The Bard's Blade

by Brian D. Anderson

  “Yes, perhaps. Now, understand I still have no idea how to find her. But I might at least have a way you could make enough gold to pay the debt.” He leaned back in his chair, his expression becoming unsettlingly dark. “But it depends on what you’re willing to do.”

  “If it means saving Mariyah, I’ll do anything.”

  “Even kill?”

  For a moment Lem thought he had misheard. “Kill?” he repeated. “Who?”

  “Whoever I tell you to,” Farley replied flatly. “It’s all perfectly legal, I assure you. I have a license from the Order of the Red Star.”

  “You mean it’s legal to murder?” Never could he imagine such a fiendish thing.

  Farley sighed. “Seeing as how you seem so determined to keep your past a secret from me, I was hoping to avoid this. But if you’re going to keep up the deception, you really do need to learn more about our ways. This isn’t Vylari.”

  A violent spasm of fear ran through Lem, triggering an involuntary cough. His eyes darted to the exit.

  “Calm down,” said Farley. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “H-how did you find out?”

  “You can thank dear Uncle Shemi for that. And before you blame him, know that he didn’t have any choice but to tell me. And he doesn’t even remember doing it. Fantastic magic, I have to admit. I can even order him to forget, and he does it instantly.”

  Lem took a moment to compose himself. Farley had known the entire time about Mariyah. Even before bringing Shemi to the tent, he had already been crafting a plan. The rest was nothing but an act: the surprised way he’d reacted to Lem’s professed love, the way he’d pretended to not know who Shemi really was. All of it. What else did he know? Mariyah’s location, perhaps? His desperation was steadily being offset by anger. Had he been duped from the very beginning? As impossible as it seemed, he began to wonder if this was the whole reason behind Farley’s efforts to save him from the clutches of Zara. And Durst’s murder … a test to see if he would kill? If so, he had failed. “And if I refuse?”

  Farley flicked his hand dismissively. “Then you play music for the rest of your life, and your fiancée remains bound to serve whoever it was that paid for her release.” His tone then changed, taking on a sinister quality. “But you won’t say no. Shemi told me that too. He says you’d do anything to free her. You would navigate across a sea of blood to save your precious love. Oh, you’ll do it all right. And I’ll be your guiding star.”

  With a rush, Lem could understand why the others had been so adamant about not trusting their employer. “Why me?”

  “Why not you?”

  “Because I’m not a killer.”

  At this, a smile slowly stretched across Farley’s face. “Not yet. But like I told you back in Harver’s Grove: There’s one in you somewhere. I can feel it.”

  Lem lowered his head, hands folded on the table. Could he do this? Was Farley right about him? “How could such a thing be legal?”

  “It’s a gray area, more like. But in most kingdoms, it’s not the assassin who is held accountable, it’s whoever paid the contract. Of course, should an assassin be caught, they must either provide proof of the contract or accept responsibility. This is where groups like the Order of the Red Star come in. To be a member means you’re willing to sacrifice yourself for the good of the Order.”

  “What happens if you’re caught and you show them the contract?”

  He gave Lem a tight-lipped grin. “Let’s just say it doesn’t turn out well for the assassin. Trust and discretion are the foundations upon which the Order was built. People come to us because they know their identity is secure. Otherwise, it would all fall to pieces. And I promise you, that will not be permitted to happen.”

  The memory of Durst kneeling helpless on the ground, begging for his life invaded Lem’s thoughts. He had come close, admittedly. But that was in the heat of anger. This would be different. This would be murder for gold. He would be killing someone who had done him no harm. It was hard to imagine a more wicked deed.

  “How would it work?” Was he really going to go through with it? With each question he asked, the answer was coming closer to yes.

  “I’m a member of the Order,” said Farley. “You’re not. So the contracts will come through me, and I in turn give them to you. It’s much safer that way.”

  Safer for whom? he wondered. “There’s something I want to know. When you came to me that night in Harver’s Grove, was this what you had planned?”

  “It was a thought,” admitted Farley. “I’m in need of a replacement. So my eyes have been open. But with you I was genuinely interested in your talent as a musician. The troupe was not doing as well as I liked. For me to conduct my … other business, I need it to thrive.”

  Replacement? Suddenly it all fell into place. “Vilanda,” he said. “That’s why she accused me of trying to replace her.”

  “Very perceptive,” replied Farley, his usual friendly manner returning in a blink. “Her husband worked for me for a few years, and after he died, she took over. But I’m afraid she’s not as careful as he was. The last few times it’s nearly come back to me. I can’t have that.”

  “So she was right.”

  Farley nodded. “You could say that. I was going to replace her regardless, though. So fortune seems to have smiled on me. On both of us, in fact.”

  “And Shemi? What about him?”

  Farley shrugged. “My interest is in you. Once his debt is paid, you can do whatever you want with him.”

  “If I agree, he’s never to know.”

  “I understand completely. You think I’d want my mother knowing the things I’ve done?”

  Lem ran his fingers through his hair. The tempest of emotions raging through him—doubt, fear, anger—made him want to flee from the tent and never look back. But there was a hard truth to face. What Shemi told Farley was right: There was nothing he wouldn’t do to save Mariyah. Like Farley said, he would navigate over a sea of blood … even if it was one he had created himself. His love for her overcame all other considerations, even his own soul.

  “I’ll do it.” The words came out as if spoken by someone else. The consequences of his choice were unknowable, though he was certain it would lead him down a path that would irrevocably change him.

  Farley reached over and gave his arm a fond slap. “I knew you would. Trust me, you’ve made the right decision.”

  “What about Vilanda?”

  “Let me worry about her. For now, just continue playing for the crowd and keep them entertained. I’ll let you know when it’s time.” He stood and turned to the exit. “Oh, and one more thing, Lem. I was being serious about needing to learn our ways.”

  Lem stared after him, the panic of discovery still churning in his stomach. The look he had seen in Farley’s eyes increased his unease. It suggested that he was more than a little pleased about learning his secret, and the reason was not hard to guess. This knowledge gave Farley power. Lem was now under his control every bit as much as if he too were wearing an anklet.

  Shemi returned a short time later. “I hate this thing,” he remarked, rubbing his ankle. “You have no idea what it’s like to not be in control.”

  Yes, I do, Lem thought bitterly.

  15

  HOPE AND PORRIDGE

  It takes not a firm hand but a gentle touch and a soft kiss to bring the hopeless back into the light.

  Book of Kylor, Chapter Five, Verse Twenty-Six

  The sweet scent of wine mingling with the salty air invited Mariyah to open her eyes. She had been having that dream again, of the man and the mist. He had been saying something that had seemed quite urgent, though what it might have been was lost in a groggy haze.

  Her vision was blurred as she woke, and she was conscious only of the soft warmth of a proper bed—a sensation she had thought she’d never feel again. As the world came more into focus, she could see that she was in a small cabin, not much larger than the one she had previously occupie
d, although that was where any similarity between them ended. A square table to her left had been positioned beside a round window that let in glorious daylight. There was a wooden chest and a dresser, though this was all the room could hold and still allow for free movement. Trysilia was sitting beside the bed, sipping on a glass of wine while reading a book. She smiled when she noticed that Mariyah had awakened.

  “I assume you’re hungry?” she said.

  Mariyah nodded, then tried to rise.

  Trysilia gestured for her to be still. “Not until you’ve recovered your strength. We still have a week before we arrive.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Ubania.”

  Mariyah noticed a bowl and cup on the nightstand. As she reached out, she found her hand trembling.

  Taking the bowl, Trysilia fed Mariyah a spoonful of thick porridge. “Not the best fare, but I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle anything too rich after starving yourself for so long. Though the cuisine aboard ship, even at its best, is somewhat lacking.”

  Mariyah said nothing, though she allowed Trysilia to feed her the entire bowl. While it was not by any standards appetizing, Mariyah felt some of her strength return.

  “I have to ask that you remain in the cabin unless I’m with you,” Trysilia said. “The captain is not the most understanding of men. I paid him well for you to be housed in my quarters, but he would be quite upset if you were to wander around the ship alone. Strictly speaking, you’re still a prisoner of the Hedran until we arrive.”

  Mariyah slowly nodded her acceptance of this condition. What other choice did she have? “Can you tell me something about where we’re going?”

  “Ubania is one of two city-states that are controlled by the Archbishop.”

  “Is it true the laws are different elsewhere?”

  “Yes. Beyond Ralmarstad, Kylorian law is only enforced in Ubania and Gothmora. The Archbishop has no power over other nations.”

  “But where we’re going, he does?”

  “Yes. But Lady Camdon is far too powerful a noble to be intimidated. You’ll live more or less a normal life, free to worship as you choose.”

  “I don’t worship anything.”

  “Is that right? Interesting.”

  “Why is that interesting?”

  “Little is known about Vylari,” she explained. “Most don’t believe it exists.”

  “Vylari was created to protect us from the evils of Lamoria.” Mariyah chose not to mention the barrier. She was not ready to give this woman her trust, despite her apparent kindness. It was possible, she knew, that those who imprisoned her had found out when she was questioned. Either way, best to say nothing, at least for now.

  “I think it’s important you know that what you’ve seen is not representative of most of the world. Only in Ralmarstad are the cruelties you’ve experienced permitted. But there will be time for weighty subjects once you’ve regained your strength. For now, please rest. We can talk more later.”

  Mariyah wanted to protest. The time for weighty subjects was right now, as far as she was concerned. But her stomach was full for the first time in quite a while, and her eyes felt impossibly heavy. Everything Trysilia was saying might be a lie, of course. She might be playing some vicious game. There was no way to know for certain. But for now, at least, she felt safe. She closed her eyes, and for the first time since leaving Vylari, sleep came easily.

  16

  A NEAR MISS

  As Kylor stood atop the stone, a wrathful man threw himself on the ground before him and wept. “I have committed evil deeds. Made others suffer. Is there no redemption?”

  Kylor looked upon the man and his soul was revealed. “Your regret is without conviction. Should I release you of your pain, you would only cause harm again. Evil absent repentance is beyond redemption.”

  Book of Kylor, Chapter Thirty-Seven, Verses Seven and Eight

  Taking Farley’s advice, Lem sought out the library the following day. Located not far from the tailor’s shop, it was set along one side of a massive, busy square that was tiled with red stone and featured two marble fountains near the center between which were benches large enough for four people to sit comfortably. The square was teeming with people, some congregating in small groups, others streaming in or passing through from all directions.

  The library building itself was equally impressive—gleaming white marble with a broad colonnade stretching across its face. Lem could not fail to notice an enormous, all-seeing eye surrounded by a host of strange symbols carved into the façade directly overhead. Runes of some sort, he speculated, though where they came from or what they said was a mystery.

  Beyond the threshold, Lem found himself in a large foyer. Here the vaulted ceiling had been painted to resemble the night sky, with a crystal chandelier affixed to a silver base where one would expect the moon to be. The floor was of green-and-red marble and boasted a number of elaborately woven carpets. On the wall hung various paintings and tapestries, the scenes and people depicted entirely unfamiliar. Lem assumed they were Lobin events and citizens of some importance. At the rear stood an oblong table where a young woman in light blue robes with a pair of silver chevrons on each sleeve was seated.

  Only days ago, he would have been totally awed by the magnificence of the décor; now it held nothing more than a passing interest. Not even the great towers had caught his eye on the way here. His mind was fixed on one thing.

  The woman at the table barely looked up while directing him to the main library, without giving so much as a nod of acknowledgment when he thanked her for the assistance.

  The halls he passed along were as wide as some streets, all of them cleaned and polished to a mirror shine. More art hung from the walls, though again the imagery was foreign. Most people he encountered were clad in robes similar to that of the woman in the foyer, the chevrons on their sleeves varying in number and a few with a silver star stitched over the left side of their chest—a sign of rank or position, Lem presumed.

  The scale of the building was tremendous. The thought that a library could be this massive was dizzying. But upon making a wrong turn and finding himself in the Office of Licensing and Commerce, he realized that this was more than just a library. It housed the entire bureaucracy of Lobin.

  After a few more wrong turns he reached a tall archway. Passing through, in spite of his single-minded purpose, Lem caught his breath. To his right was a large oak desk, where an older woman was running her finger across the pages of a heavy leather tome. But it was what lay beyond that left him in stunned amazement. Row after row of shelves climbed nearly to the ceiling, all of them packed with books. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. And two levels of mezzanine gave access to still more shelves against the wall.

  Men and women, some wearing the same official robes he’d seen before, others in common attire, were seated at small round tables at the end of each row. Lem smiled. His uncle would break down weeping at the sight of this, he thought. If he ever brought Shemi here, he doubted he could convince him to leave. There were more books in this one room than there were in the whole of Vylari. The sum of knowledge they contained must be staggering.

  “Can I help you?” The woman at the desk had folded her hands and was smiling over to him.

  “Yes, please. I need books on history.”

  The woman lifted her brow. “History? I’m afraid you’ll need to be a little more specific.”

  Lem thought for a moment. “I suppose something that you would use to teach a child.”

  She gave an understanding nod. “Trying to educate your little ones?”

  “Yes,” he lied. “I thought this would be the best place to start.”

  “Wonderful. Are you a scholar?”

  “No. But I enjoy reading.” This was also a lie.

  Reaching into a drawer, the woman produced a slip of paper and began writing. “It’s good to see a parent wanting better for their children,” she said. “There’s far too much ignorance
in the world. The Lord of Creation gave us minds as a gift, you know. It’s a pity people rarely use them.” She held out the paper. “These should be good for a child. Assuming they can read.”

  “Oh, yes. Quite well, in fact.”

  “That’s definitely a step in the right direction.”

  On the paper she had written five titles, each with a series of numbers beside it. Lem frowned at these. “Please forgive me, but I’ve never been in a library before. What does this mean?”

  The woman laughed softly. “It can be daunting the first time, particularly for the poorly educated. No insult intended. I think it’s grand what you are doing for your … son?”

  Lem nodded.

  She explained that each number signified a row, a subject, and the book’s position on the shelf.

  “This one will be ten rows down on the left,” she told him, pointing to the first book on the list. “I’ll let you figure it out from there. When you’re finished, don’t put them back. Just bring them to the desk.”

  “Thank you,” said Lem.

  As he was turning to leave, she remarked, “You know, it’s never too late to start learning. Your son isn’t the only one who could benefit from knowledge.”

  Lem smiled back at her. “I’ll remember that.”

  Every shelf was fitted with a ladder attached to a rod at the top spanning its entire length. He watched as people slid these along from side to side to obtain those books out of reach. Brilliant, he thought. And the numbering system was inspired. It took him only a few minutes after reaching the correct row to find the first volume: A History of Ralmarstad.

  After retrieving everything on the list, he found an empty chair at one of the tables and began sifting through the pages. He could see why the woman would recommend these for a child. The language was rudimentary and the details thin. Nevertheless, they were perfect for giving him a better understanding of the world he was now in.

  After several hours he felt his back ache, and his vision started to blur. He had made it through one book and was halfway through a second: Lobin through the Ages. Shemi would have been able to read them all in a single sitting. A great pity he wasn’t able to bring him along.