Gently guiding her through the drawing room and into her bedroom, Sábria gestured to the elegantly appointed bed. “Sit over here, Emlyn.” The bed covers were one reason she’d chosen to bring her here. The burgundy down comforter was plush and well-named. She’d comforted many, many Blades beneath its folds throughout the turns.

  The soft feather pillows complimented the comforter. The Temple’s most skilled embroideress had stitched relaxing nature scenes onto their covers. Sábria loved them and almost felt guilty laying her head on such a loving, artistic endeavor. The green, leafy trees surrounding a doe and her fawn standing next to a meandering stream always brought peace to her often uneasy mind. Another depicted a meadow filled with gold and yellow flowers, and still a third held the reflection of a maroon mountain range on the still waters of a lake.

  As if in a trance, Emlyn sat as directed and allowed Sábria to remove her boots. That in and of itself was a testament to just how much the woman had pulled into herself. At other times, she would have been appalled at the thought of the Arch Priestess kneeling before her and touching her boots, let alone removing them.

  A soft tap sounded on the bedroom door. Sábria quietly called over her shoulder, “Come.” The boots were off now, and she moved to sit next to Emlyn.

  One of the healers, Sinda, slipped into the room, holding a tray. On it was a pitcher and a short tumbler that Sábria recognized as coming from the infirmary. Although it wasn’t necessary, Sinda spoke in the whisper common to healers in sickrooms the world over. “Lady Haria mixed this sleeping draft, My Lady. She sends her apologies she couldn’t bring it herself, but she was about to begin stitching up a particularly nasty knife wound in one of the Blades.”

  Sábria hadn’t heard of any casualties that day, and she jerked her head up at the mention of a knife wound. When Sinda opened her mouth to explain, Sábria held up a hand. “Explain later. Will the Blade be okay?”

  Sinda nodded and set the tray on a side table. She poured a full serving into the tumbler and then sat on the bed next to Emlyn. “Here, lass. This is going to help you sleep.”

  When Emlyn didn’t move to take the glass, Sábria took it and put her hand on Emlyn’s back. “Drink this, Emlyn. Sleep is the best thing for you right now.”

  Feeling the cool glass against her lips surprised Emlyn, who blinked at it as though she had no idea what it was.

  Sábria repeated, “Drink this.”

  Emlyn obediently took the glass and, without caring what it was or what it tasted like, drank the contents down with three quick swallows.

  Sábria glanced at Sinda, “I hope that’s not too much at once?”

  “No, as I said, Lady Haria mixed it herself, and she was aware of the circumstances.” Translated, that meant Haria wouldn’t give a suicidal woman something she could overdose on, intentionally or otherwise.

  Sábria nodded, and together they managed to get Emlyn comfortable under the covers. Pointing to the door, she led Sinda out into the drawing room, leaving the bedroom door open so she could keep an eye on Emlyn. “Now, who was the injured Blade, how bad is the wound, and were others hurt?”

  Sinda held up her hand. “Sorry, sometimes I give too little information without thinking. A nob sliced Mhina’s arm when she was bringing him in for judgment. She and Caitir were off duty and saw him battering his wife. Mhina’s spitting mad but none the worse for wear. He gave her a long shallow slice on her upper arm before Caitir managed to wrestle the knife away. Mhina ended up tying him in knots, anyway. One tough Blade, that’s for sure, but she did lose a fair amount of blood. She’ll be off for at least a sevenday. No one else was hurt.”

  Used to Blades getting injured, Sábria filed the information away and led Sinda to the door. “I need you to go check on the new shiv, Ailith.”

  Sinda held up her hand again. Her bright blue eyes seemed to have a sparkle no matter what emergency the Blades were facing. “Kara’s already on her way. We heard what she did and figured she hadn’t managed all that without coming away with a few bumps and bruises.”

  Suddenly very tired, Sábria simply said, “Good,” before returning to the bedroom. She listened for the latch on the door as Sinda let herself out. When she heard the soft click, she went to sit on the side of her bed and removed her boots. It wasn’t yet time for the midday meal, so she slid beneath the covers fully clothed and waited a moment. “As always, Child, if anything I do makes you uncomfortable, please tell me.”

  Moving slowly, she pressed her chest against Emlyn’s back and draped her arm over her body. She lay her hand on Emlyn’s forearm and lightly squeezed. “A broken heart is often more deadly than a knife to the chest. We all know that, Emlyn, and we’ll try to keep you safe while you heal. You’re not alone. Never alone.” Sábria had said that to her before, but she wanted to repeat it enough times that perhaps Emlyn would come to believe it.

  When Emlyn sniffed, Sábria retrieved her arm and fumbled in her pocket for a sheer cloth. She handed it over Emlyn’s shoulder. “Here. I guess we’re lucky I still have my clothes on.”

  Emlyn wiped her nose and dropped her hand to the pillow.

  Sábria replaced her hand on the arm, and when she heard a soft keening, she knew instinctively she needed to stretch Emlyn beyond what she was comfortable doing. Gently tugging up on the young woman’s arm, she turned her over until they were facing each other and pulled her in close.

  As she thought might happen, Emlyn completely let go then, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her into a crushing embrace. She buried her head in Sábria’s chest and, with heart-rending sobs, wept until the herbal tincture drew her down into a deep and troubled sleep.

  Sábria let herself doze with Emlyn in her arms. She awoke when she felt the bed move behind her back. Knowing it was Shirin, she slowly turned her head to see whether she was needed somewhere else. Thankfully, Shirin only caressed her hair, leaned down to kiss her forehead, and whispered, “You slept through the day. Go back to sleep. I’ll be in the other bedroom with the door open. Just call if you need me.”

  Grateful for such a wonderful friend, Sábria nodded. As she watched her leave the room, she realized how gut-wrenching it would be to lose such a loyal, loving companion and understood on a visceral level the emotions Emlyn was battling. Pulling the younger woman in close, she lay her head on the pillow and dropped into an exhausted sleep of her own.

  She awoke with the dawn filtering in through the shutters she hadn’t pulled closed the night before. Hearing Shirin moving around in the kitchen, she disentangled herself from Emlyn, who seemed to still be in a deep sleep. One thing about Haria, no one mixed a more potent herbal brew better than she did.

  Slipping out from beneath the comforter, she softly padded into the kitchen where Shirin already had two steaming cups of fangbrew sitting on the table. Legend had it that some Blade in times past had given the bitter but tasty brew the name because it was “strong enough to bite you in the ass.” The thought of that long-dead Blade made Sábria smile as she took her first sip.

  “What are you grinning about?”

  “I’m thinking of the woman who dubbed this ‘fangbrew.’ I wonder what she was like.”

  Shirin stirred the scrambled eggs. “I always picture her as someone exactly like Keavey Terrowyn. Strong as nails, hard on the outside, but maybe just a bit of soft hiding underneath.”

  “That’s Terro, all right. Speaking of which, I think it’d be best if we keep Emlyn busy. I was tempted to delay the start of her training, but I changed my mind. Tarvin was scheduled to be her handler, but I think we need someone a bit mellower. Tarvin’s black-and-white personality had seemed a perfect fit for Emlyn before, but now…” she thought a moment, “…who do you think might work? I want to keep her on deadnights with Orsuna.”

  “I agree. She needs to stay with Geller, but let’s see.” She started naming Blades who were qualified to train. “Mhina would have worked, but she was sliced yesterday.”

  “Sinda told me about her last night. Off for a sevenday, she says.”

  Shirin grinned and piled the eggs onto two plates, slipped two pieces of bread off the flat burner, and tossed them next to the eggs. “Not if Mhina has anything to say about it.” Setting the plates on the table, Shirin sat and opened a folded napkin, which she set in her lap.

  “Tell her I said she’s off for the full sevenday or it’ll be a fortnight before she sees deadnight again.”

  “All right. There’s Soirin, Maeira, Larkin, Jenx…Jenx would work. Do you want to switch her off Ailith, and give her to Emlyn?”

  Sábria thought about the idea and then discarded it. “No, I need someone with a sense of humor for Ailith, and Jenx fits the bill. If you remember, I want Ailith trained, but I don’t want her to lose that wonderful, unique personality. We’ve never had anyone like her in the Blades before, and while I want to mold her, I don’t want to break that spirit.”

  A sparkle shone from Shirin’s dark brown eyes. She lifted a fork to her mouth and spoke before sliding it in. “If I don’t strangle her first.” Her eyes softened, and she lowered the fork. “She was amazing yesterday. How she managed to wrap Emlyn up so tight and still hang onto that bar is anyone’s guess.”

  “Yes, she was. I think her reaction time is better than most, something I want Geller to work on during weapons practice.”

  “Khaldo.” They both shook their heads, and Shirin said, “No, besides, she’s not a handler, thank the Goddess. What about Killian? She’s in Sela’s squad.”

  Sábria had just lifted her cup to her mouth. She paused and pointed at Shirin with her little finger. “Perfect.”

  “I agree. I’ll let her know and explain the situation to Tarvin about the change. And don’t worry. I’ll put it to her that Killian’s better suited since she lost her little brother to trade bandits before she became a Blade, and Emlyn might be able to relate to her because of her loss. I think Tarvin will understand that.”

  They finished their breakfast while discussing some issues that had cropped up over the last several days. The dishes and frying pan didn’t take long to wash and put away. When the kitchen was clean, Shirin left to deliver her messages, and Sábria picked up a book she’d been meaning to read but hadn’t had the time. Returning to the bedroom, she fluffed a pillow and propped it against the headboard, then settled in next to Emlyn. Breathing in a relaxing breath, she opened the book to the first page and began to read.

  Fifteen

  Five days later, Senior Guardian Keavey Terrowyn strode into briefing just as Guardian Prime Geller called everyone to order. Terrowyn quickly surveyed the fifty Blades seated three to a bench behind low tables meticulously lined up in three rows, six tables deep, in the center of the room. Seeing that her fifteen were accounted for, she leaned against the back wall with the bottom of one boot hiked up behind her. She crossed her sturdy arms and glared at the three baby shivs shooting nervous glances her way. This was their third day, and nothing grated on her nerves more than the first few sevendays in a shiv’s training.

  They sat at a back table on the other side of the room, which suited Terrowyn just fine. Open cubbies lined the wall behind them, each one holding a Blade’s extra set of neatly folded midnight black tunic and trews. She automatically took stock, noting any cubbies that weren’t well-organized and tidy. Any Blade reporting to debriefing in clothing with an excess of mud or blood on them quickly felt the flat of Terrowyn’s blade across their back. Of course, if there’d been no time to change, that was one thing, but neither she nor the Prime tolerated slovenliness in their subordinates, especially when out on patrol.

  In addition to the uniforms, the cubbies belonging to off-shift squads held the Temple-assigned short swords and knives they had the option to carry on-shift. Guards had to provide their own weapons during their off-shift time and were allowed to use just about any weapon they cared to as long as they passed the proficiency test given by deadnight shift’s Prime, Ursuna Geller, a displaced weapons master from the Trenchian Isles.

  Geller ran a disciplined shift, and when she strode to the front of the room, everyone, from the newest rookie to the most senior guardian, fell silent. As always, she got right to the point. “Gloamin’ shift reported a bunch of trib runners comin’ in off th’ boats. You all know what that means. Terrowyn, I want you and yer troops patrolling th’ east river district tonight. Gloamin’ shift gets off at two. I want yer people in place by one. That gives ya two candlemarks to check yer normal beat and get any word on who’s out and about.”

  Terrowyn nodded. Normally, she enjoyed shepherding the tribs. The riverboat crews, or trib runners as they were known, brought the trade goods from the port to various Cibían cities. They came from every kingdom except those that were landlocked. The men and women who worked the waterways rowed their supply boats up and down the various tributaries to deliver their goods to the merchants and craftsmen who were unable to make the long trip to the main ports of call. The newer tribs rarely understood the strict rules governing behavior in the empire co-ruled by Emperor Aloric and Arch Priestess Sábria. Terrowyn snorted when she thought of how the two “co-ruled.”

  Aloric was a lazy, weak ruler who allowed the spoiled nobility to bully the commoners. Most members of the nobility knew there were two sides to the Emperor’s justice. One set of rules applied to crimes nobles committed amongst themselves, while a different set governed their treatment of the common folk. The city and castle guards generally turned a blind eye to the noblemen’s criminal transgressions.

  When she could, Sábria held nobles and commoners accountable for any and every crime against womankind. That was where the Temple Blades came in. Guardian Prime Geller and her people patrolled Sarlogne’s streets and back alleys during the deadnight watch, which began an candlemark before deadnight and ran until sunrise the next day.

  “Terrowyn.”

  Realizing she’d been wool-gathering, Terrowyn pushed off the wall and lowered her arms. She may have been a Senior Guardian, but she’d felt the flat of Geller’s blade enough during her early turns to jump whenever her Prime used that tone with her. “Prime?”

  Geller didn’t appreciate inattention during her briefing, but neither would she undermine Terrowyn’s authority in front of her people. “I said, gloamin’ shift also heard through their babblers that a skelli got caught and pricked. See what ya can find.”

  Terrowyn’s face appeared hard even when relaxed, but anger sharpened her cheekbones and put a steely glint in her grey eyes that frightened even the hardest nobs. One of the loner chits living on the streets with no parents to speak of getting pricked meant Ghost would get involved, something Terrowyn never liked to see happen. Ghost was safer when she made herself invisible, and Terrowyn wasn’t always around to pull her out whenever trouble found her. “Aye, Prime.” She felt the shivs staring at her again and turned her angry glare on them.

  Only one met her gaze while the other two averted their eyes. Of the three, that one, and possibly the one from Kibrun, had the potential to grow from a shiv to a competent Blade if they survived long enough to manage it. The shiv eventually blinked and turned back to Geller, and Terrowyn made a mental note to get her name sometime soon. Now that she thought about it, she realized she hadn’t learned the Kibrunian’s name either.

  Females could apply to the Blades on their sixteenth birthday, but most waited several turns before committing the rest of their lives to the Temple. They showed up for all different reasons. Some because their father beat their mother to death, others the victims of rape or incest, and still others wanting the power being a Blade afforded them.

  The Dreyuthan, on the other hand, who looked to be eighteen or nineteen turns, had been thrown in the Priestess’ lap a sevenday ago, knowing absolutely nothing about the Blades or the work they did. Terrowyn knew practically nothing about her, either, but she liked that the chit didn’t automatically flinch whenever she glanced her way.

  She tuned in again when Geller called out Senior Guardian Sela’s name. Sela’s skin tone blended completely with the Blade’s black uniforms, and where living the life of a Blade had given Terrowyn the hardened look of a warrior, there was a deceptively gentle look to Sela, whose body appeared soft and curved in all the right places and whose face could have graced the statue depicting the beautiful acolyte in the arms of the Goddess Elyon in the center of the Temple courtyard.

  “Sela, take yer people to th’ western docks. Yer orders are th’ same as Terrowyn.”

  A telltale twitch of the muscle in Sela’s jaw told Terrowyn what she thought of that assignment. “Yes, Prime.” There was no arguing with Geller when she handed out assignments, and since Sela’s current lover—they were permitted female lovers outside the Temple as long as the mysteries of Temple life were never part of the pillow talk—lived on the other side of the city from the west docks, there was no way she could sneak away on her mid-watch meal for a little on-watch fun on the side.

  “Arane, yer in th’ lower market district. Send out yer eight guards two-by-two. Ye’ll be light with both Terro and Sela’s Blades on th’ docks. If there’s trouble, send yer shiv to ring th’ watch bell on th’ sacred way. You.” Geller looked at the shiv assigned to Arane’s squad. The young woman, who’d been listening intently, quickly looked down at her hands, which she held clenched in her lap. Sela’s shiv elbowed her in the ribs, and the youngster leapt to her feet, almost knocking their table over in the process.

  Terrowyn’s shiv reacted first, grabbing the far edge and pulling back before the entire table went flying. She couldn’t save the three swords lying on top, though, and the weapons landed on the wooden floor with loud thuds. No one belted on their sheaths until after briefing because it was difficult to sit comfortably on the benches wedged in with other warriors while wearing them.

  Terrowyn lowered her head and rubbed her eyes with her fingertips. She glanced up and saw Geller glaring at her, pointedly telling her to deal with the shivs before she had to come knock some heads together.