Juliet McKenna - The Assassin's Edge

“We’re already going.” Allin pointed to the black and yellow chequer flags hoisted to signal a retreat. The Dulse and Fire Minnow were heading towards us, those pirates who’d have cheerfully slaughtered everyone aboard left frustrated on the gravel of the landing. “We haven’t the men to fight without wizardry to help them.”

The Eryngo ’s sailors brought all their efforts to bear to ease us past the smouldering wrecks of the Spurdog and the Thornray . The Maelstrom was turning in the wider strait beyond the burning hulls, plain for all to see now its cloak of magic had been dropped for fear of aetheric attack on Shiv, ’Sar and Larissa. So much for our plan to get them close enough to gather up the prisoners with their newfound confidence in using the element of air. Vithrancel’s flotilla closed up behind us as we fled north up the strait, taking every advantage from wind and tide, our hopes broken behind us.

“What about Parrail and Naldeth?” Allin asked, her voice shaking.

“Parrail’s dead,” I told her grimly.

“What about Naldeth?” she quavered.

“I don’t know.” Though I could guess his fate if he betrayed himself.

To Cadan Lench, Prefect,

From Sul Gavial, Librarian.

It’s all very well you asking me and my staff to search through boxes of litter our forebears were too idle to throw away but have you any idea what a thankless task this is? What isn’t faded to illegibility is either shredded by mice or noxious with beetles. This pious claptrap is the sole prize from an entire annal compiled by some priest in the first year of Nemith the Last’s reign.

I am delighted to learn that you will be joining our family of adepts and bringing a flavour of Col’s celebrated harmonies to our liturgies. You will join acolytes from the great temples of Relshaz and Draximal as well as the myriad lesser shrines of Caladhria and beyond. We are born to all degrees of rank, from the lowliest Names with the honour of but a single hall to shelter Sieur and tenants alike, to the lofty privilege enjoyed by the mightiest Princes of Convocation.

Distinctions are meaningless in our isolated retreat. In the hospitality enjoined by Ostrin’s favour, we welcome all as equals. Come to this lonely place with humility and a mind relieved of all distractions of precedence and you may learn all we can teach you. Study the lore of Artifice with diligence and piety and you will return with redoubled skill to serve your first allegiance and those loyal to your House by birth or sworn by choice.

We seek to perfect the arts of healing, to honour Ostrin to whom we are sworn above all. Beneath Drianon’s guiding hand, we watch over those making the hazardous journey from the Otherworld into this by way of a mother’s womb. As the year turns, we learn how to read Larasion’s promises of storm and sun and beseeching Drianon, we may increase the fertility that is her blessing on the earth. Attain the discipline to lift your mind from things seen to the unseen and you may seek Arimelin’s help in speaking to those far distant. Under Halcarion’s tutelage, you may travel the infinite paths marked by the moons.

As the gods grant rewards of power, they exact solemn duties in return. As those set above you uphold justice within their domains, you will swear to answer to Raeponin for the truth you prompt from a silent tongue or lift from an unwilling mind. Your sincerity will be tested never so sorely as when you comfort those passing into Poldrion’s care. It will be laid upon you to ease the fears of the dying as their lives are come before Saedrin’s scrutiny.

We are entitled to satisfaction and even a measure of pride in the execution of our Artifice but let us always remember that such skills as we master, are granted only by the grace of the gods whom we honour, as is their due. In their service, we of this shrine are sworn to curtail the arrogance of any who might be tempted to abuse the lore we entrust to them.

I walked to the far corner of the bay and looked out to sea. White ruffs of foam trimmed mysterious waters shining like black silk beneath the clear silver light of the greater moon. She was gliding serene in the cloudless night sky, perfect circle framed in subtle radiance. Her lesser sister hovered near the horizon, face half hidden as if by a veil drawn aslant, modest handmaiden to that pale beauty, waiting her own turn in the dance of the heavens. The sea breeze perfumed the air with a cleansing freshness, every now and then overlaid momentarily with the sweetness of some unknown blossom unseen in the darkness of the untrodden forest cloaking this hitherto untroubled speck of land. The rhythmic rush of the waves on the sand soothed like the rock of a cradle for a fractious babe while low voices behind me went about some unhurried business. I turned a flat stone over and over between my fingers.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Pered joined me.

“Hmm.” I managed a non-committal noise.

“What’s wrong?” He wasn’t being nosy, just offering a friendly ear. I’d noticed his talent for that before.

I cleared my throat. “Did Shiv ever tell you about Geris?” Gentle, trusting Geris. I’d never had the chance to teach him it was just agreeable flirtation and casual lust landing me in his bed, not the high-flown romance of his imagining.

“The scholar from Vanam.” Pered nodded soberly. “Elietimm killed him.”

“Same as Parrail.” At least I was managing not to cry. “Well, worse. They tortured him.” Sudden anger surprised me. All Geris had been doing was sniffing out ancient lore for Planir, with Shiv and Darni along to keep him out of trouble. How did that warrant kidnap by the Elietimm, a death broken and mutilated, all his innocent illusions brutally shattered? “It’s time we stopped these scum bringing murder and misery wherever it suits them.” I spun the stone out across the water to vent my fury. It struck silver sparks from the blackness once, twice, six skips in all.

“That’s quite a trick.” Pered looked around his feet. “Do you want another?”

“No, thanks all the same.” I’d hold on to the rest of my rage. Its heat was better than cold emptiness beneath my breastbone when I thought of all those dead at Elietimm hands. “Did you want something?”

Turning to Pered meant acknowledging the noise behind me was no comfortable everyday bustle. On this side of the beach the dubious crew Sorgrad had gathered for Shiv were still allocating supplies from the caches in the nearby woods and rocks that Rosarn andVaspret had unearthed. Vithrancel’s mercenaries had long since divided their spoils and were bedded down around their own campfires on the far reach of sand. Spread in desultory knots between them were those ordinary men of Kellarin who remained after the Eryngo, Nenuphar and Asterias had been hastily provisioned from looted stores and sent to battle wind and tide all the way to the southern end of the strait. We had to block that before any pirates could get some ship seaworthy and try to escape.

“It’s past midnight.” Pered shivered though it wasn’t particularly cold.

I glanced at him. “Never thought you’d rue the day you weren’t mageborn?”

“What’s it like?” He struggled for the right word. “To be used for Artifice?”

The skin down my spine crawled with distaste but I fought to quell the feeling. Having an Elietimm enchanter inside my head had been worse than any rape—and I knew enough of violated women not to say that lightly. How to describe being used for Guinalle’s convenience? More akin to the sale and purchase of a disinterested body for a purse of silver?