Морган Райс: A Court for Thieves

“Every fear you have slows you down,” Siobhan said. “You are on a path of violence, and to walk it, you must look neither left nor right. You must not hesitate, from fear, from pain, from weakness. There are those who will sit for years becoming one with the elements, or agonize over the perfect word with which to influence. On your path, you must act .”

They reached the edge of the circle, and Kate considered it. It was empty save for the sword, but Kate knew how quickly that could change. She crept through the thorns, not disturbing the plants now as she slipped through them, moving silently into the circle. She slipped in with all the stealth she’d learned.

The other version of her was there waiting when she got through, the sword in her hand, her eyes fixed on Kate.

“Did you think that you could simply sneak in and take it?” the second self demanded. “Were you afraid to fight me again, little girl?”

Kate moved forward, her own weapon at the ready. She didn’t say anything, because talking had done her no good last time. In any case, she wasn’t good at talking. Sophia was better at that. Probably, if she’d been there, she would have already convinced the second version of herself to hand over the blade.

“Do you think that not talking does you any good?” her mirror image demanded. “Does it make you any less weak? Any less useless?”

Kate brought her weapon to bear, striking out high and low, keeping it moving.

“You’ve been training,” her mirror image said as she parried. She struck back and Kate managed to deflect the blow. “It won’t be enough.”

She kept attacking and Kate gave ground. She had to, because the other version of her was exactly as fast, exactly as strong again.

“It doesn’t matter how much you train, or how fast you get,” her opponent said. “I will have all the same advantages and none of the weaknesses. I won’t be a scared little girl, running from the pain.”

She thrust at Kate, and Kate barely managed to dodge the worst of it, the blade cutting a line of fire along her ribs. Kate swayed back, cutting a wide slash with her practice sword in an attempt to keep the other version of herself at bay.

“Just a frightened, weak thing,” her mirror self said. “How does it feel to know that you’re going to die?”

Kate forced herself to smile. “You tell me.”

She kept attacking, ignoring the fear, ignoring the voice that told her she wasn’t enough.

“You’re just trying to hide what you are,” her other self said, although now there was a note that didn’t sound as confident. Her parries weren’t coming as fast either.

“You think I’m scared?” Kate asked. “You think I’m in pain? Let me show you what those mean .”

She bundled it up then, all the pain that she’d felt in the House of the Unclaimed, all the fear that had come from being on the street alone. She took the hurt of not having her sister with her, and the loss of her parents, the fact that she’d had to leave Will. Kate took that pain and compressed it into a cannon ball of agony. She flung it at her mirror self.

The other her reeled back, clutching at her head. In that moment, Kate struck. Her practice blade was only wooden, so she didn’t try to thrust it through the heart or open one of the big veins of the leg. Instead, she lunged with its tip for the throat, the wood slamming home and sending the mirror her sprawling.

“I am not weak,” Kate said, striking again. “I have survived!”

The blade Will and Thomas had made tumbled from her opponent’s hand. Kate snatched it up, testing the weight. The mirror self lay there, her hands scrabbling for the wooden sword, her eyes pleading for mercy.

Kate thrust the sword through her and she vanished.

For what seemed like forever, Kate stood there, breathing hard, her heart hammering in her chest. The blade in her hand had blood on it, and Kate wiped it clean with a handful of grass, trying to use the repetitive movement to calm herself. She could feel the grooves of the runes on the blade every time she passed over them, along with flickers of… something.

“You’ve done well,” Siobhan said, walking through the thorns around the edge of the circle. They gave way for her like courtiers bowing out of the way of a queen. “You’ve pushed aside the things holding you back. The fear. The weakness. The mercy.”

That last part scared Kate a little. She’d thrust her sword through the simulacrum without even hesitating. It hadn’t been real, but even so, there had been blood on the sword. Kate might not have killed anything real there, but she had killed something. Guilt rose up in her with the inevitability of a rising tide.

“You say that as though it’s a good thing,” Kate said.

Siobhan put a hand on her shoulder. “You have sharpened yourself into the weapon you need to be.”

“For what?” Kate asked. She should have guessed that there would be a reason why Siobhan would help her to become a better fighter. There had obviously been a reason why Siobhan had demanded a yet to be named favor as part of the price for her help.

Siobhan didn’t answer. Instead, she tended to Kate’s wounds, applying fresh herbs and cooling salve where they had opened.

“For what?” Kate repeated.

Siobhan stood, looking Kate in the eye. “There are things that are coming. Things that threaten those like me. You have seen an army coming, and you think that it is just a human kind of war. It is that, and many will die if you fail, but it is more, it is far more.”

“How much more?” Kate asked.

“There are things in this world that destroy all they touch,” Siobhan said. “This is not the time to talk about them.”

That wasn’t good enough for Kate. She wanted to reach out and grab the other woman. She wanted to demand real answers. She knew that she was being used; she just wanted to know in what way, and why. She wanted to have the kind of choice that had never been given to her back in the House of the Unclaimed. She would force an answer from the other woman if she had to. She would —

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