Juliet McKenna - The Swordsman's Oath

She shook off my hand, looking a little startled and I realized I had gripped her a little hard. “Sorry.”

“I’ll get it seen to, soon as I get a moment,” she said a little uncertainly, and I went upstairs to pace the room until it arrived.

I was starting to feel cold and sore and realized a little belatedly that I must smell like a hard-ridden horse. A good soak in nicely hot water loosened my muscles and helped soothe away some of my indignation at what I had just learned, but I can’t say I was much happier as the water started to cool. Hunting down Ice Islanders was one thing; I was quite content with that task. Finding out that we might be the prey was definitely unwelcome news and the suspicion that I’d been somehow set up like a lamb staked out to draw wolves was something I didn’t even want to think about. Was that what Shiv had in mind? Was it his idea or Planir’s intention all along? Just what had the Archmage told Messire anyway? Had that devious charmer explained this peculiar business with the dreams, or just suggested the sword would be a suitable gift from a grateful patron? It had to be the latter, no question; anything else wouldn’t honor the oaths that bound D’Olbriot and me together. That same oath meant I was honor-bound to keep the blade, well as committing me to working with Shiv; I couldn’t avoid it, but I could cursed well make sure he wasn’t keeping back anything else I needed to know.

I propped my mirror on my knees and had a thoughtful shave. We could play these runes reversed, couldn’t we? Did it matter if the Elietimm found us or we found them? Not as long as the wizards could keep scrying on them, it didn’t. It certainly made no odds as far as my oath to Aiten was concerned, I reminded myself. I just needed to make sure that I kept alert, all my wits about me. My reflection in the polished steel looked a little less grim and I recalled something my father is always saying: “Build for storms and hope for sunshine.” It’s a fair enough catchword for a stonemason and I could do well to remember it. I shook my head at myself; what would he think of me mixed up in a quest like this? I imagined he would take it all with his usual calm; he’d certainly understand once he met Livak. I hoped so; I was relying on him to talk Mother round.

A knock on the door startled me and I turned to see the latch lift.

“Need someone to wash your back?” Livak slid in and leaned against the door, her smile colored by a little uncertainty in her eyes.

“If you’re offering.” I held up a washcloth and shifted forward; drawing a deep breath of pure pleasure as she scoured my aching muscles with the rough toweling.

“I’ve borrowed some rubbing oil from Viltred too.” Livak bent down and brushed her lips against my hair. “I thought it might help.”

“Good idea.” Stepping out of the water, I spread a towel on the bed. As I lay down I heard Livak bolt the door and smiled into the pillows; Shiv could have Livak’s bed for all I cared, Halice’s virtue would be safe enough.

“About what we were saying downstairs—” Livak sat beside me and rolled up her sleeves.

“I don’t want to talk about it, not at the moment,” I said more sharply than I intended.

“Halice is going to see if she can get anything more out of Nyle.” Livak poured a little oil onto her hands and I smelled the sharp scent of dragonsbreath leaves. “He seemed quite keen this afternoon, when they were discussing tactics for the game.”

“She’s welcome to him.” I’d been wondering what kind of man would catch her eye.

Livak laughed and began to lean deep into rubbing the muscles of my back. “Halice likes men who make her feel small and feminine.”

“That must limit her choice unless there’s a wrestling troupe passing through the neighborhood,” I muttered.

“You’d be surprised; she doesn’t do too badly for bed-mates.”

Livak leaned over and I felt the weight of her breasts brush my back through the soft linen of her shirt. I wondered briefly if all we were going to be were bedmates, no ties binding us. As I started to speak, she kneaded a stubborn knot of muscle in my shoulder and the goose featherbed stifled my half-formed words.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” I stretched out under her skillful hands and made appreciative noises as she carefully smoothed out the myriad aches.

“Still stiff?” she inquired after what seemed like half a season of pleasure.

“Only where I want to be.” Dragonsbreath has the same effect on me as most other men.

Livak giggled as I rolled over. “I was wondering what Viltred was doing asking the ale-wife for this.”

“Forget Viltred.” I reached up for her and drew her into a fierce embrace.

She was as eager as me and shivered in delicious delight as I stripped her shirt over her head. The sight of her soft breasts tightening in the lamplight drove any thoughts of conversation clean out of my head. I reached for her with rising desire. Her answering touch was sure and firm and burned me anew with the fiery thrill of a new lover’s hands and lips. She moved to my caresses eagerly, unhesitating pleasure given and received in the keen rapture of mutual exploration. For all the novelty of her body under my hands, we came together with the ease of a couple a generation wedded, moving with the fluid, instinctive rhythm that had come to us so naturally before. I drew on all the self-control I possessed until I felt the cadence of Livak’s movement stumble into ecstasy and then gave myself up to the sweeping waves of delight that came crashing down to overwhelm me. We finally rested, her heartbeat pounding against mine, and I knew that my pulse would be echoing hers for a long time to come, no matter what her feelings for me might be or the prospects for our futures. Our breath mingling, we drifted into deep and refreshing sleep together.

Taken from the First Appendix to the Transactions of the

Merchant Venturers of Col,

Volume 8,

126th Year of the City’s Freedom.

My esteemed brothers in commerce,

This leaves me well and in hopeful spirits, and I hope it may find you in health and prosperity. You will be surprised at this, I do not doubt, given my last missile from the chaos of Triolle.

So, to business. In the debit columns, I will not disguise from you that we face heavy losses. The port at Triolle Bay has been comprehensively sacked by the troops of the Duke of Draximal. The goods and profits of this year’s trade between Triolle and Aldabreshi are now being gambled in the camps and sold to adorn the troopers’ grubby trollops. Moreover, this war of theirs is no mere summer storm; if anyone tells you it will all be settled by Solstice, insist on recording odds at a gaming-house and take that fool for every Mark he has in his strongbox. It may have started with ambition for the throne but it is turning into a struggle for the most fertile land, access to the rivers and the sea, say what you will. I cannot see how Parnilesse will escape being dragged in, and with that the last decent anchorage this side of Tormalin will be no safer than a nest of pirates. Commerce in Lescar is as dead as a man with a sword through his neck.

How then can I be hopeful? Let me explain. This finds me in a tillage called Relshaz, no more than a collection of muddy huts on the delta of the Rel itself. Thus far the place has but one thing to recommend it: its position. Consider the advantages of a port so situated; the Rel is navigable for sizeable vessels as far as Abray and barges could penetrate even further, virtually to Dalasor. A settlement here could draw trade from most of eastern Caladhria, if the word were circulated discreetly, and should commerce in Lescar revive at all such a port would be ideally placed to garner the business and the ensuing profits.