Silverlight (16 page)

I nibbled on the last rib then bent over and
gave it to a scrawny street cat that had been pestering me with affectionate
rubs. I crouched and ran gentle fingers over the yellow tabby’s ears and cheeks
while I finished my perusal with a critical eye.

The cat wanted nothing to do with me once it
had the bone. Snatching it from the ground, it gave me a baleful look and
darted away. I wiped my hands on my pants and headed for the business end of
the street.

I took my time looking over the jewelry, leather
goods, and a display of colorful linen pants and vests for both men and women. I
leisurely moved to talk to the parrots and other domesticated birds sold by
another vendor.

Ah. Weapons.

I ran my fingers over the gleaming blade of a
throwing knife. I hadn’t practiced that particular skill with Magnus, but my
mind’s eye saw me lift it by the point, aim, and sink it deep into an enemy’s
heart.

I frowned, lingering over the knife. If I
bought it, Jarl’s pouch would be empty, meaning I’d go home without a chicken,
which would make him unhappy.

And if I didn’t buy it?

Promise pressed against my back like the sure
hand of a friend. I shrugged my shoulders a bit, testing the straps that held
my sword in place. I didn’t need a throwing knife. Taking a deep, steadying
breath, I let my gaze wander over the rest of the knives on display, though I
didn’t really see them. No, I had shifted my peripheral focus out into the
street.

Someone was following me. I was sure of it now.
The person had stayed twenty-five paces behind me ever since I turned off the
narrow street that led to Jarl’s office. Man or woman? I couldn’t tell. A black
cloak covered the person from shoulder to knee; a wide hood hid the person’s
face.

I left the knives and circled into the weaver’s
tent, moving behind his loom to watch him work.

My pursuer tried to hang back and appear
inconspicuous, but the cloak was made of fine silk. The sun caught it and threw
sparks with every tilt of his or her head.

The person turned away then, trying to convince
me that he or she was interested in a new saddle. Good. I allowed my gaze to
trail down the back of the cloak, to what little I could see of the breeches,
to the worn and dusty black boots adorned with tarnished silver buckles.

Male. The person who followed me was a man,
based on the type of boot and the width of his foot.

He was not large or tall enough to be Magnus.
Too small to be Tariq or Garai. I couldn’t let my guard down though. Perhaps
Garai had sent another agent to see to my capture.

I dropped a coin on the weaver’s loom and moved
to the livestock crates, my heart thumping fast and hard. Was I losing my mind?
Or was I truly being followed? I had to be sure.

I crossed to the other side of the street and
walked leisurely down the row of tables. Colorful fruits and vegetables, fresh
fish and other seafood, loose jewels big enough to choke a dog. I inspected
everything and engaged in half-hearted negotiations with several of the
sellers.

Slowly, slowly, the man hunting me followed.
Close enough to keep me in his sights, far enough away to make me question my
sanity.

I looked around as I walked, seeking good
ground, some place I could claim an advantage if I had to fight. It was nearly
mid-day and the market was shoulder to shoulder with people. Confronting this
man away from the crowd was vital. I didn’t want innocent blood on my hands.

I shrugged. My sword was still strapped across
my back.

Solid. Reassuring. A Promise.

Would she live up to her name if I had to pull her?

I
headed back into the center of town, my gut churning.
Thankfully, my T’hath training kicked in.

If a fight was imminent – and I thought it was
– I had to buy time.
I had to use that time wisely, to think. I couldn’t
surprise my opponent, as he was already aware of me, but what could I do to
gain the upper hand and keep it?

 Only a few knew I could pull a sword with my
previously ruined right hand now. That meant offense if possible, but if I had
to defend, I needed to go fast and hard. Deprive the enemy of the opportunity
to plan his next move.

There were too many families near the food
vendors, but I thought I’d seen an empty alleyway just beyond. Was it wide
enough to swing a sword? I wasn’t sure, and I couldn’t take a chance. Too
close, and the man’s greater strength would put me at a disadvantage. My skill
with a weapon evened the odds, but choosing good ground was imperative. I had
to be able to fully extend my arms and keep this man, whoever he was, at the
tip of my sword.

I passed the alley in question and rejected it
immediately. Too dark. Too narrow.

The street leading away from Jarl’s office had
been nearly empty. It was wide enough for three carts to pass side by side. And
it wouldn’t hurt to be within shouting distance of an ally.

Would it put Jarl in danger? The person
following me probably already knew I’d spent the night there and was due to
return in the evening.

Was I overreacting? Maybe the fact that he
maintained twenty-five paces between us was coincidence. Perhaps the man
thought me attractive and just wanted to talk.

The warrior in my head put an end to it.
Then
why didn’t he lower his hood and approach you? There are men flirting with
women all over this market. They do it by smiling and making eye contact. This
one covers his head and hides from you.

Well then. I picked up the pace and turned onto
the street that led back to Jarl’s place. A dozen men – moneychangers, I
thought – blocked my way. Shoving my way through the crowd, I sent them scattering.
“Sorry. Excuse me,” I mumbled.

They made rude comments, but I’d accomplished
my objective: a bit of a roadblock for my pursuer and a buffer between us.

I turned left and glanced over my shoulder.
Nothing. I sprinted ahead, skidded to a stop, turned, and planted my feet. I
had just enough time to drop my hood when the man rounded the corner.

I opened and closed my fists, stretching the
scars of my right hand. The cloak draped over my shoulders kept Promise
concealed, though I was itching to draw her. I would save that little surprise.
He didn’t need to know I carried a weapon just yet.

We faced each other. I got an appraising tilt
of the head as an acknowledgement. He was dressed entirely in black – cloak,
breeches, boots and gloves – and looked a bit disheveled and dusty, as though
he’d traveled a great distance and didn’t have time to pull himself together.  

“Why are you following me?” I widened my
stance. “What do you want?”

I thought I heard him chuckle. He lifted both
hands to his chest, pulling at the fingertips of the leather glove on his left
hand with his right, working slowly and deftly, finally sliding the glove off.
He awkwardly repeated the process for his right hand then placed the gloves
into the right-side pocket of his cloak.

Right-handed then. Good to know.

He stood silent and still, his face hidden by
the cloak. A familiar trick – attempting to ramp up my fear by taking his time.
Knowing this actually calmed me.

“I grow old waiting for you to speak.” I fixed
my gaze on the dark void of his hood. “You’re wasting my time.”

Another chuckle. “So rude.” He took a step and
threw the hood back. “It’s nice to see you again, Kymber.”

My vision blurred, my ears rang. The world
ground to a halt around me.

Tariq Tyrix.

Calm down. Deep breaths. You aren’t shocked.
Some small part of me
had known. 

He was thinner than I remembered. Smaller, in a
way. Perhaps shrunken was a better word. He’d never really resembled Magnus,
but now his face was lined and drawn, his eyes dull. Had what he’d done to me
haunted him all these years? Or had Garai threatened to kill him unless he
found and brought me back?

“I wish I could say the same, you hateful
bastard,” I said.

Tariq took another step. “Imagine my surprise
to hear you’re in Adamar. So close to my clueless brother, yet so far away.”

I narrowed my eyes. So he knew where I was, but
not that Magnus and I had reconnected. I was tempted to blurt out the truth but
held it. Silence was often more potent than steel.

Tariq waved a hand at me. “Did you know Magnus
lives seaside a short distance from here?”

I blinked, tried to look astonished, and stayed
quiet.

His lips turned down in a mocking pout. “Oh my.
So sad. The one man who could’ve saved you and you missed him by inches. Of
course, that makes my job much easier.”

 He took two steps. I moved back an equal
number, flexing my hand.
Soon. Soon.

“How’s your hand? Still worthless?”

“You almost sound like you care, Tariq.”

“I
do
care.” He extended a hand to me.
“Come, now. I’ll take you back where you belong. Garai misses you.”

“How sweet. Did he find someone else to abuse
in my absence, or do I occupy a special place in his heart?”

“Actually, I understand that you occupy a
special place in his heart.” The macabre smile left Tariq’s face, replaced by
something far darker. “There’s no need to make a scene in the market. You can’t
escape me.”

“No, I probably can’t.” I continued to flex my right
hand. “Perhaps I’ll fight you instead.”

He laughed. “Really, Kymber, that’s very funny,
but I don’t have all day.” He slipped the cloak from his shoulders and let it
drop to the ground, then unsheathed a short sword. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Relief swept over me. A short sword! If that were
the only weapon he carried, I might have a chance. 

“Your turn to be funny.” I smiled. “You don’t
dare hurt me, not if you plan on taking me back to Garai. He’ll expect his
favorite pet to be undamaged. How much is he paying you this time, traitor? Or
is the price of failure your life?”

Tariq’s face went blank just before he launched
himself at me.

Turning my focus inward, I mentally prepared
for battle. My pulse thundered in my ears. My breathing became even and deep as
I threw my own cloak to the ground.

I stared into Tariq’s eyes as he came for me. This
was the moment I’d prepared for. All the tears, all the sharp words between us,
all the times I’d stormed away from Magnus in frustration came back to me in a
rush.

Somehow, Magnus knew this day was coming. He
loved me. He didn’t want to lose me again. He couldn’t always be with me, so
he’d pushed me to the boundaries of my endurance and my sanity.

Yes, his tactics were questionable, but Magnus believed
in me. The outcome of this battle would be very different than the one that
separated us in the first place.

Inhale. Exhale.
I began the motion
that would end Tariq Tyrix. Right hand over my left shoulder, around the grip.
Pull!

Promise slid from the sheath with an angry
hiss, eager to kill the man who’d betrayed me.

Tariq’s face paled as he skidded to a stop.
“What? Your hand…”

“Surprised?” I couldn’t help smiling.

I gripped my weapon with both hands and swung
as hard as I could in a tight arc, catching the edge of his blade with mine.
Shock vibrated down my arm and rattled my teeth, but I hung on. 

His sword flew out of his hand and spiraled
through the air, landing just a few feet from him. He stared at it, his
breathing ragged.

The wildness inside me shifted and clawed.
“Pick it up.”

Tariq moved to retrieve his sword, though his
eyes never left my face.

“How does it feel to be caught unawares,
Tariq?” I asked.

“You didn’t catch me unawares.”

“Liar, and not even a very good one. I’ll give
you the chance you didn’t give me ten years ago. Pick up your damned sword.”

Eyes wide, Tariq straightened. “I have a short
sword, Kymber. This will hardly be a fair fight.”

“You’re under the mistaken impression that I care
about this fight being fair.”

“Your sense of justice–”

“Is still intact, despite everything I’ve
endured, but I owe you nothing. Are you or are you not a graduate of the T’hath
Academy of Blade and Bow?”

“You know I am.”

“Then you know you’re required to fight with
whatever you have at hand. It’s not my fault you chose to carry a short sword
this day.”

“Kymber, please. Can’t we talk about this?”
Tariq’s voice rose in a mewling whine.

Seething anger lodged in my chest. I could not,
would not, fight with my emotions, but . . .  “Now you want to talk? I begged
for mercy ten years ago. As I recall, you laughed. I’m prepared to offer you
the same kindness. Now pick up the damned sword, or I’ll slay you right where
you stand.”

He gave me a sly grin. “Kill an unarmed man?
Will your precious warrior’s code allow you to do that to me?”

“You’re about to find out. Pick it up by the
count of three or die. One . . . two . . .”

We stared at each other. His left eye twitched
a half heartbeat before he dove for his sword.

“Three!” I was right behind him.

He took up his blade and swung at me with a
snarl on his lips. I ducked under his arm, spun, and aimed for the back of his
right knee. I only wanted to cut one of the tendons there.

For now.

Blood flew as I hit my mark. He stumbled and
collapsed to his knees, gasping. “I’ll let you go. I’ll swear I never saw you
here. I’ll tell Garai that…that you’re nowhere to be found.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you, but it’s too
late,” I said cheerfully. “I think you misjudge the nature of this fight,
Tariq.” I pointed at my chest. “Cat.” I pointed at him. “Mouse.” I gripped
Promise with both hands and angled it over my shoulder. “Get up.”

Blood pooled in the dirt on both sides of his
injured knee. I’d gone deeper than I’d intended. Good. I hoped it hurt.

He rose slowly, his face ashen, and firmed up
the grip on his sword. I gritted my teeth and went after him again. No quarter,
no mercy, no second chances. I was done playing games.

I spun and cut, grunting as I placed small
slices all over Tariq’s body. Forearm. Bicep. Abs. Promise lived up to her
name, doing everything I asked her to do with deadly efficiency. I was whirling
death, vengeance made flesh, just as I’d always pictured it.

A small crowd had gathered behind me, blocking
one end of the street. “Go about your business,” I shouted as I stalked Tariq.
“This fight is between the two of us.”

A tall man with a long, dark beard stepped forward.
“Street scum assassins. We don’t like your kind here. Take your fight somewhere
else.”

Tariq looked around me to address the man.
“Sir, I’d be happy to break this up and be on my way.”

We couldn’t take our fight elsewhere. My
element of surprise was gone. He knew I could fight and fight well now. He’d be
back for me with enough men to ensure success, even if he had to attack
Seacrest and his own brother to do it. 

Thankfully, Jarl Aldi and Jorge pushed through
the crowd, standing on either side of the bearded man. Jorge’s eyes narrowed
when he saw Tariq. When he pointed at me, I could see his fingers and part of
his hand were swathed in a thick layer of white bandages. “He hurtin’ you,
little lady?” the blacksmith growled.

“No, Jorge. He’s not.” I shifted my gaze to
Jarl. Bless him, he had the most incredulous look on his face. “This ends here,
Jarl. Today. Will you take care of this for me?”

Jarl turned to the crowd and lifted his hands.
“The man you see before you did this woman a grievous wrong many years ago. He
kidnapped her and sold her to a slaver. Is there anyone among you who would
deny her justice today?”

The crowd hissed and booed.

“Looks like they’re on my side, Tariq.” I
blocked out the noise so I could focus. “Shall we continue?”

His faced hardened; his eyes grew dark. Ah, the
moment of realization
.
He had to kill me if he wanted to live. If he
killed me to save himself, his life would be forfeit to Garai anyway.

“Quite a dilemma for you.” I planted my feet
and smiled. “I’ll expect no less than your best before you die.”

“Such arrogance.” His upper lip curled in a
sneer. “I was sure Garai would humble you, but I guess not.”

It shook me a little. The aim hadn’t been to
humble me. Garai wanted to destroy me, unmake me, piece by agonizing piece.
There were days I thought he had. Other times, I felt my spirit burning
brightly inside me, though my body was broken and bleeding.