In a far corner, Borba, taller than those around her, gave Bowe a nod. She was another girl who Bowe knew he should marry despite feeling absolutely no excitement about the prospect. Borba was talking to her mother, Freyya, Stenesso’s head wife. Borba wasn’t on the prowl for any other husband, it seemed, confident in getting her man, even though Bowe hadn’t talked to her since the first gathering when they’d met. Bowe returned her nod, turned away, and almost ran into Eolnar.
Bowe and Eolnar looked at each other like startled animals. Bowe had revealed his secrets to the other ascor and he was still unsure where he stood. Likely Eolnar felt the same.
“We should talk,” Eolnar said.
“Somewhere more private. Come with me.” Bowe took Eolnar’s arm and guided him toward the stairs. “Have you thought about what I’ve said?”
“I’ve done nothing else.” Eolnar said.
“And?”
“I’m scared, but...” Jeniano walked past them, and they both nodded to the Raine ascor.
“Enjoying yourselves?” As always, Jeniano’s long white hair gave him a distinguished air.
“Immensely,” Bowe said.
“Don’t take too much of his time, Eolnar. Several of my wives will give me a hard time if Bowe doesn’t talk to their daughters.” He shook his head slightly, an amused smile on his lips. “The pleasures of marriage await you, Bowe.”
“You forget I have a wife.”
“Only one. Then you know nothing. The pleasures add up with each additional one, but the troubles multiply. Or so I’ve found.” He bowed his head and moved on.
Bowe and Eolnar went out on the balcony. An ascora and her daughter were deep in conversation, but at a look from Eolnar, they curtsied and left. Before they did, though, both had a withering look for Bowe. Everyone seemed to think that Bowe wasn’t taking his marrying duty seriously enough.
Unusually for a night so close to the Infernam, Luna was prominent, giving a glistening white sheen to the leafy treetops in the Raine gardens. Luna had found a gap in a cloud cover that blocked Helion.
They leaned over the balcony, resting their forearms on the railings. “Beautiful night,” Eolnar said.
“You were saying,” Bowe prompted him. “Scared but...”
“Scared but excited.”
“That’s wonderful.” Relief surged through Bowe. He needed Eolnar; he couldn’t do what needed to be done alone. But he hadn’t let himself dare to hope that the other ascor would feel the way he did. “Changes have to be made from the top, cohesive and dramatic changes that help Greens, Greenettes, escay, everyone. With you to help, so much becomes possible.” Bowe had afterward regretted how much he had revealed to Eolnar, but it seemed the gamble had paid off.
“Hold on. Don’t get too far ahead. I’ll willing to discuss it further, but I haven’t agreed to anything. These ideas—other than about the Path itself—are still new to me.”
Bowe’s gaze was drawn to a shadow moving in the garden. “Did you see that?”
“No, what?”
“Just some movement in the garden. I guess there are guards there?”
“I doubt there would be any in the garden itself. Maybe one of the young ascor has taken one of the Greenettes outside, you know, for—”
“There.” Bowe pointed out another part of the garden. “A shadow moved through that flowerbed.”
“You must have good eyes.” Eolnar leaned forward, peering into the darkness. “I can’t make out anything. Wait, I heard a thump.”
“What could be happening?”
“I have no idea.” Eolnar scanned the garden, looking for further clues.
A door slammed. “Maybe we are under attack.”
“Who could be attacking?”
A scream pierced the night and all doubt was gone. The music stopped. Bowe and Eolnar rushed back into the main hall. On the lower floor, ascor had their swords drawn, but no one seemed to know where to direct them.
Jeniano pushed aside one of the musicians. “Raine marshals, where are you?” he roared out. “Get the ascora to safety.”
From the other side of the hall, screams rang out as ascora and Greenettes fled. Blood splattered the white dress of one of the ascora. Behind them, they left two bodies and their killer: a man in a gray cloak, an escay cloak.
“It’s the escay. The escay are attacking.” Eolnar sounded incredulous.
“The Guild.” Hess.
The ascor now charged the lone escay, who died under a flurry of sword blows. Once he was dead, they spread out, once again unsure of what to do. Thrace was one of those who’d bloodied his sword, and, looking up and seeing Bowe, raced for the stairs. “Stay there.”
“Bowe.” Eolnar grabbed Bowe’s arm to draw his attention while he drew his sword.
An escay had come in from the balcony where Eolnar and Bowe had just talked. He carried his sword low and crabbed forward, his body turned to the side, clearly a trained swordsman.
Eolnar moved forward to meet him.
“The Guild!” the escay swordsman cried, slashing upward. Eolnar’s sword clanged as it blocked the blow.
Quick as a flash, the swordsman struck again, and again, alternating his attacks. From the left, then the right, then straight through the middle, then the right again. Eolnar blocked each time, retreating as he did so.
Bowe stumbled backward, staying out of Eolnar’s way, cursing himself for being useless. He didn’t even carry a blade. Even with one, he wouldn’t have been much use. Any sword training he’d done had been with his right hand. Still, with a knife he could have helped Eolnar even if he couldn’t take on the swordsman one on one. Bowe had thought that his days of needing to wield a weapon were over. No one could have expected an attack at an ascor ball.
Eolnar was taking the worst of it; he had as much skill as the other man, but he was clearly out of practice and not as fast. He tried to take the offensive, springing forward and to the left and thrusting at the escay’s right side.
The escay swordsman shifted his weight to the side, and Eolnar’s momentum sent him toppling forward. The swordsman shoved, the entangled blades sending Eolnar flying into a set of tables and chairs.
The swordsman turned toward Bowe. Bowe tried to take a step back, but the balcony railings blocked him; he was trapped. The escay’s sword snaked out, its point touching Bowe’s chest. Bowe froze. He was about to die and he couldn’t do anything to save himself.
But the swordsman didn’t finish his stroke. “The one-armed Guardian. You’re the one we are supposed to spare.”
The pressure on Bowe’s chest eased as he lowered his blade. Then Thrace charged in from the side and tackled the swordsman to the ground. Thrace’s sword flew out of his grasp in the struggle, but before the escay could strike, Thrace grabbed hold of his wrist. Thrace pounded the other man’s wrists against the ground but the swordsman didn’t let go. “Bowe. Bit of help,” Thrace managed to croak.
The escay head-butted Thrace and managed to half-throw him off. Bowe had just been staring, and he shook himself into action. Thrace’s sword had come to rest not far away and Bowe ran to pick it up. Eolnar had gotten entangled in the chairs and was still struggling to get to his feet.
Thrace and the escay thrashed back and forth across the floor, the escay still holding his sword, but Thrace not allowing him to use it. Thrace’s sword felt uncomfortable in Bowe’s left hand. He held it hovering over their bodies, unable to strike for fear of hitting Thrace. Then, in a moment of stillness between the fighters, Bowe instinctively plunged the blade downward, aiming at the escay swordsman’s neck. Bowe missed but thankfully hit the right person at least, his blade embedded in the swordsman’s breast.
The swordsman’s gaze caught Bowe’s with an accusation, as if to say, I spared you. Bowe leaned down on the hilt and it sank in further. The swordsman coughed up blood, and the light went out of his eyes.
Eolnar came over to stand beside them and Thrace got to his feet. Thrace yanked Bowe’s hands off the
sword, Bowe having frozen again, this time staring into the dead man’s eyes. Thrace pulled the sword from the man’s chest and another gush of blood spouted from the escay’s mouth.
“Remind me not to rely on you in battle,” Thrace told Bowe.
“I saved you, didn’t I?”
“Took your time about it.”
Below, marshals had flooded the hall. All the entrances and exits were guarded. Thrace wiped his blade on the cloak of the escay at his feet, then re-sheathed it. “The attack appears to be over.”
Eolnar shook his head. “Over? It’s clearly just the beginning.”
Bowe felt a chill. “Come on. Let’s go down.”
They descended the stairs. Bowe scanned the hall, looking for dead and wounded. Oamir hadn’t attended, but where were Zofila and Sorrin?
Escay bodies were being collected by a pillar, organized by Jeniano. A Raine marshal dragged a gray-cloaked escay and piled him on top of the others. “That’s seven.”
“Another one up on that landing.” Eolnar gestured up toward the one Bowe had killed. “He must have climbed to the balcony.”
“Eight. Go fetch him,” Jeniano ordered the marshal. “We’ll have to cut down any trees too close to the mansion. We have become too complacent.”
Stenesso appeared, his sword still red with blood. “We let the scum into our very homes.” Using his sword like an axe, he hacked at the pile of corpses, slicing into dead flesh. “We protect them, keep them safe through the Infernam. And this is the thanks we get.” He gave the pile a kick.
A groan came from the middle of the bodies. “One of the purple-breathing whoresons is still alive.” Stenesso grabbed an arm and dragged one of the corpse away, then he rolled a second body off the pile, revealing a live person underneath. Blood dripped from Stenesso’s coat onto the mosaics on the floor.
The groaning escay was only just alive, wounds all over his body. “What do you have to say for yourself, whoreson?” Stenesso kicked him in the side again and again, working himself into a frenzy. “Tell me. What do you have to say for yourself?” Blood sprayed up from wounds in the escay’s stomach and neck.
There was a long groan from the escay, then he coughed out some intelligible words. Stenesso leaned over him, spittle flying from his mouth as he screamed down. “You have something to say, whoreson?” Bowe crowded in closer as he spoke again. This time the man’s words were clear enough to be understood. “I die free,” he said.
“You die free? You’ll die screaming is how you’ll die.” Stenesso plunged his blade into the man’s stomach. The man’s face contorted but for a moment it looked like he was going to defy Stenesso with his last breaths and die silently. Then Stenesso twisted the blade. Blood spurted out, splattering Stenesso’s face and all down the front of his tunic.
A shriek ripped from the wounded man’s throat; it didn’t last long, cut off as quickly as it began, as Stenesso’s blade ravaged an ever-bigger hole in the man’s guts. Bowe shivered. A human being shouldn’t have been able to make a sound so horrible.
“Stenesso!” Jeniano shouted. “Stop this now.”
Stenesso, who had restarted kicking the bloodied corpse, now turned on Jeniano with a snarl on his face.
Jeniano didn’t back down. “Rage, Guardian, but rage with purpose. We are ascor.”
Stenesso, with an obvious effort, regained control of himself. “You are right.” His sword fell from his grasp. He dragged his forearm across his eyes. He looked more boogeyman than person, blood covering him from head to toe.
“No one could have expected this,” Jeniano said. “But it happened and we must deal with it.”
Sorrin limped across the ballroom floor, with Sorani beside him. “Zofila and the rest of the ascora are safe in the women’s quarters,” he announced. Bowe breathed a sigh of relief.
Sorani embraced Eolnar. “You are safe, brother.”
One of the Raine marshals arrived to report to Jeniano. “No sign of any other attackers. Our dead have been laid out in the entrance hall.”
“How many?” Stenesso asked.
“Two ascor, three ascora, seven Greenettes, and five marshals.”
“Only five marshals. They were supposed to be protecting us,” Stenesso spat. “Better all of them were dead.”
“They were caught as cold as we were,” Sorani said. “We’ll have to make some allowances for their failure tonight since we’ll need every sword in the coming days and weeks.”
“Let’s say goodbye to those of us who left the path this horrible night.” Jeniano led the way out to the entrance hall, everyone following.
Lined along a wall, bodies had been carefully laid out, a white sheet across each one. Several of the sheets were splotched with blood.
“The injured have been made comfortable in the bedrooms,” the Raine marshal said. “Healers are on the way.”
Jeniano moved to the head of the first body. He turned back the sheet to reveal the pale face and unseeing eyes of Kirande. Bowe sucked in a breath.
“Look and never forget,” Jeniano said then moved to the next body, revealing a Lessard ascor by the name of Glorian. Bowe didn’t know him well, but he felt Eolnar tense beside him, and Sorani gripped his brother’s foreman.
“Look and never forget.” Jeniano continued down the line, turning up the sheets to reveal each victim one by one. Knowing that the Bellanger ascor and ascora were safe took the edge of anxiety off for Bowe as each new victim was revealed. He didn’t know any of the others well, though the blonde girl who had been talking to Bowe earlier was there. She would never perform again.
When Jeniano had finished, a heavy silence fell. Tension like a physical force pressed down on them, so much so that Bowe found it difficult to breathe. Everything had changed.
“What happens now?” Sorani asked.
“Now we make them regret they ever had the misfortune to be born,” Stenesso said.
“Who?” Bowe asked.
“The bloody escay, who do you think?”
“We can’t blame all the escay. This was clearly the work of the Guild.”
“The Guild and anyone who has been helping.” Stenesso faced Bowe. “Who is in this Guild? You’ve been investigating them, haven’t you?”
Bowe sensed the gazes of the other ascor on him, and he particularly noticed Eolnar watching him. Had Eolnar heard what the escay attacker had said about sparing Bowe?
“I have been trying to find out what I can,” Bowe said. “Helping Stenesso. From what I’ve gathered they have a new leader, an Eye fighter by the name of Hess, and some of their activity is concentrated at the Eye.” Bowe feared that Hess wouldn’t be impressed with Bowe revealing his name, Bowe’s meeting with Xarcon had meant to be in the spirit of cooperation. But after what had happened, he had to reveal what he knew. Bowe had feared Hess but never suspected he would go this far.
“Eye fighters, of course,” Thrace said. “That’s why the attackers were all skilled. What other escay know how to handle a blade?”
“Why didn’t you tell us about Hess and the Eye before all this happened?” Eolnar asked.
Eolnar, of all people, started the hard questions. Had Bowe lost his ally? “I only recently discovered it. And I wasn’t sure what to do.”
“You could have told the Grenier marshals. Helped us do our job.” Stenesso pushed toward Bowe, his chest shoving against Bowe’s chest.
Bowe didn’t back down. “And what would you have done? Sent the marshals in to burn down everything at the Eye?”
“If need be.” Stenesso’s nose was almost touching Bowe’s, his eyes bulging as he glared. Bowe would be seeing Stenesso’s blood-smeared face again in my nightmares, he was sure. The Grenier Guardian’s breath blew hot on Bowe’s face, bringing a sharp tang of blood.
Bowe wanted to shrink away but knew he couldn’t. He had to hold his ground. “And would that have accomplished anything significant? They would have moved elsewhere. All I had was a name and a location, and I was trying to disc
over more. A few weeks ago, Grenier marshals had arrested the previous Guild leader, an old man in a wheelchair. That only allowed this Hess to come to the ascendancy. Sometimes a hammer isn’t the best tool.”
“You are remarkably well informed,” Stenesso said.
“You insisted I investigate the Guild.”
“Your silence let this happen.”
“No one could have expected this.”
Stenesso considered, then stepped back. Bowe’s clothes were smeared with blood, transferred from Stenesso, but Bowe had gotten off lightly. It wasn’t just the other ascor who blamed Bowe for what had happened. He blamed himself.
“It’s not just a hammer we need after this, it’s a sledge,” Stenesso said. “I’ll round up a large troop of marshals and we’ll descend on the Eye at first light.”
“Everything changes after this,” Jeniano said. “We’ve been able to take safety for granted. No longer. Until this is over, all ascor must be heavily guarded when we travel. Stenesso, can you supply extra marshals for security at our mansions?”
“That’s not a good idea,” Stenesso said. “I’ll need my men to run extra patrols in the city. We need to crush these escay scum, and that won’t happen if we hide behind the mansion walls.”
“And if we are attacked again?” Sorani asked. “The Grenier marshals are the city’s policing force. And where were they when we needed them?”
“I’ll arrange to have a force of marshals at the Fortress ready to react to any attacks in the future,” Stenesso said.
Jeniano nodded. “Makes sense. And let’s enforce a curfew until this threat is dealt with. No escay on the streets between sundown and sunup.”
“We’ll cancel all upcoming balls and other ascor gatherings,” Sorani said.
Bowe wanted to get away. “We’d better get back to our homes, make sure none of the other mansions have been attacked.”
Sorrin nodded. “I sent Toose to get more marshals to escort us. He should be back soon. I’ll fetch Zofila.”
Bowe nodded. The other ascor drifted away, those who didn’t stay in Raine Mansion making arrangements to return to their homes.
The Narrowing Path: The Complete Trilogy (The Narrowing Path Series Book 4) Page 59
