Shadow of the Knife

by Jane Fletcher

  “Hal. Short for Ahalya Drennen.”

  “Are you planning on seeing her again?”

  “No. I mean it wouldn’t be wise, would it?”

  Chris smiled. “I don’t know, a nice woman flirting with you isn’t something that happens every day.”

  “She might be a Knife.”

  “And she might not. Either way, it wouldn’t be a bad move to keep tabs on her. If she’s in with the Butcher, you could learn something. And if she isn’t...” Chris’s smile broadened. “It would be a shame if you pushed her away.”

  “I don’t know how seriously she meant it. She was kind of joking.”

  “Joking doesn’t mean she wasn’t serious. My advice is, if she comes looking for you, don’t run. But be careful what you say, and don’t risk getting hurt if she turns on you. Just use your head and keep your emotions under control.”

  Ellen nodded and then looked up at the sky. The sun was dropping toward the rooftops. “I’ve got to be off. I’m meeting Rash...Terrie at the station in a few minutes.” She stood.

  “Take care.”

  “Right.”

  “I mean it. You’re young. You don’t trust your own judgment and you want to play things by the rules. But use your head. If you have to choose between the rule book and your common sense, then toss the rule book out. If you have time, you can always come and talk to me. Don’t do something stupid just because you’re ordered to.”

  “My duty is—”

  “Your duty is to uphold the law, to catch the thieves, and to see that nobody gets murdered along the way. And your own murder would be no more acceptable than for any other citizen.”

  “I’ll try to be careful.”

  “Being careful isn’t the point. That’s why I’ve said all this to you. It wasn’t just for the sake of a good gossip. While I’m out of action, you’re pretty much on your own. In a crunch, Penny and Della are the best of the bunch, but neither are hot on using their initiative. And I’m thinking some initiative is what’s called for—like with you talking to the Rangers. Jake’s ordered you not to speak to them again, hasn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ignore that order. Until HQ gets someone qualified out here to take over, the Rangers are your best bet. If you find out something they need to know, then tell them. Jake Cohen is in a blind panic and the worse it gets, the more she’s going to have the Militia acting like headless chickens. It isn’t going to catch the thieves, and worse than that, it could get somebody killed.”

  “I don’t know…” Ellen stared at the grass, trying to organize her thoughts. She was aware that in part she felt flattered the sergeant trusted her enough to speak so honestly, but in part she also felt out of her depth.

  “You know you saved my life?” The quiet intensity in Chris’s voice made Ellen look up.

  “When?”

  “When I was stabbed. You did all the right things, leaving the knife in place while stopping the flow of blood. I very nearly died. It was a desperately close thing. Your actions are why I can sit here now, in my yard, with my daughter.” Chris stroked the baby’s head. “I don’t want to have to go to your funeral someday soon and tell your parents how sorry I am and how they can be proud of your memory, and all the other inane platitudes.”

  *

  The drunken woman collided heavily with a table, slopping the drinks on it and coming within a wobble of upsetting it completely. She barely managed to keep herself from ending up on the floor. Patrons seated around the table grabbed what remained of their beer and shouted, adding to the chaos in the taproom. The drunk ignored them and lurched toward the bar. “I juss wan—”

  Ellen caught the woman’s arm and yanked it up behind her, firmly enough to restrain her, but not enough to cause real pain. The woman stumbled back, looking more confused than upset, as if she could not work out why her legs were no longer carrying her where she wanted to go. Her eyes tried to latch onto Ellen’s face, but she was clearly having trouble. Possibly she was trying to work out which of the two Ellens she should talk to.

  Terrie Rasheed caught the other arm, and between them, the Militiawoman frog-marched the drunk out of the Three Barrels Tavern, into the calm of the square outside.

  The woman protested. “I juss wanna nuvver drink. I got money. Tell her she hasta gimme one.”

  “You’ve had too many already,” Terrie said firmly.

  They released the woman, who staggered a few steps, until she found a wall to grab on to. “Juss one—”

  “Go home.”

  “I—”

  “You can go home, or you can spend the night in the station lockup. Your choice.”

  The drunk took a few gulps of air. Maybe it helped to clear her head, because she was able to release her grip on the wall. She scowled unsteadily at Ellen and Terrie, as if finally registering their Militia uniforms.

  “Blackshirt bitches.” However, the words were only muttered and she was already turning to leave, stumbling toward an alleyway.

  Once the drunk had disappeared from view, Ellen let her breath out in a sigh. The small square was deserted in the moonlight. Midnight was little more than two hours away. Things ought to quiet down soon. The working day would be starting in six hours and most folk were already asleep in their beds. However, the Three Barrels Tavern was still doing a brisk trade. Noise from the taproom was rising again, but it was the normal hubbub of conversation. The disturbance was over.

  “You stay out here. Make sure she doesn’t come back or pull a stupid stunt. I’ll go and check that everything inside is okay.” Terrie snapped the order and marched back into the Three Barrels.

  The door swung shut. Ellen stared cynically at the spot where Terrie had been standing. This was the second night of patrolling with the corporal, and Ellen was getting more than a little fed up at being told to keep watch outside trouble-free taverns, while Terrie spent ten minutes checking out the interior. This had happened four times the previous night, and the only thing to be said for it was that by the time they had finished the patrol, Terrie had been in a conspicuously good mood.

  Ellen closed her eyes and flexed her shoulders, trying to dissipate the resentment that could achieve nothing except for making her even less happy with life.

  “Can I take it you’re still on duty?” An amused voice spoke from the shadows.

  Ellen jerked around. “Who’s there?”

  Hal Drennen emerged into the moonlight. “I said I’d come into town to see what was on offer, and look what I’ve found.”

  “You’ve been watching me?”

  “It wasn’t deliberate. I was having a quiet drink until the fun started.”

  “You were in the Three Barrels?”

  “Yes. I saw you handle the drunk, and very neatly done too.” Hal looked around. “Has she gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “So why are you hanging about out here?”

  “I’m making sure she doesn’t come back.”

  “While your corporal makes sure the beer is up to standard?”

  Hal had been advancing while she spoke. She was now mere centimeters away. Ellen felt her heart start to pound, but this time she was ready to deal with the woman. Ellen folded her arms as a barrier and planted her feet squarely on the cobbles. She would take Chris’s advice, play Hal along, and enjoy the game, but she would take care that she did not drop her guard—not until she was certain Hal was on the level.

  “Corporal Rasheed is ensuring that the situation in the tavern is under control.”

  “Really? Is that what she told you? And do you believe her?” Hal’s tone was flippant. She made a show of looking around the square. Her arm brushed against Ellen’s. “Well, it all seems under control outside, so what are you going to do for the next ten minutes?”

  “I’ll stand here and keep watch.”

  “Like you’ve been told to?”

  “Yes.”

  “And don’t you ever get tired of doing what you’re told?”

>   “No. Else I’d be a pretty poor officer of the law.”

  Hal tilted her head to one side. “You don’t ever get a kick from breaking the rules? From thinking you’ve got one over on the ass kissers who make them up?”

  “No.”

  “And you don’t get pissed off, standing around in the dark, while somebody getting twice your salary helps herself to free beer?”

  “That’s not your concern.”

  “Which I guess means yes.” Hal laughed. “You know, you really should try your hand at a bit of misconduct sometime. You might find it fun.”

  Hal raised her index finger and traced a line across Ellen’s forearm and up to her bicep. The thick black material of the Militia shirt did nothing to shield Ellen from the sensation. The contact burned like fire, melting her resolve. She took a half step back, hands dropping to her side.

  “I’m not supposed to.” Even to Ellen’s own ears, the words sounded ridiculously defensive. They were unlikely to have been any more authoritative for Hal.

  “To do what?” Hal laughed softly. “Your corporal doesn’t worry much about what she’s not supposed to do. Tell me, what’s the worse infraction of the rules, drinking while on duty, or having a quick kiss with a law-abiding citizen who would otherwise be enduring a rather dull evening?”

  Ellen licked her lips, but could not speak. She felt the rough contact of bricks rasping on her shirtsleeve and realized she had been backing away. Hal had her cornered. There was no easy escape—not that Ellen could work out whether she wanted one.

  Hal moved in closer. Her thighs brushed against Ellen’s and her hands rested lightly on Ellen’s hips. She leaned forward. At the last moment, Ellen gave in and closed her eyes. Hal’s lips fastened onto hers in soft domination. Moving on their own accord, Ellen’s arms curved around Hal’s back. Hal pressed in harder, forcing Ellen against the wall.

  Hal’s mouth felt good, molded on hers. Hal’s body was firm—not so robustly athletic as Ellen’s, but wiry and strong. The muscles in her back flowed hard under Ellen’s hands. Ellen lost herself in the kiss, sucking Hal’s tongue into her mouth. She heard the rough hiss of Hal’s breath, short and fast, matching her own. Ellen’s body could not get enough of the contact and ached for more. When Hal forced a leg between hers, it was not nearly enough. Ellen moaned. She was aware of nothing but Hal.

  Abruptly Hal peeled herself away. The sudden absence of the weight against her made Ellen gasp. But then, like being doused in cold water, the world flowed back, reminding her of where she was and what she should, and should not, be doing. Ellen shook her head, shocked at how completely all self-discipline had deserted her.

  Hal backed off another step, smiling. Her teeth were white in the moonlight, her cheeks sunken dark hollows. “Well, there you go. That’s one rule broken. It wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  In a flash of anger, Ellen straightened herself, pushing away from the wall. “That wasn’t—” She stopped. Even in her own head she did not know how to finish the sentence. Fair? Funny? Right? All would sound childish.

  “I’ll leave you to keep watch. I abandoned Jo inside, keeping an eye on my drink. She’s been with the family for years, and is as reliable as they come, but it doesn’t pay to put too much temptation in the way of employees. The beer is first rate here. I’m not surprised your corporal was happy to sample it.” Hal’s tone was light, teasing, as if it were all a big joke. She turned away but then glanced back. “Remind me, just when are you going to have an evening off duty?”

  “Why?”

  “Do you seriously need me to answer that question?”

  Ellen clenched her teeth, but forced herself to relax. Hal had outplayed her. Sulking like a fool would not make things any better, and it was not as if kissing her had been unpleasant. Ellen’s lips still tingled and her heart was pounding. “When we’ve finished the farm checks. The way the schedule is going, I ought to be free on the sixth of August, unless something crops up.”

  “The sixth?” Hal’s smiled broadened. “Good night, Officer.” She flicked her forefinger off her forehead in an informal salute, then turned and sauntered back into the Three Barrels Tavern.

  Ellen was left alone in the empty square, rubbing her face and wondering just what was happening to her.

  *

  Ellen slipped in through the open door of the Roadsend temple and peered around while her eyes adjusted to the gloom. To her relief, it looked as if the main hall was empty. She tiptoed down the side aisle, past the multicolored statues of various Elder-Ones, until she reached her destination, the small military shrine.

  Roadsend had a minor temple, possessing no inner sanctum or Guards’ barracks. The half dozen Sisters and similar number of Guards lived in a house to the rear. Women wishing a child had to travel to Eastford, the nearest temple where Imprinters performed their divinely sanctified work. The Sisters based in Roadsend had no role other than to protect and guide the souls of Celaeno’s daughters—as long as the daughters gave them the chance.

  Ellen caught her lip in her teeth. She knew she had been decidedly lax in her devotions recently, but she had her reasons for staying away. Unfortunately, they were reasons she might have some difficulty explaining to the Sisters.

  Today, she had to put in an appearance—August 3, her eighteenth birthday. Ellen knelt before the military shrine with its trio of Elder-Ones, and lit a candle. The statues looked down on her with blank carved eyes, the patrons of the Militia, the Rangers, and the Guards. Ellen dropped the small bag of coins into the offering bowl, a gift for the Elder-One David Croft, patron of the Militia, in recognition and thanks that she was now a full adult.

  At the age of twelve, a girl was no longer counted as a child. She could hold money and land in her own name. She was responsible for her own debts. She could sign a contract, the commonest contract being for employment. Most would leave school and start work, unless their parents were wealthy enough to fund their further education.

  At fourteen, a young woman became legally responsible for her actions, and liable to all the penalties of law, except execution. She could buy alcohol and weapons. On her sixteenth birthday, she could join the military or the Sisterhood—Ellen had signed up on the first of the month immediately following hers. At eighteen, she was a full adult. She could vote for the Town Mayor and other elected officials. She could become a mother.

  To celebrate this occasion, a gift to the temple and a few suitable prayers were expected, and although nobody would check to see that Ellen carried out this act of piety, her mothers would be outraged if she did not. Ellen just hoped she would be able to do the necessary bits and get away without being spotted. However, she had barely started on the litany when she heard footsteps behind her. Ellen bent her head and closed her eyes. The footsteps stopped and stayed. Whoever it was clearly wanted to talk. With luck, it would just be Sister Ripatti, planning on castigating her for her absence over the past two months.

  Ellen finished her prayers, stood up, and turned around. Mandy Colman smiled up at her. Ellen felt her heart sink into her boots.

  “Happy birthday, Ellen.”

  “Um...thanks.”

  “I was wondering if I’d see you here.”

  “Well, it’s, like you say, my birthday.”

  Mandy worked as a general assistant in the temple, cleaning, repairing, and tending to the Sisters’ belongings. As a lay employee, she was not bound by the same rules of celibacy as the Sister and initiates. With hindsight, Ellen felt this was a regrettable oversight.

  “I haven’t seen you around much.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “I heard about what happened to your sergeant. How are you?”

  “I’m fine and um...she’s getting better and I need to...” Ellen tried to sidle away.

  Mandy moved closer, blocking her in. Her eyes glittered in the candlelight. “I’ve missed you.”

  Ellen shrugged awkwardly. What could she say?

  Mandy touched her finger
to Ellen’s forearm and traced a line along it, the same gesture as Hal, a few days before, but so very different in style and effect, supplicant rather than teasing. “We were so good together. Everyone said it. What went wrong?”

  You were as interesting to talk to as a dead sheep. “You’ll find someone else.”

  “I haven’t got you a birthday present. But if there’s something that you’d like.” Mandy pushed her breasts forward. Subtlety had not been her strong point either.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve got to—”

  “I’d do anything you want.”

  Except act like you were enjoying it. Mandy had always made it clear that sex was something she granted purely as a favor, and expected Ellen to feel suitably indebted. “It’s not—”

  “We’re going to be at the Silver Flagon tonight. Me, Jed, Trudy, and the rest. We could buy you a drink for your birthday.” Mandy put her head on the side and rolled her eyes up at Ellen, acting as if she were a toddler. Ellen was sure she had never found the pose attractive, even in the early besotted stages of dating, although Mandy had clearly thought she should.

  “I’m working tonight.”

  “Oh, that’s not fair, on your birthday. When are you next off duty?”

  “In a few days.”

  “I could see you then.”

  “I might be seeing someone el—” Too late, Ellen cut back her words.

  Mandy backed away, her eyes filling with tears. They came so easily to her, as if she could turn them on and off at will, yet they never failed to make Ellen feel as if she had been a complete bitch.

  Mandy’s next words summed up everything that had not worked between them, although not for the reasons she might think. “Is she prettier than me?”

  “It’s not that.” But I suspect she won’t cry as much.

  *

  Ellen let go of the pump handle but made no attempt to pick up the bucket. Instead she gazed absentmindedly at the reflected image of blue sky in the water. Her thoughts drifted like the stray wisps of clouds, but not for long. The same lure that had been snaring her head for the last six days coalesced. Hal and the memory of the touch of her lips, the muscles in her back, the pressure of her thigh. Tomorrow night, Ellen would be off duty. Would Hal remember? Would they meet? Ellen closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to still the turmoil rippling in her stomach. If it kept up much longer, she would get indigestion. After another deep breath, she opened her eyes and lifted the bucket.