Juliet McKenna - The Assassin's Edge

“It’s an obvious thing to do,” Sorgrad agreed.

Ryshad sat up and found himself some food. “Shiv?”

“If we find the hargeard, I can destroy it.” The mage waved a hand containing a hunk of bread. “As long as I don’t have some Elietimm clawing the wits out of my head.”

“So we need to find the hargeard circle before we move on Ilkehan.” Ryshad pursed his lips. “As soon as he’s dead, we break his stones, so to speak.”

’Gren chuckled at the jest.

“We’re sure to be seen, doing all this.” I rubbed wet hands over my face to shed some of the day’s grime. “Let’s make that work for us, if we can. You recall the children said Ukehan’s in league with these gebaedim, Eldritch Kin, whatever they are. Is there any way we can go in disguised as vengeful spirits? If we frighten people thoroughly enough, they won’t stop to look too closely.”

“More to the point, they won’t have the first clue where we came from.” Ryshad nodded.

“If they think we’re immortal, maybe they won’t bother trying to kill us.”

’Gren liked that idea.

“I’ll settle for not missing a sword at my back because I’ve got this cursed hood up,” I said with feeling.

“The problem is, we can’t have Shiv working illusions until Ukehan’s dead.” Ryshad knitted concerned brows.

“If we can find the right plants, I can turn us black haired and blue skinned with no need for magecraft.” The wizard chuckled. “Living with Pered, I’ve learned more about dyes and colourings than any sane man could ever need to know.”

Sorgrad laughed. “That’ll be worth doing just to see Halice’s face when we get back.”

“What are we looking for?” ’Gren went to root among the plants crouching along the line of the inadequate stream like some oversized truffle hound.

“Flagflowers, if you can find them.” Shiv stood up. He went foraging and soon returned with his hands full of pale, knobbly roots with dark earth and a few sprigs of spite nettle still clinging to them. “Mind those leaves, they sting.” He dumped the lot into my startled hands.

“Good thing we’re here in the growing season,” I remarked.

Ryshad scratched his head. “Can I see the map, Shiv, before you start painting us like marionettes?”

Shiv dropped more roots on the grass, and wiped his hands on his breeches before getting out the much-creased parchment. “We’re two, three days’ hard march from Ilkehan.” His finger wavered over our general location then touched lightly on a spot just beyond the little castle symbol Pered had used for Kehannasekke’s keep. “That’s where we were captured last time.”

“Which would be a good place to find somewhere to hide up,” Ryshad mused. “In those hillocks just inshore.”

Sorgrad came to look. “We want a vantage point, so we can keep a good watch for at least a full cycle of the guard.”

’Gren appeared, hands full of dripping roots and Shiv hastily whipped the map out of danger. ”I’m ready to fight anyone, any time of day.”

“We know,” I told him repressively. “Try for a little patience. Shiv’s got to paint us up like Eldritch Kin for a start.”

Sorgrad looked curiously at Shiv. “Just how are you going to do that?”

“Who’s carrying a candle?” Shiv squatted down and began shaving spite nettle roots into fine strips with his belt knife. “And I need something to hold water.”

Sorgrad sighed as he produced a small silver cup from his belt pouch. “I generally use this for wine.”

“Don’t see a lot of that around here.” ’Gren dug in his pockets and produced a candle end. I found two short stubs in my pack.

Ryshad offered a plain horn cup to Shiv. The wizard took it. “Thanks. I reckon using magic for this is safer than lighting a fire. Smoke and light will carry and it’ll take ten times as long.”

Ryshad nodded reluctantly. “I suppose Ilkehan would have to suspect someone was using magic to come looking for it, but the faster the better, Shiv. We’ll keep watch all the same.”

Apprehension prickled between my shoulder blades as I matched Ryshad walking around the isolated dell, looking up and down the narrow winding valley, straining to hear any hint of booted feet or stifled whispers in the darkening shadows. I sternly curbed my fancy when I found I was dwelling on all the things that could go wrong with this madcap scheme. All right, it was a high stakes game, the highest in fact, but the trick to any hand is playing each throw of runes as they fall. I had plenty of advantages on my side as well; Ryshad’s intelligence, Shiv’s magic and the brothers’ capacity for unflinching mayhem. And it was Sorgrad who’d taught me you win even the most trivial of games by playing as if you were gambling with Poldrion for his ferry fee to the Otherworld.

“Ready.” Shiv called in a low voice. The sight of ’Gren rubbing blue candle grease into his face gave me the first good laugh of this day and a good few since.

“Do you think we’ll set a new fashion?” Sorgrad was kneeling with his head bent as Shiv carefully slopped black liquid into his hair.

“How easily will this wash off?” I dipped a suspicious finger into the smoky blue tallow.

“I’m not sure,” Shiv answered frankly. “Don’t put it on too thickly. A little will go a long way and we don’t have any to waste.”

“I’ll do you, if you’ll do me,” invited Ryshad, scooping some into his palm.

“That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.” I fluttered flirtatious eyelashes at him.

Ryshad’s hands were gentle on my face as I relished in my turn the feel of bristles roughening his strong jaw and the smoother skin around his hairline. He brushed his lips against the inside of my wrist and we shared a private smile. If this was all the intimacy we could get before we risked our lives, we’d make the most of it.

“So, we watch the keep and work out where Ilkehan will be.” Sorgrad returned to planning the detail of our attack as he lifted his chin to colour his neck. “What’s our actual path in?”

“Through the drains and cellars?” I suggested. “That’s the way we got out last time.”

“We go straight for Ilkehan, hit him as hard as we can, all of us at once,” said Ryshad.

Sorgrad nodded. “Kill him before he can decide which of us to attack first.”

I couldn’t restrain a shiver. “It’s not going to be like last time,” Ryshad promised, holding my gaze.

“We should use some black in the last of the skin paint,” ’Gren said suddenly. ”Fill in the hollows of our eyes, like Sheltya do.” His hair was black as midnight now and his teeth were startling white against a face almost the hue of the dusk sky above.

“That’s a sound idea.” I’d forgotten how unearthly that made the Mountain practitioners of Artifice look.

“I wonder what the Sheltya know of the Plains People and the Eldritch Kin,” mused Ryshad.

“We’ll ask Aritane when we get back, shall we?” I smiled at him.

“When we get back,” he echoed.

“Who’ll be buying the drinks?” demanded ’Gren. It plainly didn’t occur to him that there was any doubt we would be getting out of this. I decided to adopt his certainty. Belief was everything in these islands, wasn’t it?

I do not see that you have the authority to tell me I cannot come.” Temar silently cursed whatever god had made Halice taller than him.

“We’ve made our plan and you agreed it.” Sat on a crude bench outside the cabin, the level strokes of her whetstone didn’t vary as the mercenary sharpened her sword. “Changing horses midstream is a quick and stupid way to drown. Yes, Pered?”