by Claire Frank
“What’s that?” Rhis asked, her voice strained as she tried to move her leg in a different direction.
“I may not have brought you to the client, but I’ve rid the world of you.”
Rhis rolled her eyes. “I suppose there aren’t many who will mourn my passing.”
“Should there be? You Attalonians believe you are so exceptional,” Athon said, his voice thick with scorn. “Your Emperor might hold a great deal of land under his sway, but this place is a backward hovel compared to my home.”
“Then why are you here?” Rhis asked.
“I have my reasons.”
“Don’t we all.”
Athon fell silent and Rhis tried in vain to work her leg free. For a moment, it seemed as if it might be loosening, but when she tried to move again, it wouldn’t budge.
“I’m not Attalonian,” she said.
“No? Then what den of vipers spit you out of its nest?”
“I was born in Thaya.” She wasn’t sure why she kept talking. Somehow, the sound of their voices was better than the eerie silence of the ice. “Do you know where that is?”
“I’ve been there,” Athon said.
“Have you?” Rhis twisted, trying to find better leverage. “And yet, here you are, in the Empire you deem so backward.”
“As I said, I have my reasons.”
“What might those be?” Rhis asked.
Athon fell silent for a long moment and Rhis lay her head back against the ice, wincing in pain.
“This part of Thrae has need of me.”
“It needs you?” Rhis asked, lifting her head. She tried to crane her neck to see Athon, but he was hidden behind a pile of crumbling ice and snow. “You think rather highly of yourself, don’t you? Needs you for what?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “The world is full of evil. I do what I can to bring it to justice.”
Rhis laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. “Oh, gods,” she said, trying to catch her breath. Unable to stop, she kept laughing, as if overtaken by madness. “Listen to you, with your righteous indignation. You actually think you’re doing good, don’t you? You’re the brave hero, taking on the forces of evil, spreading peace and justice throughout the world.” She laughed again, and it turned into a groan as pain shot through her middle.
Athon didn’t answer, and she shifted her weight, trying to find a more comfortable position.
“You’re a bounty hunter,” she said when she’d caught her breath. “You think that makes you better than me?”
“That’s your word,” he said. “I don’t hunt just anyone.”
“I must be special, then,” she said. “How nice.”
“Only the worst of the worst,” he said. “I find the filthiest scum that plague the land. Murderers. Killers. Those with no regard for life. The Reaper’s Bride is certainly a prize worth my talents.”
Rhis snorted. “That name is mostly a lie. Half the deaths attributed to her hand are people I’ve never seen, and most of my jobs could never be traced back to me.”
“But still, you are a killer. You make your fortune on the blood of your victims.”
“As if you are so different.”
“I’m nothing like you.”
“No?” Rhis asked. “You are willing to take Cormant’s money. Tell yourself what you will, that gold is red with blood.”
“I take money from men like him to ensure murderers like you meet their due,” he said.
Rhis laughed again and a tear leaked out from the corner of one eye, nearly freezing as it slid down her cheek. “Cormant didn’t tell you why he’s after me, did he?”
“You’re a killer.”
“He hires me to kill people; that isn’t why he wants me dead,” Rhis said. “Cormant put out a contract on my head because I saved the person I was supposed to kill. The boy, Asher? He was my mark. I was to be paid a very large sum of gold Imperials to kill that boy. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t.” She paused and looked up at the sky. “I couldn’t kill a child.”
“Do you think sparing the life of one boy makes up for all the others you’ve killed?” Athon asked.
“No,” Rhis said. “I am a killer. I won’t deny that. You think me a monster, and maybe you’re right. Believe it or not, I don’t take any pleasure in my work. But I’m good at it. More than good. You and I are the same. We have a particular set of skills, and people pay us handsomely to use them.”
“I’m not—”
Rhis cut him off. “Of course you are. I may be a killer, but you’re a hunter, and there isn’t much difference. Don’t flatter yourself with horseshit talk of justice. You’re in it for the chase. For the challenge. Maybe you are selective about the jobs you’ll take, but I’d wager all my gold that this song and dance about bringing filthy killers to justice is simply what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night. You love the pursuit, and you want to find prey that is worthy of you. Fool yourself into believing you’re different, if that makes you feel warm and snuggly. But you and I are cut from the same cloth. The only difference is, I know what I am.”
She took a breath and winced as she probed her ribs. One or two might be broken. Athon remained silent and she tried to sit up, but a blinding shot of pain ripped through her. Lying back, she tucked her hands under her arms and wiggled her toes.
“I was trying to save the boy,” she said after a long silence. “But people kept getting in my damn way.”
“How would you save him?” Athon asked.
His question took her aback. She was expecting more ranting about her evil nature. “By keeping him alive long enough to figure out why people wanted him dead, I suppose. It’s up to Rickson now. The poor kid will have to live his life on the run, always watching his back. Cormant won’t let him go.”
“Who is the child?”
“Just a farm boy from Harmoth,” Rhis said. “As for why someone would want him dead badly enough to hire me, I have my guesses. Men in power tend to prefer to snuff out anything that might threaten their position, whether the danger is real or not. The truth is, he’s nothing but an innocent kid—or he was. With what he’s been through, there’s not much of that innocence left in him.”
Athon fell silent again and Rhis concentrated on her leg. Although it was impossible to tell how far the sun had traveled across the sky, she didn’t think she’d been unconscious for long. It must still be early. But she knew if she lived out the day, as soon as night fell and the temperature dropped, she’d freeze, rendered as solid as the ice pinning her down. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her leg, and tried to ignore the pain.
It moved. Not much, but she felt her leg slip against the ice. Spurred on by the tiniest progress, she tried to twist her hips. Her ribs screamed at her and sweat broke out on her forehead, but she kept pushing, working her limb against the ice’s relentless grip. Pausing, she took deep breaths, giving herself reprieve from the pain before starting again. She was not going to die here, entombed with some self-righteous prick.
A noise drifted from above and Rhis looked up. She told herself it must be the wind; she couldn’t dare hope it was a voice. Rickson and Asher must be well on their way down the pass now. As long as the weather held, they’d reach the cave with plenty of time to hunt for fuel and build a decent fire. It wouldn’t be as comfortable as the home in Senlas, but at least they’d be warm. She closed her eyes and pictured them waking up with the dawn. They’d be down below the snow line within a day, into the warm hills of the lowlands within three. Tears burned her eyes, and she worked her leg back and forth, desperate for every bit of movement she could feel.
The sound reached her ears again, more distinct this time, and she stopped, holding her breath.
“Did you hear—”
“Quiet,” she said.
The heavy silence settled over them and Rhis held still, hardly daring to breathe. She strained, hoping to hear something, anything, that would tell her what the noise had been.
“Rhisia!”
> Her name, clear as day. “Rickson!” she called, and flinched as her ribs flared with pain. “Rickson!”
“Rhis!” She heard it again, and this time was certain she hadn’t imagined it.
“Rickson! Down here!” Agony erupted across her middle as she reached to clutch at her pants and moved her leg back and forth. The pain was nauseating, but the slight movement of her leg was enough to coax her on.
“Damn them, what are they doing here?” she asked aloud. “They should be halfway down the mountain.”
Athon said nothing and Rhis continued working her leg, turning and pulling.
“Rickson!”
Her ribs burned and she began to shake, shivering uncontrollably as the cold seeped through her clothes. Through chattering teeth, she called again and heard her name in response.
“Here!”
With another twist, her leg broke free, and she groaned as she rolled onto her stomach. The ground was uneven and littered with clumps of ice and snow. She pushed herself up and tested her footing before making her way to her staff. It was wedged in deep so she moved it back and forth to loosen it from the ice, all the while calling Rickson’s name.
The sound of Rickson’s voice seemed to grow closer. Rhis pulled on her staff and it lurched upward. “Rickson!”
“Where are you?”
“I fell in a crack in the ice,” she said. “Be careful where you step.”
Bits of snow tumbled down the wall and Rhis shielded her eyes from the spray as she looked up. Rickson’s face peeked over the edge.
“Don’t fall in,” she said.
“By the gods, Rhis,” he said.
“You’re supposed to be heading for shelter,” Rhis said.
“Asher went after you before I could stop him,” Rickson said. “The boy’s mad as far as I’m concerned.”
“You both are.”
Rickson smiled, his dimples hidden by his growth of dark beard. “Don’t go anywhere. We’ll lower a rope.”
Rhis pulled the sides of her staff apart and re-sheathed the blades, then fastened it on her back. A rope dangled down and she had to open and close her fingers repeatedly before she could make them cooperate and grip the rope. Pain blazed through her as she made her way up the wall, digging her boot spikes into the ice as she hauled herself up the rope. When she neared the top, Rickson clasped her by the arms and hoisted her over the edge.
She lay in the snow for a moment, gasping for breath, her body a seething mass of agony. Asher crouched next to her.
“Are you hurt?” Asher asked.
“Yes, I’m hurt,” Rhis said, and laid a hand against her ribs, wincing. “But it appears I’ll live.” She moved her eyes to the boy and he gave her a relieved smile.
Rickson helped her to her feet and Asher brushed snow off her back.
“How in the name of the gods did you find me?” she asked.
“Like I said, Asher turned back to go after you,” Rickson said. “I tried to drag him down the mountain, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Kid’s fast. We saw you and Athon fall down the slope and we’ve been hunting for you ever since.”
Rhis looked around at the stark white hill. It looked like an ocean of snow. “I can’t believe you found me.”
“I know what your glow looks like,” Asher said. “It was so hard to see you all the way down there, but I could still make it out.”
“My glow?” Rhis asked.
Asher shrugged. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”
Rickson gave him a sidelong glance. “Athon must have died in the fall, I take it.”
“No, he’s down there,” Rhis said.
“Alive?” Rickson asked.
Rhis nodded. “He was, at least. He’s stuck in the ice. My leg was wedged in tight, but I managed to get it free. I don’t know if he’ll be able to get out.”
Rickson walked along the breach, peering into the crack. “I can’t see him.” He looked up and shrugged.
“We’re going to leave him down there?” Asher asked, his face aghast.
“I can’t see him to finish him off from up here, so yes, we’re going to leave him,” Rickson said. “Or do you not remember the part about him hunting us across the Empire?”
Asher cast a glance down into the crevasse. “It just seems cruel.”
“Cruel is that man pursuing us relentlessly up the side of a mountain and not dying in the avalanche like he was supposed to,” Rickson said.
Asher clutched his cloak around him and scowled.
“Let’s get off this hill,” Rhis said. “We still need to find shelter before nightfall.”
Rickson nodded. “Can you walk okay?”
“My ribs hurt, but I’ll manage,” she said.
Rickson picked up their gear and walked across the snow, testing his footing as he went. Rhis followed, breathing on her hands to keep her fingers from going numb. Casting a glance behind, she saw Asher lingering near the crack.
“Let’s go, Asher,” she said. “We need shelter.”
He turned toward her and nodded. Adjusting the wrap around her face to cover her nose, Rhis followed after Rickson, leaving Athon behind.
THIRTY-ONE: THE WANTON MAIDEN
They trekked down the mountain and into the hills, gratefully peeling off layers of clothing each day as they emerged onto the warmer lowlands. Aside from one brief stop in a town for supplies, they kept off the roads and avoided signs of civilization. After the discomfort of the snow-covered peaks, the journey through the rolling hills was downright comfortable in comparison.
They reached the river and Rickson acquired a small fishing boat. He’d given Rhis a subtle wink and assured Asher he had compensated the owner. Keeping to the water, they traveled quickly downriver, spending their nights aboard, rocking at anchor while the swift water flowed by. Rhis lost track of the days while her injuries healed; before long, gulls flew overhead and the tang of the sea filled the air.
When they neared the sea, they disembarked, leaving the vessel behind. Rickson led them across empty fields, heading toward the meeting point where they would find the Maiden waiting for them. Or that was the plan. Rhis didn’t share Rickson’s optimism that his crew would be there with his ship. Even if his crew were as loyal and trustworthy as Rickson claimed, it wouldn’t take treachery to detain them. Any number of things could have happened while their captain had been away. As midday approached and they crested a hill, they caught a glimpse of the sparkling blue water. Rhis was surprised to realize how much she missed the Maiden. She hoped they’d earned a bit of luck and the ship would be there.
“Shit,” Rickson said as they topped a rise and came in full view of a sheltered cove. Waves lapped at the rocky shore and a sea bird took flight, catching the breeze with its slender wings. But no ship.
“You’re sure this is the right place?” Rhis said.
“No question,” Rickson said and walked closer to the waterline. The hills flattened out, leading down to a beach covered in smooth stones. A wall of rock jutted out from both sides not far from where they stood, jagged fingers reaching out into the sea.
“Maybe they just aren’t here yet,” Asher said.
“Damn, I thought we’d have some good fortune,” Rickson said. “They should be here.”
“What’s nearby?” Rhis asked.
“Capena is about half a day’s walk,” Rickson said. “This little cove doesn’t get much use. It’s too small and shallow to sail into, but the Maiden was supposed to set anchor just there, where the water is deep.” He gestured out beyond the fingers of rock. “We’d give a signal and they’d send a skiff to pick us up. Simple, and no prying eyes to see us.”
“You said you sent them on a shipping run,” Rhis said. “Could something have delayed them?”
“It’s possible,” Rickson said, “although this delivery shouldn’t have taken more than a couple weeks start to finish. It was completely legitimate.”
Rhis glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.
; “It was. I do plenty of lawful business.”
Asher let out a laugh and Rickson shot him a glare.
“Well, they aren’t here,” Rhis said. “What do you want to do?”
Rickson scratched his bearded chin. He hadn’t shaved since they’d last been on the Maiden, and it left him looking rugged—more like a smuggler than he’d appeared with his light stubble and well-tailored clothes, when Rhis had met him in Varale. “They could have made a quick run to Capena for supplies. If they beat us here by too many days, the boys would get restless and a trip into town would give them something to do. Idle hands are the kiss of death on a ship. We should be safe enough here. Let’s make camp for the night and we’ll see if they turn up tomorrow.”
The rhythmic sound of the waves lulled them to sleep that night, and when morning came there was still no sign of the Maiden. Rickson paced up and down the beach and climbed onto the rocky outcrop to get a better view, but the ship was nowhere in sight.
“Something’s happened,” Rickson said. They sat around a small fire on the beach. It was past midday, and they were all restless. “She would be here if she could. Something must have gone wrong.”
Rhis let out a breath and squinted at the light glinting off the water. “I say we make for Capena. If the Maiden isn’t there, you can ask around and see if you can dig up any news.”
Rickson agreed. They packed up camp and headed out again, following the coastline eastward. The terrain rose, the gentle slope to the beach gradually becoming a precipice of rock, the waves crashing below.
As the daylight waned, they came in sight of Capena. The town clung to the hills rising up from the water, looking as if the entire settlement might tumble into the sea. Colorful stucco buildings, each several stories high, were crammed in together so close it looked from a distance as if it were one giant structure, spreading out across the uneven ground. Stone bridges with arches underneath spanned the gaps in the rocky land, connecting narrow strips of road that meandered through the jumbled buildings. Lights twinkled in windows, and plumes of smoke rose only to be blown away by the breeze. The scent of the sea was heavy in the air.
