The Sheening Of The Blades (Book 1) (13 page)

But mostly, there were weapons.  If eyes could drool, Ari and Loren
’s did, lingering longingly on the two-handed greatswords, common broadswords, elegant longswords, shortswords, rapiers, sabres, lances, javelins, pikes, halberds, spears.  Knives—cooking, hunting, daggers of every shape, dirks, perfectly balanced throwing knives—were displayed on every corner.  Damascened, inlaid, acid-etched, engraved, set with any jewel or stone you could imagine, it was almost too much to take in, extending for halls and halls and halls. 

They ogled and sucked in their breath and pointed out to each other the most exquisite, getting lost several times (who cared?
  They could have wandered happily until time stopped).  Always in the background were the lurid flames of a hundred forges, the hulking figures of steelsmiths silhouetted in front of them as their powerful arms pounded out the rhythm of the Realm.  The boys accidentally crossed the Great Hall a half-dozen times, a yawning cavern of a room with a ceiling so far overhead it was obscured by the forge smoke.  There was always a crowd of men there.  They were on their knees before the huge silver likeness of Vangoth that took up one entire wall, the Triele in his silver hands glinting a dull blue far overhead.  It was exotic, barbaric, almost savage compared to the refinement of the North.  The boys were rapturous.

It was h
ours later that they remembered the time, sprinting guiltily all the way back up the hill in the dark to the inn.  Everyone had already gone to dinner, but it didn’t take them long to find their party.  They heard Cerise’s strident voice over every other sound in the crowded, smoky room—and the Merranics were not a quiet people.

“
What do you mean, they don’t have wine?” she was demanding as they slid unobtrusively into their seats.  “It doesn’t have to be Queensmarked, or anything.”

Banion, deep into an urn of beer and already mellow, said,
“There’re no vineyards in Merrani.  The grapes never developed a taste for fish gut fertilizer, so we never developed a taste for them.”

She stared at him. 
“That’s disgusting.” 

“
Where have you two been?” she asked, as talk turned general.  Loren told her and Rodge made some cynical comment, but Ari was no longer listening.  He’d sat next to Kai, and the low conversation between him and Melkin and Banion at that end of the table made him instantly forget the squabbling on the other side.

“
Any luck?” Melkin was asking, gravelly voice low.  Kai gave a single negative shake of his head, but Banion said defensively, “I’ll ask around tomorrow.  There have to be some around—there hasn’t
been
a time Alene’s been clean of them.”

“
It may have to wait,” Kai said and they both looked at him.  Just then, their food came, and Ari impatiently took his huge plate, full of a salmon steak the size of a bread loaf, just to get it out of the way of the conversation.  He didn’t want to miss anything here.  The public room was raucously noisy anyway, a whole room full of Banions and Effenrikes.  The men next to him  were waiting until the serving folk left, so he took a swig of the ale, which almost needed to be chewed, to avoid looking like he was eavesdropping.

Finally, when it was just them again, Kai said quietly,
“Sable’s called a Kingsmeet.”  Banion and Melkin looked like someone had thrown water in their face.  A what? Ari wondered.

“
A Kingsmeet?” Melkin hissed in disbelief, leaning towards Kai as if perhaps he just hadn’t heard right.  “There hasn’t been a Kingsmeet in over a hundred years!”

“
Hundred and fifty, at least,” Banion said, looking stunned.  Melkin gave a sudden bark of laughter, neither happy nor amused.  “Good for her,” he muttered grimly.

Banion said slowly. 
“This’ll change things…probably the best is to go down to Merrane by sea and cut across.”

“
Bones and ash,” Melkin swore, and Cerise shot him a prim look of disapproval.  He ignored her, snarling quietly, “I don’t have time for this; I’ve got fairytales to chase.”

“
I’ll look into passage tonight.  With luck we’ll catch a ’Sloop leaving on patrol next day or so.  That’ll still give us time to sniff around here a bit, too.”

Melkin grunted sourly. 
“I guess we could stop by the Academy of the Magi as long as we’re in Merrane.  Perraneus will no doubt be headed to the flaming party, too.”

CHAPTER 7

When they met for breakfast the next morning, Banion had found passage
out of Alene.  They’d be leaving the following day.  Before he, Melkin, and Kai left to hunt up a Sword or two of Light, Melkin pierced them with his gimlet eyes and said acidly, “The rest of you stay together, and stay out of trouble.”

“
I want to come with you,” Ari shocked everyone by saying.  He was a little surprised himself...but the hunt for the Whiteblades drew him like a hound on a half-forgotten scent.  He wanted to be there if they found one, was almost sure he would recognize one from his little Book of Ivory obsession.  He’d dreamed about them again last night, his nuns.

Banion said casually,
“He’s a man grown in Merrani.”

“
But he’s a Northerner,” Melkin said gruffly, after a moment’s hesitation.  “Not this time.”

Impatience and resentment flared as he watched them walk
away, made worse when Cerise took charge of the rest of them.  “I need to find a Post,” she announced like it was a royal decree, and immediately, barely considering what he was doing and lashed by restlessness, he stepped out into the middle of the street.

 
“Excuse me,” he asked the nearest passer-by.  “Do you know the way to the Post?” 

“
Oh, aye!”  Several seconds passed while the man surveyed him cheerfully.  In Archemounte, it was both rude and invasive to interrupt strangers in their business on the street, but the hulking, hairy creature in front of him was obviously unoffended—if not particularly bright.  Ari sensed everyone coming up behind him.  “Could you direct me?” he pressed hurriedly.

“
You know the Forges?” the man said affably.

“
Yes.” He could feel Cerise’s eyes on him, feel the group’s surprise.  He had no idea what had gotten into him.

“
Well, head that way; it’s about half way down, on the right.  Big building with the Kestrel on the front.  Can’t miss it.”

Ari strode off, ridiculously pleased when they all scurried after him. 
“That was well done,” Cerise noted in surprise, forgetting to be domineering.  They trooped along, accosted by the reek of fish, the powerful Merranic garbage, and the occasional beguiling whiff of ocean.

It was easy to
find, as predicted.  Cerise took the lead as soon as the door was opened, marching up to the counter and a typical Merranic who seemed to be in the middle of his breakfast. 

She paused, looking at him in distaste.  He had crumbs and honey in his beard and was chewing with the placid pleasure of the contented bovine.

“That’s disgusting,” she announced.  Northerners didn’t eat on the job.

“
Way to butter him up, Cerise,” Rodge approved as they all followed her in.

“
I’d like to Post a message,” she snapped.  He finished chewing, stared at her with pointed resignation, and swallowed.

“
I never get that,” he said.  She looked at him in disbelief, not quite sure she’d heard him right.  Rodge and Loren began to grin.

She drew herself up stiffly, eyes flashing, and proceeded with the deliberate enunciation one usually saved for the impaired,
“I need to Post a message.  Please get me someone who can do that.”

The Merranic began to move.  In no great hurry. 
“No one more impressed with Northerner business than Northerners,” he observed, moving parchment around.

“
Imperials,” she corrected through thin lips.

“
See what I mean?” he asked, giving Rodge and Loren a wink.

“
Are you going to give me assistance or not?” Cerise demanded impatiently.  “I need Post to her Imperial Majesty, Queen Sable.”

He gave her a look. 
“I thought you were the Queen.”

While Rodge and Loren
erupted in laughter, he handed her a pen and ink and the small, very thin sheets of paper used to Post.

Ari, moving restlessly away from the waves of con
tention, suddenly caught a glimpse of what lay through the wide, Merranic-sized doorway behind the Postmaster.  Northern Posts always kept their mews hidden from the public, but here all the birds were almost in plain sight.  Most of them were homing pigeons, of course, the common man’s Post.  Their History Master had mentioned them, how they had been used in the Ages of War almost to exclusion, human messengers being killed at a rate that reduced them statistically to insignificance. 

In the corner
cages, something huge and faintly white caught his eye, and he drew in his breath.  He called Loren over, pointing. 

Imperial
Snowbirds, the huge, pure white owl of the White Wilds, they bore only royal Post.  It was one of these that would take Cerise’s message.  Very rarely, you would see them ghosting over Archemounte like some fragment from a dream, back to their home in the Palace.  The boys sighed happily, craning their necks to see what other wonders were in the dim recesses of the Merranic Post.  Next to the Snowbirds, they could make out the large, grey and white Sea Kestrels of Merrani—these would fly only to King Kane’s Fortress of the Sea, and were pecking at their food with Merranic good cheer and appetite. 

The Postmaster noti
ced them noticing his birds, and rather than immediately closing the door, said with a hint of pride, “In good shape, eh?  Get plenty to eat.”

“
Like their owner,” Cerise muttered acerbically, bent over her message.

“
What’s that next to the Kestrels?” Ari dared.  They were almost as big, with a faint blotchy pattern laid strikingly over a dusky tan body, but there was an intensity hovering there in the dimness that was in stark contrast to the easy-going Kestrels.  There were only a few, caged separately, and all had wickedly curved beaks and such a fierce, wine-colored eye that Ari could feel their glare from the other side of the counter.

“
Bloodhawks, for the Hilt,” came the ready answer.  “Kill anything that tries to stop ’em, those ’uns.  Just like the Rach.  Then those daft giants there at the end are the Midnight Condors, bound for Lirralhisa and the Seven Falls.”  Loren gasped as he finally made out the dimensions of the shadowy birds in the far corner.  They were almost camouflaged with soft brown plumage and hooded eyes, and were absolutely immense, almost a size and a half larger than the owls.

“
Wingspans of three yards,” the Postmaster said huskily.  “You should see ’em fly.  Though, ’course, it’s always night when you release them.”

It was like a whiff of magic, a twinkling
curtain of stardust thrown over an ordinary day…

Then the door opened, and everything changed.

At first it was only impressive—a big party of good-natured Merranics, loud and exuberant and slapping one member of youngish years on the back in a general congratulatory way.  All done at high volumes of sound, by a large group of enormous men, in proper Merranic fashion.  They barely noticed the little bunch already at the counter, pushing up through them unapologetically, boisterous and thoughtless.

Rodge was literally pushed
down
.  The offending Merranic, the one everyone was congratulating, at least noticed.

“
Sorry, little guy,” he boomed, picking Rodge up off the ground with one hand and casually setting him back on his feet.  Cerise smirked and Rodge’s face went livid.

“
Let’s get out of here,” she said loudly, which was drowned out by one of the men bellowing, “A Post!  To Jarl Grevken of Merrane!  This lad,” he turned to put a great, meaty hand on the “lad,” who was well over six feet, studded with muscle, and had a jaw like a draft horse, “has made Seawolf!  Which just goes to prove that even Blood’s occasionally good at something!”

In the ensuing round of roars and back-slapping, Rodge was pushed again, this time hard against the wall.  He came up swinging, punching th
at same young, blond giant in the chest with all his strength.  Hurtful as this no doubt was, it was his oral contribution that really did damage.

“
You big, blind goat!” he yelled.  “You’re obviously not flaming Blood if you don’t have the sense to see where you’re flaming going!”

Dead silence settled over the room.

Selah, who hadn’t said a word since the barge docked in Alene yesterday, said calmly, “Run.”

Cerise and the boys looked at her.

“Run!” she yelled, and bolted for the door.  Whether it was the power of suggestion or the sudden incensed roar from a dozen large and galvanized Merranics, the rest of the Northerners jumped after her.

She headed
directly for the narrowest, twistiest streets around.  Within minutes, Ari was thoroughly lost and completely disoriented.  Not so the Merranics, whose home turf it was and who seemed to have lost every vestige of their good nature.  Ari, remembering Banion and Effenrike’s single-minded efficiency in the barge ambush, hoped the national temperament didn’t run to long memories.

He was not to be so assured.  They raced through town, twisting and turning, doubling back on themselves, dashing through doorways and out windows, hiding for a few minutes
while they caught ragged breaths, then forced to run again when they were on the brink of discovery.  They slid around corners, ducked under tables, whirled through crowds.  Selah had the reflexes and unerring instincts of, well, a street rat.  Again and again she found sanctuary or a back door just when it looked hopeless.  Ari could barely think fast enough to keep up with her.

Almost as impressive were the unshakeable Merranics.  Almost an hour after they
’d run out the door to the Post, Selah found them a place in a wood box deep in a warehouse.  They were down by the docks by now and so winded that it was minutes before anyone had breath enough to speak.

“
This is ridiculous—are these adults or are they boys off the playground?” Cerise demanded, breathless and mad.

“
What have I done?” Rodge panted in ragged melodrama.  They were all thinking something similar, in various modes of regret, disbelief, or aggravation.

“
Insulted a Jarl’s son,” Selah answered calmly.  She was the only one not breathing heavily, sitting quietly on her haunches keeping watch.  Ari noticed she had bound her leggings to the knee in the old-fashioned crisscrossed style of field laborers.  It kept the cloth from catching on anything, he had to admit, fashionable or not.

“
Is it worth
this
?” Rodge demanded.

“
It is to them.  Here they come.”  And they were off again.

The
y took stairwells, abandoned buildings, rooftops, crowded squares and empty straight-aways.  They dashed, they crept, they climbed, they crawled, until even Selah began to look a little perplexed.

“
This has to end sometime,” Cerise gasped wildly after almost three hours of pursuit.  “I’m fed up with it—they
are
adults, aren’t they?  We’ll just face them, explain Rodge is an idiot and it was an accident, and go on like intelligent, mature human beings.”

“
They’ll kill you,” Selah observed dissuasively.  Ari didn’t think she was exaggerating.

“
There they are!” They could recognize most of their pursuers by now.  Cerise gave almost a sob, and they were moving again.

It
ended as abruptly as it started.

They were running full speed—not a very significant pace at this point—around a corner when they almost bowled over Dra Kai.  Everyone skidded to a halt, staring at this vaguely remembered fragment of normal life
like they weren’t sure if they were dreaming or not.

Then Cerise, who was closest, threw
her arms around his neck, crying in frustration, “They won’t stop chasing us!”

‘
They’ barreled around the same corner just then, a dozen or more supporters having joined the cause.  At the sight of the Dra, every one of them came screeching to a halt.  And then Ari noticed something he’d missed with the surprise of seeing Kai…there were two others with him.  Neither was as tall as he, but both unmistakably wore double-hipped swords tied down to their black leathers.  They had the same lean, dark bodies and implacable, unmoving faces.  You hardly ever saw a Dra anymore—it was unheard of to see more than one together.

This evidently had penetrated the impassioned bloodlust of their pursuers as well, because there was a pause of perfect silence.

Kai firmly removed the half-sobbing aristocrat from his chest and stepped forward.  “I am Dra Kai.  What is the offense here?”

Almost as one, every Merranic sword went back in its sheath.  It made Ari wonder why Melkin was the spokesman for the group, when Kai was so obviously and profoundly effective.  He
wasn’t sure it was all just deadly reputation either.  The Dra’s low, even-tenored voice carried both strength and that indescribable charisma that made people stop and listen, made them want to oblige.

“
Dra,” the lead Merranic panted in wary greeting.  He was the one that had been doing all the announcing at the Post.  Ari supposed it was a measure of their respect that, despite the 5:1 odds, the sight of three Drae had brought the entire heedless rush of the Merranic mob to a dead halt, and made them courteous to boot.

“
What do you call more than one Dra?” Loren whispered the old joke, apparently thinking along the same lines.  Death walking.

“
This boy,” the Merranic indicated Rodge, “gave insult to Jaegor, here.”  The blond giant stepped forward, preceded by his enormous, outthrust chin.  “We demand satisfaction.”

“
Punishment will be exacted,” Kai promised, with a grim glance at Rodge out of the corner of his eye.

“
He owes lifeblood,” the Merranic said, a touch of anger coloring his voice.

Ari and Loren exchanged looks with a very pale Rodge.  That sounded bad.

There was a pause.  Kai, in a voice one would use to discuss which vegetables were worth their price at the market, said, “He is a foreigner and not yet a man in his country.  I ask leave to discuss this with his guardian.”

Rodge started to squeak in outrage and Loren firmly reached around and clamped a hand over his mouth.

Not a one of the Drae had so much as twitched a finger towards their sword hilts, but the Merranic quickly held up both hands in appeasement.  “As you wish, Dra.  We will meet at the Hanging Square at 3:00?”  They waited for his solemn nod, then without another word or even a look at Rodge, drifted away, talking amongst themselves.

Rodge ran over to Kai. 
“We’ve gotta get out of here!  We can make it out of town before 3:00—or just send me!  You can say you don’t know what happened to me—that I fell in the sea or something!  I’ll catch a ride back to the North!  They’ll never know what happened and it will all just go away…”  He must have babbled on like this for several minutes before he finally wound down at the look on Kai’s face…big and powerful and cold.