Dagger's Edge (Shadow series)

by Logston, Anne

  “Well, if you’re good,” Donya laughed, “you don’t get ‘all hacked up’ as much as the one you’re fighting. I don’t know that I actually ‘enjoyed’ it in the same way I enjoy a good tumble or a ride on my horse on a fine day. But there’s a kind of pride in doing something well, in proving to yourself that you have the skill. Something about gambling your life on your ability—well, it gives a kind of thrill. Not really at the moment, when all you can think about is staying alive, but later, when you think about it—I can’t explain it better than that.”

  “I guess I’ve never been that good at anything,” Jael said glumly. She wondered if she would ever be good enough at anything to risk her life to prove it—or if she would ever want to.

  “Well, some people seem to be born knowing what they’re for, or what they’re good at,” Donya mused, “and some people take years and years. Mother used to tell me that I played with toy swords before I learned to use a privy. Shadow, on the other hand, wandered around the Heartwood not knowing what to do with herself for over a century. So you’re not too odd, Jaellyn. I’m just worried about you.”

  Jael sat up.

  “Why?”

  Donya looked her daughter squarely in the eyes.

  “This sudden concern with learning to fight,” Donya said slowly. “Nothing’s happened, has it, to make you think you’re in danger? Anything that’s happened in town, maybe, that you haven’t wanted to tell me, or that you’ve heard?”

  So that was what this mother-to-daughter talk was about! Perversely, Jael was annoyed, and then felt guilty at her own annoyance. It was her her mother was worried about; her question wasn’t just a way of getting news out of her daughter.

  “No, nothing like that,” Jael said, reaching for her clothes. “Aunt Shadow gave me a lecture, that’s all.”

  “Well, obviously it did more good than the lectures I’ve given you.” Donya shook her head. “Sorry. That wasn’t fair. You’re sure there isn’t something else that you should tell me?”

  Tell you that I want to leave Allanmere, creep away someday to see the world?

  “No, really,” Jael said. “Nobody’s threatened me. Nobody’s said anything—anything new, anyway. People mutter when they see me. Sometimes they scowl at me.” Once someone, anonymous in the crowd, had stuck out a foot to trip her, and once Jael had been hit by a rock that she wasn’t certain had been thrown up by a cart, but...“That’s all.”

  “All right.” Donya sighed unhappily. “All right.” She was silent for a long moment. At last, she said awkwardly, “Is there anything at all I can do to help?”

  Jael looked up, surprised at the hesitancy in Donya’s voice.

  “I don’t see that there’s anything to be done,” she said. “I mean, I just have to wait and see, don’t I? See what Grandmother Celene says about whether I have some magery in me or not, see whether I can learn this new type of combat, see if I can do anything useful. There’s nothing else to do.”

  “Right.” Donya sighed again, then sprang to her feet decisively. “That’s all, then.” She turned and strode out of the room.

  Jael wiped off as much of the smelly salve as she could, wondering at her mother’s mood as she walked back to her room. Normally Mother was happiest on the days when Argent sat in audience.

  From her favorite seat on her windowsill, Jael could hear the clashing of metal from the practice field. It was far past time for the twins’ lessons, so either some of the guards were practicing, or Mother had coaxed either Rabin or one of the guard captains to practice with her. Jael skipped down the hall to one of the east windows where she had a clear view of the practice field.

  To Jael’s delight, it was Donya and Rabin on the practice field, and Jael happily curled up on the window ledge. She loved watching her mother practice.

  Donya and Rabin were in full armor as always, because they fought with their own swords, instead of the wooden beginner’s sword Jael used or the blunted, pointless practice swords the twins had advanced to. Afternoon sunlight flashed off of bright steel, and the sounds of the blades striking armor or each other was like a song. Donya and Rabin danced to that music, every step perfectly placed, every movement responsive to the other’s movements, every cut or parry perfectly answered. Jael was mesmerized by their skill, thinking wishfully that she could never equal it—

  Suddenly strong hands pushed her. Just as Jael, caught entirely off guard, started to tumble out the window, a second set of hands grasped her tunic, pulling her back. Even before Jael had recovered from the surprise, the giggles behind her told her who her assailants were.

  “Rabin says you can’t let people sneak up on you,” Markus scolded, still giggling.

  “You could be assinated,” Mera added somberly, her pale eyes twinkling.

  “That’s ‘assassinated,’” Jael said irritably. “And you both are going to be assassinated if you ever do that again. Now leave me alone. I’m watching Mother practice.”

  “You should be practicing,” Markus said.

  “It wouldn’t do any good,” Mera contradicted merrily. “Jael’s too stumble-footed for swordplay.”

  “If you two don’t leave me alone,” Jael warned, “I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Mera crowed. “We can beat you any day, armed or unarmed.”

  It was true, too, and Jael hated it. She ground her teeth and slid from her window perch, stalking down the hall. To her utter disgust, the twins followed.

  “Where are you going?” Markus asked. “It’s almost suppertime.”

  “Unless you don’t want to come to supper,” Mera said, giggling. “Father has commissioned new light globes for the table.”

  “And cook says what’s the point in cooking a good meal just to end up full of glass.”

  “Besides, Father’s still talking with two members of the council. They’ll probably be dining with us.”

  In desperation, Jael retreated to her room. The twins stood outside the closed door for a few minutes, giggling and taunting, but when they could elicit no response, they grew bored and the sounds stopped. Jael knew the twins better than to be fooled by this ploy, however, and she waited. Sure enough, a few minutes later she heard the footsteps receding down the hall as the twins abandoned their game. While she waited, she pulled out pen, ink, and parchment and scrawled a hasty note—”Mother, Father, gone to meet Aunt Shadow and Grandmother. Jaellyn.”

  Jael waited a few minutes longer, then inched the door open slowly. The twins were indeed gone; the footsteps she’d heard hadn’t been Mera using her budding magery. Jael used one of her old eating knives to pin the note to the door and slipped through the halls, carefully avoiding the servants.

  She’d have to hurry before the twins returned to her room, found the note, and went tattling to Mother or Father. Jael would get in trouble enough when she got back for leaving without permission.

  The door to the room where the Gate had been placed was locked, of course, but Jael had a copy of the key, and the magical lock was set to recognize her; Donya had insisted, as a condition of Jael’s fostering in the Heartwood, that Jael be able to return at any time, night or day, should there be a need. Jael had never gone through the Gate alone before, though. Donya or Argent had always accompanied her, and Jael realized that they must have worried that her unusually bad luck might somehow affect even the Gate. Now that she thought about it, the idea gave Jael pause, too. Hurriedly, before she could change her mind, Jael took a deep breath and stepped forward—

  “Jaellyn, what are you doing?”

  Jael sighed and stopped where she was, turning. Argent stood in the doorway.

  “I was just—”

  “I know.” Argent held up her note. “I was just coming for you and the twins. Change your clothes and come down to the dining hall. There’s someone here I’d like you to meet.”

  “Yes, Father.” Jael sighed again and trudged back to her room, hoping she had something fairly presentable to wear. Father sometimes invited influ
ential merchants, nobility from other cities, or elves from other parts of the land to supper, and on those occasions he did insist that the whole family attend.

  Jael rifled through her clothing, grimacing. She hadn’t kept up much of a wardrobe of finery, and most of it had met with the disasters that seemed to follow her around town. No matter how carefully the seamstresses measured and remeasured and gathered and tucked, she always looked rumpled and disheveled in even the nicest clothes, and she flatly refused to wear gowns; she inevitably found some way to trip over them every few steps. Irritably she pulled out a tunic and trousers that were in at least fair condition and jerked them on.

  Jael raked a comb through her curls, grimacing at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her pointed ears large and obvious and twitching in her agitation, her bronze eyes strange. Maybe her tunic was a little tighter across her chest, maybe not. Probably not. Jael growled and gave her tunic one last tug as she ran down the hall.

  The first thing Jael noticed was that the light globes in the dining hall had been replaced by lamps and candles. Jael tried to tell herself that the new light globes were probably not ready yet, but a bitter part of herself knew that the new light globes had not been used so that there would be no unpleasant incident with a guest at supper.

  “There you are, Jaellyn.” Argent took her arm, leading Jael back to where Donya, hurriedly washed and formally attired, was conversing with someone. Markus and Mera were standing by, quiet and polite for once. “Lord Urien, my eldest daughter, Jaellyn. Jaellyn, I’m honored to present Lord Urien, Senior High Priest of the Temple of Baaros in Calidwyn.”

  Jael swallowed her surprise and attempted a curtsy; her foot slipped and she almost fell, only to be rescued by a cool hand taking hers. Jael hurriedly regained her footing and looked up in surprise into a pair of twinkling black eyes as her rescuer salvaged the gesture by raising her hand and brushing his lips across her knuckles elegantly.

  “The honor is entirely mine, High Lord Argent,” Urien answered, his eyes smiling complicitly at Jael. He was pale as a sage who spent too much time in his cellar library. His face was lean and angular, delicate but not quite effeminate, narrow-lipped and vaguely exotic. Fine black hair feathered around his face in straight wisps. He wore the dark blue of the Temple of Baaros, but instead of priestly robes he was dressed in a House surcoat. Jael didn’t recognize the arms—of course not, if he was from Calidwyn—but they had the general look of a mercantile house.

  “Lord Urien is an administrator of the Reform Temple of Baaros in Calidwyn and a representative of the main temple in Loroval,” Donya explained. “The Temple of Baaros received my messages and sent him to reform the temple here in Allanmere.”

  “Reform it how?” Jael blurted out the words before she thought, then flushed with embarrassment. Her embarrassment doubled when she realized that Urien was still holding her hand, but she couldn’t see a polite way of pulling away from him.

  “The Temple of Baaros is a small mercantile sect with temples in only a few cities,” Urien said smoothly. “Interfering in local politics is beyond our scope and contrary to the very interests of the temple—recruiting worshippers from the merchant class. For our temples to prosper and grow, we need the goodwill of the cities. I assure you that Ankaras went far beyond his authority in promoting treasonous sentiments. The temple in Loroval sent me to assume leadership of the temple here and rectify the problem.”

  “I see the table is ready,” Argent said politely. “Why don’t you tell us about it over supper, Lord Urien?”

  “I would be delighted.” Urien bowed. “May I have the honor of escorting your lovely daughter to the table?”

  Donya and Argent exchanged surprised glances, which Jael vastly enjoyed—still a child, indeed!—and Argent finally smiled a little hesitantly.

  “Of course, Lord Urien.”

  Urien’s eyes twinkled again at Jael as if they had just shared a private joke, and he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

  “—so as far as we can tell, the whole difficulty with the elves came from the trade war in Loroval, not from actual temple doctrine,” Urien said, nodding to the serving maid offering another serving of roast fowl. “Since most of the priests, including Ankaras, were Loroval merchants, you can see how that sentiment found its way into the sect. The temple’s never tried very vigorously to stamp out such teachings because in many cities the elves stay aloof from the human settlement anyway, so it’s never become a problem until now. But you can be assured that if Ankaras can’t adjust, I’ll replace him myself until such time as a new High Priest can be trained. Having a temple in such a large trade city as Allanmere is very important to us, and I’m prepared to settle here as long as is necessary to see it done properly.” He turned to Jael. “More wine, Lady Jaellyn?”

  “Thank you,” Jael said, although inwardly she winced. She’d already had three goblets full despite the price she’d pay later; she was positively not going to drink fruit juice like a child with this charming lord sitting next to her!

  “I’ll have to locate appropriate lodging, of course,” Urien said. “I have a small retinue with me, a few lesser priests and acolytes. There isn’t sufficient room at the present temple, I’m told, and inns don’t suit me.”

  “There are a few large houses in the Noble District for sale,” Jael said. “I know where most of them are.”

  “Then perhaps if your parents can arrange a suitable escort,” Urien said, bowing his head slightly to Argent and Donya, “and if they will permit, I would be very grateful if you would be so gracious as to help us.”

  Donya’s dark brows had drawn down ominously when Jael had spoken, but her frown cleared as soon as Urien mentioned escorts.

  “A few of the Castle Guard should suffice,” Argent smiled, patting Donya’s arm. “And in the meantime I’m sure we can provide housing for you and at least part of your retinue here.”

  Urien inclined his head again.

  “Rumors of the graciousness of the High Lord and Lady of Allanmere have not been exaggerated,” Urien said politely.

  Jael downed the last swig of her wine rather defiantly. At last that was done.

  Urien glanced at her goblet and started to raise his hand for the wine steward; then he glanced at Jael and lowered his hand. He hurriedly swallowed the last sip of his own wine and leaned slightly toward Argent at his left.

  “You must pardon me,” Urien said in a lowered voice. “It’s rather embarrassing, but I find too much wine hinders my digestion. Might I trouble you for a digestive tea instead? My valet brought some for me.”

  “Gladly.” Argent nodded to one of the maids, who hurried to the kitchen.

  “Have you met with High Priest Ankaras yet, Lord Urien?” Donya asked interestedly.

  “Not yet,” Urien said, smiling ruefully. “I don’t imagine he will take the news well. Since it was your message which brought me, High Lady, I thought it best to come directly to you to assure you that regardless of Ankaras’s reaction to the orders I bring, you will have no further difficulties from the Temple of Baaros.”

  “I appreciate the generosity of the temple in sending a representative so far to help us,” Argent said, “and your kindness in being willing to travel so far. Ah, your tea.” The serving maid had materialized as if by magic. Argent waved her around to Urien’s seat.

  Urien leaned toward Jael, winking surreptitiously.

  “Calidwyn black tea is renowned, Lady Jaellyn. Would you care to try some?”

  Jael grinned inwardly. So this whole thing had been a maneuver to get the tea for her, as she had suspected. But he’d done it in a charming way, if rather obvious, to save her embarrassment.

  Jael accepted a cup of the hot tea, surprised at the intense, richly fragrant flavor. After the first cup she found herself craving another, and to her surprise, her stomach settled immediately. If it weren’t for the castle mages, who checked every morsel of food or drink before it passed into the castle, and
again before it reached the table, Jael would have suspected that some kind of potion had been added.

  “Lord Urien, why don’t you dress like a priest?” Mera asked. “All the priests I’ve seen have given up their Houses and titles.”

  Donya gave her daughter a chiding look, but Urien appeared undisturbed by the question.

  “First, although I have the rank of a High Priest,” Urien told her, “I’ve served in Calidwyn primarily as an administrator of the temple for the last few years, managing its funds and dealing with city officials and other temples in any conflict. Secondly, Lady Mera, Baaros allows His priests to retain their standing in their House if there is no other heir, as is true of my family. Baaros wishes the mercantile Houses to prosper, not fail, by joining His priesthood.”

  “Is that trade goods you brought in the caravan?” Markus asked interestedly.

  “Trade goods, supplies for the temple, and my personal belongings,” Urien told him. “As I said before, I came prepared to stay for as long as necessary. There should be room at the temple to store my goods until I can make other arrangements. Tomorrow, however, I’ll spend the day with Ankaras, reviewing the temple records and working out a gradual change in doctrine so we don’t lose our acolytes and our base of worshippers. This business of the elves I’ll change immediately, but the rest will have to be more gradual. Fortunately I heard on my way through town that the Lesser Summoning was a dramatic success. That’ll help us hold our worshippers until the Grand Summoning at least, and by that time I hope to have the temple running a little more effectively.”

  He shook his head.

  “You must pardon me. I’m addressing you like a group of acolytes to be instructed. Forgive me.”

  “Not at all,” Jael said. “I think it’s very interesting.” She accepted another cup of the tea.

  “Well, I’m sure we will all be interested in hearing more later,” Donya said, rising from the table. “But our guest is undoubtedly tired from his long journey. Lord Urien, if you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to your rooms, and Argent can see what he can find for your men.” She glanced briefly at Jael, Markus, and Mera. “You children are excused.”