Thread Slivers (Golden Threads Trilogy), page 10
The man in black looked momentarily amazed and then moved rapidly towards Lebuin. His voice was husky but chilling. “Damn it!” was all Lebuin heard as he saw him pull a knife with the other hand and threw it into his chest.
The pain from the knife snapped something in Lebuin. Looking at the approaching assassin he released all the energies that were burning in him and connected a ley line in the air to the attack formula he had prepared before leaving the Guild, targeting the assassin. You can join me. As he started to collapse, golden energies leaped from his hands, arcing to the assassin. Some energy jumped to the rod in the assassin’s hand; as the darkness came, Lebuin smiled that his last sight was of his killer exploding in flames. Screams echoed down into the dark as he fell. Faintly he heard Ditani screaming his name, then nothing at all.
Chapter 5
Knives are out
ENJOYING THE SWEET AND SALTY flavor of the sweetmeat, Ticca strolled through the marketplace. Comparing the morning’s purchases against her list of needed items, she smiled. Her new pouch had two separate compartments with identical sets of items. The exception was one had practically nothing of value, while the other held the real items. She was particularly pleased with the set of journals she’d found. It would take a little work to transfer her notes but it would be worth it. The sun was warm, and all her main objectives for the day were dealt with. She considered the future. I should go back to the Blue Dolphin and put my dagger out. But I think I can afford to take a short break. After all, I have been working for years to get here. I think I deserve a break. Ignoring most of the barkers vying for her attention, she thought maybe she should get a few extra supplies now that she had a safe place to store them. Always a good idea to be prepared for having to leave on short notice.
Her eyes were slightly dazzled by a flash of bright light and her ears started ringing from a sound not unlike a near thunderclap. Something hit her hard from behind, and her skin prickled at the contact even through her leathers. That feels like the magic Sula made me use. She was pushed forward with considerable force and her feet automatically shuffled, keeping her balanced. Her heart started racing as the memory of the previous evening’s sneak attack made a pit in her stomach. She dropped her pack as she executed an about face into a battle-ready crouch, with knives in a defensive position.
Dagger in one hand and a knife in the other, she took in what had hit her. Instead of the expected opponent she was looking at the back of skinny, medium-height man. He was himself just finishing turning around, looking away from her. His cloak was smoking slightly from whatever had happened to his back. Must have been blown into me, but by who or what?
Lowering herself slightly and stepping an inch to the right, remaining ready for a fight, she was able to see past the man who had run into her. Fifteen feet away and closing was a Knife, or at least someone who really wanted to make that impression. Except this Knife was using an ebony rod, which he pointed threateningly at the other man. Looking at the singed cloak in front of her again, she thought, This guy must be a wizard, to have withstood a surprise magical attack. That feeling when he touched me must have been his shielding. My Lady! This is an assassination attempt against a wizard in the middle of the market. Who would dare try this?
Nearby people began to react to the events, most bolting away screaming. The few remaining that were watching the events like a busker act changed their minds and ran too when lightning leaped from the rod, striking the wizard. The wizard was pushed further back and Ticca deftly stepped backwards with the motion to keep a workable distance between them. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and her heart started racing from being in the line of fire. This is not a good place to be. Looking around, she saw there was no cover other than tents. Those tents aren’t going to stop a missed shot. Maybe staying behind this wizard isn’t such a bad spot; he’s holding up to the abuse pretty well. The Knife was also impressed, and actually looked mad. More than you bargained for, I bet. Now for the execution everyone always says happens when wizards are crossed.
The wizard slowly, almost arrogantly, lifted his hands. The Knife’s eyes showed a touch of fear. The Knife tried to move, shouting, “Damn it!” In a last desperate effort he threw his knife at the wizard. But he wasn’t fast enough. Nice try, but I doubt anyone can move fast enough. Throwing stuff at wizards just makes them madder.
As expected, an over-the-top reaction came, in the form of a blaze of orange and red lights from the wizard’s hands. The wizard’s right hand had targeted the center of the Knife’s chest, and his left the rod. In an amazing burst of blue fire the rod exploded as the Knife was engulfed, screaming, in red flames. The exploding rod blew the right hand and forearm away, leaving a stump of an arm. Small bits of meat and blood rained on the stall fronts. Ticca’s stomach threatened to eject the recent meal and she had to swallow hard to stifle the sick feeling the slapping meat sounds gave her. She wanted to stop watching but the scene was too amazing. She held her mouth tightly closed, resisting the gagging sensations as the Knife fell to his knees screaming before melting into a charred pile roughly resembling a man.
My Lady, I hope I never have to fight a wizard! This is unbelievable, and it happened before my very eyes. She was totally unprepared, staring at the charred pile, when the wizard fell backwards, the thrown knife protruding from his chest with blood running out of the wound over his clothing to the ground. The wizard’s arms and chest were also badly blackened and smoking. Is he dead too?
“Lebuin! Lord, no! Lebuin!” An older man ran to the wizard, kneeling and picking up the wizard’s head. Shouting, “Guards! Anyone, help! Please Lord, we cannot let him die!” the man looked around pleadingly at the empty area, his eyes falling on her. Eyes filled with tears, he looked at the dagger in her hand then at her. She hadn’t moved, and was still in a fighting posture. “Dagger? Are you a Dagger?!”
Straightening up, she sheathed her knives automatically. Stepping up to the fallen wizard, she answered, “Yes.”
“Are you under coin? Name your price, he can pay, please help!”
Looking around, she saw there was no one else even remotely close. People milled at the edge of the scene, many others were beginning to gather to find the source of the commotion. Temple Street is not far. She looked at the wizard again. Lady, is he thin; I bet my saddle gear weighs more than him. Looking at the older man again, she realized he was about to grab the knife sticking out of the wizards chest. Ticca snapped her hand around his wrist, pulling it away from the knife. “Don’t be a fool. If you pull that now there is no chance he’ll live. I accept the terms.” Pointing at her pack, she added, “You bring that and don’t fall too far behind.”
Squatting down, she carefully lifted the wizard into her arms. She stood and measured his weight; he was almost as light as he looked. I can do this. For his life I have to do this. Lady, lend me some strength. She ran full speed for Temple Street, screaming oaths at anyone in her way, effectively clearing a path and giving her precious oxygen.
Exiting the market directly onto Temple Street, she continued screaming, drawing as much attention as she could. Most people turned and watched, and anyone in her way quickly stepped aside. The wizard felt like he was getting heavier. OK, he weighs more than my gear, but not by much. Sweat was running freely down her face and back and her breathing became harder. Her muscles complained making her very glad the Temple of Dalpha was the second temple on the street and that the hospice entrance was on the market side. Taking the wide steps two at a time she screamed for help as she barreled into the main room. Two acolytes jumped at the sound and pointed at an empty cot and rushed to meet her there.
Laying the wizard on the cot, she stepped aside and leaned against the wall, breathing hard. One of the acolytes ran out, while the other began examining the wizard, careful of the protruding knife. Ticca watched and decided it might be good to let them know what he was. Trying to keep her breath under control, she managed to get out, “He’s a wizard; he was attacked, in the market.”
The acolyte nodded and looked at the doorway the other acolyte had gone through. A tall man in rich robes hurriedly entered with the other acolyte. The acolyte went back to caring for others while the tall man came directly to the wizard’s bed. Ticca listened as the two men spoke in the unfathomable medical jargon these types favored. Good Lady, how many possible treatments can there be, the man is bleeding to death. Looking at him, she noted that the blood didn’t smear or soak into his clothes but instead pooled or ran off it, staining the bed. The older man who’d hired her finally came running into the room with her pack. She waved and he came over, trying to breathe himself.
After what felt like a full mark but was only a minute at most of talking and prodding, the old man shook his head sadly and looked at her. “I am sorry, lady, there is little we can do. This is too grave a wound. I doubt if he’ll even wake up.”
The old man next to her snapped straight. “Surely you can heal him. This isn’t a simple hospice. Please, you must save him,” he pleaded.
The healer laid a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I am sorry; this wound is beyond our abilities. I will do all I can, but I doubt it will be enough.”
The old man snapped. He pushed the healer’s hand from his shoulder and bolted through the inner doorway, yelling, “Lady, save us! Lady, save us...”
The healer motioned for the acolyte, who was looking at him for guidance, to follow. The acolyte ran after the old man, calling out for him to stop. Turning back to Ticca, he shook his head. “Are you alright M’lady?”
She nodded, “I’m just the hired help to get him here to save him. What if he woke up? I have heard wizards can mend themselves?”
“Alas, very few can do so, and also I seriously doubt he’ll ever wake again.”
If he doesn’t wake then I probably won’t get paid. Not that it was really that big of a deal. She mulled over staying or not as the tall healer turned his attention back to the wizard.
Ticca watched curiously as he retrieved a basket filled with bandages and surgical tools. He then carefully cut open the wizards clothing around the knife before laying out a number of bottles on a small table brought by an acolyte. Taking a long, thin, hollow reed that had a bulb on one end, he squeezed the bulb, inserting the end of the reed into one of the smaller bottles. He then carefully inserted the tip into the wound next to the knife and squeezed. The wound began to bubble pink-white liquid mixed with blood. The healer then took a longer, flexible reed and pushed it carefully down the wizard’s throat; quickly, the healer used another bulb to push fluid through the reed. The wizard coughed a little as the healer carefully pulled the reed back out.
Waiting for the coughing to stop, he checked the wizard and frowned deeper. The wound had stopped bubbling out the pink foam. Looking concerned, he took yet another small vial and moved to a position where he could pull the knife out and pour the contents of the vial on the wound at the same time. Just as he grabbed the knife a cry came from the doorway, “Healer Antis, STOP!”
Looking annoyed for a moment he turned, and seeing who had addressed him, he went a little white. The healer straightened and bowed his head, “Your will, Great Lady. I am doing all I can to save this man.”
Curious, Ticca leaned around him to see the newcomer better. It was a noble lady, followed by several other acolytes. She was Ticca’s height, with a round, pale face and long, thick, slightly curly black hair. She was in a long, forest-green robe, decorated with flowers and fruit hanging from the borders. She also wore a dark green mantle, drawn from behind, over her shoulders and up from behind her waist knotted in an X on her chest. Her arms were bare and muscular. On her forehead was a slim silver tiara with a fine oak tree for the center piece. Balanced in her hand sat an oversized, delicate-looking egg of gold, silver and gems. The egg was not solid; in fact she could easily see through it as it was a complex of gold and silver threads. As she strode up to the bed Ticca noticed that the device was actually an intricate sculpture with small leaves and vines. What was wondrous was that the device held a glowing yellow sphere of light that felt oddly warm and comforting, like lying out in the sun on a warm day.
The healer openly stared at the device. “Great Lady, you would gift this mage with Dalpha’s Light?”
The Lady smiled. “This man is a direct servant of Lord Argos.” Looking back at the doorway, she added, “I was told of his need, asked to assist, and personally deem this a righteous act of charity.”
Ticca glanced at the doorway and straightened up at the hint of a green skirt, cream-colored blouse and auburn hair slipping quickly back through it. Was that Sula?
Stepping out from behind the Great Lady, the older man who had cried for help looked worriedly at the wizard. Taking note of the gesture, the Great Lady turned her attention to the wizard as well. “Yes, well, you have done an admirable job so far. Let us finish this together; I need assistance.” The five acolytes with her moved to positions around the bed. She moved to stand next to the wizard on his right, leaving the healer where he was. Everyone but the healer knelt; Ticca, deciding it was best to not look out of place, also knelt.
The older man stepped up. “May I assist?”
The Great Lady smiled. “Any servant of Lord Argos is welcome. Kneel at his head, hold it steady and offer up any prayer you may have.” The old man took his position as instructed.
Then the Lady held the glowing egg over the center of the wizard’s chest and began to vocalize, a pure beautiful melody of sounds. All the acolytes present knelt and joined in. The glowing light grew brighter and brighter until Ticca had to look down. The warmth of the light was wonderful to feel, and Ticca felt uplifted and joyful at the sounds of the chant, the warmth of the light, and even the light’s intensity.
When the light became too much to bear she closed her eyes and felt a presence growing closer.
- - -
The sun was full in her face, its warmth comfortably baking her. Sighing, she knew she should finish the work, but it was so nice. From a short distance away the children were playing with a fox, their laughs like delicate silver bells ringing joyfully through the glen. Sitting up, she opened her eyes. Before her, the boots had not miraculously finished themselves. The low table was organized with her leather tools and materials. I really should finish those boots for him. Then of course I’ll have to get him to wear them. Laughing at the absurd look she knew she’d get for suggesting he discard his favorite boots, she picked up the almost completed journal.
Marks flowed by as she wove the materials together into another fine journal. She enjoyed the comfortable feeling the energies of her people and the world gave her as she worked. The energies bound the woven paper, leather and resin glues into a single whole object. She smiled as she carved the intricate looping knot patterns into the covers. Finally, she held the completed journal up and inspected it in the late afternoon sun. A beautiful work; it will make an excellent gift for our guest.
Taking the journal with her, she left the unfinished boots for another day and moved through the forest village to the gathering place. Laughter, music, and talk could be heard long before getting to the feast. The tables were set out in the open with large fires at each end. The smell of roasting vegetables and meats made her mouth water. Naturally the Shar family had brought significant amounts of sharre to the feast, and it was being enjoyed by all. At the high table sat most of the family elders.
She took a place at the makers’ table and enjoyed the evening’s entertainments. Dancers, acrobats, and bards flowed throughout the evening as easily as the sharre and platters of food. As the feast went on she kept looking for her love but she could not find him, nor was he with the servers. He must be here someplace, how could he miss this? Then she noticed one of the masked acrobats dressed in flowing saffron silks and her heart told her it had to be him. She clapped and yelled support as his troupe performed amazing feats with ropes, knives and balancing. At the climax she laughed as he showed off performing the difficult knife dance of the firebirds with his silk costume streaming in intricate patterns. She even gasped with everyone else when he ended it with a mighty show of knives and torches spinning so fast that the mirrored edges flashed like the stars in a wind storm of fire and silk. He ended it by throwing all six knives high in the air and letting them come down blade first around him as he bowed. The knives passed his head and arms close enough to flutter the silk sleeves and his long hair. He remained looking down until the last knife had passed, embedding itself at the end of the neat row of hilts at his feet. She blushed when he winked at her as he exited.
As the evening wore on it came time to present her gift. She stood and made her way to the high table. Giving appropriate nods to the heads of the families, she stepped up in front of the great mage. He looked to be about middle-aged, for a human, though she knew that he had been coming to their forest for more years than most humans could hope to live. He looked at her and laughed his deep, full-bodied laugh. “My word! Can this be Kliasa, who bounced on my knee and wouldn’t let me stop?”
She blushed and bowed appropriately. “Great Lord Magus Vestul of Argos, you do me honor to remember me. I have made this for your honor and for my family’s thanks to you for helping end the war and save our forests.” Placing the journal on the table, she bowed again.
