Dagger's Edge (Shadow series)

by Logston, Anne

  “I think so,” Tanis said, catching Jael’s eagerness. “Let’s find out.”

  Most of the dragon had already sold, but fortunately there was a little left, still fresh due to its preservation spell; Tanis had barely enough money left to pay for two slabs of the strong-flavored meat, well basted with spicy sauce, and mugs of dark beer, the only possible beverage to drink with dragon. Jael reminded herself sternly to give Tanis back some money; temple acolytes couldn’t have much coin to spend in the market, and dragon was expensive.

  Roast dragon and beer combined in one inevitable effect, and Tanis and Jael walked back north laughing as one or the other belched resoundingly.

  “I suppose you’ve made up for two days of fasting,” Tanis laughed.

  “I suppose I have,” Jael admitted, belching so loudly that passersby turned to stare with mild reproof.

  “Is that a new dagger?” Tanis asked, pointing to the sheath on Jael’s hip. “I’ve never seen you wear it before.”

  “Aunt Shadow gave it to me before she left this afternoon.” Jael drew the dagger and handed it to Tanis. “Watch out, it’s very sharp.”

  “By Baaros’s eyes, it certainly is!” Tanis said, staring at the thin line of blood on his thumb; Jael’s warning had come a bit too late. “But it’s so light. I’ve never seen one like it. Where did it come from?”

  “Uh—” Jael wondered whether to tell Tanis the whole story; after all, he was her best—and only—friend. But most humans had strange ideas about paternity, and Mother doubtless would ask her not to tell anyone. “You know, I don’t think Aunt Shadow knew exactly where this was made or what it’s made of.” Which was true, in a way.

  “I’ve never seen you carry anything but your eating dagger,” Tanis said, carefully sheathing the dagger. “There hasn’t been any trouble, has there?”

  “No, it was just a gift,” Jael said quickly. “But it’s unusual.”

  “Like you,” Tanis quipped. He grinned to take the sting out of his joke. “I’ll stop by when I have some free time again. High Priest Urien doesn’t have much use for Ankaras and the rest of us since he settled into the leadership of the temple.”

  To Jael’s surprise, however, a message had arrived for her while she was gone; even more amazing, however, was that the parchment had been left, still sealed with Lord Urien’s mark, in her room. Donya was keeping her promise, then; Jael would have expected her parents to open the scroll.

  The message was simply a polite note asking Jael if she would consent to join Urien on the morrow at midmorning— with appropriate escort, of course—to look at the last house on North Street, and if she might honor him by dining with him afterward. Jael stuck the parchment through her belt and went skipping down to supper; for once she was the first, not the last, to come to table. To her surprise, new light globes had been placed.

  “Well, there you are,” Argent said mildly, squeezing Jael’s shoulder on his way to the head of the table. “We wondered where you’d gone.”

  “There was dragon in the market,” Jael said with a grin. “Now that I can eat real food, I wanted to get some. But I think I can eat again.”

  Markus and Mera followed Donya into the dining hall, but broke ranks to assault Jael from both sides.

  “You went off to the forest without even telling us,” Markus scowled.

  “And we hardly got to see Aunt Shadow, and she left without even saying good-bye,” Mera accused.

  “Even Father and Mother haven’t had any time at all for us,” Markus said. “It must be your fault.”

  “It’s always your fault,” Mera added.

  “Well, it’s my fault again,” Jael said irritably.

  “Markus, Mera, that’s enough,” Donya said sternly. “If you haven’t yet learned your lesson about behavior at the supper table, you’ll have to eat in your rooms for another three days. Now sit down.”

  “Light globes?” Jael asked Donya and Argent, raising her eyebrow.

  “I talked to Nubric and Jermyn after Shadow left this afternoon,” Argent told her. “Nubric would like to try some tests. But in the meantime we’ll just continue as we always have.”

  “Lord Urien sent me a message,” Jael said, pulling the parchment from her belt and handing it to Donya. “If you don’t object, and if I can take a couple of guards tomorrow morning, I’d like to go.” Now let Donya say she was acting like a child.

  “All right,” Donya said, glancing at Jael before she read the parchment. “But stay away from Rivertown, Jaellyn. Last night two elves were found there with their hearts cut out.”

  Jael’s mouth dropped open, and even Markus and Mera were silent.

  “I think Lord Urien’s announcement at the Temple of Baaros has only inflamed some of the anti-elven factions in the city,” Argent said gently. “This may be the work of some of those who left the Temple of Baaros because of the change of doctrine, as the two elves were minor merchants—elven perfumes and the like. Until it’s been investigated further, however, we’re stationing extra guards in Rivertown, and it would be best for you to avoid the entire area.”

  “No doubt of that,” Jael said, shivering. “I’ve never heard of even an assassin cutting out hearts.” She thought briefly of Blade.

  “Were they very bloody?” Markus asked curiously.

  “Or were the hearts gone? Did someone eat them?” Mera chimed in.

  “By the Mother Forest, what a gruesome subject for supper,” Argent said, shaking his head. “Markus, Mera, when we know more, you’ll be told. Now, please, let’s say no more about it.”

  Jael would have liked to ask more about the incident, but that would get Markus and Mera started again and upset Father, so she ate a little dinner, more for politeness’ sake than out of hunger, and excused herself.

  Back in her room, Jael saw the box of tea, and remembering its pleasant, fragrant taste, she made herself a kettleful and sipped it slowly, contemplating the pendant Urien had given her. She had never seen the like of the rich purple-red stones before, or the delicate gold work. Perhaps it had been made magically, but at least it seemed to have suffered no ill effects from hanging around her neck for days.

  The hot tea made her feel warm and drowsy, and Jael took off her clothes and slipped under the covers, pouring the last of the tea into a cup at her bedside. She carefully tucked the pendant into the box hidden in the frame of her bed, where she stored Shadow’s puzzle.

  Jael dreamed she lay in a great stone hand, gently cupped and sheltered, safe and surrounded. Above her she could see the lines of another stone hand arching over her. The stone under her was cold, hard but somehow comforting in its solidity. The world was still, the world was stone, peaceful and unchanging.

  Gradually Jael became aware that the stone beneath her had somehow changed. Now the hand on which she lay was flesh, warm and softer. Jael felt somehow afraid, not knowing why until she realized that the hand above her was no longer so far away, but was slowly closing over her, descending to crush her, to smother her. She could almost feel the great weight pressing down upon her—

  Jael bolted upright in her bed, pushing the covers off her face. For a moment she shivered in the dark room, her arms clasping her knees tightly against her chest. She slid out of bed and pushed another log onto the fire, then crawled shivering back into bed. She pulled the pouch containing Shadow’s puzzle from its hiding place and clasped it like a talisman.

  When she slept, this time there were no dreams.

  V

  “This one looks much better,” Jael admitted.

  “I think you’re right.” Urien smiled as he gazed around the empty room. He stepped to the window and looked out. “The neighborhood appears much superior to the southern house we looked at.” He glanced upward. “But that gargoyle—”

  “Well, you could have it taken down,” Jael grinned.

  “It’s so hideous, I may just keep it there,” Urien said, smiling back. “That way, when I invite guests to the house, I can ask them ho
w they like it and watch them squirm for an answer.”

  Jael chuckled at the image, wondering if Numan had perhaps had the same idea. Grandmother Celene was fond of just such tricks.

  “Are you ready for some dinner?” Urien suggested. “I hope this time we can dine on something more appealing than boiled greens.”

  “Today I can eat whatever I want,” Jael said. “And I could eat anything in Allanmere except boiled potherbs.”

  Urien took her to the Basilisk’s Eye, an almost decadently luxurious inn in the Noble District. Jael wondered if Urien knew that the small private supper alcoves were a notorious trysting place for nobles wanting to avoid public scrutiny of their liaisons. Thinking about it, Jael decided that Urien probably knew—and probably knew that she knew.

  Because most nobles dining at the Eye wanted privacy in the alcoves, their meal was served all at once, rather than in courses, so that the servers wouldn’t be ducking in and out. Jael was a little intimidated by the sheer quantity of dishes, and even more so when she realized what they were being served: golden blacktail roe; a delicate soup of sawback fin; simmered and seasoned roundshells, together with their liquor; bite-size morsels of daggertooth, stewed in a spicy sauce; pincer-claws baked in butter, and much more—the list was dizzying, and Jael found herself calculating the probable cost preservation-spelling these delicacies and ferrying them up the Brightwater. Jael shuddered to herself and thought that she did not want to know what Urien was paying for this dinner.

  Although wine had, of course, been brought with the meal, Urien did not press any on Jael, for which Jael was duly grateful. Instead he gave the servant a small cake of the Calidwyn black tea to brew, joining Jael in a cup of the fragrant liquid.

  “I see you are growing to share my addiction to Calidwyn’s tea,” he smiled. “Perhaps I will have to send for some to trade in Allanmere after all.”

  He scooped up a small spoonful of blacktail roe on a thin sliver of toasted bread and fed it to Jael.

  “Do you like it?”

  Jael nodded and swallowed.

  “We don’t get seafood too often,” she said. “Not much is ferried up the Brightwater this far.”

  “Did you know,” Urien said, taking Jael’s hand and smiling, “that many of the fruits of the sea are thought to be aphrodisiacs?”

  “I’d heard that, yes,” Jael said. She grinned. “I think the sea merchants try to spread that rumor to raise the prices.”

  “That may be.” Still holding Jael’s hand, Urien dipped her finger into the bowl of blacktail roe, scooping up some of the tiny golden orbs. Urien’s eyes twinkled as he raised Jael’s hand and closed his lips around her fingertip, sensuously licking the roe from her skin. He released her hand and smiled. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

  Jael fought down her unease. There were four guards outside the door, two of Urien’s and two of hers. Urien was only flirting; there was no harm in that. She was still in control of the situation. The thought relaxed her immediately, and she smiled.

  “Then I believe I’ll have a little more,” Jael said, spooning herself another helping of the daggertooth.

  “You like spicy food?” Urien asked, pouring her another cup of tea.

  “Sometimes,” Jael said smoothly. “In the right company.”

  Urien pulled a small bottle out of his wallet and set it on the table.

  “Did you like the Bluebright?” he asked, his tone gently daring her.

  “If my mother finds out you’ve been giving me this stuff, after she told you to wait until it was tested,” Jael told him, “she’d have the City Guard confiscate every drop you’ve got until it is tested. And she’d lock me in my room for twice as long.”

  Urien raised one eyebrow.

  “Are you going to tell her?”

  Jael reached across the table and pulled the stopper out of the bottle of Bluebright. This was exciting, the way Shadow must feel when she made a successful theft.

  “Not if you’ll pour,” she said.

  Urien took a small pouch from his wallet and removed two lumps of sugar. He carefully dripped a little Bluebright on each lump and took one, raising an eyebrow at Jael. Jael popped the other lump of sugar into her mouth.

  This time she was expecting the burst of heat and the following coolness, and the delicious languor that spread through her. She was unprepared, however, when Urien took her hand again and kissed her palm, then the inside of her wrist, for the sudden flush of warmth that followed his touch. His lips slid up her forearm, his tongue touching her skin, and Jael gasped as her skin came alive in flashes of heat and cold.

  Urien released her arm then, and Jael shivered, amazed at the unfamiliar, trembling disappointment she felt. Urien leaned closer, but paused long enough for Jael to signal her reluctance if she wished. Jael leaned to meet him halfway.

  Jael’s heart pounded hard and joyfully, and she could have shouted were it not for Urien’s lips on hers. Oh, she’d been so afraid she’d never feel this, this wonderful burning in her blood that stippled her skin with gooseflesh and seemed to melt her bones. She shivered and tangled her fingers in Urien’s hair as he nibbled at the side of her neck, and his hand slid under her tunic, cool against the skin of her back. She must have stiffened slightly, however, for Urien released her after a last lingering kiss, his eyes warm.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “This is better left for another time and place.”

  Jael could have groaned with disappointment, but a part of her was relieved. She sat up straight, her cheeks hot with embarrassment.

  “Perhaps you’d care to go riding with me in a day or two,” Urien suggested. “If the weather is pleasant, we could take dinner with us.”

  “I’d like that,” Jael said quickly.

  “Then we’ll plan for two days from now, midmorning again,” Urien said. “In the meantime, the carriage can take us around the market once. The air will clear our heads.”

  “Or our noses,” Jael muttered to herself as they left. Midweek was tanning day at the Leather Guild, and a south wind was blowing.

  “This was a poor idea,” Urien admitted later as he and Jael wiped tears from their eyes.

  “Well, it did clear my head,” Jael admitted. “Just as well, too. I really should go to sword practice this afternoon.”

  Urien ordered the carriage back to the castle, and by the time they arrived, the noxious smell and the late summer breeze together had wiped most of the Bluebright languor from Jael’s head. Urien helped Jael out of the carriage, but politely declined Jael’s invitation to come in. The guards who had accompanied Jael appeared relieved; riding on the outside of the carriage, they had been more exposed to the tanning odors and seemed more than ready to abandon their posts.

  Because Jael had canceled her morning lessons, Larissa was not present, and Rabin was nowhere to be found. Irritated, Jael changed into her old clothes and trudged down to the practice field anyway; at least she could practice her dagger throwing alone, and work on that new kick Larissa had shown her the day before she went to the Heartwood.

  To her surprise, Jael found Donya in the practice field, working on a new lunge with one of the wooden practice posts. She stopped, however, as soon as Jael appeared.

  “Good afternoon,” Donya panted, apparently as surprised as Jael herself. “Rabin isn’t here. Since you’d canceled your lesson, I gave him the afternoon free. He said something about seeing to your sword.”

  “He was commissioning a lighter one,” Jael said. “It’s probably finished by now.”

  “Ah.” Donya wiped sweat off her brow with the back of her wrist. “I noticed you were wearing that dagger last night at supper.” She nodded at the sheath at Jael’s hip.

  Jael drew the dagger to show Donya the strange light blade.

  “Aunt Shadow gave it to me,” she said awkwardly. “She said—uh—”

  “Farryn gave her that,” Donya finished. “Yes, I know. I’m surprised she gave you one, though. She loves tho
se daggers. Then again, she’s like that—she’d give you the last copper in her purse at the same time as she was stealing your under-things. Well, come here and have a look. I wanted a last swing with this, and then I was going to leave it in your room.”

  Donya had laid a long, cloth-wrapped bundle on a bench at the edge of the practice field. Jael watched as Donya unfolded the cloth to reveal an ornately tooled scabbard. Donya drew the sword, and Jael’s eyes widened at the sight of the same pale metal from which her dagger was made.

  “Did Farryn give you that, too?” Jael asked amazedly. “I’ve never seen you wear it.”

  “No, Chyrie gave it to me,” Donya said, a little sadly. “It wasn’t long after I met Farryn. It belonged to one of his ancestors. I only got to use it once, against the giant daggertooth I told you about. After Farryn left, I put it away for years. I thought if anyone saw it, they’d ask questions, and I didn’t want to think about it—well, you understand. Here, try it.”

  Jael took the sword. The hilt was rather long for her—no wonder, if it had been made for a six-fingered hand—and the blade, too, was a little longer than Rabin had recommended.

  As soon as the hilt was in her hand, however, Jael felt the same lightness, the same aliveness, that she had felt when she had held the dagger. It felt friendly to her hand, familiar. Even the strange light length of it felt right.

  “Go on, take a cut,” Donya said, gesturing to the much-hacked practice pole. “But don’t cut straight down, edge-on. To take advantage of that slight curve in the blade, come down at an angle and pull in—well, like this.”

  She stood behind Jael and clasped her hands over her daughter’s.

  “Loosen your grip a little and don’t pull the tip down so far. That’s right, right shoulder to left hip, down and in. No, bend your left elbow up more and don’t stiffen your wrist. Got it?”

  “I think so,” Jael said doubtfully. What Donya had told her was much different from what Rabin had taught her.