darkened blade_ A fallen blade novel - Kelly McCullough Page 0,24

think that would be a good idea. It’s lightning’s smoky mirror, and much much riskier than it looks—Kayla Darkvelyn taught me the trick I built it on top of, but without the Smoldering Flame to buffer . . .” Then she trailed off, looking abashed. “But, all that’s beside the point. I’m sorry. I should have called out sooner. I didn’t see that risen until it was actually dropping toward you.”

“Don’t fault yourself too much,” said Kelos. “None of us saw it . . . saw any of them. They were in place long before we got here and they didn’t move at all until they attacked. It’s amazing how still something can hold when it doesn’t have to breathe. What makes me truly curious is that none of the street players seemed to know they were there either, and I’m not sure how they managed—”

A muffled yammering from the dropped carpet interrupted him then, and we all turned to look at it.

“Better check on him,” said Siri. “The rug caught it pretty nasty when Kelos and Faran’s lightning met my darkburst and vaporized the risen that was on your back. That’s a weird combination of elements, and no telling what it might have done to our guest.”

But, when we unrolled the carpet, we found the Hand not only unharmed but actually looking out at the world with real awareness for the first time since we’d started dragging him around. His Storm rose into the air above him and began flitting about like a kitten after its first mouse, which seemed another good sign.

He sat up and looked me in the eyes. “You’re the Blade, aren’t you? Aral? The one the Signet was talking to before . . .” He shook his head. “We were attacked, weren’t we? All of us.”

I nodded. “Yes, by the risen.”

He paled visibly. “The Signet?”

“Is dead.” Kelos spoke then, his voice flat, but almost gentle.

“Then, I’ve failed. We all did. Utterly.” He hid his face in his hands for a moment. But then, with a visible effort he lifted his eyes to mine. “The Son of Heaven sent them?”

“He did.”

“I will kill him myself.”

“Excellent sentiment that.” Kelos bent to offer the man his hand. “But we probably ought to hold off on the rest of this conversation until we get somewhere a bit less public. We should also see about making that whole less public thing happen sooner rather than later.”

I looked around as Kelos helped the man to his feet. The street had emptied as soon as the trouble started—it was that kind of neighborhood, where concerned citizens ran from rather than to—but there would be watchers at the windows and probably listeners in the alleys. And, even here, the guard would be along soon, given the circumstances. The risen were the sort of problem that drew official attention in force and with speed.

“You’re probably right.” The Hand smiled a crooked sort of smile. “It’s odd, really, to be the disruption of proper order rather than responding to it.” As we started moving, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I should have said before, but my brain seems scrambled, my name is Chomarr.”

Aveni, then, though of the older, darker, families, since his skin was nearly as brown as mine. “I’m Aral.”

“The Kingslayer, yes.” He nodded. “No introductions needed, though it feels very strange to be talking to you instead of trying to kill you.” Before I could answer that, he continued. “I recognize the Deathwalker from his time at Heaven’s Reach.” He jerked his chin toward Siri. “And she can only be the Mythkiller.”

“Faran,” said Faran, before he could do much more than turn his eyes her way. “No other name.”

His expression went distant for a long beat. “Faran, the spy?”

She blinked surprisedly. “I’ve played the eavesman a time or three, yes, though I didn’t think that was widely known.”

“Not widely, certainly, but I worked security for the office of the Signet. We kept files on every top player on the shadowside. A child spy who can breeze her way in and out of the most secure buildings in the eleven kingdoms draws our attention.”

“No one ever saw me.” Faran sounded defensive when she said it, but her face suggested that she felt some pride at having the sort of reputation that drew the attention of the Hand.

“No, they never did.” He shook his head. “We didn’t have a picture or even a description beyond young and female, and the name Faran was more