Fallen Blade 04 - Blade Reforged (19 page)

I turned around and looked down on the fallen-in face of my greatest success. Considering
how carefully he ought to have been prepared by the royal embalmer, he had decayed
far more than I would have expected. He looked almost as bad as a Kadeshi mummy of
similar vintage. For several long beats I stared into the voids where his eyes had
once been and thought about this ultimate result of the Blade’s mission of justice.
I don’t know if that was why the Kitsune had placed me in this particular tomb, or
if it was a result of a deeply twisted sense of humor and honor. Whatever the reason,
it was a reminder of what I was at core, a killer of men. That was all right. Some
people needed killing.

The Kitsune, for one, and just as soon as I could manage it.
She had her sword back,
I mindspoke to Triss.

What? But Master Kelos laid it at the feet of the goddess! That’s one thing that all
the stories agree on, and no counterfeit would have fooled the other masters, much
less the goddess herself.

Then she must have gotten it back somehow, because the eye of Namara looked at me
over her shoulder. She’s a consummate trickster, Triss. Maybe she stole it.

From Namara? How?

I don’t know. I—
It wasn’t until that moment that I
realized that Nuriko had defeated me without ever bothering to draw her sword. She’d
beaten me with a fucking knife, and not even a particularly long one. That stung.

It doesn’t matter,
I sent.
Let’s just get out of here.
I glanced at the front of the tomb.
Do you think she left the door open?

After she went to all the trouble of lead sealing the coffin?

Point.

I was tempted to light Ashvik on fire and blow the door of his tomb across the royal
necropolis in order to send Nuriko a message. Instead, I chose to return Ashvik to
his coffin and pick the lock, closing the door behind me. Leaving silently and without
being noticed would send a message, too, a more effective one. It was dark outside,
around midnight by the stars. An impression confirmed a bit later by the ringing of
the bells of Shan.

It wasn’t until I’d made my way down the outer wall of the palace compound that it
occurred to me to wonder why neither my shoulder nor my broken knuckle were hurting
me. What I found when I slipped into a corner between two buildings and looked at
my injuries was deeply unnerving. The finger seemed completely recovered, without
so much as a knot in the bone to mark it had ever been broken. The slice on my shoulder
was likewise healed, though a thin scar marked the line the knife had drawn, one more
among many. But what really disturbed me was a dark brand centering that scar, a nine-tailed
fox burned into my flesh as with a heated signet ring. It, too, looked long healed.

How
long
was I in that tomb?
I wondered.

I don’t know.
Triss sounded alarmed, and it wasn’t until Triss responded that I realized I’d unintentionally
shared my thoughts.
We need to find out….

*

“Three
days, as it turned out,” I told Maylien when I shared her bed the following evening.

She’d taken one look at the expression on my face when
I showed up in her hideaway in the old sewers and led me back to her pallet. She shushed
my attempts to explain what had happened, and called to her guards that she was
not
to be disturbed as we went. It helped, more than I wanted to admit.

After, Maylien rubbed a finger along the scar on my no-longer-wounded shoulder, stopping
at the fox brand. “That’s deeply creepy, Aral. I’m so sorry helping me put you in
a tomb, especially that one. It’s not a good omen.”

I shrugged and didn’t say anything about it being the price I’d always expected to
pay for what I did. I didn’t need to. Maylien was going to be a queen, and I was quite
sure she understood what that could mean for the people she would be sending into
danger.

“It’s not so bad,” I said. “It didn’t feel anything like three days. But even that’s
not nearly long enough to have healed my injuries so thoroughly.” I rolled my pinkie
between the fingers and thumb of my other hand. “Especially the broken knuckle.” Bones
take forever to heal even with magical aid. That this one hadn’t was wrong and worrying,
especially since neither Triss nor I had any useful memories of what happened—not
even dreams.

Maylien pressed the fox one last time, then pulled her hand away and sighed. “This
makes me wish I didn’t have to ask what I’m about to ask.”

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Lord Justicer Vyan got the note you left and arranged to meet with me.”

“And?”

“He’s admitted that he has the documents, but he’s not willing to turn them over to
me until I’ve proved he can do so safely. He’s utterly terrified of my uncle and he
doesn’t believe I’m going to be able to take the throne. He wants to hang on to the
adoption papers until I’ve proved him wrong. He feels that offers him the most insurance,
since he can always pretend to have recovered them later if he needs a way to calm
Thauvik in a dangerous moment.”

“Then, why is he willing to even talk with you?”

“
Because
he’s terrified of my uncle. Vyan’s certain that my uncle is going to have him killed
the minute he thinks he can do without him.”

“Likely enough. What does Vyan want from you?”

“He wants me to kill my uncle…or have him killed.”

“Oh.” I nodded. “I see where this is going.”

“I thought you might. Vyan says my uncle is planning a public event to help repair
the damage the massacre at the Council of Jade caused to the reputation of the royal
house of Pridu. The Lord Justicer has offered to arrange for me or my agents to get
close to the king during the event. The instant my uncle is dead, he will declare
for me and tell the people that he has authenticated my adoption papers and that he
will produce them in a few hours. He thinks that done right, it will put me on the
throne without the bloodshed of an actual war.”

My shadow slid out from under me and became the dragon. “What about Devin and the
Kitsune? Without a plan for dealing with them, this isn’t going to end well.”

Speaking of which,
Triss sent, shifting to mindspeech,
we need to warn Fei about the Kitsune. I don’t know if Nuriko can detect Scheroc,
but I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s terribly dangerous even to something as diffuse
and hard to hurt as the qamasiin.

You’re right. We’ll have to do it as soon as we leave here. Too bad we can’t just
send a message with one of Maylien’s runners.

Too many secrets.

Unaware of our side discussion, Maylien continued. “I asked Vyan about that, though
I couldn’t name your rogue Blades at the time. He said that he had a plan for dealing
with ‘Thauvik’s invisible friends.’”

“Did he say what that plan was?” I asked.

“He told me parts of it. He’s going to arrange the thing so that there’s no good place
for them to hide close to Thauvik. Then he’s going to create a distraction that will
take them away from the king for a few critical moments.”

“How’s he going to manage that?” asked Triss.

“He wouldn’t say.”

“But you want to do this anyway,” I said.

She nodded. “I don’t think I can afford to let the opportunity pass. I don’t want
to fight a civil war if I can avoid it. Everyone who dies in the fight between me
and my uncle is one of my rightful subjects. Every scrap of destroyed property, every
injury to life or limb, every bit of harm falls on the people it is my duty to protect.
The longer I drag this out, the more I hurt my realm and my people.”

“And you want me to help.”

Maylien nodded. “I do. I don’t want to ask you to risk your life for my goals again,
but your presence will make all the difference in stopping this civil war before it
really gets started. I have to put the good of the kingdom above my personal wants
and needs, even where that means people I care about may die. Will you help me?”

“Of course. I got you into this mess, it’s my duty to do what I can to get you out.”

“No. You keep saying that, but you didn’t get me into this mess.” She touched my lips
with a fingertip when I started to respond. “Wait. I’m not finished. Yes, you did
get things rolling in the fight against my uncle, but it’s nothing that I wouldn’t
have been forced to do myself sooner or later. My duty is to this kingdom, and my
uncle is a monster of a king. There was no other possible outcome than that the two
of us must come into opposition. The only question was when.”

“But I—”

“No! No buts. I will not hear another word out of you on the subject. This is my battle,
and it was inevitable. You bear no guilt for that, and I will not allow you to take
this on your shoulders. Cease. Stop. Halt.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a royal command,” I said.

“It is.”

I grinned because, as silly as it seemed, Maylien’s order helped. “All right then.
I shall do my best.”

“Yes, you will.” She leaned in close and gave me a kiss.

“Is that a royal command, too?” I raised a speculative eyebrow.

“Uh-huh.” She kissed me again, and for a little while we pushed the cares of the world
away.

*

This
just might work,
I mindspoke to Triss as I settled the helm with its crowned dragon nasal bar into
place—it felt awkward and heavy.

Vyan is a better plotter than I would have expected,
agreed Triss.

Behind me, Xaran Tal Xaia, the bastard half brother of Maylien’s new general, the
clan chief Prixia Dan Xaia, quietly slit another throat. The Crown Guard was housed
in groups by its smallest unit, a lance of eight men, including the under-officer
who commanded them. Most were placed in the several large barracks halls within the
palace. But, due to the extreme tensions after the Jade Council massacre, several
hundred of the best guards normally stationed at various smaller Crown properties
around the perimeter of the city had been brought into the palace compound. Crack
rural units had moved into the vacated spaces, filling out the thinned ranks. Vyan
had arranged to poison the tea of one of the many displaced units, a lance tucked
away in an isolated tent in a corner of the palace hedge maze.

“Done,” Xaran said quietly. “No one will think to check for poison now.”

“Good. If this goes wrong, that’ll give our Lord Justicer better cover.”

As Xaran put on his own helmet, I checked the fit of my vambraces for the third time.
I didn’t like wearing the armor over my wrist sheaths—it interfered with the action,
and I was going to really have to snap my elbow on the draw—but it was part of a Crown
Guard’s dress gear and we had a special duty this morning. When I finished with my
own armor, I inspected each of the seven warriors that Prixia had chosen for the mission,
five men and two women. All but Xaran had served in the personal guard of some high
noble and had experience in dealing with Crown soldiers.

When we left the tent, I took the sunniest route to the
palace gates. It was still early summer, but the sun was already bright and hard.
With Triss hiding deep in my own shadow, our trail wouldn’t last twenty minutes. I
showed our orders to the duty guards at the gate and they waved us right through.
It was a short march from there down to the Sanjin Island bridge where we took over
for one of the pair of lances holding the center of the span.

“You’re late,” growled the corporal I was replacing. “I ought to report you for that.”

I bowed deeply and held it. “Apologies. We’re in temporary quarters on the far side
of the grounds, and I did not realize how long it would take us to get through the
crowds this morning. There was a lot more saluting to be done than I had expected.”

The corporal sighed. “I suppose it is only a minute or two, and the palace does look
like someone kicked over a beehive with a few too many fancy drones. All right, I’ll
let it slide.”

I rose out of my bow. “Thank you.”

“It’s going to be a hot one,” said the corporal. “I don’t envy you wearing all the
gilt and gewgaws out here in the sun.” He tapped the gold enamel paint covering my
breastplate with a fingernail. “You’re going to roast in those things.”

Since his own lance had covered the dawn watch and weren’t going to be there for the
king’s arrival, they were wearing simpler and more practical armor. “That’ll be punishment
enough for your tardiness.” He turned and led his lance away.

“Looks like we’re set.” Xaran asked me, “What now?”

“Stand still and look pretty.” I glanced up at the sun and realized I could already
feel my armor heating up. “That, and roast.”

I grounded my spear and adjusted my helmet before settling in to wait, making sure
the cheek guards and nasal bar concealed most of my face. When Triss and I had discussed
the details prior to the actual mission we had decided against bonewrighting my face
into a new shape. None of the wanted
posters that had been put up after the Council of Jade had anything close to a good
likeness of my current face on them. I was mentioned and pictured, but only as a nameless
servant wanted for questioning. No one at the Council had really looked at me before
the massacre—servant’s invisibility—and I’d vanished into shadow the second the fighting
started. Add in the concealing nature of my Crown Guard dress helmet and there hadn’t
seemed much point.

*

You
all right?
I sent for perhaps the dozenth time.

I felt acknowledgement through our link, though Triss didn’t say anything—conserving
his strength here in the brightest part of the day. As we’d approached and then passed
noon, the high spring sun had driven him ever deeper into the shelter of my shadow.
I’d known it was going to happen, and that he would ultimately be fine, but that didn’t
prevent me from worrying about him. We normally arranged things to avoid venturing
outside in the parts of the day that were painful for him, but Vyan’s scheme demanded
it this time, specifically because it was such a bad time for Shades and their companions.
If I was having troubles, so would Nuriko and Devin.