Blade's Edge

by Val Roberts

  "You know, I'd bet Sabinet could help you sleep,” Deg said with a completely straight face. “I remember someone once told me she gives killer back rubs."

  "She's been in bed for hours,” Ramondar said. “I could sleep if I knew what Blade was doing right now. I wish there was some way I could help him."

  Deg exhaled with enough force for a snort. “If he's got any brains, he's asleep right now. He's got to have his head working. How many heads does it take to worry?"

  "I hope you're right.” Ramondar glanced out the window at the city that was never really dark. “I really hope you're right."

  "Of course I'm right. Now get out of that chair and go wake up your queen and make her glad she was born female. At least that's something constructive you can do with all your nervous energy.” Deg looked exasperated. “Sitting here chewing your nails isn't doing anyone a damned bit of good."

  "Remind me again why you're not prime minister."

  Deg gave him the conspiratorial look they'd shared for more years than Ramondar wanted to think about. “Because I keep saying no."

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  Chapter Seven

  Taryn woke to the sound of Leone slamming the door open, which made her head throb. “Mama's got goon squads out looking for you everywhere. They'll be here in less than a glass, so get your ass out of bed, Taryn."

  "Did you tell Galen?” Blade rumbled from behind her while she was still sorting out what limbs went where.

  "I told the guys on watch. The horses are being saddled and I have the breakfast staff packing up food.” Leone pulled the duvet off the bed. “Hel-lo. Well, that'll make dressing faster. Move, girl.” And she didn't sound one damned bit surprised to find them sleeping naked, all tangled together. At least this way Taryn got out of the leering looks over breakfast.

  "Did someone have a little too much brandy last night?” Blade asked just before the bed heaved. Clothing rustled as Taryn fought her way to a sitting position.

  "I sleep better without the snoring,” she snarled back at him. Her clean shirt hit her face.

  "She's not a morning person,” Leone said, and Taryn heard more rustling, but didn't bother to turn around and look, because she was trying to figure out where the openings in her shirt had gotten to. “That's enough civvies for a week. You need anything packed, Blade?"

  "Nada. I put it all away last night.” He leaned in close to Taryn and whispered, “That goes on top, vixen.” It sounded like he was grinning. “Leone, darling, I think this would be easier with only two people in the room.” Hands moved the cloth around until her arm went through where she'd been trying to stick her head. She heard the door close just before she emerged from the neck and could see again. “You definitely need to get back into condition, Taryn. You haven't been keeping up with your AT, have you?"

  "AT?"

  "Alcohol training.” Blade, who wasn't wearing a shirt yet, either, handed her the black merino riding pants. “Like physical training for your liver.” His hair wasn't chocolate brown anymore, but a dark gold cascade that glinted in the early morning light.

  "What happened to your hair?” she asked as she tried to untangle her legs from a corner of the sheet still on the bed.

  "I washed the colorant out.” He sat on the bed next to her and pulled on socks. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

  The concern made her pause. “I'm tired. I'm a little out of practice for early call after a full bottle of Ruby Blend.” Underwear. She needed panties under wool, so she trotted to the dresser hidden in the wall panel, thankfully without tripping over her feet. “I haven't been this sleep-deprived since basic."

  He laughed, but he sounded relieved. “You'll get used to it. Luckily, we'll get to the Enclave in a few days and you'll be able to sleep for as long as you want.” She bent over to step into her underwear and heard him hiss. It almost made her roll her eyes. Men were such simple creatures. She kept her back to him as she pulled on her pants and looked for socks of her own.

  "Or when I'm dead, if I can't get my butt in gear.” She buttoned the fly and looked for her riding boots. It was best not to even take the Silvergard uniform boots. Not only were they not suited for mountain riding, she would never wear the uniform again. She almost sighed, but picked out her tall boots instead and went back to the bed to get them on. Blade slid his arm over her shoulders as soon as she sat down and pulled her close to him.

  "I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself,” he said, sounding very serious. “My honor demands that you be protected with my life if necessary.” She looked at him, and his expression was serious, too. Why? Because she'd let him have sex with her? He bent his head and kissed her temple as if he really cared about her, and it was all she could do not to lean into that strength. But they were being pursued, and at Leone's of all places. Talyn must have had her trailed on her home leaves, though it was strictly forbidden to spy on the Silvergard during the brief times when their lives were their own.

  "Stop that,” she admonished in that same breathless voice he had forced out of her the night before. “There is no time, and my honor demands that you be returned to your homeland while still breathing."

  "Of course.” He sighed. “There's never enough time for the things we want.” He pulled on his shirt and folded his coat over his arm while she got her feet into the boots.

  "I need a vest,” she said and he handed her the black one that matched the pants. She arched an eyebrow in question.

  "Leone,” he said for an explanation. And it was just like Leone to choose the clothing most appropriate for a mad dash in the early spring, both warm enough for the weather and quick to get into. She shrugged into it and fastened the clever metal hooks-and-loops closing in less than a minute before she stood.

  "Let's get out of here,” he said and smacked her behind.

  She turned on him, fully, achingly, bristlingly awake. “Do not ever presume to touch me like that again."

  He stepped back, surprise plain in his eyes. “I'm sorry? Touch you like what?"

  "Like a slave. Or a child in need of correction. I am not a child and I've done nothing wrong. And I am not yours."

  "I know you're not a child, Taryn. And you are most definitely nobody's slave.” His voice was a warm caress reminding her exactly what he knew about her, and how he had discovered it. Her anger evaporated in a profound chill. “I was being playful. Do you have any sense of humor at all?"

  "No I don't.” She turned her back on him again to signify the conversation's end, then shouldered her pack and stalked from the room. Or at least she started to.

  "Coat and sword, vixen, or you'll freeze to death before we get to the Enclave,” he purred into her ear after his hands on her shoulders had stopped her in her tracks. Taryn bit her lip hard to keep from bursting into laughter and proving herself a liar. He reached around her to hand her the items.

  "You want to go to the Sanctuarians,” she said as they trotted down the long hallway. “You don't have to go that far north to get across the border.” Although it might be good if they had to find a trail north. She could wander around a lot and keep him off-balance.

  "We can talk about it when we're on the way,” he said. She glanced at him but he was intent on getting to the stairs.

  "The Sanctuarians have no use for women,” she said as they clattered down the wooden steps in riding boots. “I won't be welcomed there."

  "That's not quite true. Unlike most men, they believe women have no use for them,” he disagreed as they walked across the dining hall. “And they have no reason not to make you welcome.” She felt his hand at the small of her back.

  "You think I have a use for you?” she demanded as she lengthened her stride to get away from him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back close to him.

  "You did last night,” he reminded her.

  "I was drunk last night.” She twisted out of his grasp.

  "I bet Leone packed several bottles of brandy.” A glance
told her he was smiling, confident. He thought he had control over her because of sex. That could be good, but she couldn't allow the belief to continue.

  "I will guide you to the border, but you journey to the Sanctuarians by yourselves.” She marched to the kitchen door with him in her wake.

  "You don't want to make anything easy, do you?” he asked as he reached over her head to push the swinging door open. Leone was just picking up four sets of bulging saddlebags from the table. Leone. This was bad news for her, too. If a Silvergard squad showed up in the courtyard today, none of her regular clients would ever return.

  "Life is pain,” Taryn said. It was one thing she knew for a fact. She moved into the kitchen to take the saddlebags without waiting for him to reply.

  "Taryn, drink your tea,” Leone said and handed her a beaker.

  "There's no time.” She tried to hand it back, but Leone fixed her with a look that told her to shut up and drink it.

  "There's always time for maidwort,” Leone said with that same lopsided smile she used when she knew something more than she was telling. Taryn hesitated, but she took the tea and gulped it down as fast as she could. Leone thought of everything. There were more days than not when Taryn had asked the goddess why she had been given Talyn as a sister instead of Leone, but there had never been a reply.

  When she finished the cup, Blade had all the saddlebags on one shoulder and was pushing back through the door to the common room.

  "Leone,” she tried to say quietly, but the older woman held up a hand.

  "No time. You just come back when you can, and in the meantime, it's been a while since I had any time off.” Leone grinned. “Maybe I'll go see some of Barian.” Taryn nodded and swallowed hard, knowing that Leone knew everything she didn't have the words to say. Impulsively she stepped forward and hugged her best friend in the world, then turned around and went back to her duty.

  * * * *

  Silean started awake and sat up, wondering what she had heard. A male silhouette cut the half-light of early dawn pouring in through the large glass window. She'd always thought the window was decadent, but with Herren in front of it, it was beautiful.

  He turned. “Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

  "Why are you awake?” she asked, mostly for something to say. It wasn't as if she couldn't guess the things that kept him up at night.

  "I was thinking about Talyn,” he said, walking back to the bed. He sat beside her and took her hand in his.

  "Talyn?” Talyn was the reason for this whole mess, even if Silean hadn't figured out how yet.

  Herren nodded, only half seen in the false-dawn light. “She's always been the Crown Prince, ever since she was born. She's always known that no matter what she does, that can't be taken away from her.” He tilted his head to one side. “Am I right?"

  Silean squirmed, uncomfortable with the question because it mirrored her thoughts of the night before. “A Crown Prince has never been disinherited, but there's a first time for everything."

  "I just wonder,” he said in a soft voice, “if it would have made a difference. She's never had any true control over her behavior, so there's never been any reason for her not to be ... bratty."

  Silean allowed herself to laugh at the incongruity. “Herren, she's almost thirty years old. Isn't it a bit late to start spanking her?"

  He shrugged. “It depends. The right mate might do wonders for her. Mychell was pretty, but he wasn't very bright and he seemed entirely too content just to do what she told him to.” He reached out and trailed a finger along her cheek. “Not the best match for a firebrand Penthes."

  "What do you propose I do, sell her to some Bariani noble?” It came out sharper than she had intended and she bit her lip, wishing she could pull the words back.

  He sighed and pulled his hand away. “You really have no understanding of Bariani culture, do you?"

  "I know they're male dominant and Zona is too small for them to trouble themselves about if it weren't for the Dozen Worlds watching them,” she countered. “I know how they think of women as objects, to be owned and used, or they wouldn't insist on ‘marriage’ as proof of legitimacy."

  Herren sighed again, and it sounded like he ran his hands over his face. “They do pass real property through the male line and the husband is the legal father of any child born to a married woman. But Silean, they don't consider women property.” He leaned forward. “The entire concept of concubinage was banned almost three hundred years ago."

  "Because of Zona,” she finished for him, her voice cold.

  She heard movement, but couldn't really tell what he was doing. “I'm sure that had something to do with it, sweet, but women have been voting in their elections, holding offices in their legislative body, even running corporations for over a century.” Silean felt the comforter pull away, down her body. “I don't think women would be considered equal partners in government and business if they were property, do you?” He leaned close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his skin.

  "What are you trying to say?” she asked, a little breathless.

  "Zonan men were once Bariani,” he murmured, unerringly sliding one hand up her arm to her shoulder. “Biologically, we're still the same kind of people they are. Take away their technology and it's difficult to tell the difference. Maybe what Zona needs is a little more balance between the masculine and the feminine."

  She reached to push his chest away. “That's preposterous."

  Herren paused. “I just get the feeling that Barian has learned from the mistakes they made in the past, and we're still holding onto a three-hundred-year-old grudge. I don't want to forget the past, but at some point we have to move on or we'll stagnate and die."

  She swallowed, because she'd been worried about that very thing before the crisis had focused all of her attention on the diplomatic situation. If not for the off-world exports, Zona would have been insolvent for nearly a decade, but handmade goods only got made so fast, and the population was still growing. She definitely should have allowed Herren a larger role in her government if he gave this kind of thought to everything. At least now she could prove she wasn't an utter fool. She slid the hand still on his hot skin up to the back of his neck and pulled his head down to hers.

  * * * *

  The public room was empty, so Taryn allowed two of the tears stinging the back of her eyes to roll down her cheeks before sniffing them away. She stopped at the outer door, took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, then opened it and trotted into the uncertain light of false dawn. There were torches in the courtyard, and all the men were there, complete with eight saddled horses. Taryn went to the gray mare she'd had the day before.

  "Ready?” Blade asked. He was already in the saddle of the magnificent black gelding that had probably been Mychell's favorite twenty-four hours earlier. “It's your trail."

  Taryn mounted and frowned to herself. The truth was that beyond Leone's she didn't know the Jags very well, and probably wouldn't be able to keep them off the main route as carefully as she had on the way out of Balsom. On the other hand, there weren't many main routes farther north into the Jags, only smugglers’ trails that were fairly carefully hidden in the first place. She headed out of the clearing and looked for a path in the forest that went vaguely north.

  The sun was just over the horizon when they came to a narrow place between two granite outcroppings. Blade stopped and the rest of the party swirled around him. Taryn turned her horse and raised an eyebrow.

  "Afraid of some rocks, gentlemen?"

  "Concerned,” Blade reported. “It looks like an excellent ambush site. If we go through there on horseback, we'll be strung out in single-file and without maneuvering room."

  "Well, it's the only trail north that I know of,” she returned in a waspish voice and nudged the mare through the rocks.

  "Hold it,” he commanded in a clear voice that echoed off the rocks. “Grigor, you take point. Juvenan, you're tail-end charley."

  Taryn
halted her horse and counted to five silently. “I am capable of taking point, Negotiator,” she said without turning around to look at him, and her tone came out almost icy enough to be her sister's voice. He pulled up next to her, and she refused to look at him, instead staring at the top of the rocks where the tree shadows waved gently in the cold morning breeze. The other leader, Galen, came up on her left.

  "I know you are, Commander,” he responded in a voice almost as imperious as hers had been. “But what if that's what they're expecting? After all, this is your country, not ours. I would expect you to be on point, and they're probably hunting you as much as they are the outlanders."

  Damn him, he was right. Where was her brain? She stared at the shadows a few seconds longer, and her brain came on line, because trees didn't have lines in them that curved like cocked crossbows. There was no time to give a warning. She snatched the Bariani weapon from Galen's holster and fired it just as a muffled twang sounded from under the trees, ducking to center the sights on one of those curved shadows.

  A crossbow bolt hit, a man screamed in pain, but no body fell from a horse and the shadows now had a pattern of four more distinct curves. Taryn aimed and fired the hellspawn weapon without conscious thought, one, two, three, four. Bodies started sliding down the cliffs, still clutching their bows and smoking from the laser burns. And the pattern was gone. She looked to her left.

  "Thank you,” she said quietly and offered the weapon back to Blade's lieutenant. So much for her original plan. They had to cross the border today, which meant she would never find out who she had escorted or why Zona wanted them dead. Someone moaned behind her. Galen took the weapon slowly, staring at her as if she'd grown a second head.

  "I didn't know you trained with energy weapons,” he said quietly. At least she had managed to impress them. A pang of regret registered. She liked these men, even—maybe especially—Blade, who allowed no walls between himself and the people he worked with, bled with. But there would be time enough for regret when the small deities of honor and duty had been satisfied.