Authors: Kelly McCullough
Broken Blade (3 page)
She shrugged at my question, then flipped her braid back over her shoulder when it fell forward. “It’s only dangerous if things go wrong.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you object to
all
killing or just when it’s the point of a job?”
all
killing or just when it’s the point of a job?”
“I try to avoid ghosting anyone when I can avoid it, but I’m no renunciate.” My shadow moved again, and so, perforce, did I, leaning back this time, though mercifully without knocking anything over.
Dammit Triss, stop dancing around!
It wasn’t a big move, but even half an inch was half an inch too much. Too many people wanted to see my head nailed up over the traitor’s gate or sent off to the Son of Heaven in a jar of rice wine. To distract from my little shadow two-step, I gestured for the woman to take the other seat.
It wasn’t a big move, but even half an inch was half an inch too much. Too many people wanted to see my head nailed up over the traitor’s gate or sent off to the Son of Heaven in a jar of rice wine. To distract from my little shadow two-step, I gestured for the woman to take the other seat.
“I’d offer you a drink, but . . .” I sadly flicked the empty bottle—Kyle’s fifteen-year, the rather expensive Aveni whiskey I favored when I could afford it. It rang emptily and rocked, giving off a tantalizing little whiff of peat and honey. “So unless you’re buying the round you’ll just have to settle for going dry while you tell me what you want done, Lady . . . ?”
I gave her the courtesy title that might belong to a duchess’s first maid in hopes of getting her to give up more information. She ignored the bait and shook her head impatiently.
“Call me Maylien.” But she did not yet sit. “You
will
take my commission then?” She smiled a smug little smile.
will
take my commission then?” She smiled a smug little smile.
That made me want to turn her down flat. Unfortunately, sending her away would leave my purse even flatter. If I wanted to keep drinking the good stuff, I had to work. And I wanted to keep drinking the good stuff. It was one of the few things left in my life that gave me any pleasure.
“Let’s just say that I’m open to the idea,” I said. “The fee looks adequate for some things, less so for others.”
“I can’t tell you more without some surety . . . of silence at the very least.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “If you’ve learned enough of my reputation to find me here, you’ve learned enough to know I don’t discuss my clients. Not even my offers.”
“May I presume that constitutes your word?”
“If you want to; though why you’d accept the oath of a jack of the shadow trades, I don’t know.”
She smiled like a woman holding a secret. “Most jacks I would not, but I’ve reason to believe I can trust yours. Have you ever heard of the Baroness Marchon?”
It took an effort not to start at that name, though perhaps a wasted one, since my shadow jerked a good inch on his own. I had, of course, heard of the Marchon, but I rather doubted that the person I’d chosen to become would have. Thinking daggers at Triss and his sudden tendency to jerk and start, I pasted a confused look on my face and shook my head. The gesture made the world bob and twist—a not wholly unpleasant side effect of the empty bottle.
“Is this Marchon a city noble? Or country?” I asked.
“More the latter than the former, but she does maintain a city house—a big estate right on the north edge of town, just off the royal preserve. That’s where I need the delivery made.”
I knew it well. The Marchon place had once housed the old king’s last mistress, the younger sister of the then Baron Marchon. I had slipped into the house on no less than three occasions while trying to catch a quiet moment alone with the king.
“That’s a neighborhood with an ugly reputation for the shadow trades, heavy security on all the estates plus the occasional royal patrol in the streets,” I said.
Not to mention the fact that the Elite had a clandestine chapter house near there and watchers in the park most nights, but I certainly wasn’t supposed to know that, nor how to slip past them.
I pushed the purse back toward her. “I think you’ll have to find another jack.”
She bit her lip in a quite convincing and quite fetching imitation of worry. I wondered how often she practiced.
“How about a bigger fee?” she asked. “I think I could come up with half again more if I had to.”
I had just opened my mouth to tell her no, when I felt a tugging all along my back, sort of like peeling away a sweat-soaked shirt. Triss again, letting me know he wanted me to take the job for some reason. I didn’t like the smell of the thing, or Triss’s pressuring me on it, but I really did need money. I decided to push Maylien a bit and see how she responded.
“Half again
might
do,” I told her. “But indulge me for a moment by biding here, won’t you? I have an urgent matter that I need to attend to.” I flicked my eyes in the direction of the back door and the sign marking the privies beyond and gave her a what-can-you-do sort of look.
might
do,” I told her. “But indulge me for a moment by biding here, won’t you? I have an urgent matter that I need to attend to.” I flicked my eyes in the direction of the back door and the sign marking the privies beyond and gave her a what-can-you-do sort of look.
It was a rude request under the circumstance, and she had every right to take offense, but I actually did have something that needed my private attention. Also, if she chose to see it as an insult and walk away, I would have solved my dilemma over whether to take the job.
Before she could answer, or do much more than blush angrily, I pulled myself to my feet and tipped her a ragged tradesman’s bow—it wouldn’t do at all to deliver the proper Zhani high-court version. Besides, I’d put enough whiskey away over the past two or three hours that I might not have been able to manage the more formal one if I’d tried.
“Back as soon as ever I am able, my lady.”
A couple of lanterns filled with the cheapest oil money could buy guttered and sputtered in the yard. There was no risk of fire out on the cobbles, so no need for a magelight, which meant it was as dark out there as old King Ashvik’s heart had been. Some of the noble neighborhoods could afford to use magelight to illuminate the main streets, but the Stumbles was about as far away from being a noble neighborhood as it got. On nights like this, with the moon near her nadir, even night-trained eyes like mine had trouble, and Jerik’s lamps provided just enough illumination to find the privies.
I slipped inside, trading the stink of one sort of shit for the stink of another. Given a choice, I preferred the yard and the horse; but I needed the privacy. I closed the door behind me and wedged it shut with a thin knife pulled from the sheath on my left wrist. The light inside was better than the yard’s, provided by a fading magelight nailed firmly to the ceiling—night-market certainly, but still costly. I presume the more expensive choice had been made because Jerik didn’t like what happened when the drunks couldn’t find the holes, and so he wanted to give them as much help as possible.
I turned a stern eye on my now much-clearer shadow, and demanded, “What are you trying to pull?”
Though my arms remained tight to my sides, the shadow’s arms lifted and broadened into wings at the same time its legs fused themselves together into something much longer and narrower. Combine that with the way the head and neck respectively flattened and lengthened, and you no longer had a shape that looked even remotely human. In fact, were you to go by the form and movement of my shadow alone, you could be forgiven for making the assumption that I had become a rather small and agitated dragon.
My shadow, or rather the Shade that inhabited it, tilted his head to one side and shot out a long slender shadow of a forked tongue to touch my cheek. And that was Triss.
“I want you to take the job,” he said.
I say “his” and “he,” because Triss lives in
my
shadow, and I’m a man, though “its” and “it” would probably be more accurate, for what is sex to a shadow? His smoke-and-syrup voice reinforces the ambiguity, lying as it does midway between tenor and contralto.
my
shadow, and I’m a man, though “its” and “it” would probably be more accurate, for what is sex to a shadow? His smoke-and-syrup voice reinforces the ambiguity, lying as it does midway between tenor and contralto.
“Why?” I asked him.
“Because you’re broke and you’re bored, and when you’re working, you drink less.”
I shook my head. “I’m not buying it, Triss. That’s been true of the last dozen job offers, none of which made you break cover like you did with this one. That’s dangerous. What if someone had seen you?”
Triss reared up. “Since when did you care if something was dangerous? I can’t even count the number of times your frankly reckless attitude about the kinds of work we take has nearly gotten us killed in the last five years!”
“That’s different. Killed in action on a job is a risk I’ve
always
been willing to take. Getting tumbled in a tavern and nailed to the traitor’s gate or sent off to provide amusement for the Son of Heaven is a fucking amateur’s death! Do you want that to be our legacy?”
always
been willing to take. Getting tumbled in a tavern and nailed to the traitor’s gate or sent off to provide amusement for the Son of Heaven is a fucking amateur’s death! Do you want that to be our legacy?”
“As opposed to what?” demanded Triss, his wings vibrating with agitation. “Killed while delivering a stolen painting to its buyer? You’re not seriously comparing the risks of the last five years to dying on a mission from the goddess. At least if someone sells us to the King of Zhan or the so-called Son of Heaven, we’ll be dying for what we used to be. Back before the fall of the temple, what we did mattered. We worked for a cause bigger than just getting paid.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, Triss, the goddess is dead, murdered by her heavenly peers, and most of her servants followed her into the grave. The Son of Heaven pronounced the ban on our entire order.
Nothing
we do matters anymore and it never will again. The fucking gods themselves have decreed it through their official human mouthpiece.”
Nothing
we do matters anymore and it never will again. The fucking gods themselves have decreed it through their official human mouthpiece.”
“May he rot from within,” snapped Triss.
I threw up my hands. “There is no
cause
anymore, just you and me and the work and getting paid. So we might as well hold on to our professionalism because we sure as hell don’t have anything else left. Which is why I’d really rather not get taken down for the kind of mistake a rank amateur would make.”
cause
anymore, just you and me and the work and getting paid. So we might as well hold on to our professionalism because we sure as hell don’t have anything else left. Which is why I’d really rather not get taken down for the kind of mistake a rank amateur would make.”
Triss’s wings sagged. “Dead is dead, Aral.
How
doesn’t really matter.” Before I could answer, Triss contracted briefly—his version of an embarrassed shrug. “But I am sorry about moving around like that. I hadn’t intended to be so obvious. It’s just that this Maylien is more than she seems, possibly much more. It made me curious.”
How
doesn’t really matter.” Before I could answer, Triss contracted briefly—his version of an embarrassed shrug. “But I am sorry about moving around like that. I hadn’t intended to be so obvious. It’s just that this Maylien is more than she seems, possibly much more. It made me curious.”
I sighed and accepted the peace offering. “I’m sorry, too, Triss. I know it’s harder for you, always hiding in my shadow, having to pretend you don’t even exist.” I hated fighting with Triss. Far more than the work, he was what I had left. His friendship and love were what made me keep getting up and going on even when I no longer saw much point. “If you want me to take this job, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll go tell Maylien now.” I reached for the dagger I’d used to wedge the door.
“It’s wrong,” said Triss, his voice barely above a whisper, “what the gods did to us, to the whole order. Their ban is wrong, and so is the Son of Heaven, even if he is the head of the high church of the eleven kingdoms. We should be free to return to the duties laid upon us by the goddess. I will never concede otherwise. Why have you?”
I looked away from a certainty I could no longer bear. “Because the unblinking eye of justice has closed, Triss. The goddess has gone into the grave, and the rest of heaven and all its priests are against us.”
“If the gods truly approve of the actions of the Son of Heaven, they’re wrong, too. You’ve done nothing to earn such a ban. I’ve done nothing to earn such a ban. None of the Blades or the Shades who companioned them did anything beyond what was needful and just.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that every last one of us is under religious sentence of death and meat for any man’s hand. Nor that the Emperor of Heaven himself struck down our goddess.”
Triss closed his wings sadly. “If you cared so very much about living, I do not think you would have started to drink as you do.”
I wanted to argue with him, but nothing I could say would make him any less right. Just then, something banged into the door from the outside.
A moment later, the handle began to rattle. “What the hell’s wrong with the door?” asked a slurred voice.
“Nothing,” I replied, “just finishing up.”
Triss sank back into a reasonable semblance of my shape, and, a moment later, I stepped out into the night, pretending to fumble with the buttons of my pants as I went. I was actually glad of the interruption and glad of an excuse to return to the common room as well. If Maylien hadn’t walked out yet, she’d certainly be getting suspicious about what was taking so very long.
“Well?” she asked when I got back to the table. Her lips were tightly compressed, and her tone was freezing. “Did your business go as it ought?”
“Near as needs be,” I replied. “I am sorry about that, but it was a most urgent transaction.”
She snorted, then, much to my surprise, smiled. “I suppose that we’ve all had to face such a need for haste on occasion. Now that it’s passed, though, what do you say to the job?”
“Is the package small?” I intended to take the job but not before I’d gotten all the information I needed.
“Two sheets of folded parchment.”
“Where does it have to be delivered?”
“There’s a large balcony on the third floor of the Marchon great house, around the back of the main building. You’ll need to wait beside one of the windows—I’ll tell you which. You’ll meet the person the message is intended for there. And that’s all you need to know until you accept the commission.”
I still wanted to turn her down, but I had promised Triss. Besides, the money was very good, and Triss had it right—I was bored and I was broke.
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