“
Tellan
,
brightheart. Forgive me.” Mykal pressed his forehead to her boots, his hands
trembling on her calves. “I haven’t done such a thing in years and I never will
again. On my last drop of water, I swear it.”
She stroked his hair, both to soothe him
as well as herself. “I know you won’t, because I’ll kill you myself before I’ll
allow you to harm another person again. Who else knows about that needle and how
you used it?”
“Anyone of Shadow could know, for it
only takes a whisper from Yama in a dream.”
“Do you know where the needle is now?”
Mykal sat back on his haunches, his face
lined and haunted with old horror. “I don’t know. When I try to remember…it’s like
a sandstorm.”
“Let me see. Perhaps I’ll notice
something you missed.”
Staring into her eyes, he opened his
mind and allowed her to sift his memories through her fingers like sand. She
saw him lure Alastair into his secret room in a small hut on the edge of his
estate. The silver ring exchanged hands, blood was shed, and Stephan smiled
with those ghostly eyes from behind Alastair’s, while the first man crumpled to
the ground. Alastair bent down and rummaged through Stephan’s coat. The black
ring crawled into place on his finger like a malevolent spider, but then the
memory dissolved.
“Surely he…I…took it with me to Keldar.
I’d used that needle for a very long time.”
His memories of Keldar were mostly of
sand and miserable thirst. His skull pounded with the unbearable heat, his
tongue swollen and black, his face on fire from the sun, yet onward he trudged.
Mumbling, giggling, he staggered all the way to the shore of a boiling lake of
foulness that burned her nose even filtered through Mykal’s memories. She saw
the dragon eat him, the twisted ring burning on his hand but no hint of the
needle.
“My guess is that Mykal the Keldari had
no need of the needle,” she said, frowning. Her head ached from the strain and
her skin felt scalded, as though she’d lingered too long on those poisoned
sands. “If it had been left on the sands, anyone could have it. Who in your
party is Shadowed?”
He smiled grimly. “All Keldari bear
Yama’s blood, some more than others. It could be any of them who believe
killing one of your enemies may gain them your notice.”
“Will they still trust you?”
His jaws worked and he shrugged. “I
don’t know. They feared me before because of the dragon. No one has ever been
able to shift back and forth at will before. I dare not attempt such a feat now
without the ring’s foul power.”
Without turning, she touched Dharman’s
bond, concentrating intently to keep her words secret only for him.
:Do you trust him enough to let him spy for
us?:
:I
trust you.:
He replied immediately.
:Your heart doesn’t lie.:
She smiled at Mykal and the tension
straining his shoulders melted away. “I need you to go to your kin and see if
you can learn who did this. Maybe one of them will brag about his kill.”
He bowed low again and kissed her boot.
“I go without delay to do your will.”
Rising, he checked his weapons,
unsheathing both the curved and short blades to test their sharpness.
“First, tell me how this challenge will
work.”
The scimitar sliced his thumb open.
Pleased, he started to sheathe it, until she laid her hand on his forearm. The
White Dragon shimmered in the holy waters of the Silver Lake, spinning a memory
so ancient and right that she couldn’t help but continue the tradition. Once,
Rhaekhar had done something very similar in preparation for a
kae’rahke
against his best friend.
She wrapped her palm about the tip of
his blade and pulled it down her skin. “May my blood bring you luck.”
Flashing silver with hunger, his eyes
flared with surprise. He stepped closer and offered his thumb, so she raised
her palm to his mouth. The sandalwood of his willing sacrifice burned away the
lingering taint of his old memories.
“Two
tals
will Dance the Blades for your entertainment.” His voice was husky, his eyes
molten silver, but he didn’t linger on the wound. He must feel the rising
danger as fiercely as she. “I humbly suggest you ask for me and Odan
tal’Tellan
to Dance first. I suspect him
the least, for he’s been
tal
only a
short time. If you don’t specify otherwise, we’ll fight to the death. To
appease the Keldari, the winner of that Dance should be given the chance to ask
for one of your Blood.”
She didn’t like that thought at all,
although of course she felt all nine perk with anticipation. Like any warrior,
they loved to drill and would relish the chance to prove themselves not only
against a foreign opponent but one who had shifted their hierarchy.
“Afterward, I suggest we sit down at a
table together. Make sure you force them to treat you as host, themselves as
guests. Stand in the doorway and refuse them entrance until they offer water.”
“Haven’t I already made them welcome as
guests?”
“By your customs, but not by ours. They
will think you too ignorant of Keldari custom to enforce hospitality, and so
they will take advantage and not hesitate to betray you.”
She arched her brow at “ignorance,” and
he inclined his head slightly, his mouth quirking. “The magic I did on the
Great Seal prevents them from harming any of my people.”
“
Iyeh
,”
he whispered, his face solemn, “but did you say they should not specifically
kill
you
? You are not strictly a
Green Lander, brightheart. You’re more. You were claimed by the horse king, so
they could argue you’re Sha’Kae al’Dan. If they believe a link in your chains
has slipped, your magic won’t stop them. Not if they truly believe it in their
hearts.”
“Very well.” Sighing, she nodded. “Use
your bond to tell me what I should or should not say. I don’t want to make a
mistake.”
“Your instincts will guide you,
especially if you listen to the White Dragon. Remember, my people are the most
desperate scavengers of the desert. They’ve lived on nothing but hope for
centuries, and you represent that hope. You’re
tellan
, our hope of forgiveness.”
Of course, what he so politely didn’t
mention was the little necessity of her sacrifice to a fire-breathing dragon.
At least she was well used to everyone
wanting her dead.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
THREE
PHILLIP
OF MASTON BOWED LOW AND SWEPT HIS HAND TOWARD A MAKESHIFT PLATFORM ERECTED
AGAINST THE SHINING WALLS. The rest of her blood-sworn Council had already been
seated. He’d even arranged for seats for Drendon and his khuls, as well as the
tals
and
ravs
. “I hope this will suffice, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Phillip. This will work
nicely.”
She took her seat on a backless camp
chair, Dharman behind her as usual with Sal and Jorah on either side. The rest
of her Blood fanned out in front of the dais.
Mykal hesitated, unsure whether to stand
with her Blood or sit in the chair provided.
:If
you want to fight first, don’t bother sitting.:
His bond smiled and warmed, although his
face remained impassive. He stood before her, arms crossed with a hand on each
weapon. At her small nod, he raised his voice and said, “Your Majesty, Shannari
dal’Dainari, High Queen of the Green Lands, we Keldari come before you in
answer to your challenge.”
“What challenge is that, Mykal
tal
’Mamba?”
“Wait! Your Majesty!” One of the other
tals
rushed toward Mykal, refusing to be
left out, and the other
tal
immediately followed. “Three
tals
answer your challenge, not just the one you’ve bedded.”
Shannari laughed and settled back
against Dharman, letting her hands fall out on the arms in invitation. Sal and
Jorah both squatted down and pressed against her legs. “You came wanting me to
select one of you as my King. How else am I supposed to know whether the
candidate will suffice?”
Mykal bowed low, she was sure to hide
the amusement on his face. “I believe I sufficed very well, Your Majesty.”
“Indeed,
tal
’Mamba.” Her voice went so husky that Sal shivered and dropped
his head to her thigh. “So, what entertainment do you wish to offer me?”
“Select two of us to Dance the Blades
for your entertainment. The loser may not pursue your hand in marriage.”
“As long as everyone understands the
winner has no claim on me.” He nodded, but she knew very well the other
tals
might not agree so quickly. “Very
well,
tal
’Mamba. Pick your opponent.”
Mykal drew the scimitar, held it before
him parallel to his body for several long moments, and then lunged, thrusting
the blade into the ground before the man on his right. “I select Odan
tal’Tellan
to Dance the Blades first.”
“Since this is entertainment, I request
that no death occur. Blood only.”
“Blood only,” Mykal agreed, bowing
again.
The other
tal
hesitated, looked to the third
tal
worriedly as though hoping he’d object, but then turned and
bowed as well. “Blood only, Your Majesty.”
After drilling her entire life, she knew
there was an inherent rhythm to weaponsplay. Give and take, back and forth, as
two opponents tested each other’s defenses. The Keldari truly made the drill as
beautiful and graceful as any dance she could hope to see at the grandest ball.
With the scimitar in one hand and the short blade in the other, Mykal flowed
from stance to stance, his cloak flowing like a dark shadow behind him. He’d
tucked it tightly to his body, but it still lent a softening ripple to his
moves.
As she watched, the two fighters
reminded her more and more of dragons. The wicked curved blade was a claw,
perfect for eviscerating the dragon’s prey or slicing open its throat. The
shorter blade was a tooth, perfect for puncturing a vein and spraying blood, or
slipping beneath armor to sever a joint or spine. Where the Sha'Kae al'Dan
fought for blood only, the Keldari fought to kill, which introduced a slight
awkwardness when the two warriors were forced to halt a blow that would have
decapitated his opponent.
In a low, slithering lunge, Mykal slid
beneath the other man's sweeping blade, knocked him off his feet, and pressed
the wicked curved edge of his scimitar against the man's throat.
In a bitter voice, the man growled, “
bhakti
,” and allowed his weapons to fall
from his hands.
Gliding to his feet, Mykal crossed his
arms over his chest, both blades held aloft, and bowed to her.
Clapping, Shannari stood and smiled.
“Thank you, Mykal
tal
’Mamba, for your
excellent display of Keldari fighting techniques. Let's retire to the tents for
refreshment before the next match. See to your friend and then join us.”
He bowed, sheathed his weapons, and then
helped
tal’Tellan
to his feet. The
other Keldari joined him, and they took the wounded man to their tents.
Good
,
she thought.
Now he can do a little
reconnaissance.
* * *
“BLOOD ONLY,” NIJAR MUTTERED. “I’VE
never heard of such a Dance.”
Mykal let the wounded
tal
fall back in his tent with a groan.
“Did anyone bring a
rashida
or
shaddad
?”
Nijar blew out a loud breath. “Of course
not. Live or die, it doesn’t matter. He’s out of the Dance.”
We
all are
, Mykal thought ruefully.
Let her survive this new Dance we attempt in order to escape my Shadow.
“What will she do next?”
He didn’t answer immediately, pretending
to contemplate what a foreign queen might do. “Mayhap she'll allow you and I to
Dance the Blades next, and then the winner may challenge her Blood.”
Nijar motioned him outside and away from
their competitor’s tent where they wouldn’t be overheard. “My thought is to
strike now. While you and I Dance the Blades for her entertainment, our
ravs
can seize her and ride for Keldar
at top speed. Why wait to kill her guards?”
“I don’t believe her guards will be so
easy to kill.” Mykal had yet to test her Reds’ blades, but he didn’t doubt
their dedication and ferocity. He'd kill like a rabid dragon to keep her safe,
too. “Let alone fool them into letting us near enough to steal her.”
The
tal
winked salaciously. “You were near enough in her bed,
iyeh
?”
“Hardly.” He stiffened his shoulders and
deliberately averted his gaze to the ground. “Her guards stood toe to toe about
us at all times.”
“That must have been…unpleasant.” Mykal
didn’t know this
tal
well enough to
know if the man was appalled or amused. “So you had no chance to speak to her
privately? Not even…”