ¡°I had a few in my time,¡± she said. ¡°I admire those who can still care about something enough to fight for it¡ªor for her, in your case. I sense a personal connection between you and the late Lady Enura.¡± ¡°I did care for her,¡± said Rivor. ¡°I think. It was complicated.¡± ¡°As are all relationships,¡± said Nina. ¡°The friction points are where we build memories together. Choosing whether we are willing to change our shape to fit another defines the aftermath.¡± A frown tugged at Rivor¡¯s mouth. ¡°If you had keroterase, then you used to be a noble lady. You had virtue to protect. Your family expected you to be bred. You may have been a mother, or you could have become an assassin to evade such a fate.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been a lot of things.¡± ¡°There is a piece of me that shrieks for your death, looking upon you now,¡± said Rivor. ¡°Here I stand before a resurrected specter of the worst day of my life, with my fingers itching for violence, and I try to calm it all by claiming there is someone more culpable than she who bled Enura.¡± ¡°Why hold back?¡± asked Nina. Rivor wavered. He considered his words a long time before saying, ¡°Enura was a horrible doe from a horrible family. They worked on the border between our territory and those of the Ork.¡± ¡°Then your morals weigh our actions and find they draw equal.¡± ¡°I will fulfill my oath by felling the tree responsible for destroying the family at Liverwort Manor,¡± said Rivor. ¡°I shall not risk my life to kill someone who, like keroterase, is only fulfilling a contract, playing out scripts written for us by society.¡± ¡°Yet you¡¯ve hunted me here anyway,¡± said Nina. ¡°To ensure you fulfill promises made to Patrician Lorent.¡± He took her arm¡ªnot roughly, but firmly, with strength that seemed far greater than his lean hands should muster. Even Nina was surprised. ¡°You¡¯re coming back to the xilcadis, and I¡¯m not leaving your side until you¡¯ve satisfied all of us.¡± It had been a long time since Nina felt such a flutter in her lower belly. She submitted readily, following without a fight, her face gone blank. Her mind was spinning. Her body was yearning. Rivor was oblivious to her sudden attraction. He marched her onward to duty. * * * Nobody worked or rested in the last hours of Lord Mayor C¨ªrin¡¯s life. Xilcadis S?xe was suspended in a vigil. Lorent spent this time pacing in his father¡¯s office, a short walk away from his father¡¯s death bed, observing his vigil in the way that he observed everything else: with far too much energy. He was a caged beast. ¡°I should have been here,¡± said Lorent. ¡°I should have been with him when the ratchen attacked.¡± ¡°The Lord Mayor didn¡¯t invite you hunting.¡± ¡°He wouldn¡¯t have turned me away if I joined him!¡± ¡°Your mother scheduled a party to help you find a wife,¡± said Iden. ¡°There¡¯s no chance you could have been with him hunting. But you can be with him now, if you want.¡± ¡°No. Lady Niamna?a and Earinon finally arrived. My persence would disturb them.¡± Lore stopped pacing. ¡°Am I monstrous if I say...I don¡¯t care enough? I am the Lord Mayor¡¯s son and heir. I would assert my right to my father¡¯s bedside if I wanted it. I don¡¯t think I do. I don¡¯t think I care.¡± ¡°You¡¯re no monster. Lord Mayor C¨ªrin hasn¡¯t been much a presence in your life.¡± ¡°Nor was he in Earinon¡¯s,¡± said Lore. ¡°Father clearly preferred the company of Lady Niamna?a and cared nothing for either of the children he begat. He spent all his paternalistic urges upon his si?e.¡± ¡°There are worse legacies to inherit,¡± said Idan. ¡°How will I ever compare? I¡¯m often well-received in S?xe, but a Lord Mayor is responsible for dozens of xilcadise. It¡¯s been centuries since I did my evxabu.¡± A time when young lords became wards of other Houses to grow bonds with allies. ¡°I haven¡¯t taken any of their children as wards. I barely know any of them. I can¡¯t be sure they¡¯ll all accept me¡ªand why would anyone ever pay taxes to me? I¡¯m not authoritative.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll learn all this. It¡¯s work you¡¯re capable of performing.¡± ¡°Do you think? Because I¡¯m no good with my numbers and figures.¡± ¡°You have advisors, staff,¡± said Idan. ¡°Then what am I? Just a pretty face? A beautiful orphan without a father everyone can rally around?¡± asked Lore. Idan took Lore¡¯s wrists in his hands. ¡°You¡¯re not breathing nearly enough.¡± He lifted Lore¡¯s hands, saying, ¡°Breathe in.¡± ¡°No, you can¡¯t make me breathe. I won¡¯t do it.¡± Idan lowered Lore¡¯s hands. ¡°Breathe out.¡± ¡°I hate breathing,¡± said Lore. ¡°And I love you, my dear friend,¡± said Idan gently. ¡°You¡¯re heartbroken and confused and guilty all at the same time. I see it in your eyes; I know how the Regrets gnaw at your innards. Experience your misery because you must. But you also must breathe.¡± A tear streaked Lore¡¯s cheek. Idan lifted and lowered his hands again, urging him to breathe, and Lore did not fight it. ¡°I¡¯m a terrible Patrician,¡± whispered Lore. ¡°I¡¯ll be a terrible Lord Mayor.¡± ¡°Everything feels terrible when you¡¯re hungry. Come, let¡¯s go to your mother¡¯s dining hall. The food will go to waste otherwise. She¡¯s too busy with the council to eat.¡± They left his office holding hands as they did in childhood. Leaving their armor behind made them both slenderer figures, lanky as saplings. Sweat made their hair hang in heavy clumps. Their stockinged legs were dirtier where their armor¡¯s joints had been. The informality of their presentation made it easy to pass through the hallways without attracting notice. All others were entranced, swaying in their reveries near windows and outside archways, gazing up at the Everhalls. Waiting to see if Lord Mayor C¨ªrin¡¯s voi would show its path toward the All-Mother¡¯s hearth. Lore and Idan turned a corner to find Nina Silverhand and Rivoras an Danoras exiting the entry hall. ¡°Rivor,¡± said Idan, startled. ¡°Nina,¡± said Lore, breathless. ¡°The assassin is meant to be confined to quarters,¡± said Idan. He didn¡¯t realize that Nina and Rivor had evaded any sort of orientation by leaving the palace for the Assassin¡¯s Guild. They didn¡¯t even know where their quarters were. ¡°I am hungry and seeking a meal,¡± said Nina. ¡°Rivor is courteously providing his services in guarding the xilcadis from me.¡± ¡°We were going to eat in my mother¡¯s dining hall,¡± said Lore. ¡°Join us. She won¡¯t be there. Plenty of food.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡ª¡± began Rivor. Nina interrupted. ¡°We accept your gracious invitation.¡± The food intended for Lady ?anveswe and company was prepared by the most prestigious chef in the si?e. There was ample mutton served with a delicate sauce, thoughtfully encircled by figs and woodhen. The enormous soup pot could have fed a xilcadis. An entire table was dedicated to an assortment of fruit, tree nuts, and small vegetable pies. ¡°You¡¯re staring, Rivor,¡± said Nina. ¡°Liverwort Manor didn¡¯t eat nearly so well,¡± he said. ¡°The noble family survived on turtle and reedroot. Occasionally there were cranberries. The Lady of the House won¡¯t object if we eat this?¡± Lore reassured them again. ¡°It will go to waste otherwise.¡± Their mismatched group gathered around the table to eat. The kneeling cushions were so plush, they nearly swallowed the legs of smaller figures like Nina. She still looked deadly, like she could have escaped the downy mass quickly enough to kill them all, except she was choosing not to do it because she liked the dinner rolls. ¡°You¡¯ve got such a distinctive look about you, Lady Nina,¡± said Lore. ¡°I can¡¯t place your features. Those enormous eyes, the pleasing curve of your nose, and your ears...!¡± Hers were long as Patrician Lorent¡¯s, but they did not aspire to conform to the curves of her skull; they stuck nearly straight out in either direction. ¡°Beautiful ears,¡± Lore added dreamily. Idan met Rivor¡¯s eyes across the table. They had not known each other for longer than a few hours, but it was enough to see the silent pain they shared. Both realized they had to bear witness to Patrician Lorent trying to court his own killer, and neither of them wanted to endure it. ¡°They haven¡¯t made ¨¤lvare who look like me in a lifetime,¡± said Nina. ¡°It only takes a couple generations before the get of colonizers and colonized are no longer identifiably indigenous; I came from a time before all the Taproot was bred out of the line. My mother, wife of a Northern noble, came from the Rim.¡± ¡°The last Taproot bands were driven out of the Rim almost five thousand years ago,¡± said Lore. ¡°Yes. I am over four thousand years old,¡± said Nina, swirling her glass of wine and smiling. ¡°Four¡ªthousand? Thousand?¡± asked Lore. ¡°You couldn¡¯t be,¡± said Idan. She tossed her head back as if she could bask in the shock. ¡°Four-and-five hundred. Not precisely, but who can keep counting after so long?¡± The ¨¤lvare could live a long time, but so few of them did. Does usually died younger¡ªoften attempting to have a second child¡ªand bucks died in conflicts against Dwarrow or to outbreaks of Wasting. To be over a thousand years was to have arrived at midlife; most were considered to be getting elderly midway through their third millennium, and few lived to see three thousand years. Nina was four and a half thousand. ¡°You¡¯ve seen so much happen,¡± said Lore. ¡°You would have seen two¡ªno, three Magistrates.¡± ¡°Five. Amalvin, Coredid, Eri?kidon, Amalen, and of course our blessed Magistrate Navar? Kovenor.¡± Her tone remained smooth as she listed the names, but a hint of discordance touched ¡°Kovenor.¡± ¡°How many wars against the Dwarrow have you seen?¡± he asked. ¡°It is all one war with blurred edges, from my perspective,¡± said Nina. ¡°The Jawchaw Accords are not the first treaty with the Mountainhomes; I do not expect it to be the last, though I should hope not to see the next.¡± ¡°Then you¡¯re well past the age of producing heirs,¡± said Idan pointedly. ¡°You would no longer be a sensible mate for any lord.¡± Lore didn¡¯t listen to him. He was gazing at Nina anew, and he wasn¡¯t the only one. Rivor was staring over the rim of his goblet too. Nobody knew exactly what to say. It wasn¡¯t common to meet a living antique like Nina¡ªmuch less one who was still deadly with the very knife she held to cut her roast skab. This left Lore blissfully quiet, for a time. Rivor and Idan shared looks of relief. Everyone ate without drawing daggers. It was almost a pleasant dinner, if one didn¡¯t mind the context.