Previous Chapter
“Did you train both the Conde and his cousin, Maestro Fiore?” Adalai weighed a long, triangular bladed rapier in one hand, the question almost an afterthought.
“I did,” the swordsmaster replied. “Both were fine students, at least for men who never went to war, but not particularly remarkable in the grand scheme of things.”
That matched what Captain Bellini told him. Adalai took a few experimental lunges with the blade, diving into the weapon with his Gift. A sense of singleminded purpose washed over him. Adalai let the Purpose of the sword drive him through a series of moves, thrusting, disengaging, parrying and slashing as he fought an imaginary enemy. His empty off hand twitched on occasion.
Fiore tutted and shook his head. “You’re quite gifted, signore,” the swordsmaster said, tugging on his graying beard in a thoughtful manner. “Even with one of my manuals you could not learn the movements so well. If I didn’t know better I’d say I trained you myself. However I still don’t believe this weapon could have been used by Signore Teodoro to kill the Conde.”
“It was found stabbed into his chest, Maestro,” the Captain pointed out from his place on the side of the practice yard.
“Oh, I believe you, Captain,” Fiore hastened to say. “It is not a question of the weapon but rather the wielder.”
“Signore Teodoro stood to inherit the Conde’s title if he died,” Adalai pointed out. “That’s certainly enough motive for murder, don’t you think?”
“Motive,” the swordsmaster agreed. “But not capability. As you yourself may have noticed, the method I teach is a mixed form suited to both cut and thrust. However the sword used to kill the Conde was forged exclusively for the thrust. It has no edge to speak of. Without an edge on his blade Signore Teodoro could not have made full use of his training and thus he could not have beaten his cousin in a duel, perhaps not even with the advantage of surprise. The two of them were very evenly matched.”
“But you just said that it looked like I had learned the method from you directly,” Adalai said. “I have never studied your methods, Maestro. Not from you and not from any of the Maestroes you have approved to teach in your name. I only gained an understanding of it from this blade, as is my Gift.”
Fiore’s eyebrows bobbed up in surprise, practically disappearing under the brim of his cap. “That is odd, I admit. There is no reason for one of my students to use a triangular blade.”
“Unless the goal is to look like the killer was something other than one of your students,” Captain Bellini said. “Then it is an admirable choice.”
“Perhaps.” Fiore drew his own sword and gestured for Adalai to meet him. As their blades crossed he began explaining. “The problem is that this is not just any sword, it is the weapon used to kill the Conde de Vermillion. The Conde was found with his own sword in hand was he not?”
“He was,” Adalai confirmed. The slow winding and binding of blades triggered faint impressions from the murder weapon. He allowed them to guide his arm through a series of beats, disengages and feints. To his surprise he found the movements rather difficult.
“Thus he must have crossed blades with his killer,” Fiore said, effortlessly manipulating the other man’s weapon. “As you can see, the nature of a triangular blade puts me at an advantage. The edges and surfaces are easier to manipulate in the bind, a skill which my methodology places a strong emphasis on.”
“You could beat any swordsmaster who fought you using such a weapon?” Bellini asked.
“If they dueled me using my own method. There are other methods that make better uses of such a blade that would be difficult for even one such as I to deal with. But that is not a skill the Conde or his cousin have studied.” To emphasize his point Fiore twisted his blade into a looping flourish that wrenched Adalai’s blade around out of his hand.
Just before the blade left his hand a powerful urge drove Adalai to lunge forward into Fiore’s space, his off hand darting forward to slam into the swordsmaster’s side, just under the ribs. Exactly where the Conde had been stabbed.
For a moment the tableau held. Then the two combatants broke apart, Fiore rubbing absently at his side. “That was interesting,” Bellini said. “What does it mean?”
The swordsmaster studied Adalai with new interest. “As I already said, the Conde and his cousin were quite evenly matched. They even had the same weakness. They tended to overexpose their flanks during certain movements, one of which is the binding flourish I just used. It is a good moment to exploit if you have a dagger.”
“How was it you were caught by this move, Maestro?” The Captain asked.
“Signoire Carpathea was not using a dagger so I was not expecting such an attack.”
“But the Conde was not killed using a dagger,” Adalai said.
“No, but a steady hand could drive the heavier blade into the dagger wound after the deed was done to disguise how the killing blow was struck.” Bellini heaved a sigh and crossed to Adalai, taking the sword from him. “We have enough, I think. It is a matter of succession to the Conde’s seat so it will have to go before the Prince’s pactmaker in the weeks. We will raise the issue then.”
Adalai sighed and shook his arms out. It was always a bit unsettling to dive so deep into an object he could mimic the skills of its original owner. Fiore watched him warily. “How many methods of fighting do you think you could learn, Signore Carpathea?”
“No more than most people,” Adalai replied. “I can pull some skills from a well used weapon, sure, but I forget them quickly if I don’t put in the usual amount of practice and regular drilling to maintain them.”
The swordsmaster grunted. “A pity. You have a great deal of physical talent. If you could retain what you just demonstrated and expand your combat methods in the same way you could become fulminatos.”
One thing that had caused Adalai no end of grief in the last three years was the fact that the Gift he’d taken from the King of Dreams didn’t help him with languages at all. “I’m sorry, Maestro, what was that?”
He shot Adalai an apologetic look. “Forgive me, I forget you are not from here. It is a term we use for those uniquely gifted in the ways of war, particularly those who’s influence goes beyond their lifetimes.”
Adalai felt himself shrink back a little bit, the praise making him uncomfortable. “You flatter me, Maestro.”
“Perhaps. I would be willing to take you as a student if you wished to find out how much I am flattering you. I have lost one student recently and it seems I may lose another so there is a place for you if you want it.” He offered Adalai a polite bow, then gave a slightly more deferential one to the Captain. “I will take my leave, signores.”
“Your presence was of great help,” Bellini replied.
Once the swordsmaster was gone Adalai let himself slump a bit. Nerona’s martial personalities set his nerves jangling for reasons he hadn’t figured out yet. Perhaps it was a side effect of the Arminger’s Gift. More likely it was just because he’d never been around people so acclimated to violence in his previous life. Whatever it was it made him very tired.
Bellini slapped him on the back. “Ready to call it a day?”
“I told you, I’m leaving town for a few days, possibly forever. I’m not leaving until I’ve looked over everything you’ve got here.”
The Captain pulled a disapproving face. “You know, Fionni was able to arrest and punish criminals long before we had the services of a deep Arminger. If you are setting out on a dangerous journey perhaps you should spend the rest of your day making preparations.”
“I’m half bravo, Bellini, I’m always ready to travel.”
The Captain huffed out an exasperated sigh and set off towards the entrance to the nearby gatehouse. “That’s your problem, Adalai. Men who are only half of something are ill suited to the level of focus you put on things. You say you cannot learn a method of fighting unless you drill it. I’m telling you that you cannot be half bravo and half city guard for the same reason – no one has enough time to devote themselves to both.”
It was Adalai’s turn to look sour. “Perhaps not, but I just do what I can. The people of Fionni were good to me when I arrived with no clothes, no food and no understanding of the language.”
“Except for the ones who wanted to execute you,” Bellini muttered.
Adalai choose to ignore him. “I just want to pay it back.”
“If you feel you must.” The Captain led him in to the armory and began unlocking the arming chest where the Guard kept weapons of a suspicious nature, be they magical or criminal. He returned the Conde’s murder weapon to storage there.
Adalai peeked around his shoulder. In fairness to Bellini the kind of crime that he was useful in solving was pretty rare. It needed a murder weapon or some tool used in a theft left at the scene and that was pretty rare. So he was surprised to see a large, scale shaped shield and flanged mace had been added since the last time he had visited six days ago. “Captain…”
“Those aren’t criminal weapons,” Bellini said as he wound a chain around the sword hilt and locked it in place.
“Artifacts of unknown function?”
“They were seized from a Hexton who had entered the city through a canal, avoiding the gate tax. They’ll be returned if she can find a bondsman who will sign for her.”
That caught his attention. Adalai didn’t know much about Hessex, save for the fact that it was a nation somewhere far to the northwest. But it was quite unheard of for women of any nation around Nerona to travel alone. Even Neronan women didn’t do it. As far as he knew only the women of Thebes had a reputation for such endeavors and even then it was rare. “Is it certain her arms are not Artifacts?”
Bellini paused, one hand on the lid of the chest. “They haven’t been examined or appraised. Do you have a reason to believe they are?”
Adalai scrutinized the shield, which was carefully painted with a green valley and a trio of stone towers against a blue sky. “It just seems quite well made. She must be a woman of some importance yet she came here alone.”
“Not quite.” Bellini gestured to the shield. “That is the coat of arms of one of those Hexton traveling clans. She said bandits wiped out most of them a week ago. They were supposed to meet in Fionni if anything went wrong so here she is, hopefully not for long.”
Adalai brushed his fingers across the shield absently, not expecting much. The Hexton’s were not big fans of Artifice. However as soon as his fingers made contact with the steel he felt himself whisked away. He found himself standing under the dome at the Corners of Eternity for a brief moment. The Kings were absent but he felt the presence of Karoushi looming behind him with her dreadful certainty. Then Bellini snatched his hand away from the shield and he was back in the gatehouse.
“What happened?” The Captain demanded. “You just froze for a moment. I have never seen you react to anything like that before. What is it?”
For a brief moment Adalai stared at the shield in confusion. Was it a message of some kind? The Kings at the Corners were well known in Nerona but whatever Karoushi was no one on the twin peninsulas had heard of her. At least not by that name. It was the first time he had seen any indication of that particular supernatural force since he came to Nerona. “I’m not sure, Bellini, but I think it was an omen. How much does she owe for the gate tax?”
“Twenty lira.”
“Take it from my pay. I will stand as bondsman.”
“I did not take you for such a man!” The Captain practically snarled.
“What?”
“I know you are not Neronan, my friend, but certainly it is not looked on well when a strange man buys the freedom of a woman he is not related to in any nation?”
When Bellini put it that way Adalai realized it did make him look like some kind of slaver or pimp. “That’s not my intention! I just think she shouldn’t be locked away while she waits for her family.”
“She may be safer in the woman’s cells than alone in common lodgings.” Bellini chewed on his bottom lip. “You will speak to her and, if she agrees, then you may stand as bondsman. But otherwise she must remain here.”
It was a fair enough of a requirement and, to be perfectly honest, he wanted to meet this Hexton woman himself. If Karoushi was invested in her somehow perhaps he needed to be involved. At least if he wanted to go home. So the two of them trudged to the Meridian gatehouse, where the women’s cells were, and paid a visit to Marta Towers.
Like the handful of Hexton women Adalai had seen in Fionni she was fair haired and athletic. She wore a simple dress with a floral patterned cloth over her hair. Two braids hung down to below her waist. She studied Adalai with piercing blue eyes as Bellini introduced him. Once he was done she asked, in slow, accented but intelligible Neronan, “What would you have me do if you become my bondsman?”
“Do?” Adalai was a bit thrown off by the question. “How do you mean?”
“You intend for me to do something until you recoup your cost or my family comes and pays back the money, do you not? Will you keep me as your nightly servant?”
It made him uncomfortable how quickly everyone went to that kind of assumption. “No. I was shown great charity when I first came to Fionni and I wanted to show the same to others. I cannot even expect to keep you near me because I am leaving the city tomorrow and you must remain here to meet your family.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You are leaving soon? Where will you go?”
“I am joining an expedition that will make passage through a dangerous route called the Drownway to the city of Renicie.”
“Kismet,” she whispered. “Then I must go with you.”
Adalai blinked once, looked over at an equally baffled Bellini, then back to Marta. “What?”
Nate Chen Publications 