"How so?" My gaze drifted over to the corridor, where all of the doors remained shut. Then a whisper of metal pulled my attention back to John. He had pulled his curved dagger from its sheath and was holding it before him. Reflections of yellow-red fire danced on the silver blade, which was etched with black jagged lines that looked like the teeth on the Jackal's mask.
Sober-faced, John said, "If it comes about that I must kill the Chara, then it will not be done casually, in the manner of an alley murder. He will be brought to me unbound at first, to signify what is in fact true, that he came to me of his own free will. Then his hands will be bound, and his crimes against the god will be recited. One thief will explain why he must die, while another thief will explain why he must live. And I will be silent all the while. I will be holding this blade, which is the Jackal's blade and can never be used for self-defense, but is used only to execute the enemies of the god. On my heart I will wear the badge of the Unknowable God, who has taken my body and combined master and servant into one, so that I am neither wholly god nor wholly man but simply the Jackal. The Jackal's eyes will look out from the mask and judge, and if the God's Decision is given for death, the Jackal's hand will take the blade and strike the Chara through the heart."
Vaguely I was aware that the other thieves were still speaking around us, taking no notice of our conversation. For a moment longer, John stared at the blade. Then the look in his eyes faded, and he quietly sheathed the dagger, glanced at me, and said, "That makes it easier. Otherwise I would find my role unbearable."
His words were barely finished when a cloth flew into his face. With a splutter and a smile, John pulled the cloth down, saying, "Mind you, some of my thieves are determined that I should always remember the human side of me. What news do you bring, Brendon?"
Grinning, Brendon knelt down on his haunches beside John. "Wipe your face; you look as though you've been dipped in a well." His expression sobered. "None of my news is good, I'm sorry to say. Word of the Chara's disappearance has not yet leaked out to the soldiers, but the governor has ordered his divisions placed in readiness, and we may expect that some time soon they will be sent in search of the Chara. They will be swarming over this mountain before we know it."
"We will know beforehand; you will tell us. It's more likely that the soldiers will search the city first, but that is just as bad, for their search will spark the riots we have feared."
"The Chara hasn't spoken to you again?" said Brendon.
"No, though I've sent word to him that he may speak to me at any time. So, since there seems to be no hope from that quarter, let's see what Andrew here was able to find at the palace." John held out his hand, and I pulled the papers from the satchel, handing him all but one.
John flipped through the papers. "Did any of these appear useful?"
"I didn't have time to read through them completely, but I noticed nothing that might help."
John continued to skim the documents. Without looking up, he said, "And the one you're holding?"
I handed it to him. Placing the other papers to the side, John balanced the folded paper in his hand, looking down at it. "Lord Carle," he said.
"You know his seal?"
"One of the tedious tasks I have is to keep in memory great mountains of trivial information that usually turn out to be of no use at all. Was this with the other papers?"
"Lord Carle gave it to me himself."
John's eyes flicked up. "Did he ask you where the Chara was?"
"Yes. After listening to my lies, he concluded I had betrayed the Chara."
Brendon was motionless beside us. John, his thumb rubbing the surface of the seal with a rhythmic motion, said, "Yet he let you go."
"He said he knew that I wouldn't tell him where the Chara was if I was tortured. He seemed to think it was important that I deliver this message to Peter. He said it would help the Chara."
John looked away from me momentarily. "Brendon," he said.
"I'll alert the lookout," Brendon replied and slipped from his side. A moment later, though I could not see how the word was spread, the thieves had disappeared from the room. John reached back behind him and picked up a dagger. It was the Chara's.
"I hope that you weren't followed," said John, "but I'd intended to give this to you anyway, as it's possible that, some time today, unfriendly visitors will arrive here without warning."
I did not reach out to take the dagger. "I would rather fight with my hands," I said.
"You'll die if you try that. Not all Emorian soldiers are as gentle as the one who enslaved you. And I won't repeat the mistake I made as a boy by leaving you weaponless."
I continued to stare at the dagger. John said softly, "I thought we had already discussed this matter. You are under my care, and you did not break faith with me the last time I gave you a weapon."
"That was your dagger. This one is the Chara's, and before that it was mine. It's the blade with which I tried to kill Lord Carle."
Through John's silence, I could hear no sound from the thieves outside, nor even from the man guarding the Chara's door. Finally John said, "Then this is the true test of your loyalty to the Jackal. I know that you don't trust yourself after what you did to the Chara today. But I trust you, and I will be trusting you with my life if you wear this. I must carry the Jackal's blade throughout today in case I have little time in which to use it. It is forbidden that I carry another weapon at the same time, but I cannot use my dagger to defend myself in battle – it is the god's blade. So I may need your help to stay alive."
I took the Chara's dagger then, stuck it unsheathed under my belt, and looked back at John expectantly. He nodded his thanks, said, "Now to this letter," and broke the seal.
Over the years, I had seen many of Lord Carle's letters. Like Lord Alan, the council lord wrote with great formality. The letter that John read silently and then passed to me was very different.
To the Chara:
I have them.
Carle, Lord
"I would rather he'd written this in code than in plain Emorian," said John. "We'd have a better chance of knowing what he meant."
"'I have them.' Who does he mean – the Jackal's thieves?"
"It would be bold of him to say so in a letter he expected to be read by the Jackal," said John. He looked at me and added, "I'm waiting for you to suggest that Lord Carle has the information the Chara is trying to find."
"I wish I could suggest that," I said, "but you don't know Lord Carle. Peter told me that he hadn't discussed his work here with Lord Dean. He would hardly ask the help of Lord Carle, who wants nothing better than to see all Koretians bound into slavery. When I last met him, Lord Carle was praying to the gods for this land's destruction."
"Even if you're wrong, we can't know for sure what the letter means," said John, and he let the paper fall into the flames.
Brendon appeared at our side, as quietly as though he had slipped through the rocks of the wall. "He doesn't appear to have been followed," he told John, "but it will do no harm for us to stay on alert, now that the Chara has been missed. Shall I keep the others posted?"
"Don't wear them out so much that they tire when the real danger comes. But yes, be ready for the soldiers." John turned his attention to me as Brendon left. My gaze was still on the paper, turning black in the fire.
"Andrew." I looked up at my blood brother's soft word, as though he had lifted my chin with his hand. Looking at me with a fixed gaze, he said, "Andrew, we cannot deliver that message to the Chara. It may be harmless; it may be the way to Koretia's freedom. But it may mean our deaths as well. It may be a way to signal the Chara's rescue. If it were my life alone, I'd brave the chance, but I can't let the others die from my foolishness."
"Yes, of course," I said, my voice neutral, my face without expression. "It is too great a danger. I see that too."
John looked at me a moment longer, his fingers reaching forward to toy with the strap on his mask. Then he said, "You are my blood brother, b
ut you are also now the god's servant. Since you have been in Emor all these years, I think perhaps I should use such words as will be most familiar to you. . . . Let me be clear. The Jackal commands you not to deliver Lord Carle's message to the Chara. Do you understand?"
I allowed my gaze to drop back toward the fire. Finally looking up, I said, "Thank you. That makes it easier."
"I guessed it would," said John, then rose and began collecting the empty bowls.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
That night, I stood with Ursula by the window in the dormitory, looking down upon the city and watching for the first signs of riots.
The war moon cast a blanket of whiteness onto the quiet city streets. The room was lit only by the moonlight since the thieves dared not attract attention to the hideout. Ursula hooked her arm through mine, rested her cheek against my arm, and said abruptly, "I went to see the Chara this afternoon."
I inclined my head to the side so that I could see her face. "Did John ask you to do that?"
"Oh, John is so worried right now that I haven't wanted to bother him. I knew that he wouldn't mind if I visited the Chara. I didn't want to talk about Koretia or Emor with him. I just—" She sighed and started again. "I know that John is hurt by all this, because he respects the Chara and he doesn't wish to grieve you by killing your friend. But he has always been able to pray to the god and ask him for his peace, and that makes it easier for him to master what he feels. It isn't like that for me. I've learned a little from him about keeping inside what I feel, or else I never could have become a thief. But it hurt me too much to think about the Chara sitting in his cell all day, waiting for John to kill him. So I went to the Chara to apologize and to ask him whether I could do anything for him."
The night was warm – unbearably hot, by Emorian standards – but she hugged her arms around herself as though she were cold. I reached over, pulled the blanket off the nearby bed, and draped it over her. My arm lingered on her shoulders as she said, "At first, when I began to talk, I couldn't tell what he was thinking. But by the time that I finished he had a look in his eyes – I can't describe it. It was as though I were to step out of this window and find myself falling into a night sky so black that it had no stars. And when I stopped talking he said nothing except, 'Please leave.' Just like that, very quiet, not at all angry, but almost as though he were afraid. I couldn't figure out what I'd said to frighten him, so I left." She pulled the blanket closer. "How late do you suppose it is?"
"Midnight, perhaps. I think I heard the bell from the priests' house."
"Do you see anything in the city?"
"No. I would expect to see fire first – at least, that is the way it happened last time." My gaze drifted toward the mountainside below us, and I wondered whether any of the trees and bushes were hiding soldiers on their way to kill us. I said, "John ought to have sent you away from here."
"To the city? I'd be no safer there."
"To the priests' house, then, where he and our mother took refuge last time."
"John doesn't believe the priests will be safe this time. He thought it best to keep me by his side."
A small noise startled me. I turned to see that John had slipped into the room and was standing nearby, looking down at the city. One of his hands held the mask, and the other was resting on his dagger hilt, as though he expected something to happen at any moment. But his eyes, when they met mine, were as quiet as ever.
"You look tired," said Ursula. "Trading all day, working with the thieves all night – I've never understood how you do it. You ought to get some rest."
John's eyes drifted back to the city, and I wondered whether he was worrying about his missing thief. But his voice was composed as he said, "Sound advice for the both of you. We will be on the move in a few hours, and our heads will need to be clear after that."
I felt Ursula start against me; then she controlled her first movement and asked in a tremulous voice, "There is news, then?"
John passed his hand over his weary eyes and nodded. "Brendon returned from the palace again. The soldiers have been given orders to set out at dawn. We will have to leave by then."
I put my arm around Ursula, holding her tight. She whispered, "Has the Chara sent word to you?"
"I just went to see the Chara." His eyes slid from Ursula to me. "I told the Chara when we would be leaving. He told me he had nothing new to suggest."
Ursula broke away from me, sat down on the bed, and buried her face in her hands. I could hear no sound from her; she was as still as a hidden bird. John gestured to me with his head, and we went to the far end of the room where Ursula could not hear us.
He waited for me to speak first. Finally I said, "John, when the god fails to speak to you, how do you decide what to say in the Jackal's name?"
John stood in an easy pose, his fingers twirling the mask on its strap. "I step into blackness, as though I were on a night-covered slope of the mountain," he replied, "and then I suffer the consequences if I have taken the wrong step. Whether I'm right or wrong, the thieves trust me because they know that I care for them. There is nothing more that we can demand of each other than love and trust."
I said nothing. After a minute, John added, "I'd like you to stay with Ursula again tonight. I don't expect trouble before we leave, but it's best to be safe. And after we leave, I'd like you to keep her by your side and defend her. I know that you have no great skill with your dagger, but the other thieves are assigned specific tasks, and my duties won't allow me to look after any one thief, no matter how precious she is to me."
"What of yourself?" I asked. "You told me that you couldn't hold another weapon while you wore the Jackal's blade, and that you were depending on me to defend you."
John continued to swing the mask, but his hand shifted on his hilt somewhat, and his eyes drifted past me to Ursula before fixing themselves once more on me.
"When we leave here," he said, "I will no longer be wearing the Jackal's blade."
He left the room. I went and sat on the bed by Ursula, who was looking with dry eyes out on the view. After a minute I touched her and said, "Put your head on my lap. See whether you can get some sleep."
Without looking at me, she followed my suggestion. I sat for a while with my back against the wall and my arm cradled around Ursula's body. Her breathing slowed, and the lines in her face began to ease.
I shifted my arm slightly because it was beginning to stick to her body from the heat's moisture. Ursula murmured in her sleep, and I froze; then, without moving my arms, I leaned my head to the side and wiped my damp cheek against my shrugged-up sleeve. At the moment I did so, I remembered a scene from three months before.
Peter and I had been sitting on the floor by the hearth in his sitting chamber, drinking from a single cup the wall-vine wine I had never learned to like. The evening was still early, but I had built a fire to stave off the chill of the springtime air. Peter leaned back against the reclining couch, tossing his beloved emblem brooch from hand to hand, and describing how Lord Dean had set out on another of his conspiracies to steal power from the Chara. There were, Peter remarked dryly, one or two council lords who took their oaths of loyalty seriously; the rest engaged in periodic sly attacks against the Chara.
In a muffled undertone to Peter's remarks, I heard the High Lord passing in the corridor outside. Ordinarily, I could hear no noise through the thick corridor door, but on this day Lord Dean and Lord Carle were shouting at each other at the top of their lungs. Forcing my thoughts away from Peter's predatory council lords, I reached for my cloak to shield myself from the cold – and at the same moment Peter reached up to wipe the sweat off his forehead. We caught sight of each other's movements and burst into laughter. Then Peter bent forward to stoke up the fire for me while I went over to the shuttered window and opened it wide in order to let in the cool night air. A breeze had been blowing, as it always did in Emor, and I had shivered in the northern air.
Now, as though on cue, I felt a gentle wind enter
the room, bringing relief to my sweating body. For a moment, I did nothing except lean my head back against the wall, enjoying the steady breeze. Then the whistle of the wind began to lull my senses, and only a small part of me remained alert enough to recognize the implications of the wind.
Fire weather was over. Koretia's air no longer remained in the stillness that would keep fires from stretching far. The land had fallen captive to the dangerous death wind that could spread fire for miles.
o—o—o
I must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I knew I was no longer in the dormitory but in the sanctuary at the other end of the house. Beside me stood the Jackal, masked and with dagger in hand. He was looking with calm eyes at Peter, who stood before him, unarmed and unmasked but for a mist that prevented me from seeing through to his eyes. Then the Jackal spoke one quiet word, and Peter flinched. The Jackal raised his blade to strike, and in that moment Peter's eyes were uncovered, and I could see the fear in them.
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