The Living Sword 3: The Burden of Legacy

by Pemry Janes

  “He got away, then,” Eurik said. He swung his legs off the bed and tested their strength. “How are we going to find him?”

  “Oh no,” Silver Fang said, crossing the room to push him back down. “We will speak first of your recklessness.”

  Slyvair guffawed. “Ha, pot meet pan.”

  Silver Fang ignored him. “You didn’t tell me you were poisoned. It nearly cost you your life. And now you want to jump out of bed and act like it didn’t happen. Heartvice is not something to be shrugged off so easily.”

  “Perhaps you should let me examine him first,” Sharp Prong said. Guiding Silver Fang a step back, she addressed Eurik. “We can answer your questions as you answer mine.”

  Eurik nodded, after a moment’s hesitation. That did sound reasonable and he honestly wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to stand before his reserve of earth chiri ran out. He gave another look toward the sunlight streaming in. “How long have I been out, anyway?”

  “A night and half a day,” Slyvair said as the shaman placed her fingers here and there, plucked at his eyelid and told him to show her his tongue.

  “Shouldn’t you be at the competition, then?”

  “Rock, we’re all out of the competition.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t you try to apologize as well,” Slyvair said, pushing off from the wall and holding up his mangled hand so that everybody could clearly see it. “This will be healed in a couple of weeks. I’m not that old yet. And as for the tournament, I competed to test myself. I was never good enough with sword and shield that I could win against the best of the Mochedan.”

  “Right. And no, no lingering pain in my chest. Some in the arm,” Eurik said in response to the shaman’s question. That prompted Sharp Prong to prod and squeeze the limb, asking if that hurt. It didn’t, much.

  Silver Fang sighed. “I’m out as well, unfortunately.” She looked at her hands. “But not all may be lost. Whatever its intentions, the face stealer did quell some of the unrest. There were no incidents last night and no fresh murders. That is, other than the guardian’s. And the news of what happened here has given everybody’s anger a new target.”

  “Not like we could have kept the devastation hidden,” Sharp Prong said. “But it was Bitten Fin who advocated we hid what we knew. To lull the murderer into complacency, to catch out someone who knew too much. He had convincing arguments, now I wonder if he’d already been replaced. How blind have I been?”

  She shook her head. “You have recovered.” Sharp Prong gave Eurik a hard stare. “And . . . thank you for saving my life. I felt some of what you did. I recognized the poison, but not in time to counter it.” She stepped back and rearranged her shawl.

  “Right.” Eurik pushed himself to his feet, a tremor of weakness running down his legs before he steadied. “And you saved me, I take it. So thank you.”

  “My contribution was small,” Sharp Prong said.

  “She has also told Fervent to go away,” Silver Fang said with a hint of a smile. “She came by this morning—as soon as you didn’t show up for your first match—to demand you be placed in her custody.”

  The shaman shrugged. “The girl should know better than to interfere with someone under my care. And shouldn’t have needed a reminder that she is no loreteller. Her word is not law! Bah, they let anybody become rangtauk these days.”

  Eurik tried to thank her, but the shaman interrupted him as he got started. “I suggest you stop now. My life is no small thing and I do not appreciate anybody claiming otherwise. I will know when that debt is paid. Not you.”

  “All right.” He didn’t know what else to say. He was at a loss in general. “What do we do now? The murderer will be long gone by now. He got what he wanted.” And the only people he found who knew his parents were Fervent and Ambiguous Coin.

  “Maybe,” Slyvair said. “Nobody’s been allowed to leave since last night. He might not have had the opportunity. And he’s not acting alone.” His gaze went from Silver Fang to Sharp Prong, both looking away at his words. “He has an accomplice. At least one.”

  “There’s no evidence it’s anything more than a single traitor!” Silver Fang hissed and relaxed her balled fists, shaking them. She turned to Eurik. “But yes. We chased the face stealer, and it was talking to someone. Then we were attacked by someone in a raven’s mask. That one probably was Mochedan.”

  Slyvair quirked a brow ridge. “Probably?”

  “Fine, she had to be. She wielded a segmented blade as only one of us could. She also cut the bridge while I was on it. That is how I got injured.”

  “She wasn’t so gentle with me,” Slyvair said, showing off his missing digits again. “But this is good news! One person who could be anybody is near impossible to find. But three—one of whom used a weapon I know is an oddity even among these people—that’s far better odds.”

  “I don’t know,” Misthell said. “I wouldn’t bet on us here.”

  “Even better,” Silver Fang said. “When was the last time you took a winning bet? And . . . I do not like it but Captain Slyvair does have a point. A traitor will be easier to find.”

  “But not by you,” Sharp Prong said. “This is a matter for Chappenuioc to resolve. And you,” she told Eurik, “still need to regain some strength. So don’t even think of sneaking off to perform some idiot heroics. Actually, that goes for all of you. None of you are in fighting shape.”

  “I’m glad you noticed,” Misthell said. “I’ve been telling these people to be more careful but they just won’t listen. I’m just not cut out for this life of action and adventure.”

  “As you command, shaman,” Silver Fang said, inclining her head.

  Eurik thought of objecting, but he was in the Inner Ring at the moment. The mere thought of having to make it all the way out of Chappenuioc before he could draw on more earth chiri, made his legs tremble. “Could you bring me another stone?”

  “Of course.” Silver Fang inclined her head. “I’ll come around this evening. If that is all right?”

  Sharp Prong nodded. “Yes, I’ll let the guardians know to let you pass.”

  ***

  Leraine felt like a coward. She should have said something to Sharp Prong, to Rock, to Captain Slyvair, yes, even to Misthell. The living sword complained like a coward but when battle was joined he was a true ally.

  And that it is only a suspicion is an excuse. I just don’t want it to be true.

  Yesterday, there had been a sharp tension brewing beneath the surface of celebration and merriment. But that surface had receded now. Walking through Chappenuioc on her way to the Snake Quarter, she found many giving her searching looks. Measuring how much of a threat she’d be. Was she the crow?

  The armed and unarmed competitions were still going on. She passed Dancing Ember himself, in the process of demolishing some poor Falcon. Some in the crowd cheered, and all of those wore the not-quite armor of Truce Warriors.

  No chance now of Mother’s plan working. But maybe it won’t matter.

  There was some music, but it only added to the tense, somber atmosphere and nobody stopped to listen. Judging from their baskets and bowls, few bothered to gift them either.

  From the Outer Ring onward, she came across guardian patrols. Not the pairs of past days but groups of five, always within earshot or sight of one another. People got out of their way, which was easier because there were fewer people out and about.

  They hadn’t left, that much was clear when she passed the Boar quarter. It was packed, with triple the guards on its entrances which kept an eye on anybody who got close. Even a fellow tribe member was stopped and asked some question before she was allowed to pass inside.

  Something similar happened to Leraine herself when she reached the Snake Quarter. Four guards, all from different septs stopped her. Thankfully, one was from Urumoy. “Good morning, Mere Scratch.”

  “Good morning, Silver Fang. You were missed last night.”


  “Yes. I was involved with last night’s incident.”

  “Of course you were.” Mere Scratch shook her head. The fine lines of the scars crisscrossing her face moved as she gave Leraine a wan smile. “Well, we’ve taken some precautions because of that. Can’t have a whatever sneaking in.”

  “And how do I prove that?”

  “By telling us the true name of the Great Serpent.”

  Leraine looked around. “Here? In the open?” Her heart pounded. Yes, it was a clever answer to the question of finding out who was the impostor. Still, to speak her name out it in the open where others could hear went against all practice and tradition.

  “Good reaction,” a warrior from Uthamac said. “But we still need to hear you say her name.”

  Leraine glanced around one more time. “Fine.” But she leaned in and whispered it into Mere Scratch’s ear. “Ghisa.” And shivered as the word passed her lips. For a moment, she felt naked.

  Mere Scratch nodded. “Right, you can pass. Before you go though, did you bring any weapons with you to Chappenuioc? Armor?”

  “Just my sword. Do you need me to take a turn guarding the quarter?”

  “No. Just keep it within reach while you’re here. Just in case.”

  “I will.” Leraine took care not to show how concerning those words were. Is this just in case the murderer appears within the quarter? Or are they expecting trouble from their fellow Mochedan?

  “Ah, did you see my sisters? Have they gone out?”

  “Golden Tongue did,” Mere Scratch said. “Her and about ten others. Resting Python didn’t pass through here.” She shrugged. So Anseri might still be in the quarter.

  Thanking her for the information, Leraine entered the quarter and navigated its crowded passages. Many here were armed, some even wore some armor. Yet it felt a little better here. Less suspicion rested in the eyes she met, someone laughed. But her own mood only grew darker as she entered her own room and belted her sword on.

  Not that I’ll need it. I won’t.

  Her first try was Anseri’s quarters, but they were empty. So were Ferisha’s, but that she’d expected. Asking around only told her that Ferisha had indeed left the quarter. Leraine took that opportunity to get some lunch as well, only to regret the decision.

  Instead of asking others where Anseri was, it was Leraine who got swamped with questions. How had she gotten injured? Had she really fought Tense Coil’s murderer? Could it really imitate people?

  Her soup had gotten cold and left a sand-like residue on her teeth when she finally got around to eating it. Then she had to use half her cup to wash the residue away. The taste hadn’t been great either, but she made no comment when she returned her bowl to the cook. Wasn’t his fault she hadn’t enjoyed her meal much.

  At least one of her questioners had been able to steer Leraine in the right direction. Anseri was holding court in one of the upper rooms of the Great Hall. That Great Hall was sitting on the outer edge of their quarter, acting as a solid boundary wall and a fallback position should the unthinkable happen.

  The Great Hall was not used to house anybody. Nobody ever slept in there. It was used for storage and the leaders of the septs could gather inside to decide matters that impacted the entire tribe.

  But that hall on the ground floor was closed, the doors bound shut with ropes and wax seals on the knots. There weren’t many people in here, mostly men carrying out supplies to feed the ravenous horde that had descended upon Chappenuioc and now didn’t want to go out to eat or drink.

  Halfway up the stairs, Leraine realized she was stalking. Her feet barely making a sound, her sword pushed out of the way so that it wouldn’t bump into anything.

  Useless. I’m not trying to ambush anybody.

  But she couldn’t get herself to stop as she moved up the corridor. The quarter was outside of Chappenuioc proper and so mage lights could be used to light the corridors and rooms of the Great Hall. But with so few using it right now, only three illuminated the long hallway. Entire stretches were steeped in darkness, with one exception. A closed room at the end where light spilled out from underneath the door.

  Getting a little closer, Leraine heard the familiar voice of her sister. “I know, I know. And I agree, we can’t wait around while the Truce Warriors forge ahead. But the shamans have been clear, maintaining order in Chappenuioc is their responsibility. And we can’t act without their blessing. Well, not outside the quarter. Which is why we’re questioning everybody coming in.”

  “It’s not enough,” someone else said, others making noises of agreement. “We can’t wait around and let them dictate the pace. We should strike, before they do.”

  “I think you’re overestimating how ready they are. And to act too fast risks shattering the very pact we seek to preserve. No, now is the time to prepare.”

  Leraine hesitated, then resolutely knocked and opened the door. Twenty-three women turned to her, a few readying to draw their weapons.

  “Sister,” Anseri said. “You either had a great night, or a terrible one.”

  “Few had a good night last night.” Leraine eyed the others. A few of them looked to Anseri for guidance. The rest kept their attention on Leraine. They shifted as she took a step inside the room, as if an enemy had entered their presence.

  Am I different? I hold my tongue, rather than speaking openly.

  “True. Very true. Were you looking for me?”

  “I was.” Leraine deliberately ignored the rest and approached her sister, making sure to keep her hand away from her own sword. “Did you see our sister this morning?”

  Anseri blinked. “I . . . did. Yes. Not that we spoke.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask?”

  Leraine spotted it. A segmented blade wrapped around Anseri’s waist like a belt, the hilt on her stomach. But the decoration didn’t match her memories of last night. Relief staggered her; she had to fight to regain her balance and it left her limbs a little weak.

  Anseri reached her side to support her right after. “Are you . . . Everybody, my sister and I have family matters to discuss. We’ll talk later.”

  “I’m fine,” Leraine said. But she said nothing about the rest. It would be better if they didn’t hear her words. They filed out quickly, only bidding Anseri goodbye and not her. A small insult, not one to take notice of in these circumstances.

  “You don’t look fine,” Anseri said when the door closed. “Now what is this about? Why do you want to know where Golden Tongue is?”

  “I . . . was involved in last night’s events. I confronted the murderer of Tense Coil. It had an accomplice. A woman that used a segmented blade.” Leraine swayed.

  Something’s wrong. This weakness . . .

  “Did you think it was me? Or our sister?”

  Leraine shook her head. “Something’s wrong. I’m . . . I think I’ve been poisoned.” Her mind settled on lunch, the perfect opportunity. She’d been crowded, distracted. The soup hadn’t just gone cold.

  “Oh, that’s nothing to worry about. It won’t kill you.”

  Leraine finally caught on to her sister’s words. She pulled away and grasped for her sword. But her hand knocked into the hilt instead of getting a hold of it, and she couldn’t pull out of Anseri’s tightening hold. “But. You?”

  “I didn’t think you’d come right to me. It does make this easier. Now, stop struggling. Just go to sleep. That’s it.”

  Leraine struggled as her sister shifted her hold, but she felt so weak. Darkness crept in from the edges of her vision, narrowing it to a point. “Scaleless traitor.”

  From up at the end of the tunnel, Anseri’s voice echoed down in an incomprehensible mumble.

  Chapter 27

  Listen

  Eurik looked up from the book Sharp Prong had provided him. The light was fading. It wasn’t evening yet, but twilight was rapidly approaching and he could detect the first hint of dinner’s preparations. But no Silver Fang.

&nbs
p; He tried to return his attention to the story of Hassajj Boudhadhi, better known as Stonespeaker. One of the lesser-known Nine, but knowing what he knew now about the dwarves’ connection to the Ways put his deeds in a new light. Yet he found his thoughts wandering.

  When he heard someone approach he put the book away, only to be disappointed when Sharp Prong entered the room. “You don’t have to give me that look,” she said before looking around. “So she hasn’t come by yet.”

  “Not yet.” Eurik got up from the bed. There was still a lingering weakness, but he managed to stand and walk without assistance.

  “She probably found the nearest deadly danger and threw herself at it,” Misthell said. “I’m surprised nothing’s on fire yet.”

  They both directed a look in the living sword’s direction. “What, just saying out loud what you’re thinking. She’s got a knack for getting into sticky situations where she needs me. I have the scratches to show for it.”

  “I told Silver Fang to stay out of our affairs,” Sharp Prong said. “Suggesting that she would ignore our commands is an insult. One that would land you in much trouble if you weren’t an object. Instead, the burden would fall to your owner.”

  “I’m sure Silver Fang wouldn’t mind it. She knows Misthell and how much he means what he says.”

  The living sword rested against the wall at the foot end of the bed. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That you could use some new material?” Eurik turned to Sharp Prong as Misthell shouted. “Still, he’s not entirely wrong. You have heard nothing?”

  The shaman shook her head and adjusted her shawl. “No. Though I do have other duties to attend to.”

  Eurik nodded and looked out the entrance and over Chappenuioc. Various banners and awnings rippled as the wind toyed with them. He was a little worried, but Sharp Prong had to be right. She was fine and he was just trying to not think about the future.

  But that future was coming quickly. His purpose here was done, he wouldn’t find anything more on his parents. His next best source of information would be in Puma lands. Eurik didn’t know quite where they lay—somewhere in the west, close to Linesan lands—or how big the territory was.