by Pemry Janes
“Hold on,” Misthell said. “You, the one hiding in the back behind that scary-looking one. No, the other one.” That didn’t clarify it for anybody, not until two disembodied hands appeared to point at a young woman with short hair. She held a swordstaff, but also had a broad quiver on her hips with an unstrung bow tied to it. That detail tickled Eurik’s memory.
“She knows us,” Misthell said. “Tell them why I ended up sleeping in the dirt all night. For which you still haven’t apologized. Do you know how filthy that place is? You people keep burying your shit in it.” The blade shuddered in his scabbard.
The woman shrank into herself as everybody looked at her. “I don’t . . . It wasn’t my fault.” She gestured with her weapon. “He should have just handed you over. It’s the law!”
“Oh, I want to hear this,” the guard who had denied Eurik’s request said, grinning. “Did this man give you trouble, Little Slip?”
Little Slip’s hand tightened around the swordstaff and her cheeks burned. “No!” When she said nothing more, others started to chime in, calling on Little Slip to tell the story. She tried to fend them off, but they pressed.
All of this was a waste of time. If Silver Fang was in trouble . . . he considered marching through the guards. Pillars of earth to clear a path, shield him from any arrows. Or just dig his way in. But if they were on their guard, he wouldn’t be free to search the area. He’d have to dodge or fight, wasting more time.
“If she doesn’t want to tell the story, I can,” Misthell said. “And not just tell. I can make the encounter come to life.” Between Eurik and the guards, figures about a third of the size of the real people appeared.
“No, I’ll do it!” Little Slip ran forward, swiping through the illusion with the butt of her swordstaff. “Not like it’s a long story. Or important. That boy came in with a group from Urumoy. Silver Fang was in that group. But he carried a sword within our rangtauk’s walls. I backed Humming String up when she went to confiscate it. He got difficult.”
“Well, Humming String was talking about keeping me. And I almost had you fooled into thinking I was a flathorn.”
A few chuckled and Little Slip raised her voice to drown those out. “You did not. Not for an instant.”
“It seems one of us can vouch for your identity,” the first guard said.
“Oh, but we haven’t gotten to the good part yet,” Misthell said. His one eye peered at Little Slip. “Shall I tell them, or were you getting to that?”
She inhaled sharply through her nose, teeth clenched even as she spoke. “I had an arrow nocked. There were some other men there who were getting riled. Then . . . my hold . . . slipped.”
It occurred to Eurik that her name might have been something else until recently. Silver Fang’s words from a few months ago had hinted at that: that you weren’t necessarily the one who decided what it would be. And Silver Fang had not been Silver Fang when they met. Little Slip might be quite angry with him, then.
Now they were all openly grinning or chuckling. The one who appeared to lead this group asked the follow-up question. “Who did you hit?”
Little Slip said nothing, only pointing at Eurik. He shrugged as their attention shifted to him. “It wasn’t a full draw and I sort of was expecting it. So I stopped it.”
“Stopped it?”
“My arrow bounced off his chest, barely drew blood,” Little Slip said, glancing at him. “He has power.”
“An accident, no harm done. And Misthell was fine, even after a full night buried deep in the ground. Don’t let him convince you of the contrary. But he’s all I have left of my parents, and he’s my friend. I couldn’t just hand him over.”
The leader shook her head. “You almost broke guest-right, and they still let you come to the Festival of Conclave? I’d have you dig pits for a year, even if the guest had demanded you offer penance.”
“For drawing blood, that would be a finger,” Sharp Prong said. Those fingers shifted on the shaft of her weapon as Little Slip hunched her shoulders.
“So,” Eurik said quickly. “Is that enough? Can I come in and look for my friend?”
“No, our orders are clear,” another of the women said. “We can’t allow an outsider in, even if he’s proved that he’s himself.”
The leader shook her head. “No, we’re just supposed to make sure people are who they say that they are. Outsiders aren’t specifically forbidden.”
“But—”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
The guard—wearing newer armor than what the others wore, now that Eurik took the time to note such details—opened her mouth. Then clicked it shut and averted her gaze. “No, no. Still, an outsider roaming around the quarter in these times is asking for trouble. Allow me to escort the boy around.”
“A good suggestion, but I think we should give that task to someone more deserving. Do you think you can keep him out of trouble, Little Slip?”
“Yes.” Little Slip gave him a hard look and jerked her head. “Come on then.”
Eurik turned to Sharp Prong, who already shook her head. “I’m going to talk to the guardians patrolling. They might have seen her. We don’t know that she never left, after all. Good luck on your hunt.”
“Ah, you as well.”
Sharp Prong walked away without another word. Eurik looked after her, only to have a wooden staff hit him on the shin. It didn’t hurt, earth chiri still flowed through his limbs, but there had been some force behind it.
“Don’t waste my time,” Little Slip said. “You wanted to get in so badly, go.”
He wanted to argue, though not sure what about. He did want to get into the quarter, as he was worried about Silver Fang. Shaking his head to dislodge that useless impulse, he walked in with Little Slip following two steps behind.
His first and only destination was Silver Fang’s room. It was really the only place he knew in the place. If she wasn’t there, he’d try some of the neighbors and hope to get lucky. He found himself watched the entire way, and not just by Little Slip. Conversations would fall still, and some stopped their work until they saw Little Slip behind him. Just about all the women wore a weapon or two, mostly swords, long knives, or a couple of daggers. Armor was a lot rarer.
Finally, he reached Silver Fang’s room in the large pavilion and drew back the curtain. Everything looked neat and in its place. No sign of a fight. He extended his senses into the floor, but found little. Nothing buried, or swept up. The chest was a little lighter than he recalled. Dropping to one knee, he touched the iron lock and it clicked open. Inside, there was a collection of clothes and some other supplies. But no sword.
Little Slip shifted her grip on her swordstaff. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“Tracing her steps. Her sword is gone, she didn’t have it last time I saw her. So now we know she did reach her room.”
“Well . . . you’d better lock it back before we go.”
“Certainly.” He studied the chest’s contents closer, but if there were any clues hidden inside, they eluded him. Closing it back up, he gave the rest of the room another look, but nothing else jumped out at him.
Her neighbors weren’t in their rooms either, which left him standing outside the pavilion considering his options.
“What makes you think she’s still here?” Little Slip asked. He turned to face her and she rolled her left shoulder. “If something happened to Silver Fang, it would have happened outside. Plenty of enemies. Not to mention that disguising murderer.”
“She has a point,” Misthell said.
“She does. But retracing her path has to start from where we know she was. Now, we know she was in her room. So . . . where would she go from there?”
“Food? I mean, she left in the morning and humans do need to eat a lot,” Misthell said.
“There is a tavern nearby,” Little Slip said after a beat. “You could ask there.”
“Sounds like a plan. Please, lead the
way,” Eurik said.
Little Slip lifted her chin and pointed to the south. “It’s in that direction. Look for the placard with a rattler drinking from a cup on it. Can’t miss it.”
He wondered what a rattler was, exactly, but he got the impression Little Slip wasn’t in the mood for more explaining. He had a direction, and part of a description, it should be enough.
Navigating through the warren of tents and stalls—half of them empty—he discovered that a rattler was some sort of snake with a peculiar tail. It had wrapped its body around a tall cup and its tongue extended to lap some of the drink up.
Unfortunately, that was about all he learned from this tavern. The barkeep did recall serving Silver Fang lunch, but didn’t know where she’d gone or when she left. Just that a lot of people had wanted to talk to her. But if she left with any of them, he couldn’t say.
Thanking the man, he left. Standing outside the large tent, he took a deep breath and considered his next course of action. Wandering around hoping to stumble on a clue in this big mess was an option, but he could do better.
“Could you tell me where the center of the quarter is?”
Little Slip narrowed her eyes. “Why do you need to know that?”
“It’s the best place from which to search the entire quarter.”
Her frown deepened. “You’re not casting any spells on our territory.”
“It’s not magic, and no. I’m going to draw the winds to me and listen to what they carry. Sounds, smells, that sort of thing. If Silver Fang is here, or someone mentions her, I’ll notice.” That was the theory, anyway. And if she wasn’t here, or dead . . .
“So . . . the center of the quarter, if you please.”
She glanced to her left before shaking her head. “You only have permission to look for Silver Fang. You didn’t mention you were going to use magic to do it.”
“It’s not magic!” Eurik had had enough. Little Slip had barely been helpful and he shouldn’t be wasting time.
“It really isn’t,” someone else said. Turning to his left, Eurik recognized her as Silver Fang’s sister. Resting Pity? No, that’s not it.
She inclined her head toward him. Behind her, several men were carrying something large and heavy covered in cloth. His senses easily made out the silver used in its construction. “Rock, I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you’d found lodgings in the Outsiders Quarter.”
Python, that’s it. Resting Python.
“I have. I’m here looking for Silver Fang. We were supposed to meet some time ago, but she didn’t show up. I’m having a hard time retracing her steps. Have you seen her today?”
Resting Python hummed and glanced at Little Slip. “And what’s your business here?”
Little Slip rolled her right shoulder. “I’m here to keep an eye on him. We can’t have an outsider wandering around the quarter without a guard.”
“I’m surprised they let you in at all,” Resting Python said.
“That’s because of me and Little Slip here,” Misthell said. “On account of her shooting him. By accident.”
“Ah, yes. That was you.” Little Slip averted her eyes and her face flushed under Resting Python’s attention. “I did see her,” Resting Python said, returning her attention to Eurik. “Hours ago. She left the quarter right after, so I’m afraid you’re looking in the wrong place.”
“Did she tell you where she was going? Was she alone?”
“Yes, to the last question. And it didn’t come up. But you shouldn’t worry, Silver Fang can take care of herself.”
Those words struck Eurik as strange. He couldn’t help but glance at all the armed people; all the armed women, that is. The men walking and working in view wore neither armor nor weapons, save for a few short knives.
Resting Python seemed an exception, but he could feel the daggers hidden on her person and a strange sword wrapped around her waist.
“Wait a moment, is that a segmented blade?” Misthell asked.
He caught it, a tremor in the earth chiri as Resting Python shifted her weight even as her expression did not move a hair’s breadth. For just a moment, she’d readied herself for a strike.
“It is,” Silver Fang’s sister said, placing a finger on the hilt. “I prefer something more subtle. I, for one, trust my fellow sisters to hold to honor.” She gave Little Slip’s swordstaff a once over.
“Not why I ask,” Misthell said. “I heard what happened last night from Silver Fang. She fought someone with a blade like that. So why did she want to see you?”
Resting Python’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you accusing me of something?”
“Please answer the question,” Little Slip said.
She gave the younger woman a smile. It wasn’t a friendly one, not at all. “Are you making some sort of accusation? Of me?”
“That’s not answering the question,” Misthell said.
Resting Python sighed. “Fine, fine. She wanted to know where Golden Tongue was. Our sister,” she told Little Slip. “She didn’t tell me why, but now I know. When we were younger, we had something of a competition going on. Trying to best one another at this or that, including the use of the segmented blade.”
Misthell rolled his eye. “Still think there’s no reason to worry? Figures Silver Fang went looking for the one working with that face stealer. Especially if she thought it was her own sister.”
“Wait, hold on,” Little Slip said. “What are you talking about?”
“We helped set a trap last night for the murderer of Springstep and the others, the one that can look like other people. We thought we were, anyway,” Eurik said with a shake of his head. They’d been had. “The face stealer set a fire and escaped with a demon heart.”
He might be revealing more than he was supposed to, but he was getting sick and tired of secrets. “Silver Fang and Slyvair went after him, but he had help. A woman in a raven mask. I didn’t know she had an unusual weapon too.”
“One used by two daughters of Raven Eye,” Little Slip said.
“I hate to think Golden Tongue would stoop so low as to work with something that would break the peace of Chappenuioc, murder shamans.” Resting Python shook her head and let out a long breath. “But all the Truce Warriors have gotten—”
“Watch what accusations you throw about,” Little Slip said. This time, she didn’t look away when she met Resting Python’s gaze.
The latter inclined her head. “Yes. Still, Silver Fang went looking for her. She’s your best lead to find her.” She hesitated, then turned to the men still carrying their cargo. “Go ahead and meet up with Still Pool. She knows where this needs to go. Let her know I’m helping Silver Fang’s friend to find my sister.”
“Of course,” one of the men said. He bowed to her, and Little Slip thought that one was shallower. Then they were off.
“We best head out as well,” Resting Python said. “I know Golden Tongue has been spending some time in the company of Dancing Ember so we should try the Wolf quarter first. You can leave as well,” she told Little Slip, who shook her head.
“I’m under orders to guard this man.”
“While he’s here. But we’re leaving and I can make sure he doesn’t do anything he shouldn’t during the brief journey out of the quarter.”
“Actually, we should head for the center of this quarter first,” Eurik said. “I want to make sure she’s not here first. Since we’re here already.”
“Why? Oh, yes, your magic.” Resting Python nodded to herself. “But what makes you think she could be here?”
“Well, you didn’t actually see her leave the quarter. Right?”
“I did not,” she said slowly. “Though I’m sure we’d have heard if something happened to her here.”
“I’m here now. Having to come back if your lead doesn’t pan out will only waste more time.”
“I see. How would this work?”
“I’ll call the winds to me. T
hey can carry sounds like her voice, or someone mentioning her name, from several bowshots away.”
“I see. That is a powerful ability. You would be able to find her quickly, if she was here.” Resting Python nodded again. “Very well. But if you need access to winds, perhaps the lookout on the top of the Great Hall would be a better place?”
She pointed at the large building sitting on the outskirts of the quarter, a dark shape silhouetted against the darkening sky. There was something sticking out of the roof in the center, a little tower with a domed roof on which a pole sat. Tied to that pole was one of the wind catchers in the shape of a snake he’d seen everywhere since coming to Mochedan territory. It rolled and undulated as the wind picked up.
“That could work. It looks to be open.”
“Good. Well then, we’re heading for the Great Hall,” Resting Python told Little Slip. “You can go.”
“I’m not under your command, Resting Python,” Little Slip said. “And I already told you. I am not to leave Rock here unsupervised while within the quarter. No exceptions.”
They stared at each other for a moment longer, then Resting Python inclined her head. “Very well. You can lead the way, then.”
Little Slip shot Eurik a look. Silver Fang’s sister clapped him on the shoulder. “I have questions for Rock, so he’ll be walking beside me. Is there a problem? Not sure you can manage to navigate our way there?”
“No. I’m sure I can manage.” Little Slip spun around and marched in the direction of the Great Hall.
Now Eurik was certain he was missing something in the conversation. Like back on the island, when san spoke to each other. Some of the sounds in the san language his ear simply couldn’t pick up on. Except these two were human, like him, and still he missed something.
Chapter 29
Out of the Dark
Time had become a nebulous concept down here in the cellar, measured in frayed strands and aching muscles. Leraine became very familiar with the ropes that bound her. The rope was clearly old, crud had worked its way between the twisted strands and some of the fibers had already come loose. They must have taken the first coil of sufficient length and thickness they could find in one of the Great Hall’s many storage rooms.
