Duskfall (52 page)

Winter nodded.

“All right,” Knot said. He’d worried she wouldn’t back down.

“One more thing,” Winter said.

She took a step towards him. Knot tensed; he imagined her trying to take the
faltira
from him. She would not be able to do it, but he did not want to see her try.

Instead, she reached around her neck and unclasped the necklace of dark stones she wore. Her mother’s necklace.

“I want you to have this.”

“I… I can’t take that.”

Winter rolled her eyes. “Look, it’s no big deal, all right? I just want to… I need a symbol. Something to work towards. This can be it: I give you this necklace now, and when I’m better, when we’re better, you can give it back to me. That’s all.”

Knot reached hesitantly for the necklace. “It’s just a symbol,” he repeated.

Winter nodded. “That’s it. Temporary.”

Knot took the necklace, surprised at its heaviness. He was about to put it in the pouch where he kept the
faltira
, but instead he clasped it around his own neck. The weight felt unnatural. But at the same time it felt right.

Winter smiled at him. It was genuine, and Knot could not help but smile back.

“We ready, then?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go meet the emperor.”

W
INTER WATCHED FOR
K
NOT
as she stood in her designated position outside the noble district, wishing she’d made more of a case to keep a frost crystal herself. Why was she here, otherwise? She couldn’t fight. She didn’t have her bow; carrying such a weapon was too much of a risk, especially in the Ceno robe she wore. Beneath the cloak she concealed one of the small crossbows Knot had given her from his pack, but the weapon felt unnatural in her hands. They shook so violently she could barely hold the thing steady. She wished for the smooth curved simplicity of her bow. The crossbow was all hard angles and levers and cranks, and although it didn’t take nearly as much skill as a bow, Winter knew she would never be as useful with this as she was with her own weapon.

And she would never be as useful with her bow as she could be with frost.

Winter pushed all thoughts of
faltira
away. She had promised Knot.

Winter pulled her cloak more tightly around her.
I never thought I’d miss the cold of Pranna
. She wore the clothing Kali had given her beneath the cloak; she had grown used to it now, and the garments were certainly practical. But, beneath the cloak, she had also stashed her
siara
. Winter could not say why. She had seen it in her pack that morning, and suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to wear it. It was hidden of course, and no one would recognize her as a tiellan unless they looked directly underneath her hood. But she was glad to have her
siara
with her. It felt right, especially now that she had given Knot her necklace.

She looked up at the sky, gray with dusk.

Winter sent up a bitter prayer.
If you’re up there, wench, you’ll stop the snow. We’ve been through enough. You should know that by now.

Lian nudged her, standing at her side. She looked at him, and he nodded at the road ahead.

Knot walked along the side of the street, moving slowly with the rest of the pedestrians as carriages and horses passed quickly through the middle of the cobbled road.

Winter and Lian remained where they were, observing the small gate to the nobles’ quarter from a block or so down the street. Everyone seemed to give them a wide berth. She wondered if it was because of their Ceno robes. Winter glanced furtively in Astrid’s direction, where she knew the girl was hiding in an alley.

Hopefully, only Knot and Astrid would have to take action. Winter and Lian were only there in case things “went south,” as Knot said.

She watched a snowflake float down through the air, falling slowly until it landed at her feet. She swore as she saw another snowflake fall from the sky, and another, and another. Lian frowned at her, but she ignored him, tugging the thick green robe around her once more and stomping her feet on the ground. Canta’s bloody bones, it was
cold
.

Knot walked by. Winter tried to keep her eyes from him, but couldn’t help glancing every few seconds. He walked steadily down the edge of the road, dressed in his usual brown and green wools and thick wool cloak, although the cowl was down, revealing his face.

After a few moments, Winter nudged Lian. It was time for them to follow.

Ahead, Winter saw an opening in the narrow street. It was a small, decorative square, perhaps only three or four times the width of the street itself, with a circular fountain at its center. At each corner of the square stood four other fountains shaped as dragons, wings outstretched and maws open wide, facing the center. No water flowed from any of them; it had likely been cut off for the winter.

The square was not particularly impressive, and from what Winter understood there were a number of other similar squares in the noble quarter, marking the intersections of the major streets. This was only one of many. A few nobles stood around the square, chatting, while others walked through it, perhaps a dozen in total. With luck, Knot would find an unsuspecting nobleman, drag him into the alley, and get the information they needed.

This was it, then. Their destination. This was where it would all—

Winter stopped suddenly, staring ahead at a small group of nobles who had just walked up to the central fountain. They’d entered the square not long after Knot.

One of them in particular caught Winter’s attention. At first she thought it was a passing resemblance. But, as she and Lian came closer, she realized it was much more. The short blond hair, striking gray eyes, slim figure. The woman looked right at Winter, and smiled. Elsi had hardly spoken a word, hardly showed any emotion at all while they had traveled together. And now she was looking at Winter with a smile so familiar she could have been…

Next to Elsi, Winter saw Nash.

Winter didn’t need to see anything more. She reached beneath her robes for the crossbow.

So much for Lian’s plan
. She had been proud of him; it could have worked. Winter raised the crossbow and aimed it at Nash’s heart.

Winter fired, feeling the weapon snap lightly in her hands. At the same time she felt someone grab her, rough hands wrapping around her body and neck. She screamed, her voice piercing the night air as the bolt she had just fired sailed directly at Nash, then suddenly veered off course as if swatted by an invisible hand.

* * *

Knot recognized the trap as he approached the square. The familiar twang of an assassin’s crossbow and Winter’s scream from the street confirmed that their plan was compromised.

Knot had already spotted the three by the central fountain, two women and a man, as threats. Two other men near the street also looked suspicious. The remaining nobles screamed and fled in panic.

Knot needed to deal with the closest threats first. He reached into his sleeve, grasping a throwing knife from a brace he’d attached to each forearm. He spun and threw one at the man who’d grabbed Winter, only to see that Lian had already shot him in the back with a crossbow. Knot’s knife sank deep into the man’s eye with a spurt of blood, but the weapon was wasted. He had already loosened his grip on Winter. She pushed him away from her and looked at Knot, wide-eyed, angry, and pleading.

He knew what she wanted, but he would not give it to her.

Knot faced the three in the square. The older of the two women, brown-haired and bony, advanced on Lian and Winter wielding a sword. Lian had drawn his own longsword and taken a defensive stance. Knot could only hope Lian could hold his own against her.

Before him, the blond woman drew a familiar sword, slightly curved, just like the one he wore on his back. Knot held his staff tightly. The woman attacked before he could reach his sword.

* * *

Winter reloaded her crossbow as quickly as she could, distantly aware of the chaos unfolding around her. Her fingers still trembled, although she wasn’t sure whether the effect was from the battle or the lack of frost in her system. She felt far away, as if anything she did would not be in time.

Winter loaded another bolt into the brass groove, but her fingers fumbled over the crank. Because the crossbow was so small, there was no stirrup for her foot to steady the weapon. In front of her, a tall, brown-haired woman was quickly backing Lian into a corner. Winter couldn’t see Astrid anywhere, or Nash, for that matter. Knot and Elsi fought near the fountain, their weapons blurring. Winter blinked. Had Elsi faked her simple demeanor? The woman Winter watched now did not seem like the Elsi she remembered. If Winter didn’t know any better, she’d say this woman was far more similar to…

Winter shivered, just as she heard movement behind her.

She spun, swinging the crossbow with all her weight. It was compact, but still made of wood and metal, and connected with an audible crack that made the bones in Winter’s hands throb.

The attacker took the blow much better than Winter hoped. He faced her, snarling, a stream of blood flowing from his forehead, over his nose and twisted mouth.

Winter swung the crossbow at him again, but he dodged it easily this time, and swatted it out of her hands. The weapon clattered to the cobbled street, and then he rushed at her, swinging a heavy mace. Winter put her hands up, knowing immediately the futility of such a defense, and suddenly her world turned upside down.

She found herself lying in the street, in a daze, the cobblestones cold against her cheek. Her arm and head ached. She tasted blood in her mouth. For a moment she panicked that Nash was about to impale her with one of his
tendra
, until she remembered. She wasn’t on frost. The blood was her own.

Winter rose to her knees and almost vomited. She wiped her cheek and her hand came away crimson. She saw a shadow. The man stood over her.

Winter dropped and rolled, just as the mace crashed into the cobbles. In the same motion she drew her dagger, and sliced the back of the man’s ankle. He screamed in pain, dropping the mace, and fell to the ground clutching his leg.

Winter dived on top of the man, plunging her dagger into his chest. She felt a thrill of elation. She wasn’t helpless, after all. She could fight. She could still protect those she loved.

Then she felt a sharp blow to her skull, and collapsed.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Nash did not know what his next move should be.

He’d sighted the vampire and pursued her down a side street, only to lose her. Kali had ordered him to keep the vampire busy, but Nash didn’t like being drawn away from the square. He’d incapacitated Winter with a blow to her skull after she killed Erenjin; he hoped the blow had been light enough not to cause too much damage. Better she stay unconscious than get her hands on frost. Or, worse, get herself killed.

Nash was aware of Lian fighting the acumen Vera, but he couldn’t bring himself to interfere. He had accepted Kali’s orders to distract the vampire for a reason.

The vampire was the only one Nash did not mind killing.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nash saw a blur of movement. Instinctively, Nash rolled to the side, landing in a crouch.

The vampire stood before him, smiling.

Nash reached into his waistcoat pocket, pulling out four small stiletto daggers. He tossed them into the air, simultaneously reaching out with multiple
tendra
. The projectiles shot towards the vampire, who somehow dodged all but one, which ripped along the girl’s arm. That was not nearly enough. Vampires weren’t easy to kill.

Nash drew his sword, circling the girl. In his other hand he carried a large satchel. He allowed himself a glance in Winter’s direction. The girl was still on the ground, not moving. If she could stay that way for the rest of the fight, Nash might be able to save her. He didn’t know whether he could save anyone else. But the girl he would save. He had to.

First the vampire. Nash dropped the satchel to the ground. He reached inside with nine
tendra
—the maximum he could confidently control—and extracted a variety of weapons. Swords, short spears, daggers, and his two circular blades danced in the air before him.

The vampire looked at the weapons, still smiling.

Nash attacked, swinging weapon after weapon. He advanced as if he wielded nine weapons with nine different arms, lashing out with tentacles of fury. But the girl was
fast
. She leapt up, dodging his first barrage, slamming against a stone wall behind her. He attacked again, but she dodged weapon after weapon, sliding, leaping, and flipping from wall to ground and then up in the air again.

Nash
, Kali’s voice pierced his thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome,
what in Hade’s name are you doing? Kill that girl. Do it now.

Please.

Nash clenched his jaw. The vampire was fast and strong, but he had fought worse. Once he pierced her with wood, she’d be crippled, and killing her would be quick work from there.

Thing was, Nash had already decided what he was going to do in this fight. It was insubordinate, and it was betrayal, but the more Nash thought about it, the more he knew. It was the right thing to do. He knew the risks. To upset an acumen, especially one of Kali’s power, was a death wish. But he could live with that. He couldn’t live with what the
Triadin
had asked of him. He felt sorry for Kali. He knew that she believed they’d found the Harbinger. And yet she was so focused on following orders, on pleasing Kosarin, that she could not admit the truth.

Then he knew he wouldn’t kill any of these people—not even this girl, this vampire. Especially not the Harbinger.

He was tired of killing his own.

Kali must have heard his thoughts.
This is it, then?
she asked in his head.

I’m sorry
. He was surprised that Kali could summon the concentration to speak so clearly in his head given the blindingly fast duel she was engaged in with Lathe, but she would hear him.