The Ritual (37 page)

Even though my sleeve had dropped down again I still stared at it, overcome with emotion, and after a few heartbeats he shifted nervously to his other leg. “Don’t you like it?”

That woke me up. “Zash, it’s beautiful… I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say thank you? Or that will do too,” he added when I threw my arms around him. Then I kissed him deeply, and he crooned in the back of his throat as he ran his fingers along my back.

“Thank you,” I said anyway. “It really is beautiful.”

“It reminded me of you,” he murmured, lifting a handful of my hair. “Your coppery skin, and the beautiful red of your hair… It glows like that in the candlelight. I’ve never seen its like.”

“You think my hair is beautiful?” I whispered, staring at him in awe.

“Rin, I think
you
are beautiful. Have I never told you?”

I mutely shook my head and he sighed. “Well, you are. Everything about you is beautiful.” He folded me into his arms and I melted against him, savouring the moment, and the feel of the bracelet around my arm, while I still could.

We spent another day in the cellar, but after that the coast was clear, and I knew Zash would not be able to think of any more excuses for not going to Arlis. We left the next morning under a suitably dreary, overcast sky, and I went with a heavy heart.

*   *   *   *   *

It took us six days to reach Arlis – six days which we spent in unanimous, gloomy silence. If Zash and Mior noticed that my sister and I were now as morose as they were they didn’t let on, and speech was limited to necessities only.

The countryside between Nennomar and Arlis was flat, and the cattle meadows soon made way for expensive elvish villas; frilly monstrosities with dainty towers and plastered walls in pastel colours like gigantic iced cakes in a bakery window. I briefly wondered whether this style was older or newer than the more subdued villas we had seen south of Mazar, but then lost interest just as quickly and kept my eyes on the muddy road instead. We didn’t burgle any of them, and I wasn’t sure Zash was even aware that they were there.

The city itself began long before we reached its walls, first with grimy shantytowns, then with more sturdy buildings belonging to respectable citizens who had failed to find themselves suitable accommodation within the confines of the wall. There appeared to be the beginnings of a new wall, very much a work in progress, and as we trudged along the road we could see a small convoy of supply carts rumble up before they turned aside on a narrow dirt track off to the right. The last cart was followed by a line of slave-chokered half-elf labourers, tied to it by a long length of chain and overseen by a bored-looking elf. It appeared that Siander wasn’t the only elf who had to work for a living, and I vaguely wondered whether this elf was a younger son as well, though I wasn’t interested enough to ponder the question for too long.

Evidence of half-elf slavery was much more widespread here – whichever way I turned my head I saw chokers, and although it made sense this close to the king’s court and in a city this big, it made me uneasy. Slaves were only bought from orphanages, and once you were out you were free for the rest of your life – however long you managed to make it last – but I didn’t trust the guards not to simply arrest and enslave us anyway. Who would know, after all? We were not allowed to hide our faces, but I kept my head down and tried to brush my hair over my ears to make it less obvious what I was.

I had never been in Arlis before, and despite my melancholy mood I was impressed with what I saw. The streets were wide, the houses grand, and the bigger avenues all had a line of tall trees down the middle, which kept them cool and shady on hot days. The city was bisected by the river Mendra, which we had to cross in order to reach our tavern, and the bridge we crossed it on was ornate and made of warm reddish stone with red marble decorations.

To me the streets seemed unusually busy, though neither Zash nor Mior appeared to think so, but when we saw the small crowd that had gathered around the announcement board on one of the market squares we stopped to have a look. I soon wished we hadn’t, for here we read what we could have been a part of, had we been caught in Nennomar:

Citizens of Arlis!

King Sovander is pleased to offer for your entertainment the Midsummer Magnificence – a breathtaking spectacle of combat, skill, tactics, blood and brutality!

This captivating display will feature the enemies of King and State who were recently seized from among the insidious ranks of Nennomar’s criminal society.

The Midsummer Magnificence will take place in the Royal Arena, on the Seventeenth day of the Haymonth. All citizens are encouraged to attend.

As stated by order of Sovander Mo’hanna, by the Grace of the Gods King of Arlennis.

“When is the seventeenth of Hay? It’s the Haymonth now, isn’t it?” I asked hoarsely.

“Tomorrow,” someone said next to me. I glanced at the speaker and saw brief sympathy in his eyes before he turned away.

“Come,” Zash whispered in my ear. “There’s nothing we can do about it.” He put his arm around my shoulder and drew me with him, and we walked on.

The tavern Zash led us to was built against the old city wall, and was dirtier and less well-kept than any other rogue tavern we’d stayed in so far. This too showed the proximity of the king, and the tighter restrictions it put upon us. It made me wonder why any free half-elf would ever choose to live within three days of the capital.

It was late afternoon by then, and we went immediately to our rooms, only emerging for dinner and a bath. This was the last night of my life, and there was only one way in which I intended to spend it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

There were so many things I wanted to say to Zash, but during the night I could never find the words, and when I woke up the next morning I did not get the opportunity. We had made love until neither of us could lift another finger from exhaustion, but even so it looked like it was still early when he tried to disentangle himself from me.

“Don’t go,” I muttered sleepily, clasping my arms around him. I pressed my mouth and tongue to the pulse point in his throat, but although I could feel his heartbeat leap under my lips he resolutely took my wrists and freed himself.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered, then kissed me long and tenderly. “Mior and I are just going to get this business over with.”

That woke me up like a bucket of ice-cold water. “You’re off to see Azerev?”

He nodded, ran a caressing hand down my side, then sighed and slid out of the bed. “There’s no reason to delay it any longer,” he said, and his voice sounded so resigned that it broke my heart.

I sat up and crawled past him, picking up my tunic from the floor, and I had already half pulled on my trousers before he seemed to realise what I was doing.

“Hey, stay in bed,” he said reproachfully. “There’s no need for you to come along.”

You bet there is
, I thought, and turned away to take a deep, steadying breath. “You think you can go without us, Black Eyes? Not a chance.” I managed to sound resolute, but my knees were trembling and I sank to the floor, pretending to look for my boots. “We’ve been with you all this way, so don’t think you can saunter off and take all the credit now.” It was easier to speak when I made myself sound harsh, but the glimpse I caught of his helpless, almost panicked look before I looked away made me choke up again.

“Rin, Azerev is…” He hesitated and I looked at him, wondering if he would confide in me now, and wonderi
ng what I would do if he did. “He is not a very nice man,” he finished lamely, and I let out my pent up breath.

“All the more reason not to let you go on your own,” I said briskly. “Four are better than two, remember?”

I could see his inner struggle, could see the emotions that flickered across his face as for once he couldn’t lock them away behind a mask. For some reason it made it easier for me to hide my own feelings. He was clearly trying to think of a plausible excuse for me to stay behind – and failing – and to me it confirmed all the conclusions Shani and I had drawn about their elusive plan, including Shani’s assertion that it no longer applied.

The moment he admitted defeat his shoulders slumped. “
Fine, let’s go then, if I can’t dissuade you,” he muttered, and walked to the door. He did not stop to pick up anything – all he had with him were his daggers, and he left his pack and even his lockpicks behind. It told me everything I needed to know, and it was only the need for pretence that made me pick up my own roll of lockpicks. I doubted that he would notice the lack if I hadn’t, but I didn’t want to run the risk.

We met Shani and Mior in the common room, and I
saw the fleeting glance the brothers gave each other, both apologetic and helpless. When I met Shani’s eyes they were determined but bright with fear, and I gave her a brittle smile in return.

“We’ll have breakfast when
we come back, yes?” Zash said, and I nodded, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to swallow anything anyway. As we walked out the door I slipped my hand into his, and it was a measure of how distracted he was that he let me, because generous as he had always been with his affection and kisses, something as simple and romantic as holding hands while walking during the day had never been his style.

Through the streets of Arlis we went, and although it was indeed still early in the morning there was a steady stream of elves and humans all moving in the same direction. It took a while before I remembered Sovander’s spectacle, and it increased the sick feeling in my stomach to realise that they were going to see my people slaughter each other for their amusement.

The city passed me by as in a dream; first the dilapidated cottages of the common people on the muddy streets of the south riverside, with its permeating smell of dung and rotting vegetables, then the ornately decorated houses of the aristocracy as we passed through a wealthy district with paved roads and sculpted topiary at regular intervals. The streets gradually became wider until we hit a main road, broad and paved with big granite slabs, carrying both people and trade like a major river feeding a large lake. It was shaded by tall trees, their branches widely spread, and I would have found it lovely if I hadn’t been sick with fear.

We came to a bridge, the same russet stone bridge across the Mendra that we had crossed the day before, and for as long as it took us to walk across I watched the little wavelets on the river as they lapped against the many pleasure boats that were already out. I knew the Mendra flowed to the western ocean, and I suddenly wondered what such a great body of water looked like, and whether Zash had ever seen it. I took a breath to ask him, but then reality hit me again and I closed my mouth. What was the point in asking, really? Instead I concentrated on him, on the feel of his hand in mine and on the faint whiff I caught of his scent every now and then.

After the bridge the great throng of people continued on while we took a side street, back into the poorer part of the city, and although it was now quieter and easier going, Zash’s footsteps seemed to drag. His palm was sweaty and slick in my hand, and whenever I stole a glance at him he was staring fixedly ahead, his eyes blank and focused on nothing.

In an alleyway we stopped, by an unassuming door to an unassuming house. Its one visible window was blacked out, and the modest brass door knocker gave an unpleasant, tinny click when Zash raised and dropped it once.

It probably didn’t take all that long before the door opened, but it felt like years. The person opening it was a half-elf of indeterminate age, his pointed ears prominent within a close-cropped cap of sleek black hair. His eyes were slate grey, impersonal and cold, and his nose was straight and long, with great flaring nostrils. I wondered if he was a servant, but then recognition dawned in his eyes and he opened the door further.

“Ah, my delivery,” he said in a voice which was surprisingly warm and rich. “You could not have come at a more fortuitous time.” Then he seemed to notice Shani and me and he frowned. “I wasn’t expecting extra company though. Who are you?”

I was too shocked to speak, since I had never expected Azerev to be a half-elf, and in the quiet Shani replied, “We’re the hired help.”

He cocked his head, then said, “Ah, of course. Siander did say. Well, don’t expect your payment to be any different.” He beckoned, then stepped aside as we filed in and the door clicked closed behind us. For a heartbeat we stood in pitch darkness and I heard the ominous click of a key in a lock, then a globe of magical light appeared over our heads and Azerev moved past us. “Follow me,” he said, and I gripped Zash’s hand even tighter as I did so.

I studied Azerev as we moved deeper into the house, trying to gauge him. I had assumed him to be an elf, or maybe even a human, though that seemed less likely since he employed an elf, but it had never occurred to me that he might be one of us. It made me wonder even more what in Eternity he was intending to do, that he could so callously plan to sacrifice fellow half-elves. I knew it was naïve of me to expect solidarity at all times, but this went way over to the other side, and it scared me to think what he had in mind.

The house was a lot bigger than it had appeared to be from the outside. Azerev led us through three corridors, then into a large, high-ceilinged room, almost a hall, lit from above by a big, square skylight. Once inside he walked to a massive wooden workbench and turned around.

“I trust you have the items?” he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Mior looked at Zash, then took his pack from his shoulder. He let go of Shani’s hand and raised the bag up a little. “All in here.”

“Let me see,” Azerev snapped.

“And our payment?” Zash asked. His voice was a little hoarse, and he too let go of my hand, the sudden chill of its absence emphasising the clammy sweat that covered my palm.

Azerev smiled, a slight curve of his lips that looked cruel, since it didn’t reach his eyes. “All in good time. Let’s see some proof first that you have what I need.” He stretched out his arm and beckoned, and for several heartbeats the scene was frozen but for that commanding gesture.

Then Zash shouted, “Now, Mior!” pushing me out of the way as he drew his dagger and sprang forward. Mior tossed the pack at Azerev and raised his arms, beginning to cast a spell, and in the time it took me to regain my balance Zash quickly closed the distance between him and the sorcerer.

Azerev’s smile never even faltered. As I began to move to help them he lightly caught the bag, countered Mior’s spell with a casual flick of his fingers, then made a complicated gesture with his hand and shouted, “Stop!”

Both men froze, Mior in mid-motion and Zash in mid-stride, his dagger only inches away from Azerev’s throat. If I was to do something to save us it had to be now.

Shani obviously had the same idea. As I drew my dagger and ran forward a fireball exploded in the room. It was small but intense and centred on Azerev’s head, and I could smell burning hair as the backwash hit Zash and burned half his eyebrows away. Yet even as the flames still engulfed the sorcerer I could see his hands moving and heard his voice mutter in arcane syllables, and I got no nearer to him than Zash before I hit an invisible wall and was locked into an immobilising ward. Azerev emerged from the assault with not so much as a hair out of place, and since no further fireballs appeared, I assumed he had Shani under control as well.

“I see you have somehow figured out what your payment would be,” he remarked, sounding almost regretful. “I do apologise, but the sacrifice is a necessity, and needs must.”

This is it then,
I thought, and cleared my throat. “No,” I said resolutely.

Azerev turned to me, looking surprised. “No?”

“No,” I repeated. “Let them go. We know what you need, so take me and my sister for it. We will offer ourselves to you of our own free will, provided you let Zash and Mior go and release them from your bond.”

“Rin, what are you doing?” Zash said hoarsely. “Please, don’t–”

“Quiet,” Azerev said with a curt gesture, and Zash’s voice simply cut out mid-word. Then the sorcerer cocked his head at me. “I’m intrigued, young lady. You say you
offer
yourselves?”

“Tell me if I’ve got it wrong,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “You intend to perform a ritual, and Zash and Mior have provided you with your link and power sources.”

“I have yet to see about the power sources, but yes, so far you are correct,” Azerev confirmed.

“They’re all there,” I snapped. “I helped obtain every single one of them. But you need a sacrifice too, don’t you? No sacrifice, no ritual. Were you intending to use both of them?”

“Regretfully, yes,” he replied, though his eyes still didn’t mirror the sentiment. “It will be the most powerful ritual ever performed, and one sacrifice would not suffice.”

“Then take us instead of them,” I finished, and heard Mior give a strangled sob.

Azerev cocked his head again and regarded me pensively. “A noble offer, but I picked them specifically because they’re identical twins,” he said.

I stared at him in astonishment, unable to speak. This was a twist that neither I nor Shani had anticipated, but on this occasion she was quicker to recover. “Open your eyes, man,” she hissed behind me. “
We’re
identical twins too!”

He looked at her, maybe for the first time since he had opened the door to us, then nodded slowly. “So you are. This makes your offer viable, and an unresisting sacrifice will be much more powerful than an unwilling one. You say you will do this voluntarily if I let them go?”

“Yes,” I said. “Our lives for theirs.”

“They don’t seem to agree with you. They fight me with all their might, and if I let them speak I daresay they’ll try to dissuade you.”

“Then let them try,” I said, looking at Zash. “They won’t succeed.”

“Please let him speak,” Shani whispered behind me. “Let him touch me.”

Finally I saw what looked like a glimpse of compassion in Azerev’s eyes. “You may move and you may speak, but you may not move towards me,” he said, flicking a finger. At the same time I felt the ward around me fall away.

I saw Zash’s muscles relax and strain again as he tried to move in Azerev’s direction, without avail. Then he turned and looked at me, his expression terrified and pleading. “Rin, you can’t do this, not again, please,” he croaked. “Why are you doing this?”

From the corner of my eyes I saw Mior embrace my sister, whispering in her ear, but Zash made no further move, so I stepped closer to him. “Don’t you understand?” I asked. “I know what it was that you and Mior planned originally. I know you meant for us to take your place. All we have done now is make it our own choice.”

“But I wouldn’t have done it,” he said, his voice breaking. “I couldn’t have done it, not anymore. Please, Rin, you can’t believe that I would have.”

I took the last step to him and stroked his cheek. “Of course I know, my black-eyed lover. And I know that you tried to save me, tried to stop me from coming here. But you never had a choice. We know he has both of you marked, that there was no escape for you.” I sighed and gathered my thoughts together. “Zash, you have given me the best few months of my life. I never knew I could be as happy as I’ve been with you. But you don’t need me, whereas I cannot live without you. Not anymore. You have no choice, but
I
have, and my choice is to give my life to spare yours.”