Paul Kemp: The Hammer and the Blade

"Gods, what happened? Why do I…? How do I know what I know? Is it real?"

Nix did not bother to explain. He looked over to the eunuch, at the bloody crater in the skull from which the truth had erupted.

"Gods," he said, balling his hands into fists. "Gods."

He stood, pacing the sand on his wounded leg, agitated, periodically returning to the eunuch's corpse and unleashing a frustrated kick into his bulk.

"You're bleeding," Jyme said, pointing at Nix's side.

Nix's shirt was stained where the eunuch's blade had penetrated his leather jack. He waved off the wound with a grunt.

"We have to follow them," he said to Egil. "We have to."

Egil's expression fell. "How? They're gone."

"Follow who?" Jyme asked. "Rakon? Are you both mad?"

Nix whirled on Jyme, the hiresword a convenient target for his displaced ire. "Did you see what we saw when Egil split this… thing's head? Did you?"

Jyme colored, looked away. Nix did not relent.

"So you know what awaits them? You'd just let them go? What kind of man are you, Jyme?"

Jyme looked up, shame coloring his cheeks, but his chin stuck out defiantly. "The kind that wants to stay alive. I see things different now, sure. I wish I'd never pawed at that lass back at the Tunnel and that's sure. But bad things happen everywhere, all the time. I'm worried about my own skin, you know?"

Nix didn't know.

Be that kind of man.

"They're too far gone anyway," Jyme continued. "You saw how fast that… thing flew. You'd never catch them, not unless you could fly. You got something in that bag of yours?"

Jyme meant his words as a joke, but the words triggered an idea for Nix, a hope, a desperate ploy. He turned to the shoreline. He could not see the surf but he could see the wheeling sea birds. He reached into his bag, touched a wand he'd pocketed in the tomb of Abn Thuset.

"What are you thinking?" Egil asked, reading Nix's expression.

"I'm thinking we can fly."

"What are you talking about?" Jyme said.

"I'm talking about flying," Nix repeated, warming to his idea. He held up the teak and gold wand. "With this. All I need is a living bird. The magic in the wand…"

Egil cut him off, eyeing the wand with distrust. "I thought Abn Thuset used it to change her sex?"

Jyme looked on, hopelessly confused. "What about sex, now?"

Nix ignored him and spoke to Egil. "Yes, but that's a particular use of the wand's general power. It's transmutational magic, Egil."

"Which you learned in your year at the Conclave, before…" Egil held up his hand to forestall Nix's inevitable correction. "… you ceased attending."

"Yes. It'll work, Egil."

The priest looked skeptical, but Nix saw hope in his eyes. He ran his palm over Ebenor's eye. "You're certain?"

Nix pulled the end of his nose. "Fairly certain."

Egil stared at him while the tattooed eye of Ebenor stared hopelessly at the sky. "Fairly certain? That's it?"

Nix looked over at the eunuch, back at Egil. "That's it."

Jyme shook his head and paced a tight circle. "After all we've been through, now you're talking about changing into birds? You are mad. Don't you remember the last wand you used?"

"I remember," Egil said darkly.

"That was a mistake," Nix said. "I missed something. This won't be."

"I can tell you I'm not doing this," Jyme said. "If you two do this, you do it alone. Think me a coward if you want."

Nix never took his eyes from Egil's blood-spattered face. He forced a grin.

"Come on, Egil. Fun's in finding out, right? This is a moment, right?"

Egil sighed, shook his head, obviously torn. He stared at the wand as if daring it to do something other than what Nix claimed.

"Look," Nix said. "We both know what's going to happen to Rusilla and Merelda. Isn't it you who talks about alms and grace?"

"That's not why I hesitate," Egil said.

"Then what is it?"

Egil shook his head. "Never mind. We do it."

Jyme stomped his foot in the sand. "That's just a stick you found in a tomb! Gods, you're fools! What if it… does something awful?"

"When it comes to Nix and his gewgaws, I find it best to anticipate something awful," Egil said. "Then, if it doesn't, I'm pleasantly surprised."

Nix gave him a half-hearted obscene gesture.

"Come on," Jyme said. He looked at the eunuch, at Baras's body, back at Egil and Nix. "Get your heads on right. We find the nearest city, spend whatever gold you took out of that tomb on drinks and women, and forget any of this happened."

"There's no forgetting," Egil said somberly.

"Truth," Nix agreed. The story of House Norristru had been graven into his brain, etched there by horror.

"No, I guess there's not," Jyme said. "Even so, I don't understand you two."

"You're not the first to say that," Nix said. He waved the wand at Jyme. "Last chance, slubber."

For a moment, Nix thought Jyme might reconsider. He stared at the wand a long moment, then said, "I can't."

"Well enough," Nix said. "No shame in it, Jyme. We are who we are."

"How will you get back to Dur Follin alone?" Egil asked him.

Jyme shook his head. He looked around as if he were lost and seeking direction.

"I'm not sure I'll go back. But if I decide to, I'll manage. Find a ship or something. But I ain't riding the magic of some ancient wizard-king."

"Ah, you're no fun," Nix said.

"And it's a wizard-queen, as it turns out," Egil said.

"You two make my head swim," Jyme said.

"Not so difficult a task," Nix said. "Now, we need to get moving."

Jyme seemed to have something to say, so Nix gave him a moment. Finally, the hiresword spit it out.

"Listen, I plan to collect payback on that coin you lifted from me, yeah? If I get back to Dur Follin and the two of you ain't there, well, I'll have to come looking for you."

Nix was almost touched. "I think he loves you, Egil."

"You, maybe," Egil answered.

"Whoresons," Jyme muttered.

Nix smiled sincerely and shook Jyme's hand. "We'll see each other again, Jyme. I haven't lived like a hero, so I have no intention of dying like one. And when we meet again, I'll pay you that coin with interest. Drinks on me, yeah?"

"You have no notion of how rare an offer that is," Egil said. "Both on the interest and the drinks." The priest shook Jyme's hand, too. "Apologies again for the jaw and the insults. You're all right, Jyme."

"Done is done," Jyme said, and waved off the apology. "I hope I see both you slubbers soon."

And with that, they parted. While Jyme scavenged supplies and tethered the horses together, Nix and Egil recovered their weapons and hurried toward the shoreline. As they ran, Nix took out his sling, and let it hang loose at his side.

"There's some sense in Jyme's words," Egil said. "I have an ill feeling about this."

"Me, too," Nix admitted. "But you saw what I saw. No one should have to endure that. I couldn't live with myself if I just let it happen."

"Agreed," Egil said. "I wonder though…"

Nix waited, eyebrows raised. Egil continued:

"I'm beginning to wonder how much of what we've been doing since the beginning has been our own thinking, and how much hers."

"Rusilla?"

Egil nodded. "She's been planning from the outset. All of this could be her plan."

"If so, she gets drinks on me and that's sure. And she's no one I'd ever play in chess and expect to win."

"I'm serious."

"I know, but not now, yeah?"

Egil didn't let it go. "She said, 'Be that kind of man,' and here we are, doing just so."

Nix considered that. "But Jyme's not. He heard and saw the same things."

Egil grunted. "A fair point."

"We are those kind of men, Egil. But, uh, let's just not tell anybody."

"Aye."

They crested the rise. The surf lapped the shore, the sunset splashing the sea in color. Rocks stuck out of the shallow water here and there. Sea birds stood on one leg on the rocks, raced the incoming surf along the shore, and picked at mollusks in the pools.