Fallen Blade 04 - Blade Reforged (17 page)

At the top of the ladder a narrow pass-through allowed us to slip into a gap between
the plaster ceiling and the stone cap of the tower above. From there, it was clear
that the little space I’d just climbed out of was concealed by a fireplace and chimney
using an overwide and hollow false façade. The shadow trail ran along a roof beam
and down into another narrow ladderway—this one masked by the shaft of a garderobe.
At the base, another sliding panel opened into the Lord Justicer’s dressing closet,
the door of which was well oiled with thalis.

From there, six short steps took me to his bedside where I slipped Maylien’s letter
under the sheets a few inches from his face. My initial impulse had been to lay it
on his pillow. But I didn’t want it easily visible should another Blade follow my
path into his bedroom this side of morning.

I wonder where he’s keeping Maylien’s papers.
I glanced around the room.

Fei said she didn’t know. Whether that’s because Scheroc never saw Vyan accessing
them, or because Scheroc is terrible about physical details, is an open question.
Do you want to look?

I was tempted, but I shook my head.
No, it would take
time we don’t have and there’s no guarantee the document is even in this room. Besides,
there are too many places we couldn’t check without making noise or otherwise running
the risk of waking Vyan.

So, what now?
Triss asked as I started back toward the secret panel.

I want to look around the rest of the palace a bit. With two other Blades running
around, chances are good that our passing will be detected. I’d like to get in as
much reconnaissance as we can now,
before
they become aware of our visit and change anything.

They had to have twigged to our shadow trail at the Council of Jade. Do you really
think they won’t already have taken measures?

That was six weeks ago and we haven’t made any incursions since. They might have let
their guard down a bit.
I slid the panel closed behind us.

Do you think this passage is why they put the Lord Justicer in these rooms?
Triss asked as I started up the hidden ladder.

Perhaps. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn that all of the important suites
have hidden access of some kind or another. There’ve been a lot of ambitious and powerful
high officers of the realm over the years the Pridu have ruled, yet they still hold
the throne.

Once we’d worked our way back out of the Lord Justicer’s apartments, I checked the
initial legs of the routes leading into the apartments of several of the king’s other
high officers. All of them looked to have been set up to allow Blade access, though
I didn’t detect any further traces of Devin or the unknown. Admittedly, several of
those suites of rooms were vacant after the Jade Council massacre, but that didn’t
seem to have had much effect on the security arrangements. It took several hours to
manage the task, and morning was fast approaching as we finished up.

Time to go?
asked Triss.

I hesitated for a long time. Leaving was the sensible
choice, but I felt like we hadn’t really accomplished anything. Oh, we’d delivered
Maylien’s letter right enough, but that was her goal, not mine. I’d originally wanted
to come to the palace to find out more about our unknown Blade, and I hadn’t really
learned anything at all. That rankled. So did knowing that Devin was here, but nothing
about what he might be up to. And, this really might be my only chance to catch them
unprepared.

I should say yes, but I still want to see if we can’t find out a little something
about what Devin and the unknown are up to. Let’s see how close we can get to the
royal tower.

Bad idea.

I know.

Half an hour later I was hanging from the underside of a balcony I hadn’t visited
since the night I killed the last king of Tien.
Now,
this
is spooky,
I sent to Triss.

I agree. Can we leave yet?

It had been very nearly as easy to get to the royal tower as it had been to get into
Vyan’s chambers. When I’d killed Ashvik, it had taken me weeks to get so far. All
of the old security was still in place, at least on the surface. Some of it had even
been upgraded, or made to look like it had. But just as they had with the arrangements
around the Lord Justicer’s apartments, someone had carved a Blade-shaped hole in Thauvik’s
protections.

Hang on, one last thing.
I poked my head up over the edge of the balcony to check out the ward there.

Where once that would have been possible only for a few seconds every six hours or
so, I felt no risk in doing it now. Several static guard posts had been converted
to active patrols, a measure that, done right, could have made what I wanted to do
all but impossible. Instead, it created regular large gaps in the coverage of the
balcony.

Really?
I said into the quiet of my mind where only Triss could hear me.
Really?

It would appear so.

The elaborate ward that I had worked so hard to defeat all those years ago had been
replaced by something both
much fancier and less effective. Better if you wanted to keep out thieves with no
magic, but all but useless to prevent a Blade’s approach.

I can’t believe Thauvik would choose to make himself so vulnerable to one of us,
I sent.

I don’t know,
replied Triss.
If he believes he controls a Blade or Blades and doesn’t want his Elite to know of
their comings and goings, wouldn’t he have to carve out a route for them to visit
unobserved?

Why would he want to hide anything from the Elite? They are completely loyal to the
Crown. Thauvik is all but a god to them.

True, but they hate us as they hate few others. Five rulers of Tien have fallen to
the servants of Namara over the last four hundred years. Every one of them represents
a failing of the Elite. We have cost them more in blood and prestige than any other
circumstance short of war. I can’t imagine they would take it at all well if Thauvik
told them to play nice with any of us.

Maybe…
I grimaced—it didn’t feel right.
But I’m not convinced.

What other answer is there? That Thauvik has surrendered control of his personal security
to a rogue Blade that answers to the Son of Heaven? You might just as well claim he’s
surrendered control of his kingdom. It’s much the same thing, and just as ridiculous.
The sun will be up in less than an hour. Can we go? Or do you really feel the need
to stick your hand deeper into the slink’s nest?

I thought about it. If arrangements within the tower continued as they had a decade
ago, the Elite were as thick as bees on a comb from here on in. And, I wouldn’t be
able to use my old route, not without leaving a giant sign saying that Aral Kingslayer
was here for any who could read the writing. On the other hand, the rest of the guards
and wards had been arranged to allow easy and swift passage for any Blade. Why should
that change as we got closer to Thauvik?

Just as far as the council room,
I sent.
I promise.

Triss sighed in my mind, but didn’t otherwise challenge my choice.

I quickly cast a pair of lesser blinds, one for silence and one for a light foot.
Each created a tiny flash of spell-light. I’d never have risked such a trick if security
had remained as tight as it once was. Then, up over the lip of the balcony, and across
to the door where I paused to listen for ten long heartbeats before slipping a shadow
tendril into the shiny new lock someone had installed. Feel out the tumblers, and
feed nima to the shadow so I could solidify it without losing too much of my shroud.
That created another bit of spell-light. Twist my shadow key…and step through into
darkness.

There, we’re in the council room,
Triss said into my mind.
Can we get out now?

Ten beats more, Triss. Twenty at the most.
I crossed to the far door, pulling a cornerbright from my trick bag as I went.

I listened briefly at the door, then lay my length on the floor, sliding the slender
instrument just far enough underneath to put the tip out the other side so that I
could see what was happening beyond. The cornerbright, essentially two tiny silver
mirrors connected by a tarnished strip of the same metal and a very weak sort of spell
that let one mirror show what the other reflected, provided a low-risk way to see
around corners. Though it did shine faintly with spell-light, the magic was minor
and chances were good that no one with magesight would notice it unless they happened
to look at exactly the right place at the right time. The silver mirrors were actually
a bigger risk, but sometimes you had to take a chance.

What the cornerbright showed now was an empty and dimly lit hallway. I angled it so
that I could see the wards on the doors—every door and window in this part of the
castle had some sort of spell of protection on it. In the case of the hall doors,
the wards had been designed to screech an alert for the patrolling Elite if the door
opened without a countersign. It would also sound if the patrols didn’t renew it with
a touch of magic every so often. From what I could see, the door wards had changed
since my last visit, too.
They would still register being opened, but the intervals at which they had to be
renewed by patrols, lest they sound an alarm, had been extended.

The last time I had come this way, I’d carved a pass-through in the base of the door,
and another on the one opposite. That had allowed me to slip across the hall without
alerting the guards, sneaking into the then-empty suite of one of the murdered princes.
I could have done it again now, given more time, but just as it had back then, doing
so would leave traces of my passing that couldn’t be concealed. I was still tempted.
Thauvik had no heirs of his body, so the other suite was unlikely to be—my thoughts
crashed to a halt as the suite’s door swung suddenly wide. I yanked back my cornerbright
and shifted position so I could flip to my feet in an instant if I needed to.

A moment later, I heard the door across the way snick shut ever so quietly. Too quietly,
in fact, and without any sound of footsteps. Whoever had come out of the door was
trained to stealth.

Triss, take a look.

I’ll have to unshroud you.

I know, just do it.

The shadow that surrounded me collapsed into a thin pool between my chest and the
floor. A heartbeat later, a dragon crept from beneath me and slipped his nose under
the door, only to jump back with a sharp mental hiss.

Fire and sun,
Triss yelped into my mind,
Kitsune!

What?
I knew many stories about the nine-tailed foxes. Who in Zhan didn’t? But it seemed
a strange thing for my familiar to get so worked up about unless…
Oh fuck.
The
Kitsune? Nuriko!

Yes. Now can we go?

I sure as hell hope so.

I was not ready to face that nine-tailed fox, not here surrounded by my enemies, maybe
not anywhere. Moving as quietly as I ever had, I pushed myself to my feet and carefully
backed toward the balcony exit, never letting my attention leave the hall door.

You’re sure?
I sent as we slipped onto the balcony.

No other Shade would take the shape of the nine-tailed fox. Not after what happened
the last time. And she carried only a single sword, half as long as she was tall.

I slipped over the rail and started down the wall.
But she’s supposed to be dead, a hundred and more years dead.

Apparently, no one told her that.

As I made my way out of the palace, I couldn’t help but remember all I had learned
about Nuriko Shadowfox, the greatest failure of my order, up until the day the temple
fell. Child of one of the seven Kanjurese Rimaru, or sword kings, she had been forced
to leave the islands at the age of eight when it became apparent that she possessed
the mage gift as well as the familiar gift. The latter, manifested alone, marked out
those who would go on to bond with the sentient swords that companioned the nobility
of the islands. Though the people of Kanjuri treasured both gifts in isolation, they
did not permit their own to become true mages. To be born with both gifts anywhere
in the islands was to be born outcast.

Though Nuriko’s father was one of the most powerful men in the Kanjurese Isles he
had not been able to save his daughter from banishment. It was said to have broken
the Rimaru’s heart and that he died within a year of sending her out into the world,
but the details had grown fuzzy with the passing of time and had acquired the veneer
of legend. For the Rimaru had been unwilling to have any child of his high blood fall
into obscurity. In hopes of preventing such dishonor, he had sent his daughter to
the temple of Namara on Lake Evinduin, there to become a Blade.

In the days when I was taken to serve Namara, no child over the age of five was ever
considered for the training, but that was not the rule when Nuriko arrived some three
hundred years before me. In fact, it was the advent of Nuriko and what followed that
caused that rule to be made along with several others. The child of one of the greatest
living masters of the greatsword, Nuriko arrived at the temple with skills no other
recruit had ever possessed.

Her first toy was a tiny sword, her first words came from the rituals of training
in jurida, the Kanjurese way of the sword. She was the dark star of her generation
at the temple, and the greatest assassin in the world on the day she received her
sword. Yes, sword. Alone of all the Blades, she was granted a special boon by the
goddess, a single blade designed to mimic as much as possible the greatswords of Kanjuri.