Dagger's Edge (Shadow series)

by Logston, Anne

  Jael could hardly tell Urien that she’d already been in the temple several times.

  “I’d like that,” she said shyly.

  Jael was surprised and pleased that Urien made no effort to hurry supper. He flirted with her, but on a comfortably light

  level, feeding her choice tidbits, blowing in her ear to startle her. Urien tickled Jael until she shrieked with laughter and dropped the leg of roast fowl she was holding, and Urien seized her greasy hand, slipping a bracelet around her wrist. When Jael got her breath back, she stared in amazement at a stunning gold band whorled and gemmed to match the pendant he had given her.

  “I realize you mustn’t wear this openly,” Urien said softly. “But I wanted you to have it, nevertheless.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Jael said, tracing the intricate designs with her fingertip. “Thank you so much.”

  “I didn’t bring the matching earrings,” Urien apologized. “I thought your ears weren’t pierced.”

  “They weren’t,” Jael admitted, wiping her hand and touching her earrings self-consciously. “A friend just pierced my ears today so I could wear these earrings.”

  “Ah, a rival for your affections?” Urien asked, frowning in mock ferocity. “I’ll cut the knave in two.”

  “No, just a friend,” Jael said, chuckling at the thought. Gods, Aubry was almost family. Then she sobered. “Another friend of ours was killed. These were his earrings, and I wanted to wear them.”

  “How sweet.” Urien ran his finger around the edge of Jael’s ear, making her shiver. “Then these are the rings you must wear. But I’ll give you the others, and someday you may have occasion to wear them. Are you finished here? There’s something at the temple I’m eager to show you.”

  “Yes, I’m finished,” Jael said, pushing her goblet away. What in the world could there be to see at the temple? And don’t touch anything while we’re there, Jael reminded herself sternly. If she did something to ruin the Grand Summoning somehow, Ankaras could likely use that failure against Urien.

  Urien seemed quieter on the carnage ride to the temple, his arm affectionately around Jael, stroking her hair as she rested her head on his shoulder. When the carriage reached the temple, however, Urien rose quickly, motioning to Jael to stay where she was.

  “Wait here while I make certain none of the other priests are in the temple,” he said apologetically. “I’d be giving An-karas a sharp sword to use against me if he learned I brought an unbeliever into the temple right before the Grand Summoning. I’ll only be a moment.”

  Jael nodded understandingly. It wouldn’t do her reputation any good, either, to be seen going into the Temple of Baaros with Lord Urien.

  It took Urien longer than Jael had expected to return, long enough that she had begun to worry. At last, however, he opened the door of the carriage, carrying a plain gray cloak with a hood. He handed the cloak to Jael.

  “There’s no one about in the temple,” he said, “but there are plenty of folk in the streets. It might be best if you aren’t recognized here.”

  Touched by his thoughtfulness, although it was as much for his benefit as hers, Jael squeezed his hand warmly and donned the cloak, pulling the hood up around her face. Urien took her hand, helping her down the steps of the carriage, and she took his proffered arm as they walked into the temple. It was rather exciting, Jael mused, to have an illicit moonlight meeting with a priest in his own temple. The carriage moved quickly away, and Jael supposed that Urien must have told the driver to return for them later.

  “Come in here,” Urien said, leading Jael into the main hall. “Quickly, it’s almost moonrise.”

  The main temple was much as Jael remembered it before the Lesser Summoning, although there were more ornaments and decorations, and the ceremonial runes had not yet been drawn. Jael wondered whether the additional ornamentation was due to the importance of the Grand Summoning or the additional funds Urien had brought to the temple.

  Urien led Jael to the altar, then turned her around so that she faced out to the open area where the worshippers would sit. He folded his arms around her from behind.

  “What am I supposed to see?” Jael asked confused. The empty hall was silent and still.

  “Just wait,” Urien told her. “It should only be another moment or two.”

  Jael leaned back against Urien contentedly, enjoying the warmth of his arms around her. The night had turned unexpectedly chill.

  Gradually Jael saw a light growing in the room, and she quickly traced its source. Set on the far wall was a window she hadn’t noticed on her previous intrusions because of its small size, a window set with glass cut in facets like a gem. As the moon rose, its light touched the cut glass, then struck it fully. Jael gasped as the light shattered into a million rainbow fragments over the floor of the hall.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Urien murmured into her ear. “I found an account of the window in the early records of the building. The temple which previously occupied this building had the window set in a special way. The light only strikes it so for a short time at moonrise, and then only on certain nights of the year. The previous temple used it to mark some of their holy nights.”

  “It’s wonderful,” Jael breathed. Suddenly she had to be out there, among those jewellike lights. She unwound Urien’s arms from around her and pulled him with her out of the altar area. They laughed as the lights moved slowly over their skin, marking them with diamonds of silver.

  Too soon, far too soon the lights faded and died away, and Urien led her back to the inner chambers of the temple.

  “When I came in to check the temple, I lit a fire,” he said. “It’s cool tonight, and I thought you might like some tea.”

  “I would,” Jael agreed. “That tea that you’ve brought is addictive.”

  “As I said before, I’ll have to start trading it in Allanmere,” Urien chuckled. “Or at least have some brought on a regular basis.”

  He showed Jael to a small room that had been converted to a study of sorts. Scrolls littered the desk and a worktable, and numerous burnt-down candles were stuck to every clear surface. There were a few chairs, and a cot had been set up in one corner. A good fire was burning, and a kettle of water was already heating on a hook.

  Urien motioned Jael to a chair, taking a block of tea from a box and shaving curls into the hot water. Jael craned her neck to see over the piles of scrolls.

  “You must forgive the disorder,” Urien said, appearing at last with a cup of tea, which he handed to Jael. “It took me some time to familiarize myself with the business of this temple. Ankaras is, at least, an extremely thorough record-keeper. Drink your tea, and I’ll pour myself a cup.”

  Urien had sweetened the tea with honey, and its rich, fragrant taste was just what Jael craved. The hot tea made her feel pleasantly warm and tingly inside, a sensation that quickly faded, leaving Jael thirsty for more. Urien pulled a chair up beside hers, sitting down with his own cup.

  “Did you enjoy my secret window?” Urien asked her.

  “It was wonderful,” Jael sighed. “I’m surprised all your priests weren’t here to see it.”

  “None of them know,” Urien said, smiling. “I saved that secret to share only with you.”

  Jael smiled to herself, feeling the warmth rush to her cheeks.

  “I’m flattered,” she mumbled.

  “I have another secret to share with you when you’re ready,” Urien said tenderly, taking her hand.

  Jael hurriedly gulped down the last sip of her tea, wincing as the hot liquid burned her tongue a little.

  “What is it?”

  “Finished already?” Urien lifted his eyebrows. “I’ll make another cup to take with you. I’m going to take you to the cellar, and it’s chill there even when the weather is warm.” He disappeared behind the mounds of scrolls again, then reappeared with a steaming mug and lit candle. “Come along, then, and bring the cloak. As I said, it’s chill there, and damp, too.”

  Jael draped the
cloak around her shoulders and accepted the mug of tea, taking Urien’s arm with her free hand. She already knew the way to the cellar stairs well enough, but let him lead her. She didn’t need to feign hesitation at the top of the dark cellar stairs; a damp, dusky, unpleasant odor drifted up that Jael didn’t remember being there before. The candle seemed to make no difference in that profound blackness.

  “You must excuse the smell,” Urien said apologetically. “I chose to leave some of my goods in the cellars here rather than move them to my house. One of my casks of wine developed a leak and thoroughly wetted a bundle of leathers, and I’m afraid they molded badly. If the smell bothers you too much, we won’t go down.”

  “It’s all right,” Jael said hurriedly. “I’ve smelled far worse.” Indeed she had, and not long ago, either. Compared to what the castle’s cellar held, the temple’s cellar, however damp and smelly, must be a delightful place.

  “Then be careful on the steps.” Urien steadied her all the way down, as if she were made of glass.

  Other than the smell, little appeared to have changed about the cellar. There were more boxes, barrels, and the like— Urien’s trade goods, Jael assumed—and the thin wooden wall had been replaced with a much more solid wall, but everything else appeared the same. Jael could see, however, that the boxes had been cleared away from the area around the trapdoor set in the floor.

  “What’s down here?” Jael asked dubiously. “Is it something you brought with you from Calidwyn?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Urien glanced at her puzzledly. “Jael, are you feeling well?”

  “Hmmm?” Jael gulped down more tea to combat the damp chill of the cellar. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “You seemed a little pale.” Urien frowned a little. “I thought perhaps the smell was troubling you too much.”

  “No, it’s not so bad.” Jael swallowed the rest of the tea. “What did you want to show me?”

  “Hmmm. Come and look.” Urien stepped to the trapdoor and pulled up on the ring, lifting the heavy square of wood easily. He gestured at the opening. “See?”

  Jael cautiously bent over the opening, squinting down into the darkness. Even with her keen elven vision, she could see nothing but a steep flight of stairs leading downward, but she could hear something moving, something that seemed too large to be rats.

  “I don’t see much,” Jael said. “But I hear—”

  Sudden sharp pain flared at the back of her head, and then she saw nothing at all.

  VIII

  Jael felt that she was floating gently, warmly, comfortably, as she sometimes floated in the bathing pool.

  “Open your eyes now,” a familiar voice said. Who? Oh, Urien, of course. Jael opened her eyes. Urien was bending over her, his face drawn with worry.

  “Does your head hurt much?” he asked tenderly. “I hope not. You may speak.”

  “Uh—no.” Jael tried to sit up, but her body refused to obey her. There was a soft surface under her, and nothing seemed to be restraining her, but try as she might, she could not so much as twitch a finger. The warm, floating sensation continued, seeming to hold her. “I—I can’t move.”

  “Yes, I know.” Urien patted her cheek gently. “I’m sorry. This would have been unnecessary if the spell I placed in your tea had worked. You’d have simply slept quietly through the whole thing. But someone must have placed some elaborate protections on you. I was forced to resort to casting a spell directly while you were unconscious.”

  The unavoidable stupid questions flashed through Jael’s mind—how, why—but she suspected she already knew the answers. She looked around as best she could without being

  able to move her head. The damp smell and cool air told her she was still in the cellar, but in a smaller room—one of the storage rooms, perhaps—and the surface she was lying on felt like a bed. That carried unpleasant suggestions.

  “So what are you going to do with me?” Jael asked. “How much of me are they going to find in Rivertown?”

  “Nothing.” Urien stroked her hair. “Your fate won’t be nearly so painful or messy.”

  “What, the thing in your cellar doesn’t like the taste of half-breeds?” Jael asked bitterly.

  “That?” Urien chuckled. “It’s only a minor demon, not at all choosy. All it needs is a good quantity of blood every few days, although it’s delighted with flesh when it can get it. Unfortunately it’s not a neat eater.”

  “It’s a greedy eater, if you’ve had to feed it half a dozen elves in two weeks,” Jael told him.

  Urien smiled gently.

  “You’re looking for an explanation,” he said. “I don’t mind. There’s time while we finish the preparations.” He began unbuttoning Jael’s tunic. “I’m sorry, this must be embarrassing to you. Would you prefer to do it yourself?”

  “Of course I’d rather be able to do it myself,” Jael said angrily. “But I can’t move.”

  Urien unbuckled Jael’s belt and slid it off her, then briefly searched her. He drew her dagger and her sword, frowning over them.

  “What curious things you carry,” he said. “What sort of blades are these?” He held up the dagger and the sword.

  “Gifts from Aunt Shadow, just things she got from distant places,” Jael said.

  “Good enough.” Urien laid them aside. “Sit up, Jael. You may move, in obedience to my directions.”

  Jael found herself sitting. She shivered, secretly relieved that she was even able to shiver.

  “Your bath has been prepared,” Urien said, gesturing at a large copper bathing tub steaming nearby. “Remove your clothes and bathe.”

  Jael found herself obeying, flushing miserably as she dropped her clothing to the floor. She grimaced at the strange, pungent odor of the hot bathwater as she stepped into the tub.

  “I hope you like this scent more than I do,” she said, picking up the sponge and the soap. “It certainly doesn’t put me in a romantic mood, any more than being whacked on the head and abducted.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re not being prepared for me, but for my lord Eiloth,” Urien said regretfully. “But it may comfort you to know that you needn’t fear rape.”

  “That’s who you’ve been trying to summon up?” Jael asked. “A demon, I suppose.”

  “Not ‘a demon,’ but one of the Higher Darklings,” Urien corrected her. “And we had no need of summoning Lord Eiloth; in fact, it was he that called to us, brought us here from our hiding places, our waiting places. It was my friend Ankaras who summoned him—by accident, I believe. And he’s never known otherwise; my lord Eiloth is a great master of seemings.”

  Jael scrubbed her face.

  “The Lesser Summoning, I suppose.”

  “So I’m told,” Urien agreed. “Of course, I was far away when it happened. Summoning a god is no light matter. A little carelessness can open the door to other summonings, other beings drawn to such potent magic.”

  Carelessness. Jael winced, doubting that carelessness had had anything to do with the failure of the summoning.

  “Seemings,” Jael said. “I suppose you’re not really a merchant lord, any more than you’re a priest of the Temple of Baaros.”

  “Oh, but I am a merchant lord, or I was,” Urien told her. “And from Calidwyn, too, at one time. But you must have realized already that I could never have reached Allanmere from Calidwyn so quickly after the summoning, even if I walked the same slow roads over this world as other men. Lord Eiloth gave me the knowledge I would need, and brought us by another road, a quicker road, to be his eyes and his hands in this city.”

  “But why?” Jael found herself standing. Urien handed her a cloth, and she dried herself as slowly as she could. “You said he was already summoned.”

  “Lord Eiloth came through an imperfect door not meant for him,” Urien told her. “The full manifestation into flesh of a Higher Darkling is a slow and difficult matter. It takes days of sequential sacrifices—”

  “Elves, I suppose,” Jael said, drop
ping the drying cloth. She blushed again, but could not raise her hands to cover herself.

  Urien handed her a pot of scented oil.

  “Rub this into your skin, and then I’ll perfume your hair.” He sat back down. “No, the sacrifices could have been elf or human, although it pleased Lord Eiloth that the elves have a little magic in them. He only required certain portions of their flesh, more each time, to build his strength for his passage into this world. It was convenient to choose elves because of the conflict already in the city. There were so many in the city who wished harm to elves—especially elven merchants—that blame would be hard to place on anyone, especially in a place like Rivertown where death and violence were almost commonplace.”

  “But how did your people get the bodies there so quickly?” Jael asked as she smoothed the oil into her skin. The oil had a familiar pungent scent; Jael realized wryly that it smelled much like the ointment Urien had given her.

  “In the same way that our little pet in the subcellar reached Rivertown, to prowl the alleys and claim our sacrifices,” Urien said. “We made a Gate, a very small and limited Gate, between this temple and the empty house you showed me near Rivertown. I bought it the very day we saw it, and we set the Gate the next night, casting the Gate from there so the magic wouldn’t be detected here. The Gate’s closed now, of course. We don’t need it anymore.”

  “Not since your ‘little pet’ killed Solly, the thief who found Garric and Crow,” Jael said.

  “Ah, the human found the bodies?” Urien asked, raising his eyebrows. “That I didn’t know. That explains his curiosity, and why he’d trouble to creep into an empty house where there was obviously nothing of value to steal. He even searched the cellar, an unfortunate decision for him, as we were there that night. We didn’t need another sacrifice then, so we gave him to the demon.”

  Urien handed Jael a dark blue robe embroidered with glyphs in silver.

  “Put this on and sit down.”

  When Jael had obeyed, Urien lightly brushed a sweet-scented perfume into her hair.