Thread Slivers (Golden Threads Trilogy) (20 page)

“He might have done that after we left and then guessed at how you got out. He didn’t get close until about a quarter-mark after we left the Temple.”

Smart priestess; that is a pretty good observation.
She thought it over. “True, that is also a likely scenario. Either way I still don’t know who is backing this, nor do I have a place to start.”

The priestess looked a little uncomfortable. “There is one thing I can do.”

Ticca looked at her with interest. “What more is there?”

The priestess called for a bottle, a straight needle and surgical thread. “I can give you a blood compass.”

I have heard of those, but no one ever said or even hinted that a servant of Dalpha would be able, much less willing, to make one. It would be very good to answer a few questions.
“Holiness, that would aid me greatly.”

The priestess received the items she called for. She quickly tied the fine thread to the needle and pushed that through the bottle stopper. Bending down to the dead man, she rolled the needle in his blood. She then carefully inserted the needle into the bottle. As she closed the stopper, she sang a mournful chant into the bottle, her lips practically touching the rim and her breath fogging the inside of the glass. The stopper jumped from her fingers, seating itself very deep into the bottle’s neck with a slight hiss. The bottle glowed red for a moment, and when the light faded the fog on the glass had cleared completely. The needle hanging on the thread held firmly towards the door.

The priestess handed her the bottle. “This will last for three marks. After that the traces it follows will be too faint. It will lead you back on the path of his life.”

Ticca took the bottle reverently. “Holiness, I know what it means to make this. I shall remember it. If you don’t mind my asking, you’re very competent in skills I wouldn’t expect from a priestess. How did you learn these things?”

“I wasn’t always a priestess.” She pulled out of her robes a lovely old dagger with wings for a crossguard. The hilt was a carved piece of ivory with intertwining leaves and flowers, the pommel a nearly-closed oval of silver also engraved with the intertwining vines. “I am Boadua of Mostill Valley; Dagger, priestess, in service to the Great Lady Dalpha.”

Ticca took in the dagger then looked into the older woman’s eyes; there was life, cunning, and experiences untold in their brown depths. Ticca touched her dagger. “I am Ticca of Rhini Wood, Dagger in service to Journeyman Lebuin of House Caerni and the Guild of Lord Argos.” After the moment passed Ticca grinned. “That’s why the Great Lady called you for this task, why you brought us here and how you knew he was a threat.”

The priestess smiled wider, nodded, and put the dagger back under her robes. “It was some time ago. I am pleased I still have some of the skills.”

Ticca squared off to the experienced Dagger and put her arms out. “Sister, your service honors me and your name.”

The priestess took Ticca’s arms in hers. “And you have served well this day. Now continue with your charge, stay sharp, and may the Lady watch over you.”

Releasing her arms, the priestess winked and turned to the task of cleaning up the scene. Watching Boadua efficiently taking command, she heard her Uncle’s voice remind her,
‘Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world, but Daggers don’t have that problem.
’ Ticca set the bottle down and pulled her cloak out of her pouch. Shaking it out, she put it on and pulled it well over her shoulders so it could be pulled closed in front when she chose. Taking the bottle, she nodded farewell to the priestess. “Stay sharp.” Being very cautious for more watchers, or archers in hidden places, she left the hospice. She was fairly certain there were no spies watching.
Stay sharp indeed. Just ‘cause I don’t see them doesn’t mean they’re not there. As my Uncle always reminded me, ‘Daggers who are paranoid live to tell tales.’

The path the bottle led was not unexpected at first. The Knife had indeed followed them from the Temple, moving back and forth from one hiding spot to another. It took longer than she liked to get back to the Temple due to the many zigzags. A full mark and a half had past. At the Temple she found he had not gone inside it but had been across the street, obviously observing both entrances.
Must have followed us on a hunch or got some warning we were no longer there.
From the Temple on it was a very simple path. He had come from a side street that paralleled the market. She followed his route to the merchant quarter. Ironically she found herself crossing Gold Street not more than three blocks from the hospice; he had come through an alley that led through a series of paths. The sun was already down and twilight was growing dim when she found what she hoped to find. Ticca wrapped herself in her cloak and moved through the dim shadows, when the blood compass indicated a nondescript door in the side of a house.

She circled the house and found that he had come from the opposite direction and stopped in the house. It was a nice rich merchant’s house with two wings and two stories on a side street to Silver Road, with a large front yard and carriage round. What made it interesting was not the perfectly painted shutters, nor the very rich colored-glass double doors, but the fact that he had used the alley entrance, as had many others. The front of the house struck her as just that:
A front for something else
. She carefully left the area, making sure she hadn’t been seen coming or going.
I need to think this through. This is where a Hand would live. I need to find out which Hand and who his clientele are likely to be.

Once Ticca was clear of the area, she found a trash heap and broke the bottle there, leaving only scattered fragments. She took the needle and stopper with her. Breaking the string, she rubbed the needle in the dirt for a moment then threw it into another alley. Finally, the stopper went on a roof many blocks later.
May your afterlife give you all you earned, but I will not be one to keep you from it longer.

Using the shadows, she remained vigilant for all observers and possible assailants the way back to the Blue Dolphin. She approached from the city path and spent extra time trying to find any hint of spying. She couldn’t find a single lookout.
This is wrong. There has to be an observer. This is the one place I would go for sure. So it is the best point to get a lead on Lebuin’s location.
Approaching by roof, she moved cautiously, keeping her cloak around her.

She had just about decided there really was no watcher when she realized that the roof next to her had a couple of tiles lifted slightly.
There you are. It isn’t paranoia if they really are after you. Bet you have all sides covered too.
She moved back silently. She realized her boots were not making any sounds at all.
These keep getting more and more useful.
She moved smoothly away and then dropped into an alley.

Well, they know I am going to go in there. By now they might be worried that the Knife hasn’t reported back. I hope Lebuin made it before they started watching, or even better that they didn’t recognize him.
Thinking it over, she couldn’t think of a way into the building, other than flying, that could go unnoticed. Shrugging to herself, she pulled the cloak back, exposing the bloody bandage and affected a convincing limp as she stepped out to the street and simply walked in plain sight to the door. She imitated being wounded and trying to hide it.
Kind of silly pretending to pretend not to be wounded; but people see what they expect, and this will help make them feel a bit more confident in my lack of skills.

Once inside, the smoke and sounds of the bar made her feel welcome and hungry. The smoke burned her nose, as it had for the last few weeks.
Whoever likes that odd herb is still here. I wonder what it is about it that they like so much, because it doesn’t smell all that pleasant to me.
At the right-hand community table sat Lebuin and Ditani, talking and drinking. They were smiling and looked to be just fine, so she kept up the pretending to pretend and turned left, limping slightly to her own table. The table had changed; attached to the dagger holder was a metal coin. The coin was engraved with a few birch trees in the background and a pack of hunting hounds sitting looking straight out at her. She couldn’t help it — some tears came to her eyes.

Sitting down, she unlatched the coin from the dagger holder and traced the etching with her fingers. The hounds were the same as the ones on her dagger; the coin was in the exact same style as her dagger.
This was my Uncle’s when he was a Dagger here; Genne must have kept it all these years.
Holding back the tears, she put the coin back in the clasp, which was connected to the dagger holder by a pair of small screws. She pulled her dagger out and let it flip around her hand once as she laid it flat on the table.

Before she could signal she wanted something, a serving girl set a hot cup of arit in front of her from a tray of many drinks. “Care for dinner, Ticca?” The girl was eyeing her bandage with a concerned look.

“Yes please, thank you for the arit too. Would you let Genne know I’d like to see him when he has a moment?” The girl nodded and moved off, with a final glance at the bloody bandage, to deliver the other drinks on her platter.

Ticca watched the room for enemies. Some of the other Daggers, having already noticed her condition and weariness, had started to scan the room themselves. Seeing the already active scanning, her Uncle’s voice echoed,
‘Mess with one Dagger and you mess with them all.’
Time to get a little help,
Ticca thought, and minutely nodded to the Daggers who caught her eye; in turn, they raised an eyebrow very slightly and she shifted her eyes sideways, idly running her hand over her dagger. When they signaled acknowledgment, she signaled that the inn was under observation; with a possible threat of Knife strike, and they grew even more alert. It didn’t take long before all the experienced Daggers in the room had received and acknowledged the warning. There were three with daggers out that did not know the code; these were vouched for by one Dagger or another.
One of us will get to them and give them the code — good to know who is experienced.
Smiling, she thought of the more surprising Dagger history she had to memorize under her Uncle’s guidance.
I would love to see their faces when they are told our traditions extend back beyond the known histories and into legends.
The Daggers slowed their drinking, and were inconspicuously sizing up the other patrons. Ticca joined in the exercise and by the time her dinner came out all the twenty-three non-regular customers had been identified and the Daggers were watching for any sign of trouble.
Now maybe I can relax a little. No Knife will ever attack in the Dolphin again, and any idiot trying to be a Knife will not like a room full of alert Daggers.

As she ate, four of the non-regular customers left. Everyone else appeared to be enjoying the evening.

Genne came over, taking the other wall seat again. “Ya wann’d chat? Don’ worry ‘bout issues, ain’t allowed.”

“I know. I just I need a bath.” Raising her hyly mug and blocking the view of her mouth from the room, she added softly, “And a room close to mine,” before taking a swallow of the hyly.

Genne looked at her for a moment. “After yer bath, then.” His eyes darted to Lebuin and Ditani then back to her. “We’ll settle up inna yer room fer yer expenses.”

He really doesn’t miss much.
Touching the metal coin on the dagger holder, she said, “I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Dat, well…” He rubbed his neck. “Yer Uncle din’t ‘ave a chance ta collect it. I was a lad but I liked yer Uncle fine. Me pa said it migh’ be needed again. So he stowed it. Took o’bit o’huntin’ ta fine it. Glad I am ta have it out.”

Ticca nodded, holding back more tears. Genne politely ignored the emotions, or maybe he was doing the same. He got up and went back to the bar without saying another word. Safe and comfortable, she took her time eating and drinking. It wasn’t until she was just about to go up for her bath that Ditani and Lebuin spotted her table. She made as covert a “stay put” signal as she could, and thankfully they didn’t move to follow. Getting up, she limped past them towards the stairs; when they looked she moved her eyes from them to Genne and back again as she went up the stairs to her room.
Lady, let one of them understand that. Course Genne probably has a means to that end too.

In her room Ticca dropped everything but her knives and grabbed some clean, sturdy clothes; she closed the window shutters and then went out to the baths. One room was open with a hot, steaming tub waiting. She slipped inside, locking the door. Stripping, she put the boots on the rack, and her clean clothes over them. The knives she kept close at hand. Tossing the dirty clothes out the drop hole, she happily eased into the tub. It was wonderfully hot. She scrubbed everything, even dunking her head to rinse her hair. Then she soaked until the water grew tepid. Regretfully she stepped out, and, not feeling any pain from her shoulder, she peaked under the bandage; there was no sign that there had ever been a wound. She picked up her boots and kissed each one. “Thank you, Lady, for these little wonders, I cannot think of any tool besides my dagger that could be as useful.” After dressing, she made her way back to her room.

Ticca was putting some things away when she heard a knock on her door. “Yes?”

“Ya asked for some hot arit.” Genne’s voice was a welcome sound. She opened the door and there stood Genne holding a large platter with an arit serving carafe, over a small candle to keep it hot, and some brown curly pastries. Behind him Lebuin and Ditani were just coming up the stairs. She held the door open as they all came into her room. Closing the door, she locked it behind them. Ditani took in the room with a nod of satisfaction.

Genne put the platter down on the table and poured a cup for everyone. Grabbing a pastry, he sat down and made himself comfortable. “Now dese are worth every pence.” Closing his eyes, he drank a little arit and bit into the pastry. It almost looked like he had been transported to heaven. So everyone followed his example. The flavor was sweet, with a hint of chocolate, and something else that left a warm feeling that spread from the mouth out.