Juliet McKenna - The Assassin's Edge

Sorgrad had taken a prudent step aside to avoid the spray of blood. “You heard him; he was Ilkehan’s man, willingly or not. We couldn’t risk him trying to garner some favour by betraying us.”

Shiv couldn’t argue with that, though his face suggested he’d like to.

I looked at Ryshad with silent appeal. “Even if he kept his mouth shut for the sake of his own skin, that wound would set people asking questions in a place like this. Then Ilkehan’s adepts could pull the answers out of his head whether or not he wanted to give us up.”

“True enough.” Ryshad was still looking thunderous. “It’s still a coward’s trick to cut a man’s throat when he’s not expecting it.”

“It’s easier than when he does,” said ’Gren irrepressibly.

“Shut up.” I didn’t like being in the middle of this argument any better than I liked the fallen stones encircling us. “It might have been better not to kill him here, if this is some kind of shrine.”

“It’s done, so we move on,” announced Sorgrad. “We came looking for an ally but this Ashernan is deader than last year’s mutton. If this Olret’s still holding out against Ilkehan, I say we find him.” He turned to Shiv. “Where?”

The mage slowly got out his map. “If we’re here, that’s the island with Ilkehan’s stronghold. He pointed to a long, wide island with a broken chain of mountains running through it. A river cut deep into a central plain.

“Kehannasekke.” Sorgrad nodded impatient understanding. “So where’s this Olret?”

“Rettasekke?” I pointed a tentative finger.

’Gren looked dubiously at the islands scattered across the substantial patch of sea between us and the possibility of an ally. ”How do we get there?”

“You say there are fords and causeways over the sands and shallows?” Sorgrad raised his brows at me. “Travel by night and take it slow and careful.”

Ryshad laughed with precious little humour. “I take it you pair are as handy with boats as Livak?”

“There’s not much call for them in the uplands, pal.” There was an edge to ’Gren’s voice.

Ryshad smiled at him. “I grew up on the ocean side of Zyoutessela and Shiv’s a Kevilman. We steal a boat.”

“It’ll be easier to steer clear of other people if we’re on the water.” I looked appealingly at Sorgrad. “And it’ll be faster.”

“Fair enough.” The notion plainly appealed as little to Sorgrad as it did to me.

Ryshad was looking at the corpse with barely concealed displeasure. “We can’t leave this to start a hue and cry after us.”

“We’ve nothing for a pyre and anyway smoke’ll bring people looking for the fire.” I wondered what to do. If Saedrin was marking down my share in this unfortunate’s death against the day when I had to explain myself to him, disrespecting the corpse wouldn’t win me any favours.

“His shade won’t thank you for burning his bones, you ignorant lowlander,” Sorgrad rebuked me. “They should lie where his beliefs held despite all his terror of Ilkehan.” At his nod, ’Gren helped him carry the body to one of the pits beside a fallen sarsen.

“Let me.” Shiv spread his hands and the earth, hard packed by a full year and more of rain and sun, crumbled into fresh-turned tilth, flowing up and over the tumbled corpse. It jerked and twitched with a nauseating parody of life as the soil shifted beneath it and soon disappeared from view.

Sorgrad muttered something sounding vaguely liturgical in Mountain speech too archaic for me to understand.

Untroubled, ’Gren gazed down into the pit. “The Maker can hold his bones until the Mother takes back his spirit.” He used the same terms as the Elietimm had.

“Misaen and Maewelin?” I guessed. Those two gods had been sufficient for the ancient Mountain Men and even these days, the uplands paid scant respect to the rest of the pantheon.

Shiv drew a deep breath and continued to concentrate on the pit. The soil sank down, smoothing itself to the sides of the hole, soon as compact as if it had never been disturbed.

“Nicely done, Shiv,” Ryshad approved from the far side of this new grave. “Now let’s go and steal a boat.”

Halice came striding across the beach, the early sun throwing a long shadow behind her. “You’re not scrying, are you?” She looked into the pool left shining among the scoured slabs of rock by the retreating sea.

“No,” Usara assured her. He dusted sand off his hands. “Though Guinalle thinks working with a natural pool would make it harder for the Elietimm enchanters to find me.”

Halice looked uncertain. “I thought you needed antique silver bowls and priceless inks.”

“Hedge wizards and charlatans can’t work without them,” Usara told her with some amusement. “And granted, ink or oil makes it easier but I can scry in anything.”

Halice looked at Guinalle who was swathed in a soft grey cloak against the dawn chill. “Have you any Artifice to show you how they’re getting on?”

“I think it best to let well alone,” Guinalle said without emotion. “Shiv was taking them to a place well outside Ilkehan’s domains. If some mischance shows these enchanters my interest there, that could just give him reason to go looking.”

“It’s not worth the risk,” said Usara firmly. “For anyone.”

“You didn’t feel any hint of that Ilkehan noticing them arriving?” Halice looked out at the placid ocean barely troubled by so much as a rippling wave, gilded by the sun huge and orange on the horizon. The tide had washed away most of the evidence of the slaughters.

“Not a suspicion.” Guinalle looked north and east to the unseen Ice Islands as well.

“His kind suspect everyone and everything, every waking moment,” Halice said sourly. “That’s how they avoid knives in the back.”

“They’ve got Shiv,” Usara pointed out. “He can bespeak wizards from here to Hadrumal if they fall foul of Ilkehan’s malice.”

“Which could leave him no better than a drooling idiot.” Halice put her hands on her hips.

“Not if he’s careful, and he will be,” insisted Usara. “And now we’ve worked together, it need only be me, Larissa and Allin bringing them back. We don’t even need Shiv in the nexus.”

“Ilkehan won’t be able to touch mages at this distance, not with Artifice warding them,” Guinalle added.

“As long as he doesn’t somehow rope in those adepts of his to help.” Halice scowled at the central islands of Suthyfer secretive across the dark blue waters.

“The best way we can keep Ilkehan from realising he has enemies close at hand is to keep his attention turned to his people’s fight here.” Usara nodded at Guinalle. “We’ve been discussing how best to do that. Do you fancy working a little magic, Halice?”

“Me?” The mercenary was startled.

“You can hold a tune can’t you?” Usara asked innocently. “Sing a marching pace or a rope song along with a ship’s crew?”

Guinalle had a book in one hand, her fingers pale against the age-darkened patina of ancient leather. Whatever gold leaf had once illuminated the spine was worn to an indecipherable shadow. “The Artifice in these songs is ancient but none the less effective for that.”

“What are you thinking of doing?” Halice was intrigued, despite herself.

“The pirates have one sailing ship left. It’s only a single-masted sloop but it could make a break for the open sea,” the noblewoman replied composedly. “We’re discussing how we might discourage it.”

Halice looked out to sea again. “The Eryngo, Nenuphar and Asterias have closed off escape to the south. We’ve the other three ships keeping watch up here.”