Juliet McKenna - The Assassin's Edge

“Lock it behind us,” Ryshad ordered.

“What about ’Grad and ’Gren?” I objected.

“Leave it.” Shiv was already taking the stairs two at a time. “If Olret comes after us, he’ll have a key.”

I shrugged as Ryshad hissed through his teeth and we both went after the mage.

“It’s me.” I knocked on the bolted door a brisk double tap. Ryshad knelt to pull the lower bolt aside, Shiv reaching for the upper one. “With friends.” I hastily wiped any wish for concealment from my mind and sincerely hoped someone within had the skills to read my intent for the truth. Otherwise we were in more trouble than I wanted to contemplate with no ally at our backs. I took a deep breath before I had to brave the stench within and lifted the latch.

“Do you bring help?” As before, Shernasekke’s lady wasn’t wasting time on pleasantries. “Have you spoken to our kin?”

“We’ll help you if you help us,” I matched her directness. “We’ve killed Ilkehan and now Olret wants us dead. Give me your word your friends will defend us and we’ll get you out of there.”

“I swear by the duty I owe the land of my line and those of my blood within it.” The woman’s blue eyes were pale in her drawn and filthy face.

“That sounds good enough.” Ryshad moved warily towards the cage that held her. “Stand back.” He kicked hard at the crude lock with his booted heel once, twice and with a curse, a third time. It might have been proof against the women’s fingers but this onslaught twisted it sufficiently for Ryshad to wrench the door aside. The woman seized her little daughter’s hand and pulled her out of their prison, slipping on the ordure underfoot.

Shiv was keeping watch by the door. “How far do you need to be from here to use your Artifice to contact your kin?”

She looked blankly at him.

“Your lore.” I remembered the Mountain word for the aetheric enchantments of the Sheltya. “True magic.”

The woman’s face cleared, then she grimaced. “Do you have anything to eat? I’m famished beyond all reason.”

I was about to say we didn’t have time to dine when Ryshad pulled a flatbread stuffed with goat meat out of his bag. “My lady.” He proffered it with the instinctive courtesy drilled into him by years in D’Olbriot’s service.

“I’m no one’s lady now, good sir.” She managed a wry smile around a mouthful of food before bolting the rest with far from ladylike grace. “Just Frala Shernasdir.”

“Get us out,” the grandmother demanded urgently. “If we can touch hands, we can work together!”

Ryshad broke her free and I tripped the locks of a cage that held one of Frala’s sisters. She gripped my hand as I let the door swing open. “You have the lifelong gratitude of Gyslin Shernasdir.” Her fervent words had a formality ill suited to her stained green dress and grimy face.

“You’re entirely welcome.” I moved on to the next sister who was all but rattling her bars in her desperation. Ryshad released the younger girls, both rushing to cling to each other in a shaky embrace.

“Get your wits about you,” their grandmother snapped. “Forget your aches and your bellies and concentrate on what has to be done.”

Of course, I realised belatedly. Olret wasn’t just being a vindictive bastard keeping them in this squalor. He was making certain sufficient physical discomfort hampered their capacity to use Artifice, if not curbed it all together. I dug in my own bag for whatever food ’Gren had cached there and shared it out as best I could between Gyslin, her sister and their daughters.

Ryshad handed the grandmother a battered hunk of sausage and unhooked his water bottle from his belt. “Shiv—”

The wizard cut him short with an impatient hand. “Someone’s coming up the stairs.” He moved behind the door, keeping watch through the crack at the hinges.

The women froze, food forgotten. Ryshad flattened himself on the open side of the door, sword ready. “Shiv, can you bolt it?”

An urgent whistle pierced the tense silence. “No, wait.” I left my last few darts still in my belt pouch. “It’s them.”

Ryshad muttered something under his breath. Shiv didn’t close the door and I risked a quick look around it. Sorgrad and ’Gren came running down the corridor from the opposite stairway, each with a cloth-swathed bundle over one shoulder, swords in hand.

“Here!” I beckoned them in and each dropped their burden with a muffled clatter.

“This is hardly the time to go thieving,” I told Sorgrad forcefully.

Sorgrad raised innocent eyebrows, plainly unrepentant. “Not even for more Kellarin artefacts?” The patterned cloth fell aside to reveal the gleam of old steel and the copper binding of a dagger handle. “Maybe even the last ones you need?”

’Gren was smirking too. ”Whatever Guinalle doesn’t want is ours, remember that.”

“You’ll cut me a share or I’ll know the reason why.” I couldn’t help smiling until I saw the blood on ’Gren’s blade. “Who did you kill to get it?”

“No one,” ’Gren protested, injured. “That’s from the miller. The nurse all but pissed herself and ran like a scolded dog.”

“I guessed he’d hide valuables in that room where his son lies.” Sorgrad answered Ryshad’s unspoken question, daring the swordsman to challenge him.

’Gren had already dismissed the matter, turning to sweep a low bow to the women who were looking at the two of them with lively curiosity. “My ladies, my duty to you.” He winked at me. “We needn’t have worried about finding a bath.”

Ryshad had more important things on his mind. “Shiv, take us out of here now.”

Before the mage could reply, the grandmother choked on her meat. “Olret comes,” she gasped.

Her three daughters instantly joined hands, Frala in the middle.

“Quickly.” Gyslin beckoned urgently to her daughter and niece. The grandmother hobbled to the other end of their line and the little girl hid her face in Frala’s skirts.

“We’ll just have to risk it.” Shiv set his jaw.

“No!”

“Guinalle?” I couldn’t help myself; I actually looked round to see if the demoiselle was there in the room.

“What?” Ryshad and Shiv stared at me as if I’d lost my wits.

“Livak, it’s me.” I heard the noblewoman’s voice again but from the bemused faces all around, I was plainly the only one. “Don’t let Shiv work any magic,” she went on urgently. “Olret will kill him.”

“No spells, Shiv. Guinalle says no spells.” I struggled to hear her words at the same time as I was trying to explain. “Usara’s scrying for us and Guinalle’s working her Artifice through his spell.”

“How are they working that?” Shiv was intrigued.

“Can’t that wait?” I glared at him. “Just remember you can’t do any magic without Artifice to ward you or Olret will kill you!”

“Swords’ll kill us a cursed sight faster.” Sorgrad was next to the door, ’Gren beside him. “Half a cohort’s on its way.” The tramp of nailed boots echoed ominously up the stone stairwells.

“Shut the door,” Ryshad ordered. “Bolt it, one of you.” He swept his sword at the women.

I heard the bolts slam home as I tried to concentrate on Guinalle’s far-distant voice. “I have to speak to the adepts you’ve found. Join their line.”

I really didn’t want to do that and not only because the girl’s hand closest to me was so filthy, but we were running out of options fast so I grabbed for her.

The room turned dim around me and for one appalling moment I thought I was fainting. Then I realised I was somehow locked in a corner of my own mind with Guinalle’s will controlling my body, my voice, my gestures. I could look out through my own eyes but in a peculiar, cramped fashion, only able to look directly ahead and as if through Ryshad’s spyglass. I did my best to quell the panic rising within me and then realised that it would do me no good to yield to the impulse to scream, to protest, to fight the enchantment. I had no voice to cry for help, no strength to hit back.