Juliet McKenna - The Assassin's Edge

“I’m already carrying enough weight,” objected ’Gren.

“Then the loot’s what you dump,” Sorgrad said in a tone that brooked no argument. “You fail to bring someone back to themselves from that cavern and you’ll answer to me.”

“And Halice,” I added.

“And half the people of Kellarin.” Ryshad knelt beside me and took my dagger to move the smaller pieces aside, revealing a couple of swords and a handful of daggers.

“One each,” said ’Gren irrepressibly.

“I’d say it’s best to spread these around.” Ryshad suited his actions to his words, passing us each a weapon with antique moulding and tarnished decoration. Mine had a particularly fine amethyst for a pommel stone. “Do your best not to use them though. We don’t want unexpected visitors inside anyone’s head.” He tried to make light of it but the attempt fell miserably flat.

“As far as Guinalle could make out, it’s a sense of danger and strong emotions generally that penetrate the enchantment and stir the hidden mind.” Shiv’s face was intent, deep lines drawing down either side of his mouth. “The people were never meant to be hidden for so long. The enchantment’s worn horribly thin.”

From Ryshad’s expression, horrible was an apt description of the consequences of the incantations unravelling. He lifted one of the swords with visible reluctance.

“I’ll take that.” Shiv stuck the weapon through his belt, velvet wrapping and all.

“Do you know how to use that?” asked ’Gren with a touch of derision.

“No, but that’s the whole point,” Shiv retorted. “I won’t be tempted and risk rousing the sleeping mind within it. Who’s taking the other one?”

I saw Ryshad steeling himself to what he doubtless saw as his duty and forestalled him. “I will.”

“Are you sure?” He looked at me, concern darkening his brown eyes.

I wasn’t but this wasn’t the time to admit it. I avoided his gaze as I adjusted the awkward weapon, trying to make sure it was secure at the same time as not inadvertently stabbing myself in the leg. None of us needed that kind of delay.

“I’ll take it,” ’Gren offered. “I dealt with Eresken when he came knocking round the back of my mind.”

“You killed him, ’Gren,“ I pointed out. “The whole idea is to bring these people back to life. Anyway, how long do you think you could carry a weapon without using it?”

He nodded sagely. “You’re so good at hiding at the back and letting other people do your fighting.”

I grinned at him. “Quite right.” He chuckled with appreciation.

“Have you any notion how many people still sleep in Edisgesset?” Shiv frowned, as I shared out the rest of the little parcels, more valuable than ten times their weight in gold or diamonds.

“Thirty or so, wasn’t it, at last count?” I felt guilty that I couldn’t be more certain. I tucked mine inside the breast of my jerkin, the weight heavy beneath my breastbone, my stomach hollow with the responsibility I now carried.

“Thirty-seven,” said Ryshad with biting emphasis.

Sorgrad scowled. “Then we’re still missing some.”

“That’s assuming all these are true Kellarin artefacts,” I pointed out reluctantly.

“So the rest’s fair booty?” ’Gren was shaking out the remnants of cloth left in the base of the chest, just to make sure nothing was overlooked.

Shiv and Ryshad were looking back in the direction of Ilkehan’s keep.

“They look too busy to send anyone scouting for us,” said Ryshad. “Let’s have that hargeard down to put an end to Muredarch’s enchanters.”

Shiv pulled his belt tighter and settled the wrapped sword on his hip. “Sorgrad, you’re going to have to help me with this.”

“Very well.” Sorgrad’s voice was unemotional but I could see a gleam of eagerness in his blue eyes. Was this going to be entirely safe? I wondered.

“It’s this way.” Sorgrad cuffed his brother lightly round the head and ’Gren reluctantly abandoned his attempt to pry off the brass fittings of the chest.

More cautious than ermines in the wrong colour coat, we eased our way through thickets of berry bushes thick with leaf, pale pink bell-shaped flowers and squat green berries yet to ripen. I froze with disbelief as I heard a familiar sound from the other side of an upthrust of rock. That first light-hearted jingling was joined by another and then came the clip of small hooves.

I looked at Ryshad who looked at Sorgrad and, at his nod, came to my side. As I drew my dagger and we headed for the far side of the sprawling clump, ’Gren and Sorgrad went in the other direction. Shiv crouched down, catching his breath and keeping watch. I rounded the bushes to find a rocky cleft sheltering the thickest and oldest berry bushes we’d seen and a spring all but dry in the summer’s heat.

Being goats, the animals were stripping the berries from the bushes with single-minded determination before moving on to the leaves and any tender twigs they could reach. Being lads, the youths were waving a spray of fruit on the end of a stick to tempt a bold kid out along a weathered knife-edge of outcrop rock. Every time the little goat took another cautious step with small black hooves, the first tow-headed boy edged the berries a little further away. The second boy wanted his turn at the tease, reaching for the branch.

Behind me, Ryshad bent to whisper soundlessly in my ear. “My father always reckons one lad does the work of one lad, two do the work of half a lad and three gives you no lad at all.”

This pair were so intent on their nonsense, they wouldn’t have heard him shout that aloud. They didn’t even notice the goats pause in their chewing to stare in their peculiar, slot-eyed way.

Sorgrad and ’Gren appeared at the head of the defile, startling the boys who backed away. The kid sprang lightly down the crumbling rock to bolt the fallen berries with muffled bleats of triumph. One nanny licked a stray leaf from her tufted chin with slow deliberation as she watched me and Ryshad get behind the lads.

It was the work of a moment for me to grab one and Ryshad had the other. The lad froze before easing his head round to see what had snared him. After a sudden gasp, he all but stopped breathing, as entranced as a rabbit by a dancing weasel. I smiled but wondered how effective the disguise might be this close.

If my lad stood stiff as bone, Ryshad’s was spineless. He sagged at the knees, hunching over, hands covering his face as Sorgrad and ’Gren advanced with a measured pace. I felt my lad tremble to the very soles of his boots and tightened my grip. He snapped out of his terrified stillness. “Who are you? What do you want? We’re no one, nobody. Take the goats, just don’t hurt us.”

Sorgrad reached us and, still silent, laid a finger on the lad’s mouth to hush him. The other boy looked up from his half-crouch between Ryshad’s merciless hands, blue eyes wide with fear, blond hair tumbled all over his face. If we frightened him any more thoroughly he’d wet himself.

Sorgrad beckoned with one finger before turning to walk back the way he had come. Just as before ’Gren matched his step precisely.

I gave my lad a breath or so before smacking him smartly between the shoulder blades. He stepped forward before he could help himself and I followed close, urging another step with another blow.

The other lad’s legs were as useless as if he’d been hamstrung. Ryshad growled deep in his throat, grabbing the lad’s tousled hair and pulling back his head to stare deep into his eyes with cold menace. That sent the boy scrambling over the stony ground to cower beside his pal who was now forcing his reluctant feet onward without my intervention.

Ryshad looked a question at me and I shrugged. We followed at the same leaden pace that soon had my nerves twitching. Theatrics were all very well but what if a troop of Elietimm turned up to avenge Ilkehan while we were playing masquerades? On the other hand, we didn’t want this pair running off to raise the alarm. Shiv appeared at the head of the defile, standing with ’Gren and Sorgrad. I jerked my head at the three of them with silent insistence that we get on with whatever ostentatious destruction they had planned.