Elyon's Blades, page 14
part #1 of The Daughters of Elyon Series
The instant Terrowyn stalked forward, the three shivs stood at attention with their backs straight, their chins parallel to the ground, and their fists locked into the sides of their thighs. “Don’t just stand there, ya scut-brained shivs. If ya lose yer weapon in battle, will ya turn and look at me to pick it up for ya?” She moved within striking distance and barely missed whacking the clumsy shiv alongside the head as the chit scrambled to grab her sword. “Do I need to nursemaid ya to get ya to act like a warrior-in-training? Move!”
Once the weapons were back in their places on the table, the shivs lined up again and stood at attention.
“Sit.”
They immediately dropped down onto the bench, and Terrowyn returned to her place against the wall.
Geller glared at Arane’s shiv and growled, “Stand.” When the woman stood, this time careful not to catch the edge of the table, the Prime crossed her arms. “Yer Nox, right? Do ya know where th’ watch bell is?”
“Yes, Prime.”
“Two bells fer Terrowyn’s squad if th’ trouble’s closer to th’ East River District. Three bells if closer to th’ west docks, and four bells to bring both squads. Shite better be rainin’ down from th’ sky if ya ring four bells, or I’ll take ya to th’ stables and teach ya what real shite looks like, understand?”
The woman swallowed hard. “Yes, Prime.”
“Now, fer th’ rest of ya. I’ve been hearing rumors that th’ City Guard’s been pullin’ Blades into their fights and/or their arrests. I don’t need to remind ya, th’ City Guard’s patrol th’ city fer general stuff. We only,” here she emphasized the word with a glare around the room, “enforce th’ law as far as crimes against women, or more specifically, females. Pidges, skellies, and lollies sellin’ their wares. We do not chase, beat, or bring to th’ city magistrate anybody else. Questions?”
There were no questions, or at least no one dared voice their thoughts on th’ subject. “Dismissed.”
The second shiv Terrowyn thought might have promise was in Sela’s squad, but at least Terrowyn didn’t have the clumsy one in hers. Her shiv had reacted quickly, and when everyone stood to begin their shift, Terrowyn pointed to her. “You. To me.”
Both the shiv and her handler came to stand in front of Terrowyn.
“I suppose it’s time I learned yer name.”
The woman glanced at her handler to see whether she should respond or if the handler intended to answer the question.
Terrowyn growled and ran her hand up into her bangs, “Goddess bless, where do we get these skut-brained shivs? Yer name, girl, yer name!”
“Ailith, yer Ladyship.”
Dropping her arm, Terrowyn stared at the young woman in disbelief. “Yer Ladyship? Do ya see a lady anywhere around here?”
“Uh.” Again, the shiv’s eyes traveled to her handler’s face. Answering that either way could definitely bring problems.
Her handler, Blade Jenx, bit her tongue to keep from grinning at Terrowyn. It wasn’t smart to disabuse the shivs of their fear of the senior guardians since it was either they or the Primes who could, and usually did, make their lives a living nightmare. “Ailith is from a small village in the Blacktip Mountains in Dreyutha where, apparently, if they don’t know a woman’s rank, all the women from down below who aren’t gutter scum are lumped into ‘Yer Ladyship’ or ‘Yer Grace,’ if they think the rank is higher than, ‘Yer Ladyship.’” She glanced at Ailith. “And this one, in particular, apparently, falls back on the habit when she’s stressed.”
Reining in her temper, Terrowyn glowered at the youngster. “You refer to me as either Senior Guardian or, once yer a Blade, Terrowyn.”
“Yes, yer…Senior Guardian.”
Blowing out a long breath, Terrowyn nodded once. “What I intended to say was that yer reactions were quick and decisive. Do that on th’ streets, and maybe ye’ll live long enough to earn yer blades.” Ailith’s face lit up at the praise, and Terrowyn looked at the rest of her squad who’d assembled nearby. “Swords.”
Everyone drew their weapons and held them flat on their palms. Before Terrowyn could begin her inspection, the outer door opened, and Commander Shirin strode in. Everyone remaining in the room came to attention until the Commander waved them off, “Stand easy. Prime Geller, your office.”
After Geller and Shirin disappeared through the door at the back of the room, Terrowyn’s squad presented their weapons again. She inspected each one, nodding until she came to Jenx. She pointed to a chip in the sharpened blade edge. “Is that from when ya hit th’ post instead of th’ nob’s knife hand?”
“Yes.” A blush rose into Jenx’s prominent cheeks, and her thin lips drew into a nervous line.
“And why didn’t ya take it to th’ armorer before shift?”
“Sorry, Terrowyn. I was that exhausted when I got off, and I slept longer than I thought, and the armorer was shut down by the time I got there.”
Terrowyn slowly raised her eyes to meet Jenx’s worried expression. “Yer lucky it was me and not Geller doing th’ inspectin’.”
Jenx’s eyes grew round, and her brows rose into her bangs. “I know.”
“First thing off-shift, ya go to th’ armorer and get it fixed. If it’s like that on-shift tomorrow, ye’ll feel m’ belt across yer back.”
“Yes, Terrowyn.”
Most guardians didn’t inspect every weapon before shift, but Terrowyn, who was meticulous with her own armament, checked the swords and knives of every woman in her squad every night. Satisfied all was in order, she dismissed them and headed to the market square, knowing her people had heard Geller’s orders and would report to the East River District at one. After a few blocks, she realized she’d forgotten to ask their squad’s shiv something, and she turned a full circle looking for Jenx and Ailith.
They were just stepping into the alehouse courtyard when Terrowyn whistled their call. Both women turned, and Terrowyn pointed to the ground at her feet.
Ailith jogged over while Jenx walked at a normal pace.
Terrowyn looked at Ailith, who stared down at her boots. “For Goddess sake, ya don’t need to look at the cobbles every time I talk to ya. What’s th’ name of th’ shiv in Guardian Sela’s squad?”
“Emlyn, Yer Ladyship.” Realizing her mistake, Ailith edged behind Jenx’s left leg. She was well aware of just how hard the backs of Terrowyn’s hands were.
A glint of amusement shone in Jenx’s eye as she watched Terrowyn silently count to ten. Terrowyn glared at her, making one side of Jenx’s lip rise. Not enough for Ailith to notice, but enough to make Terrowyn almost give a small smile in return. Almost.
Resuming her walk to the biscuit seller, who sold her wares at the back of Black Pan Alley, Terrowyn kept her eye out for a quick glimpse of Ghost. Centuries earlier, when the city had first been built, the planners had carefully designed the street infrastructure to resemble a multi-square grid. When Terrowyn had first earned her blades, she’d counted the steps between blocks and discovered each one was exactly five hundred and sixty-two of her steps.
The blocks were laid out by use. Some had multi-story homes or apartments, others were strictly shops and taverns, while others contained services, such as bathhouses, blacksmiths, barbers, and coopers.
She searched down alleys and watched the rooftops for the top of Ghost’s telltale mop of curly brown hair. It was rare for her to see even that much of the child, but over the turns, she’d gotten better at spotting her.
Nine turns earlier, she’d been the one to find Ghost minutes after her whore of a drug-addled mother had birthed her literally in the middle of a sewage gutter. Terrowyn had taken the babe to a wetnurse, but when the mother had regained consciousness, she’d hunted down and reclaimed the baby, knowing she could sell it to the slavers for a decent price when the child turned three. Terrowyn had kept tabs on the girl, though, taking her to the wetnurse whenever she could discover where the whore had stashed her.
She’d intended to take the babe away before her third birthday, but the woman had snuck the child to the docks three weeks early, intending to sell her there. It wasn’t until the whore accused Terrowyn of stealing her child that she realized the toddler had escaped to the underground sewers where the city’s population of orphaned skellies and nints made their home.
It had taken the better part of a turn to find her again, and it had been Terrowyn who’d named her Ghost because that’s exactly what the child had become. Small, undernourished, and feral, it had been impossible to keep track of where she slept during the day and hid out at night. Every time Terrowyn saw her, though, she whistled three rising notes, training Ghost to hear the sound and know the Blade was nearby.
Terrowyn walked into Master Oline’s bakery and waited while the baker served a pidge two loaves of dark rye bread. The nob who was with her stood next to the door watching the baker take her money. Terrowyn assumed the pidge was his wife, although it was difficult to tell since the woman appeared to be in her mid-twenties and the nob closer to forty. Father and daughter, maybe? She couldn’t tell and didn’t care one way or the other.
As soon as the two left, Master Oline opened his arms wide. “Guardian Terrowyn, a beautiful night to be out, eh?” He reached beneath the counter and pulled out a tray. “I saved you two biscuits, one for you and one for your little skelli.”
Terrowyn pulled a copper royin from her belt pouch and laid it on the counter. “Thanks.” It wasn’t like he didn’t save her two biscuits every night, but he always made a big deal out of the fact, so she tried to be polite. “Closing soon?” She asked the question, even though she knew he’d be closing right after she made her purchase, just like he did every night she worked.
“Right now, in fact.” He beamed at Terrowyn and then escorted her to the door. “Have a safe and uneventful evening, Guardian.”
Smiling slightly at the man’s exuberance, Terrowyn stepped into the alley and listened while the baker slid the lock in place behind her. She walked several blocks to the beginning of the Codpiece, the lowest, dirtiest district in all of Sarlogne. As she did most nights, she found a barrel to lay one of the biscuits on and then moved off a short distance to wait. She’d discovered early on that she had to stay close enough to chase away the other starving skellies and nints until she could entice Ghost to make her appearance.
She whistled Ghost’s special whistle and settled in to wait. She’d been feeding the little skelli this way ever since she’d realized one bitterly cold night that Ghost was slowly starving to death like ninety percent of the nints and skellies who lived in the Codpiece. It had only been in the last turn, though, that she’d discovered Ghost had no real vocabulary since she never spoke to anyone, not even to the other sewer rats.
Realizing she was the only one who cared enough to teach her, Terrowyn had begun to stay close enough to the biscuit that she could take it back as soon as Ghost appeared. Ghost had to listen to Terrowyn talk, and Terrowyn had begun to make her speak for her food.
Hearing the light thump that meant Ghost had jumped from the roof of the building behind her, Terrowyn picked up the biscuit and slowly turned around. For whatever reason, Ghost had her own belief system as far as right and wrong. As far as Terrowyn had ever seen or heard, she’d never stolen from anyone the way the rest of the skellies and nints did. As a result, her skin was pulled tight across her bones, and people often joked that Terrowyn should have named her Skeleton instead of Ghost. “Well, hello. Hungry?”
When Ghost nodded, Terrowyn put her hand to her ear and raised her brows. “What’s that?” Terrowyn loved the child’s indomitable spirit. Ghost never felt sorry for herself and had even developed her own sense of humor.
A glint of amusement sparked in Ghost’s eyes, and she whispered, “Aye.”
“What would ya like?”
Ghost pointed to the biscuit in Terrowyn’s hand.
Again, Terrowyn put her hand to her ear.
“That.”
Holding up the biscuit, Terrowyn asked, “What is this?”
“Bread.”
“Use all your words.”
Sentences had been difficult to teach and even more difficult for Ghost to learn. She looked at Terrowyn’s black, knee-high boots and then back at the biscuit. “I’d like…bread, please.”
Terrowyn broke off a piece and held it out. “Come here and take it, then.”
This was something new, and a scowl stole across Ghost’s features. She nervously looked around, like a wild animal checking its surroundings for a trap or a hungry predator.
“Ghost, have I ever hurt ya?”
Ghost focused on Terrowyn again and shook her head.
“Then come get th’ bread. I have some questions fer ya, and I don’t trust ya not to snatch th’ bread and go.”
Taking a step forward, Ghost looked up and checked all the surrounding rooftops and then visually searched the alley behind where they were standing. After several hesitant steps, she was close enough to stretch out her hand and grab the proffered piece of bread. Once she had it, she immediately stuffed it into her mouth.
When she’d swallowed, Terrowyn broke off another piece. “I heard from a babbler that a skelli got pricked.”
Ghost nodded. When Terrowyn put her finger behind her ear, Ghost said, “Aye.”
Terrowyn held out the bread, and Ghost took it. “Can ya take me to her?”
Ghost’s brows descended in what Terrowyn had come to realize meant she needed to take time to understand what the words meant. After a moment, Ghost nodded, “Aye.” Her gaze flicked to what was left of the biscuit.
Holding it up so Ghost could see it, she spoke with slow, easy words. “Ya can have this, but ya can’t run from me when ya take it. I’ll chase ya and catch ya if ya do. And what happens when I catch ya?”
That glint of amusement shone in Ghost’s eyes again. She playfully cuffed the side of her head, indicating the punishment that always awaited her whenever she did something to anger her friend.
“So, ya won’t run, aye?”
“Aye.”
The biscuit disappeared into Ghost’s mouth as soon as she snatched it from Terrowyn’s hand. Then she turned, ran, and jumped, hitting one alley wall with her feet and propelling herself up to the facing wall, where she grabbed a brick and then a gutter and pulled herself over the edge of the roof.
“Ghost!” When Ghost’s head popped over the roof’s edge, Terrowyn pointed to the ground. “I don’t climb like a monkey. Get down here, and we walk.”
Without a thought, Ghost launched herself over the side and landed with the grace of a cat jumping from the top of a high bookcase. She took off to where the alley opened onto the back street, and the two jogged several blocks before Terrowyn realized there were headed to the forest on the edge of the city. She pulled Ghost to a stop and knelt in front of her. “I guess I should have asked whether th’ skelli was still alive.”
Some turns earlier, the city guard had come to the Priestess asking whether the Temple Blades were taking the dead skellies and nints from the trash heaps scattered around the city. The Emperor’s edict about burning the people who died in the Codpiece was very specific, and the penalty for city guards who disobeyed the law was harsh.
Knowing her people weren’t taking the bodies, Sábria had assigned her Blades to investigate. When a nint was found dead in the sewer, Terrowyn had taken the body to the trash heap and had lain in wait to see what transpired. What she’d discovered had astounded her. Ghost had come and dragged the nint’s body across the city before the sun rose, when no one was about. She’d taken it out into the forest, dug a grave with a curved stone, and buried the body.
After Ghost left, Terrowyn had found at least twenty other graves in the immediate vicinity. When Terrowyn reported to the Arch Priestess what she’d discovered, Sábria had spoken to the Emperor, who’d agreed that maybe throwing the little bodies onto the trash heap to burn was a bit harsh, even for the city’s skellies and nints. They decided to let Ghost continue burying the little ones who died as long as she buried them deep enough, so the animals didn’t dig them up again.
Ghost shook her head and pointed to the forest.
“She’s dead?” When Ghost nodded, Terrowyn sighed and stood. She patted Ghost on the head and smiled sadly. “I don’t need to see her, then. I’m sorry fer her, though. Do ya know who pricked her?”
Ghost’s eyes became hard, “Poxy noble.”
That was that, then. Terrowyn wouldn’t bring Ghost into a battle with the nobility because accusing a noble of rape would be a death sentence for a skelli. “I’ll see ya tomorrow night, okay?”
Grinning broadly, Ghost nodded quickly. She was just about to run when Terrowyn stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Hey.” She retrieved the second biscuit from her pocket but pulled it back when Ghost reached for it. “Don’t eat it too fast. Ya know what too much food does to ya, aye?”
One time, Terrowyn had mistakenly given Ghost a part of a meat pasty. She’d, of course, eaten it and had immediately thrown up. Later, one of the Temple healers explained that if Ghost’s normal diet consisted of biscuits and the occasional apple slice, then meat or almost any other type of food would have disastrous consequences for Ghost’s digestive system.
When Ghost nodded, Terrowyn handed over the biscuit and watched the little skelli disappear back into the Codpiece. She’d find her again at the end of shift and give her some slices of apple. The healer said she could also start her on unseasoned riceballs, and Terrowyn planned to buy some the following week. Since it was nearing time to head to the East River District, Terrowyn settled her sword more comfortably on her hip and set out to meet her people for their night of river dog patrol.
At the end of her shift, Terrowyn reported to Geller that a noble had raped the skelli, and she’d died from her injuries. Geller asked, “Do ya ken which noble, and do ya have proof?”
“No to both questions.”
“Write it up in yer reports then. Poor little bugger.” Geller had spent part of her childhood on the streets and knew exactly what the skellies and nints had to go through to survive.
