Knives in the Night

by Nathan A. Thompson

  Then she winked at me, twirled musically, and joined the rest of the dancers in the center of the stage.

  I looked down to see that a small silver bell had landed on the earlier handkerchief, somehow without making a sound.

  I could feel the confused and jealous glare of several bastards behind me, but none of them muttered anything. As the dancers retreated again, I risked a backwards glance behind me.

  The men looked a little ill.

  Their faces were a bit pale, as if they were struggling with a mild sickness that their vital guards should have obliterated. The captain and the liaison looked a good bit better, but none of them seemed to have noticed yet—which was actually another aspect of the poison, I remembered.

  Somehow, Anahita had either used magic or a clever combination of ingredients—probably both—to add an effect where one kept thinking they were fine.

  It wasn't a very strong effect—I was able to push through it myself, as soon as I suspected something—but it didn't need to be, provided that the victim had something else to distract them with.

  And right now, everyone was distracted by the dancing.

  And by whatever was going on between Gustav and the young girl who had been avoiding him until now.

  But the dancers were moving forward again, so I turned my attention back to the performance.

  They had changed again, now wearing garments that were definitely less modest, though not anywhere near as scandalous as I had been afraid of.

  I thought we weren't afraid of scandalous anymore? Teeth piped up.

  We are when the women are around assholes like this, I pointed out, before turning my attention back to the women before me.

  They still had jeweled headdresses and brightly colored veils, though these veils looked a little thinner than the ones they had been wearing before. They wore tubelike blouses that left their bellies and shoulders bare, but formed thin sleeves that opened at the elbows. Hoops of silver and gold adorned their elbows.

  They wore gauzy, billowy pink pants that were translucent enough to partially see through, along with a long, colorful skirt that was slit down both sides, and lined with a belt of bright beads and golden chains at the top.

  They formed a line in front of our hemisphere of the room. Two women stepped out of the line to walk closer to us.

  The first one was a beautiful woman who looked to be about my mother’s age, with a bearing that suggested she was the leader of the troupe.

  The second was actually the smallest woman in the entire dance troupe, and looked to be the youngest, although it was hard to tell with all the make-up she wore. Her veil failed to cover her red-tinted cheeks, but much of her face was covered with the dark sheets of her long, sable hair.

  She looked down at the floor, eyes shyly peeking toward my direction, but never rising high enough to meet my own.

  “Our next, and final dance,” the leader of the troupe began, “has been altered to accommodate a request from the youngest, and newest member of our troupe. While the majority of us will perform as normal, young Rana has begged allowance to conduct a special routine, one that she hopes will show the depth of her respect and adoration for the Challenger of Avalon.”

  I heard someone behind me snicker darkly, then clear his throat uncomfortably.

  ‘Rana,’ for her part, finally rose her dark eyes high enough to meet my own, and smiled at me, wide enough for the corners to peek out from her skinny veil. The next moment, her cheeks darkened considerably, and she quickly lowered her head again.

  She murmured some words that I couldn’t hear, and the older woman gently touched her shoulder in support.

  “Apologies,” the older woman said smoothly. “Young Rana is still very nervous, and has trouble speaking in public. She said that she fears that her inexperience will show greater than her enthusiasm in this next dance. Should that be the case, she asks that the Challenger not think badly of her fellow sisters, or mistake her honest imperfections for a lack of gratitude.”

  Dark eyes looked up from behind tresses and veil. The small woman’s cheeks reddened and widened in an obvious smile, and then she once again lowered her gaze.

  She was so charmingly shy and petite that I almost believed the whole speech. My protective instincts triggered immediately, and I tried to think of what I could say or do to make the small, beautiful woman feel safer and more comfortable.

  Then I remembered that she was the same woman who had skillfully flirted with me in the last two dances.

  And, though the makeup hid her key features well, she was also the same woman who had spent the last several decades racking up a Malus body count that possibly even surpassed my own.

  But she was skillfully playing the role of a shy, young woman confronted with her celebrity crush, and I frankly didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do right now.

  So I nodded like a dumb, shocked idiot, which wound up being exactly what Anahita needed from me that moment.

  “Very well then,” the senior dancer replied, nodding at the slight woman next to her, “we will now begin our last dance.”

  The older woman pivoted on her heels and took her place in the middle of the line behind the slight, suspiciously bashful woman in the very center of the room.

  For a moment there was only silence. The woman I hoped to be Anahita made one more show of composing herself, taking a deep breath and another quick, shy look in my direction. Quiet, sleepy snickering sounded behind me, and Teeth mumbled about reaching back and beating that guy’s ass.

  But then the music began again, snatching my attention back to the row of dancers as well as the slight, beautiful woman in front of them all.

  For a few moments, none of the women moved, even when the drum slowly beat two more times.

  Then on the third beat, all of the women in the line shifted to the right.

  The next beat, they all shifted to the left.

  Anahita still had not moved.

  Another beat, and the line shifted again, and this time the dancers slowly raised their hands to chest level, swaying them in the same direction that they stepped.

  They continued to do so in a pattern, and Anahita—at least I hoped it was Anahita—still had not moved.

  Her head remained looking down, onyx-toned hair covering her face, and if I was sure it was any other woman but her, I would have thought that she had gotten stage fright, and had frozen in place.

  A growing part of me was beginning to suspect that something was in fact wrong, but I couldn't bring myself to disrupt the atmosphere by checking through the mindlink.

  But just when the line of dancers could no longer hold my attention and I began to worry that something was wrong, Anahita's body began to move.

  It was little more than the dip of one shoulder and tilt of her body in one direction, but it was so perfectly in tune with the beat that it instantly captivated my attention. She had been waiting for that moment all along, I realized.

  The beat sped up slightly, to where the line dancers were following their own rhythm instead of being in line with it.

  Anahita, however, stayed perfectly in sync with every slight movement she did.

  The beat picked up as Anahita finally made her first step, her bare foot moving at the exact same time, almost making me believe that the music was originating from her.

  Then another drum beat began, and she began dancing in earnest with a sinuous grace.

  Her movements were still small. She was taking tiny steps, making slight rolls with her hips and shoulders. But the way those tiny movements still managed to make her hair and jewelry dance was mesmerizing.

  So when she began to take larger steps, I caught myself leaning forward in anticipation.

  It wasn't quite belly-dancing—or at least not my Earthborn American understanding of the art. Not when her steps became longer, and slower, gracefully staying in sync as the music slowed its beat.

  Her next steps became more fluid, and she began incorpo
rating spins, hops, and small leaps, almost the free style I had seen in Olympic gymnastics competitions, except that she refrained from doing any backflips or somersaults.

  Her steps were now wide, sweeping movements that eventually became elegant twirls, sending her bright, jewelry-covered dress flaring up in a colorful flash, before it drifted back down to cover her billowing pants.

  Then the tempo changed, and the beautiful woman's stride shortened. She tilted her hips to the left, turned her head toward my direction, and winked at me with the only eye not covered by her sable tresses.

  She began taking small steps toward my table, hands extended, hips rolling, jeweled chains and bracelets bouncing with every step.

  One brief and utterly hypnotic eternity later, she was in front of my table, no longer moving forward, and instead swaying in place.

  I could now see her face up close. The makeup on her cheeks was heavy, so heavy that the woman's original features were obscured.

  Which of course, triggered a brief and utterly idiotic conversation in my mind.

  Was I sure this was Anahita?

  What if it wasn't her, and something had gone wrong?

  If something had gone wrong, why hadn't she told me?

  How did I know whether or not this seemingly willing dancer wasn't being coerced, and that the whole plan had fallen apart?

  Dude, Teeth spoke up, fuck it, okay? Just enjoy the show. If we screw up somehow, just tell Anahita she can poison us again.

  The dusk-skinned woman stepped even closer, capturing my eyes as she slowly swayed toward me, and I decided Teeth had a point.

  I leaned back in my chair and enjoyed the sight of the beautiful woman in front of me, and trusted that someone would let me know when I needed to get out of this chair and actually do something.

  She was on my side of the table now. I had already turned around on my pillow-seat to face her.

  The shyness on her expression was completely gone by now. The corners of her smile peeked out from her skinny veil. She still kept her head low, not quite meeting my eyes, and her cheeks still had a flush to them. But the intensity of her sparkling eyes now seemed smoky instead of shy, and challenging submissive.

  As if she was asking whether or not I was brave enough to draw her completely out.

  I did the only appropriate thing I could think of, and grinned at her, and made no effort to hide my appreciation for her skill or her beauty.

  She stepped even closer to me. I turned to appreciate her better, but otherwise kept myself still and relaxed, so that she could move as she wished.

  The jewelry covering her waist bounced as she rolled her hips in a slow circle. I let myself notice, and admire her toned stomach. She continued to rotate her core as her arms rose over my head, stepping closer and closer to me until she was practically in my lap.

  Then, after another twist of her sculpted torso, she knelt right in front of me in one fluid motion. Her hands dropped to cup my cheeks. She leaned forward, gently pulling my face towards hers, right until our foreheads almost touched.

  She let go with one hand to remove the veil from her mouth. Her red lips opened, and I opened mine in response.

  Then she turned my head to look at the tables beyond my own.

  "Well done," Anahita's voice whispered gently and playfully into my ear.

  All of the Malus operatives were lying face down on their own tables, except for the guards, who had slumped against the walls.

  A few of them seemed to be breathing faintly, but even the ones with open eyes had a glazed, dead look to them.

  "We got them all," Anahita whispered, still just a few inches away from me. "The captain and the ambassador took the longest to succumb, but they fell victim a few minutes ago, when the other dancers amplified the toxin with their own magic. Breena took your idea and modified the poison to keep them comatose, instead of killing them outright, so none of them will die immediately. But they will be incapacitated, and unable to either resurrect or return to their original bodies. Therefore, we have cut off every head of the local Malus leadership, and none of our enemies will know for some time.”

  “Glad I could help,” I said back to the woman who was still next to my ear and holding my face with one hand. “Although I don’t think I really contributed to the performance itself.”

  “On the contrary,” Anahita said, still holding my cheek, “your acting helped assure everyone that nothing was amiss in the beginning. And in the middle and end, our enemies were far too busy giving you jealous glances to notice the subtle effects of our magic and the venom lacing their drinks. And best of all, you did not react badly and lose your nerve when I was forced to improvise and provide you with some direct attention.”

  "Well, in that case, you're quite welcome," I replied, trying to sound confident.

  Then I tried to think of the right thing to say while Anahita was still right next to me, holding my cheek, and in her dancer's garment.

  "Now, how much longer do you require me to stare at a bunch of unconscious men, instead of the beautiful woman right next to me?" I asked.

  "Apologies, Challenger," the almond-skinned woman said playfully, "I merely wanted to inform you of a job well done, I will get back to entertaining you."

  She gently turned my head back to her own, and now I could make out the obvious pleasure from her face.

  At the same time, she finally dropped the barrier between us through the mindlink, if only by a fraction.

  Gratitude, happiness, and a desire to remain playful leaked out.

  "Thank you, again," the beautiful woman said only inches away from my face. "For making this possible," she added, her sincerity briefly outshining whatever game she intended to play with me. "For arriving when I needed you to. For changing the tide, and doing so by being whatever I asked you to be. Please let me thank you."

  With that, she leaned her mouth forward, shyness and determination both leaking through the mindlink, and kissed me.

  Her lips tasted incredibly warm and sweet at first, and then a bite of spiciness struck my tongue. It reminded me of the flavors of nutmeg, cardamom, and cinnamon mixed together.

  It was a very enjoyable experience, one that was unfortunately over all too soon.

  "Apologies, Challenger," Anahita whispered as she drew her wonderful mouth away. "But I just realized we will need to continue things somewhere out of sight." She slowly rose to her feet. "Would you mind accompanying me?"

  Not one bit! Teeth shouted excitedly. Oh man I can't believe this!

  "Not one bit," I said, rising to my feet with a grin—even though the timing of this whole encounter was happening at a slightly weird time. "Where would you like to go?"

  "To numerous bedrooms," Anahita said as she winked at me, "since we will be spending the rest of the night returning the bodies of our enemies to their beds, and preparing for our next offensive.”

  "Oh," I said, realizing she had played me, "that makes way more sense."

  Teeth for his part, only moaned in frustration.

  CHAPTER 34: HIDING EVIDENCE

  I returned from placing the last body in the last bed, after stripping him of his gear and sending it all into my storage space and copying his face with my Blood magic.

  The rest of the dancers had left the room, leaving only Anahita, still dressed in her uniform, and a tiny, very irate, pink-haired, winged woman floating in front of her.

  Breena squeaked and shouted in noises too high-pitched for me to fully make out, all while pumping her fists up and down.

  I waited for her supersonic tirade to end in an angry huff before walking over, noting Anahita’s patient expression.

  “Ah,” she said, turning to address me. “You are back. I have just been informed that you have some kind of condition where teasing you causes a detrimental effect. I wish to apologize and state that I did not—”

  “She’s super-super sorry, Wes,” Breena piped, growing to about two feet in height. “I explained to her that you dis
prove like every scientific theory Stell has ever come up with for the male brain and that we really need to respect just what an accomplishment it is for you to constantly pull off a seven-second attention span! And I know that we’re totally committed to figuring out this relationship, but that doesn’t mean she should go gallivating around in a—”

  “Breena,” I said, walking forward, “please grow to full size.”