Greatshadow (50 page)
Infidel sat up, fixing her gaze on Kid White. Sweat from her brow washed a fresh flood of cayenne into her eyes and once more her lids scrunched shut as she gasped in pain. Kid White leapt up, bringing his machete overhead two handed, preparing to cleave her skull in half.
Hookhand was still swinging the Gloryhammer wildly. A sledgehammer is a remarkably inappropriate instrument for removing a dog from one’s crotch. It is, however, a surprisingly effective tool for bashing in the head of your own henchman if you’re not careful. The hammer connected with Kid White’s skull with a sound a watermelon might make after it was thrown off a roof. The machete held by Kid White flew into the air as he fell lifeless.
I watched with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as the tumbling machete fell toward Infidel’s blinded face. Then a huge, three-fingered hand flashed through the air and snatched the machete in mid-flight. It was Battle Ox. He turned with a snort toward Hookhand, who was floating now, using the flight power of the hammer as poorly as it could possibly be used, smashing furniture right and left with his all-powerful weapon as the hound dog between his legs twisted out of the path of every blow.
With a swift, precise chop of the machete, Battle lopped off Hookhand’s remaining hand at the wrist. The hammer spun up to the chandelier, smashing the crystal, but Battle Ox’s thick hide protected him from the rain of shards.
Hookhand wasn’t so lucky. A finger length dart of glass sank into his remaining eye. He fell to the ground, crying in pain, until Battle brought his whimpering to an end. Hookhand’s ghost bubbled up from his corpse. Usually, spirits resembled the bodies that housed them, but Hookhand’s spirit was small and gnarled, a scarred broken thing that stank of rot and despair. His pathetic yellow eyes fixed on me as his toothless mouth voiced my name. I lunged toward him and he shot downward, percolating through cracks in the floor board, dragged down to whatever hell awaited. The hound dog sensed that his opponent was no longer a threat and released his locked jaws. He loped back over toward Infidel.
Battle ran back to the bar and snatched a bottle of whiskey. He pulled off the stopper as he approached Infidel. The hound leapt into his path, hackles raised, snarling.
“This is the only thing that’s going to wash off that pepper,” said Battle. “Water will just make it burn worse.”
“He’s right,” I said to Menagerie.
The hound went silent as I spoke, then stepped aside.
“Hold still,” said Battle as he knelt, taking Infidel’s chin in his massive hand. “This is going to feel worse for a minute, but it might save your eyes.”
Infidel seemed to understand, growing still as Battle tilted the bottle over her face, letting it come in a deluge that washed away most of the cayenne. He motioned for one of the bar maids to bring him a second bottle. The light in the room was dizzying as the Gloryhammer bounced around in the rafters, casting stark shadows. Battle’s eyes narrowed as he studied Infidel’s face. Infidel had a splinter of wood jammed into her cheek from her impact with the floor. A half dozen other small cuts speckled her face from where fragments of chandelier had hit her.
He washed away the remaining pepper with most of the second bottle. A barmaid handed him a dishtowel and he used it to wipe Infidel’s face. She sat up and grabbed the towel, taking control of cleaning the last of the cayenne from the creases around her eyes. She let out a long sigh as she forced her eyes open and looked down into the towel, flecked with blood.
A few seconds of silence passed as she pulled the splinter from her cheek. It was, by any objective standard, a trivial wound. But, I could tell from Infidel’s eyes that she understood that this splinter might be the most dangerous injury she’d ever received. Her secret was revealed. Given the speed rumors spread through the city, it was only a matter of hours before everyone learned she’d lost her powers.
“I thought you couldn’t be cut,” Battle said.
“You’ve seen me bleed before,” Infidel whispered, her voice still weak from pain. “That assassin with the shadow blade. The right magic can break my skin.”
“The floor ain’t magic,” he said. Battle put the whiskey bottle into her hands and he helped her to her feet. A bare inch of fluid still sloshed in the bottle. “Drink the rest of it.”
“Can’t,” she said. “I might be pregnant. Maybe it’s an old wives tale that whiskey will hurt the baby, but I’m not taking chances.”
“Damn!” said Battle, shaking his horns. “She did it to me again!”
“What?”
“The Black Swan. She bet me you’d have a baby this year. I mean, Stagger’s dead. If he’d still been around, maybe, but I just can’t believe it otherwise. Who—?”
“Stagger’s the father,” said Infidel as she managed to stand on her own. Her eyes were still bloodshot, but worked well enough that she spotted the Gloryhammer bouncing around in the rafters.
“Help me grab that,” she said to Battle. “The Black Swan’s probably going to bill me for the damned chandelier. Better stop that thing before it floats behind the bar and takes out the inventory.”
“Right,” said Battle, grabbing her by the hips and lifting her overhead. She stretched her fingers as far as she could, barely touching the shaft of the hammer. Yet, the barest touch was all she needed to regain control. It slid fully into her grasp and she floated to the floor under her own power.
The hound dog came up to her and sat before her, its tongue hanging out.
“Whose dog?” she asked.
“Um, ain’t that Menagerie?” Battle asked. “I saw him leap out of what was left of Kid Black’s skull.”
Infidel looked down at her chest, running her fingers along the red bump where the tick had once rested.
“Menagerie?” she asked the dog.
The dog said nothing. Menagerie had always been able to talk before, no matter what animal shape he’d worn.
“Menagerie?” I said. The dog tilted its head in my general direction, but still said nothing. There was intelligence in his eyes, but dog level intelligence, none of the tactical genius that normally burned in the shape-shifter’s visage.
“We’d better get him to the Black Swan fast,” said Battle Ox. “She’s working on the potion now.”
“Riiiight,” said Infidel, sounding confused. “Right, the potion.”
She placed the whiskey on the bar as she followed Battle. I wasn’t surprised she’d refused the drink. She hadn’t drank much before. It’s not so tough to give up something that you never enjoyed in the first place. But, I wondered, when Hookhand first showed up... were Infidel’s taunts meant to scare him off? Or was she trying to provoke him? This was her first fight since losing her powers. Had she chosen an opponent she’d routinely beaten in the past to test her new combat style with the hammer and armor? Imagining Infidel going the next nine months without a brawl was a lot tougher than imagining her going nine months without a drink. Once word got out that she was vulnerable, was there any place in the world she’d be safe?
A heroine who really gets up close and personal!
Babylon Steel, ex-sword-for-hire, ex... other things, runs The Red Lantern, the best brothel in the city. She’s got elves using sex magic upstairs, S&M in the basement and a large green troll cooking breakfast in the kitchen, and she’d love you to visit, except...
She’s not having a good week. The Vessels of Purity are protesting against brothels, girls are disappearing, and if she can’t pay her taxes, Babylon’s going to lose the Lantern. She’d given up the mercenary life, but when the mysterious Darask Fain pays her to fi nd a missing heiress, she has to take the job. And then her past starts to catch up with her in other, more dangerous ways.
Witty and fresh, Sebold delivers the most exciting fantasy debut in years.
‘Ingenious, gripping, and full of pleasures on every level. Exceptional.’
— Mike Carey,
New York Times
Bestselling author of
The Unwritten
www.solarisbooks.com
The Archmage rules the island of wizards and has banned the use of magecraft in warfare, but there are corsairs raiding the Caladhrian Coast, enslaving villagers and devastating trade. Barons and merchants beg for magical aid, but all help has been refused so far. Lady Zurenne's husband has been murdered by the corsairs. Now a man she doesn't even know stands as guardian over her and her daughters. Corrain, former captain and now slave, knows that the man is a rogue wizard, illegally selling his skills to the corsairs. If Corrain can escape, he'll see justice done. Unless the Archmage's magewoman, Jilseth, can catch the renegade first, before his disobedience is revealed and the scandal shatters the ruler's hold on power...
"Inventive magic, devious intrigue and appealing characters make for an exciting tale, well-told."
- Gail Z. Martin, author of 'The Sworn'
"If your appetite is for fantasy in the epic tradition, with compelling narratives, authentic combat and characters you care about, Juliet E. McKenna is definitely the author for you."
- Stan Nicholls, author of 'Orcs'
www.solarisbooks.com
