Fifth Quarter (30 page)

It's like having Death herself walking around the city…

He'd been to the Capital once, many years ago, but he'd forgotten how big it was, how many people crammed within the circle of its wall. A pair of assassins—two people trained to disappear—would assume they could lose themselves easily in a city this size. Neegan stood outside the palace wall and swept his gaze over the wedge of the Capital that he could see, wondering why anyone would be willing to live in such conditions.
Stacked up on top of each other six deep
…

Under a clean uniform tunic, the flesh between his shoulder blades twitched as the guards on duty at the First Army's gate stared curiously at his back. In a very short time, the rumor of who and what he was would reach them—rumor raced through the ranks faster by far than legitimate information. He was used to being the center of speculation, all assassins were; it worked to their advantage far more often than the opposite case. In this instance it would have no effect at all. His targets, in the short time they had remaining, would stay as far from the army as possible.

Foolishly believing themselves safe from pursuit, they had stayed at the best inns all along the South Road and would very likely continue to do so. He expected to find them by nightfall at the absolute latest. By morning, it would be over.

Although a morning's hard riding had still not brought them within a day's walk of the old man and his dead, when the heat began to rise in shimmering waves off the pale stone, even Karlene reluctantly admitted the need for both water and shade. They guided their lathered horses off the road by a marker indicating a well under Imperial protection and in a short time came upon a copse of trees gathered around a small, contained spring.

The marks of cloven hooves in the dirt indicated that cattle, not travelers, were the usual visitors, but for the moment they had the area to themselves.

"What is it?"

Vree continued untangling the lengths of coarse thread and polished ovals of wood that she'd lifted down out of a slender beech. "A shrine to the wind."

"What's it for?" Karlene knelt beside her, reaching out to lightly caress the feather carved into one of the pieces of wood.

"No." She could hear the scowl in his voice and fought to keep his expression off her face. "Why are you being such a slaughtering bitch? You were nice enough to her last night."

"You're right. Nothing more." His mental voice grew shrill. "It's never anything more, Vree, and I'm tired of it. I can't live like this!"

"Look, it's my body…"

"So you keep reminding me!"

Karlene's eyes widened as Vree's hands began to twitch and writhe in her lap like huge brown spiders. Muscles rolled and strained under the thin silk of the assassin's shirt. It didn't take bardic ability to sense the internal struggle and she wondered what, if anything she should do.

"How?" With a desperate grip on her sense of self, Vree forced Bannon back. Chest heaving, she spat out a mouthful of blood from where her teeth had been driven through the soft flesh on the inside of her lip and carefully stretched her hands out on her thighs, gripping her own muscles for stability. "What?" she demanded, suddenly aware of the bard's concerned gaze.

Karlene sat back on her heels and frowned. After a moment she said, "Is it Bannon?"

Startled, Vree looked past her at Gyhard lying under a tree barely a body length away, one arm thrown up over his eyes.

"No." The bard shook her head. "He didn't tell me, you did. In the Healers' Hall. You asked if the kigh were like Bannon, and you carry two kigh, so…" Karlene let her voice trail off. Yesterday, she'd only had enough energy for guilt and survival, but sleep and food and the village healer had rekindled curiosity. It had seemed that all through the morning a new question had risen with every fall of hoof on stone. As the oppressive heat pushed her thoughts down dark and self-condemning paths, the answers would be a welcome distraction.

"We fell into a trap." The generous curves of Vree's mouth flattened into a pale line. Did she want this bard to know how easily they'd fallen into Gyhard's trap? Or how Bannon's body had defeated her? Or how Bannon's body had…

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

Vree stared at Karlene in astonishment. For her entire adult life, no one had ever continued a conversation when she'd said it was over.

Karlene blinked, suddenly remembering the feel of the blade on her throat. Assassin. She kept forgetting. But neither could she believe that Vree would kill her merely for pressing a point and said so.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Gyhard sat up and brushed an ant off his arm. "She'll kill anyone who gets in her way."

As much as she would have preferred not to, Karlene could hear the truth in his voice and had to believe him. One hand holding a pale strand of hair off her face, she turned back to Vree. "Am I in your way?"

Vree carefully untangled another bit of the shrine. This foreign singer, this bard, already knew she was an assassin. Had to have noticed that she was no longer a part of any of the seven armies. Although she seemed to have no indication of what that meant, if Gyhard was right and bards couldn't be trusted to keep quiet, Vree would have to decide whether or not to kill her as soon as the prince was safe. She couldn't risk her even accidentally betraying them—betraying her and Bannon, or her, Gyhard, and Bannon, it didn't matter. "That," Gyhard said, rising lithely to his feet, "remains to be seen."

"I'm asking Vree."

Gyhard bowed mockingly. "Pardon me, Lady Bard."

"Am I in your way, Vree? I'd like us to be friends." Vree pulled another thread loose. "Why?" Calm bardic tones cracked slightly. "Because I could use a friend right now, and I think you could, too." Whatever Gyhard was, Karlene would bet the entire contents of the circle that he wasn't a friend.

Iron self-control kept Vree from trembling. There'd always been Bannon…

Standing over them, Gyhard braced himself against an unexpected wave of jealousy and tried not to feel the knives twisting. He was suddenly glad he hadn't mentioned that the prince could be alive, that he hadn't offered the bard reason to hope. "Very touching. It's time to go."

Vree shook her head, curls of sweat-damp hair falling over her forehead. "In a minute. I want to finish this."

"You'll never get it untangled. Give up."

"No. Once I find the one thread that releases the rest…" Vree hooked a finger through a loop, twisted, and knots seemed to slide apart of their own volition. "… everything works out." She rose to her feet and hung the small shrine back in the tree. "Just a matter of finding that one thread."

Gyhard flicked one of the wooden ovals with his fingernail and set the whole shrine spinning. "Very symbolic," he said dryly. "But do you really need the complication of a friend you may have to kill?" He flicked it again, harder this time. The oval began to spin, wrapping about the others, catching up the longer threads, and reentangling the whole.

Vree took a deep breath and came to a visible decision. Her right hand folded into a fist. Muscles moved with purpose under the silk of her shirt.

Gasping for breath, arms wrapped around his stomach, Gyhard dropped to his knees and stared up at her in pained astonishment.

"Vree! What have you done?"

"Something I should have done days ago. The sanctimonious little shitbrain; thinks he can do and say what he wants because he's in your body. Well, he's wrong!" She stomped over to the horses, posture leaving no room for compromise.

Karlene smiled for the first time in two days and followed.

Dusk in the Capital muted both the glorious display of colors—statues, mosaics, friezes—and the grime of thousands of people living one on top of the other. Habit placed Commander Neegan in the narrow space between two buildings where he scowled at the deepening shadows. He'd been to every expensive inn in the city, his black sunburst ensuring answers to any question he cared to ask; nothing. For some reason his targets had changed the pattern they'd followed for the last thirteen days.

There were a hundred, a thousand places they could be. Finding them would take a little more time than he'd anticipated.

A rustling behind him dropped a dagger down into his hand. He whirled and threw. The pigeon managed half a wingbeat before it realized it was dead—dagger point driven into the packed earth behind it, narrow hilt pressed tightly against the soft gray feathers of its breast. There was, however, no doubt that they'd be found.

"Vree told me about the cart."

Gyhard turned from his contemplation of the stars and stared at the bard. "I wonder why."

Karlene crossed the stableyard to stand beside him at the small corral. "Perhaps she doesn't like the intimacy that a shared secret brings."

"And you are her friend, after all." He leaned back against the rails, studying her, weighing her potential threat. "So where
are
the third and fourth members of our intrepid party?"

"She's asleep."

"You should be asleep as well. You still aren't completely recovered. If you want to give your all in the service of the prince, you'll need an all to give."

As her eyes adapted to the dark, Karlene could make out the dim shapes of horses by the far curve of the fence. "I woke up, saw you weren't there, and decided this might be the time for a talk."

"I went to the privy—I never use pots if I can help it—and stopped to admire the night sky." He hooked his thumbs behind the waistband of his full trousers. "Talk about what?"

The bard shrugged. "About what's going on. Why it's going on. Where we're going." Her gaze caught his and held it.
"Who
are you?"

"Gyhard i'Stevana." He jerked free, fully aware that she made no effort to hold him. "That wasn't very nice," he snarled. "I'm quite sure it probably contravenes any number of Bardic Vows."

"So do you; just by existing." Her brows drew down, throwing her eyes into shadow. "You've been assuming that you have all the power here—power over Vree, probably because of her brother; power over me because I need you to help me rescue what's left of a young man who never hurt anyone in his entire life and who deserves better than torture and terror after death. Well, you're wrong. Vree let you know that this afternoon; I'm letting you know it now. You need me as much as I need you, and I strongly suspect you need her more than you need anyone."

"Is it so obvious?"

Taken aback by his almost wistful tone, Karlene stared at him for a long moment, then finally sighed in exasperation. "That
would
be what you'd respond to. And I had such a good mad going, too." She mirrored his position, leaning against the rails. "Even at a full gallop, when both of you have your attention locked on the road, I can feel the attraction humming between you. You're not another brother, no matter what you look like."