Dagger's Edge (Shadow series)

by Logston, Anne

  To Jael’s delight, the seamstresses had finished a dark red tunic with matching trousers, in which Jael looked a little less rumpled than usual. The neck of the tunic was cut low, and Jael realized happily that if she moved the clasp of the chain Urien had given her just a few links, the dark red fabric would frame the pendant beautifully. Jael quickly adjusted the chain, then tucked the pendant into her pocket to put on when she was safely out of sight of home.

  “Jael’s dressing fancy,” Markus laughed, making Jael realize that she had left her bedroom door open.

  “Maybe she’s sitting in audience this afternoon, instead of Mother,” Mera giggled.

  “No, she’s looking to Lord Urien,” Markus said slyly. “Everybody knows it.”

  “But he won’t be interested in her,” Mera said mischievously. “He’s handsome and wealthy. He’ll be courting real ladies, beautiful ladies who wear gowns and have breasts.”

  Jael scowled and slammed her door shut, grinning with satisfaction as the heavy wood caught a booted toe and Markus yelped.

  The afternoon crept by with painful slowness. Jael sat in her window looking out as she had a thousand times before, but today she could not sit calmly to dream away the hours. Apprehension and eagerness warred in Jael’s mind while she imagined all the possible scenarios that might occur at supper. Urien was a gentleman, but his invitation to sup privately at his home carried certain implications, and her acceptance of his invitation carried certain other implications, and she was far from sure in her own mind that she should go to this supper. On the other hand, if she didn’t go, that would deliver a message of its own, and that message was clear and unequivocal, with the probable result that Jael would receive no further invitations.

  At last, unable to sit for another moment, Jael wandered up to her parents’ quarters, hoping that perhaps her mother or father had left some notes about the murders. There were no notes, but there were markings on a map of the city with a few terse comments penned beside the markings, including the names of the victims and who had found them. Two of the latter names Jael knew—Solly, one of Aubry’s senior thieves who worked in the area around the Docks, and Teva, a City Guard who patrolled the Mercantile District. Jael read the map again carefully, then hurried back to her room to pen a quick copy of her own. At least she’d have something to show Tanis tomorrow.

  Jael glanced out the window and realized that it was late enough in the afternoon that she had best collect her guards and her carriage and start out for Urien’s house. She was relieved to find that the “escort” Mother had arranged was only four guards, plus the carriage driver; then Jael realized that her mother was trying to tell her something—either that she trusted her daughter’s judgment, and more guards were unnecessary, or that she knew her daughter was making a stupid mistake, and more guards would be useless. Jael sighed, far from certain that she knew which she was doing.

  Jael had to admit that Urien had made a good job of Numan’s house. The soiled stone had been cleaned, the gargoyle removed, and the blue glass windows had been restored. Servants were waiting to meet the carriage, but Urien was there to take her hand the moment Jael stepped to the ground.

  “I am so glad you came,” Urien smiled, kissing her hand. “Supper isn’t quite ready, I’m told, but that leaves me time to show you the house you helped me find.”

  Jael was relieved that Urien placed no special emphasis on any parts of the tour—bedrooms, for example. To Jael’s surprise, she learned that the lesser priests and acolytes Urien had brought from Calidwyn would also live in the house, but Urien added that they were still living at an inn until restoration of the house was complete.

  “I see you took the gargoyle down,” Jael chuckled. “I suppose you decided not to use it to tease your guests.”

  “On the contrary.” Urien steered Jael into a luxurious sitting room, where Jael laughed to see the stone gargoyle mounted beside the fireplace. “I merely moved him to a suitable place of honor.”

  A chime sounded, and Urien laid Jael’s hand on his arm and escorted her to the dining hall. The hall was elegant and more than a little intimidating, but a smaller table placed close to the fireplace made the room seem comfortable and intimate.

  They were served an abundant and tasty supper, and to Jael’s surprise, Urien served no wine at all, drinking tea with Jael instead. Jael was relieved and just a bit disappointed that Urien offered her no Bluebright, either.

  Urien kept the conversation very light over supper, but afterward, in the warm sitting room, he was interested in Jael’s news of the new murders. He shivered when Jael told him of the elven merchant murdered near the market, omitting her own presence in the area.

  “That’s terrible,” Urien frowned. “Do you know, I was in almost the same area that night. But for Baaros’s protection, it might well have been me.”

  “I doubt that,” Jael said comfortingly. “You’re not an elf. Except for the beggar, all the victims have been elves.”

  “They’ve all been merchants, too,” Urien reminded her. ‘Their work is as likely the cause of their death as their race.”

  Jael frowned. Had all the victims been merchants? She couldn’t recall having heard that, and told Urien so.

  “You are of elven blood, and that’s of concern to your parents, and naturally so,” Urien said patiently. “They, of course, are the ones from whom you hear these things. I, on the other hand, am a merchant and a priest of a mercantile sect. The news I hear is from other merchants. It was some of our worshippers who told me that all the unfortunate persons were merchants. Excepting the beggar, of course, and this last murder, and you told me that yourself.”

  “But what would elven merchants be doing in Rivertown?” Jael asked puzzledly. “All our elven merchants come from the Heartwood. They don’t bring in goods from the river, and nothing from the forest is traded out of town, either. Wealthy merchants don’t go into Rivertown without a good reason.”

  “I’m sure the guards have thought of that,” Urien said thoughtfully. “Certainly they’ll be investigating the reason why the elves came to Rivertown. You can be certain it’s an area I’ll avoid, and I’ll be much happier if you do, too. My heart would break if any harm came to you,” he added almost shyly.

  “I’m in no great hurry to find out which of the temples in Allanmere is right about the afterworld,” Jael admitted, then grimaced apologetically. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget you’re a priest.”

  “I’m glad,” Urien said gallantly, taking Jael’s hand and kissing it gently. “Sometimes I like to forget it myself. Don’t you occasionally wish to forget that you’re the High Lord and Lady’s firstborn?”

  “Most of the time,” Jael said wryly. “But isn’t it a little different, being a priest?” She flushed a little, but continued boldly. “I mean, does your sect allow you to have young women over to supper and go on picnics and—”

  Urien laughed.

  “And?” he teased gently. “We’re not one of those strange new celibate sects, if that’s what you are asking, nor one of the ascetic sects that forbid its priests comfort and pleasure. I believe I told you already that many priests have wealth of their own, which they may retain for their own comfort. The only restriction, as I have said, is that temple funds must not

  be used for more than the simplest needs of the priests if they have no other means. Baaros expects His priests in active leadership of a temple to devote themselves to His worship, of course, but for those of His servants who serve in an administrative role, as I did—and will again soon,” Urien added quickly, “many of these priests have Houses and families of their own. I assure you that I’ll take an active role as a priest in this temple not a day longer than necessary.”

  “But Ankaras doesn’t agree with the changes you’ve made,” Jael said worriedly. “What if you can’t let him resume his position?”

  “Then I will train one of the lesser priests to take his place,” Urien said practically, “or the temple in Loroval wi
ll send another priest to take a permanent post here.” He laughed. “I wanted to forget my priesthood for a few hours, but it seems you won’t let me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jael said contritely. Talking about the Temple of Baaros made her uneasy, anyway—she didn’t know what Urien might make of her friendship with Tanis, much less of her surreptitious excursions into the temple via the cellar. “Why don’t you tell me about Calidwyn instead, and your House?”

  “That’s all far behind me right now,” Urien said smoothly. “Why don’t you tell me about Allanmere instead, and more importantly about you?”

  Jael found, to her surprise, that Urien was as good a listener as Aunt Shadow, as interested in the small details of her life as he was in the larger stories of Allanmere, although Jael had already decided that there was no chance she’d tell this polished lord some of the more embarrassing details about herself. He sympathized with her sword lesson woes, recalling nights he’d been too sore to sleep.

  “It’s worth it, though,” he assured her. “There’s no substitute for knowing that you can protect yourself when necessary. Of course, you never really know until it is necessary.” He kissed her fingertips. “You have lovely, strong hands. You’ll make a wonderful swordswoman in time.” He kissed the inside of her wrist, making Jael shiver.

  He lowered her hand then, gazing warmly into Jael’s eyes.

  “But do you really want to talk about swordsmanship?” he asked softly.

  Jael felt her cheeks flush, and she shook her head.

  “Good.” Urien leaned forward and brushed his lips very lightly over Jael’s, then again, more firmly. Jael steeled herself, then slid her arms around Urien’s neck, pulling him close, although she could have ground her teeth with frustration. Nothing! She might as well have been embracing a tree. Gods, did she have to be half-drunk on Bluebright to feel anything for a man?

  Urien stroked her hair and pulled back a little to look at her.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked gently.

  “Nothing,” Jael said quickly. “I mean—”

  Urien nodded, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

  “You’re a maiden, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Jael’s face flamed.

  “Well—uh—elven women don’t have—I mean—but—”

  “That sounds like a ‘yes.’“ Urien smiled understanding, reaching out to stroke her hair again. “I thought as much. This isn’t really what you want, is it, Jaellyn?”

  “Well—” Jael sighed miserably. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but most of me’s never wanted much of anything, if you understand what I mean.”

  “Ah.” Urien smiled again, then pulled Jael close, cradling her head on his shoulder. Jael was grateful that she didn’t have to face him. “It was different at the Basilisk’s Eye, wasn’t it? But that was likely the Bluebright. It sometimes has that effect on people.”

  “Is that why you gave it to me?” Jael asked daringly.

  “No.” Urien’s voice was gently reproving. “Jaellyn, do you think I have to resort to drugging young ladies with Bluebright to make them want me? Or that I’d even wish to?”

  “No, oh, no,” Jael said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I’m sorry.” She buried her face in his tunic. “I’m just embarrassed, I suppose, and a little disappointed.”

  “There’s no need for either,” Urien said firmly, tightening his arms around her warmly. “My feelings for you aren’t dependent on whether I can coax you into my bed tonight. When you want me, Jaellyn, then I’ll teach you every pleasure I know. But there’s no need to be impatient.”

  Jael sighed explosively, relieved and dismayed at the same time.

  “You’re as patient and reasonable as my father,” she said wryly. “It’s almost irritating.”

  “Oh, really?” Urien laughed. “Would you prefer that I drug you, seduce you, or just ravish you, then? Hmmm, seducing you seems unlikely, and ravishing you would get me thrown in the castle dungeons. Wait here, I’ll fetch the Bluebright.”

  “All right, all right,” Jael growled. “I don’t recall asking for salt for my wounds, thank you.”

  “I’m sorry.” Urien nuzzled Jael’s short curls, stroking her back gently. “This must be exasperating for you. But I assure you that I’m not disappointed. At least not too disappointed.”

  Jael hid her grimace in Urien’s shoulder. Gods, what she wouldn’t pay for an hour of feeling like a normal twenty-year-old woman—elf or human, either one.

  Urien was kind and understanding and tried to coax Jael back into a better mood with tea and pastries, but for Jael the evening was ruined, and Urien wisely did not protest when she left rather earlier than planned.

  Jael wished regretfully that Aunt Shadow hadn’t left town—she would have been the perfect person to talk to—but Aunt Shadow was gone, and that meant there was only one person she could ask for help.

  It was late enough that Donya and Argent were in their quarters, and Jael found them poring over the rough map she’d seen earlier. Donya hurriedly pushed the map aside when Jael entered, but Jael excused herself, saying she’d only come to talk to her father. Argent, very surprised, quickly rose and walked back with Jael to her room.

  “What kind of problem could you possibly have,” Argent asked her, “that you couldn’t ask in your mother’s presence?”

  “It’s rather embarrassing, actually,” Jael admitted. “Can I ask you something as an elf and an herbalist instead of as High Lord and my—my father?”

  Argent raised both eyebrows and settled himself on Jael’s bed. He poured himself a cup of water from the jug beside the bed before answering.

  “I can’t promise anything but my best attempt,” he said at last. “But go ahead.”

  “Back when you were working as an herbalist,” Jael said slowly, “what would you have given an elf who was—well— soul-sick, for example, and when she was with an attractive person under the—uh—proper conditions, couldn’t—well—”

  “—enjoy his attentions?” Argent prompted. He shook his head, frowning. “Jaellyn, are you asking me for a potion to make you feel a desire your body isn’t ready for?”

  “It’s not my body that isn’t working,” Jael protested. “It’s because I only have two parts of three of my soul, and I may never have the rest of it! Am I supposed to wait forever?”

  “I see.” Argent looked down at his hands for a long moment. “Jaellyn, are you utterly certain that that is what you want, or are you prepared to listen to an herbalist’s advice?”

  “I’ll listen,” Jael said reluctantly.

  “Do you remember what Mist told us, that certain potions can temporarily heal soul-sickness?” Argent asked her. “The dreaming potion you took in the forest was apparently such a potion. Remember that magical energies are closely linked with the body’s sexual energies as well, and think about what happened when you took that potion. You had a hint of the kind of power within you. If I make a potion which sets that power free before you are capable of handling it, what do you think could happen? Is it worth the possible price, to have a night’s passion now instead of later?”

  Jael sighed exasperatedly. It was much easier to shout and argue with her mother than to refute Father’s gentle, inexorable logic. A night’s tumble seemed a small gain when compared to the damage that might be done by a power strong enough to melt stone.

  “All right,” Jael said reluctantly. “I’ll wait. For a while, at least.”

  “You are growing,” Argent said comfortingly, “inside as well as outwardly. And with the elven blood in you, there’s no need for impatience.”

  When Argent was gone, Jael realized that he had had even more potent arguments that he had, perhaps through kindness, chosen not to use. Seemingly casual liaisons often had long-term consequences, Jael herself being a good example. Even though she had never yet ripened, and might indeed be barren, there were plenty of other, less tangible risks. Urien could lose the support of more
of his worshippers—possibly even of his priests—were it known that he was engaged in a liaison with the High Lord and Lady’s apparently elven daughter. Such a rumor could do as much harm to Urien as it could benefit Ankaras’s cause. The anti-elven faction in Allanmere, especially those worshippers who had left the Temple of Baaros, could even suggest that the High Lord and Lady had used their daughter as a tool to sway Urien and the Temple of Baaros.

  That last was a sobering thought. Jael had never thought that there might be city-wide repercussions to her actions. She could now appreciate the discretion Urien had shown so far. He had met Jael only under very private conditions, or under scrupulous chaperoning. If even Tanis didn’t realize that Urien had been meeting with Jael, it was unlikely that anyone else did.

  Jael grimaced and shook her head, remembering Urien asking her if she never wished to forget for a short time that she was the daughter of the High Lord and Lady of Allanmere. If being High Priest of the Temple of Baaros caused this much trouble, little wonder Ankaras was such a walking briar patch!

  Or that her mother sometimes acted like an overzealous mother wolf trying to defend her only pup. Gods, could Donya even spit without it being told from one end of Allanmere to the other? And this would be Jael’s lot if she was declared Heir.

  Jael carried that disturbing thought into an uneasy sleep.

  The next day Jael was almost grateful for her lessons, since at least they passed the uneasy time until evening, when she could go to the market to meet Tanis. She did, however, have time between her afternoon lesson and sunset for an errand or two. She thrust her copy of her mother’s map into her tunic and hurried south and east to the Noble District.