* * *
Méarana’s mother had taught her a proverb once: She who would lose her life, the same shall save it. And it meant that when all was at hazard, the timid would die. Only by risking everything with a wild disregard can one save anything.
But while the disregard must be wild, it must never be witless, she had warned. And then she would teach little Méarana some trick of the trade.
And so the signal from the door had left her momentarily alone with the Shadow.
And the Shadow had turned his head.
And the Shadow had exhaled.
All these things she sensed as in retarded motion, as if she floated in the room above herself. It was a configuration that would not last.
Méarana Harper pulled the loosened cord from her harp and with a single, cross-handed motion wrapped it around the neck of Khembold Darling, pulling on both ends with all her strength. Khembold gagged and the metal strings bit into his flesh. She had waited for the exhale before acting, and a man deprived of breath thinks of little else but drawing one.
But Khembold was a Shadow and Shadows do not die easily, whereas harpers might perish as swiftly as butterflies. His arms were free and he punched Méarana in the face, but the harper took the blow and hung on. To lose hold of the garotte would mean her immediate death—though she might count even that a victory and be glad.
Her chances were small, but in a stand-up fight she would have none at all. Her strength might fail. Khembold might batter her unconscious. Number Two might rush back at any moment.
But there was always the door-chime to give her hope.
* * *
The philosopher rang several times and shook his begging bowl before the Eye. Two sighed in exasperation. The common folk accounted it bad luck to spurn a chit’hoka’s begging bowl. And while she considered it of no matter whatsoever, she had no desire to attract attention. Not all the magpies on staff were trustworthy.
She opened the door, aiming her money-rod at the receptor in the bowl, and had just opened her mouth to chase him away when the sounds of stuggle erupted from the bedroom. Her first thought was that Khembold Darling was having all the fun. “Go away,” she told the philosopher before the second thought struck her. And that was that the robed man held a very unphilosophical dazer.
“Quiet now, a cushla,” he said in the Gaelactic.
Her paraperception sensed motion in the room behind her, and her third thought was that Khembold was rushing to her assistance. “A Hound,” she cried in warning.
But it was Domino Tight whose hand-spike severed her spine, and she fell to the floor before a fourth thought could even form.
* * *
At the same time, Ravn Olafsdottr, in the bedroom, threw off the second cloak and leaped upon Khembold’s back. She pulled his head back and, pressing a gun to his temple, fired a small-caliber pellet into his brain.
The pellet had sufficient force to penetrate the skull but not to exit and so neither endangered anyone else in the room nor created unsightly splatter. Instead, it ricocheted about inside Khembold’s cranium several times. Not that it mattered after the first.
* * *
Méarana had acted on the happy intuition that the door signaled Domino Tight, and while her intuition had been wrong, it had been right enough.
At first outraged by Ravn’s betrayal, Méarana had in a cooler moment reasoned that had Olafsdottr meant simply to hand her over to Gidula, she would not have first collected Domino Tight. She chided herself for not realizing that immediately, but Ravn had likely acted deliberately to create the necessary mask of shock and anger in her prisoner.
“Quickly,” the harper warned her. “Number Two—”
“Oh, do not worry. Sweet Doominoo will handle the vixen, thanks to the fortuitous door-chime.” Ravn looked her over. “I might almost envy Khembold Darling his desires, save only to what a poor end he came because of them. Without your distraction, I doubt I could have taken him so by surprise.” She stepped to the doorway, pressed against it, and took a quick blick into the sitting room. “Oho,” she said, pulling back, “you have a gentleman caller. Please make yourself decent—or not, as your spirits move you, lest he regret his celibacy.”
“Celibacy? The philosopher?”
“Yayss. And it pains me to say that he and my sweet Domino are at dazers drawn. How many Hounds did we draw in your wake, my sweet? Too many, I think. Perhaps we should salve things over. For it would be poor form for your rescuers to slay one another in the epilog.”
* * *
Little Hugh O Carroll was not so easily salved. He held a hand out to Méarana when she emerged. “To me, a cushla.” He did not shift his aim from the Shadow. But neither did the harper rush to his side.
“Think, man,” Ravn Olafsdottr told him. “Who slew Méarana’s attackers? Whatever enmities run between your fellowship and ours, on this matter we are as congruent as triangles.”
“And we have a truce,” Domino Tight said in a husky voice, “with Gwillgi.”
“I saw him in the brush with you,” said Little Hugh, “up on the ridge. The bristly boar in the bushes. But where is he now?”
“We could not be certain,” Domino Tight explained, “that they would choose Méarana’s apartment for the kill space. So Gwillgi tracked them outside while we lurked here. I had expected him at the door, not you.”
“We really do have a truce, Rinty,” Gwillgi announced from behind Hugh. “So why not be laying your dazer aside.”
* * *
When everyone had put weapons away and a degree of calm had been restored, the Hounds sat on one side of the room and the Shadows on the other. Méarana took a third seat between them. She looked first to the one, then to the other. “There’s a moral in this room, I think.” Her voice came out a little shaky, because she had begun to realize how close to death she had danced. But it is better to be close from this side than from the other. She felt almost giddy, all light-headed and her senses heightened. The air seemed fresher and more invigorated; the light and colors, more intense.
The razor’s edge.
“It was closer than you think, sweet,” Ravn whispered to her. “We had no right to come out of it alive, let alone unscathed.”
Gwillgi said to Little Hugh, “Where is Greystroke? And if you tell me he is sitting beside me, I will rip his face off with these very fingernails.”
“Another Hound!” said Domino Tight. “And the two on Tungshen—”
“Hush, my sweet. I snatched a cub from Mother Bear. A moderate response was unlikely.”
Domino pursed his lips. “I am not sure I like this. The Shadow War is one thing; the Long Game, another.”
Méarana said, “And where is Mama Bear? Was this rescue nae important enough for her tae tag along?”
“Of course it was,” Bridget ban said from the doorway, the Queen from the acting troupe. She strode into the room, took in its contents, the body, the amiably gathered Shadows and Hounds, glanced from the hand-spike in the back of Number Two to the weapons belt of Domino Tight, studied the bruises on her daughter’s face. “But there is gae more to a rescue than simply barging in, dazers flashing. We’re deep in the Triangles, girl, and getting out will be as tricky as getting in.” She turned and slapped Ravn Olafsdottr across the face. “I have waited a good long time to do that,” Bridger ban said, bending close to Ravn’s face. Domino Tight stiffened, but Ravn took the blow in silence.
“I did my dooty,” she said a moment later, “though it took some careful choreography to move all the pieces into place.”
“Pieces,” said Little Hugh. “What pieces?”
“Ooh, Donovan, Méarana, Bridget ban, sweet Domino. Gidula.”
Gwillgi snorted. “Seems to me, was Gidula who almost moved you into place.”
A wave of the hand. “Why play game with no hazard?”
“Hazard? Ye could hae lost my daughter!” Bridget ban took Méarana’s hand and turned it over. “Ye’re bleeding.”
; “I cut it on a harp string.”
Bridget ban looked about. “There was another. A man.”
The harper flexed her hand, rubbed the back of it across her cheek. “I played a goltraí for him, a lament, and he choked up.”
Ravn tossed her head to indicate the bedroom, and the Red Hound strode into it. She returned a moment later, face as crimson as her hair. “Did he succeed?” she asked her daughter.
“He died unsatisfied.” And then, more slyly than she had intended, Méarana added, “I used one of your auld tricks.”
Bridget ban said nothing for a moment. “We’ll speak of it later. You need to work on your grip so you don’t cut yourself next time.” She turned to the Banty Hound. “Gwillgi! We have been trying to find you.”
The topaz eyes gleamed and the smile showed teeth. “I was not wishful of being found.”
“Oh,” said Méarana. “That’s what Father meant! The cross-grained Hound! He knew Gwillgi was close by.”
“Yes. He and I met in Prizga, during his ‘hajj.’ We—”
Graceful Bintsaif came to the doorway and interrupted. “Cu,” she said. “Greystroke and I have sabotaged the comm. center. No warnings will reach Gidula’s ship before he has departed Terran space. And Grimpen and Obligado have interdicted the port. The remaining vessels now lack a vital part no longer in stores.”
“Very well.”
“Cu—” The junior Hound glanced at Ravn and Domino and lowered her voice. “There are a great many magpies and lesser militia, and I doubt we can keep the lid on this for very long.”
“Tosh. We will be gone before most of them even know we have come. A theatrical troupe, a wandering philosopher … Such folk come and go. And Gwillgi may slip out as silently as he slipped in. My daughter is the problem. She has had too much visibility, and cannot simply leave the stronghold. Who commands here?”
Ravn grinned. “The dead body on the bed.”
“And who is second?”
“The dead body by your foot. And before you ask who is third in line, I could suggest myself. Along with Khembold and Eglay, I was Gidula’s Shadow-associate. As such, I outrank Four, who is the next magpie in line.”
“He took One and Three with him?”
“Well, Three. One is at the bottom of the very cliff over which he threw me. The Old One disposes,” Ravn added, “with that which he needs no more. Our kenning was that he would have Méarana removed once his ship was out of contact and we laid our plans accordingly.”
Bridget ban considered that. “Ye should ne’er hae needed to lay such plans. Ye should nae hae brought her into the Triangles.”
Ravn shrugged. “You would not come to help me rescue Donovan.”
“Donovan!” The Red Hound turned to Méarana. “And where be your father in a’ this?”
The harper turned her chin up. “He went with Gidula to attack the Secret City.”
“And ran out on you again, abandoned you defenseless in the stronghold of our enemy.”
Little Hugh coughed. “Sure, it seems that Méarana has an embarrassment of defenders.”
“Which Donovan could nae hae kenned!”
“Could he not, then?” Little Hugh cocked his head. “He knew Gwillgi was near, and he nodded to me when we passed on the market square.”
“He nodded … Oh, now there’s proof!”
“Mother! An cuid I ken the safest course, so cuid he. He had to take the chance that you were nigh.”
“An cuid he tak a’ the chances he mought—but nae wi’ me bairn’s life!”
“It was my idea,” Méarana said quietly in Standard Gaelactic, “to come here.”
Ravn clapped her hands together and rubbed them. “Excellent. Now family quibbles wrapped away, we discuss your escape. Consider fortress staff. Many loyal to Gidula; many loyal to Padaborn. Many loyal to Gidula because they think him loyal to Padaborn. Everything so crisscross, is hard to plan double cross. Guess which he leaves mostly behind?”
“Padaborn’s partisans,” said Little Hugh.
“Guess wrong.”
Bridget ban’s eyes widened and she stared at Ravn. “It’s an ambush. He took Padaborn’s partisans because he intends that they die in the Secret City.”
“Yayss. He needs rebels to perform triage on the Names; but once he need them no longer, he dispose of them, too. So, attend me. This is our play. Night is fully fallen, no? And your sabotage of the comm. center will not look like sabotage?”
Graceful Bintsaif snorted. “Dead rats lie where they gnawed through the circuits. And no one will know the fliers are inoperable until someone actually tries to start one up.”
“Not for several days, then, for Gidula ordered the stronghold buttoned up. Good. No one saw you enter; let no one see you leave. ‘Philosopher,’ you will present your scheduled lecture. In half a Terran hour, yes? The ‘theatrical troupe’ will retire for the night and leave in the morning as planned.”
“And the two dead bodies?” asked Bridget ban.
“Even those magpies loyal to Gidula do not know the depth of his betrayals. I will call them together and tell them that Khembold Darling, ruled by his lust, had tried to violate Méarana Swiftfingers, despite her status as my vassal and despite Gidula’s assurance of her safety. Magpie Two Gidula, discovering his plans, tried heroically to stop him, but he stabbed her treacherously in the back, and it was only then that I happened on the scene and slew the traitor.” Ravn took in her listeners and smiled. “Those privy to Gidula’s thoughts may think this be Denmark and smell something rotten in it, but all others applaud how clayver I lie.”
Domino Tight nodded slowly. “The best cozening is that which sails close by the truth. They know Khembold’s reputation and Two’s fierce loyalty to her master. And those privy to Gidula’s intentions will take your reappearance to indicate his change of heart.”
Ravn nodded. “Gidula is slave to sentiment.”
Bridget ban folded her arms. “And what would make more sense than that you should then depart with Méarana to catch up with Gidula?”
“Precisely.”
But the Red Hound leaned forward. “Except that will nae happen. Do you think me daft, to entrust my daughter to your care? She will depart with me, and we will heigh directly for the Periphery. One of my costume coffers has been fitted out for just that purpose.” She turned. “Have you heard, Graceful Bintsaif?”
“Aye, Cu.”
“Tell the others, then.”
“Two on Tungshen,” the junior Hound suggested.
“Yes, heard and noted. Go, now.”
When the door had closed once more, Ravn Olafsdottr said quietly, “There was no truce on Tungshen.”
Bridget ban grimaced. “A hazard of the game. Disposition?”
“The one called Matilda of the Night escaped with the body of Cŵn Annwn. No confirmed kill.”
“If Matilda got her into a meshinospidal in time…,” suggested Little Hugh.
“Ah,” said Gwillgi, “but our new friend Domino has access to something even better, do ye not, Domino Tight?” Then, to Bridget ban and Little Hugh, he explained, “I was tagging yon wean as an up-and-comer in the Shadow War. One day I saw him blown to something very much like gelatin. Ah, you never saw a leg bent in more directions than his. And two days later, there he is, hale and feisty enough to turn the tables in a Shadow fight on his very own.” He turned to Domino Tight. “Ever since, I have been bursting to ask you how that was done.”
The Shadow shifted in discomfit. “This was not in our agreement.”
“Sweet Domino!” said Ravn. “Your very appearance so soon after your death spoke more clearly of those Vestiges than any admission you might make.”
“You should not tell them of the Vestiges,” he said, pointing to the Hounds.
“Dominoo! You should noot have toold me!”
“They are secrets guarded by the Technical Name.”
“But we are to overthrow the Names, no?”
“Perhaps … I hav
e begun to wonder…”
“Wonder what, my darling Domino?”
“There is talk of targeting the Committee but not the others. And I began to wonder why.”
“Sure,” said Bridget ban, “and is that not obvious? The whole affair is but a power struggle among the Names.”
Both Shadows looked at her. Ravn ran a hand through her stubbly hair. “To me, that became clear at the Pasdarm on Ashbanal.”
“Yet you continue to fight?”
“It is something to do.”
“What of these Vestiges? There are supposed to be seven,” Bridget ban suggested.
Domino Tight bit his lip, shook his head. “Tina Zhi never said what the others were. Only that her college was tasked with maintaining the secrets. I have to wonder now if she revealed what she did as a calculated act.”
Ravn sucked in her breath. “You spoke her name aloud.”
“Yes,” said Domino Tight. “I did. When Gidula and his allies reach Dao Chetty, they will expect to find me there. If I am missing, they will suspect discovery or treason and fold the play. So I knew when you pulled me from my post I might need to return there quickly, and I made arrangements with Tina Zhi.”
Ravn sprang to her feet. “Quickly, my sweets. We must leave this place.” Méarana had time to say no more than, “Why?” when a pinpoint of light appeared in midair and expanded rapidly into a whole person, dusky complexioned, with a long nose and high cheeks, and garbed in white and silver. Her hair was clipped short and dyed silver to match her jewelry.
She spread her arms and cried, “I have come, my—,” but then she saw others in the room. She glanced at shenmat-clad Ravn Olafsdottr and the body of Number Two. She glanced at Bridget ban, Little Hugh, and Gwillgi and said, “Hounds!” Last, she glanced at Méarana and said, “Ah!”
“Worry not, my beloved,” she said to Domino Tight. “I will rescue you.” And with that she reached out, and with her disappeared Domino Tight.
“Quickly!” cried Ravn. “Out! Out! Out!”
Hounds knew how to retreat as gracefully as attack. Only Bridget ban held back for a moment, scanned the sitting room, and set her mouth in a grim flat line before Ravn Olafsdottr shoved her forcibly from the room. The Shadow slapped the door closed behind them.
On the Razor's Edge Page 22
