Sword Sisters (11 page)

“What’s this village’s name?” I asked.

“Cartwangle.”

I giggled then cut it off when I saw she was serious.

She sighed. “I know. Sounds like something a boy would call his manhood, doesn’t it?”

“You should be dead,” a woman muttered as she passed us on the street.

Without looking, Amelia said, “Yeah, well, you should be pretty.” We both giggled again.

People gave us a wide berth as we reached the center of the village. Women drew water from the large community well while a bunch of teenage boys hung out at the door of what I assumed was a tavern. I searched their faces for kind, brown eyes. I found none. We kept walking.

This was my first glimpse of the place. I’d been unconscious when Amelia brought me to her family’s home. It wasn’t that different from the little human settlements all around the castle, not even in the way they stared at us as we passed. I was used to that. Amelia, clearly, was not.

“You’d think these people had never seen girls before,” she muttered, echoing her father.

“Probably not too many that came back from the dead,” I said, inconspicuously searching the crowd for an elderly hunting dog or some other sign of him.

“Well, there’s that.”

I noticed a small altar beneath a little shelter across from the well. It was a public shrine to Lurida Lumo. The interesting thing was, he wasn’t depicted as the spider we knew him to be. Instead, the image represented him as a glowing human form with his right hand raised in either salute, friendship, or on its way to a firm parental slap.

A crowd hovered near this shrine, mostly older people crying or muttering among themselves. It was the first time I really thought about what killing their god meant to these people. Reapers believed in a single, all-powerful god, but s/he was a pretty distant figure who started the universe and then essentially stepped back to see what would happen. It certainly wasn’t a deity we could implore on our behalf. Its wishes came to us from the Teller Witch, and since she was presumed dead, we’d had no updates from the celestial realm in quite a while. If the prophecies were true, that Teller Witches received their first prophecies at puberty. Then in my case, the Creator was late. Maybe s/he was on vacation.

The women at the shrine saw us, pointed, and whispered. Some made little hand gestures. One kissed her fingertips and touched the face of Lurida Lumo on the shrine.

“Don’t make eye contact,” Amelia seethed. “Just keep walking.”

They fell silent as we passed, and I expected them to throw rocks or vegetables at us. But they did nothing.

“Well,” Amelia said as we stopped, “this is Cartwangle. Every last bit of it.”

“It’s nice,” I said.

“No, it’s not. There’s not a person here who wouldn’t like to see me as spider food right now.” She looked down and scuffed her toe in the dirt. “Will you come with me to see Connell?”

What if Connell was actually Aaron? I could have misremembered his name. What if they were the same boy? I looked at Amelia, lovely, with her human-colored brunette tresses and blue eyes. Of course. A boy like Aaron would want a girl like Amelia, not me. “Wouldn’t you rather do it alone?”

“I’d rather not do it at all. But I’d like you there.”

I didn’t really want to be along for this particular scene, but I could think of no graceful way to bow out without hurting her feelings. Was this what guarding a human king would be like? Following them around while they did things I had no desire to witness? Or worse.

Before I could answer, Amelia grabbed my arm. “Uh-oh.”

A man strode toward us. And I mean strode, the same way Andre or Adonis did when they were in high dudgeon. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had a narrow beard that outlined his chin. People naturally got out of his path. His long, black hair bounced importantly. And he was different from the other villagers in one very significant way: He was the only one I saw who wore a sword.

Amelia looked around as if for a way out, but we were trapped in the middle of the courtyard. With nowhere to run, I turned and faced him, my expression carefully neutral.

He stopped in front of us. He kept his gaze on me as he said, “Amelia, who’s your friend?” His eyes were so dark they were almost black. I was fascinated.

“Aella,” I said, keeping my gaze steady. 

“I’m Damato.” He didn’t offer to shake hands.

“I’ve heard your name.”

“I understand you’re a Reaper.”

“That’s right.” This guy got right to the point. I liked that.

“Can you prove that?”

“Not without a Demon to slay.”

“You could show me your spines.”

“You could buy me dinner before you ask me to undress.” I could have shown him my Reaper clan tattoo, which would identify me as the daughter of the leader of the Reapers, but if he didn’t think to ask for that, he wouldn’t understand it anyway.

He smiled. He was younger than I first thought, handsome in a leathery sort of way, and had sense enough to leave room to draw his weapon between us. But this wasn’t a make-friends conversation. He was feeling me out as a threat. He said, “I don’t undress children, and you look like a child to me.”

“I can’t help that.”

“I don’t like children who misbehave. They grow into adults who cause real trouble.”

“The list of things I don’t like gets longer every day. You learn to live with it.” I stared right at him. I think he took my point.

I was entirely ready, hands loose and feet spread to stay on balance. If he went for his sword, I’d rip out his throat before he cleared his scabbard. If he went for me, he’d draw back bloody stumps. Or at least, that’s what I told myself. He was a human, so I easily outmatched him in brute strength. But he also had the unmistakable demeanor of someone who was handy in a fight, wouldn’t panic, and perhaps knew about Reapers and wasn’t afraid of them. He’d have to make the first move.

“I’ll be watching you, little girl. You won’t wipe your ass while you’re here without me knowing it. And if you cause any more trouble, you’ll find I’m a handful myself. In the meantime, I’ve sent my messenger to Raggenborg, and I’ll find out if you’re telling me the truth. And if they didn’t send a Reaper…”

With his unfinished threat hanging in the air, he turned and walked away. Well, he strode. I wondered if he ever sauntered. Or skipped. I decided I didn’t like him. Very crude.

“Holy shit,” Amelia said when he was out of sight. “My heart’s thundering.”

“Who was that?”

“Damato was a bandit that we hired to be…I guess our protector. From the other bandits. He takes his job very seriously.”

“That’s what we’re supposed to do. The Reapers, I mean. Protect you.”

“You’re the first Reaper we’ve seen since the war, Aella. Your people either forgot about us or never came looking to see who was out here. Well…until now.”

She had me there. I’d have to press Adonis on this when I got back. Why weren’t we out here looking for these isolated communities and offering them protection? If nothing else, it would give all those idle Reapers something to do. It would give me something to do. I looked after Damato. “Is he any good?”

“We’ve only been raided once since we hired him. He stuck them on wooden spikes outside of town as a warning.”

“He impaled them?” I said with a gasp. “Alive?”

“They say. I was a little girl at the time.”

Reapers hold human life in high regard. It has always baffled us that humans don’t share that value. There were fewer more painful, drawn-out ways to die than having your own weight drive a wooden shaft through your body. If Damato organized that, he wasn’t kidding. I still wasn’t worried about taking him in a fair fight, but as Andre pointed out over and over, real fights were seldom fair.

And if he sent word to Raggenborg, my little vacation would soon be over. Adonis would send Keefe if I was lucky—Andraste if I wasn’t—to fetch me back. I’d be in big trouble when I returned too. But I couldn’t abandon Amelia yet. I needed to make sure her people wouldn’t also impale her for having the nerve not to die.

But first, I had to meet her boyfriend.

We reached a house on the other side of town a little bigger than Amelia’s but constructed along similar lines. All the houses were built from the same materials and had the same sort of look to them.

She knocked firmly on the door. A moment later, a woman opened it. She was about Sela’s age, blonde, with the same air of tired domesticity. She said flatly, “Hello, Amelia.”

“Malmo,” Amelia said. “This is my friend, Aella.”

“Ma’am,” I said with a slight curtsey. Twice in one day. And I thought I’d never use those etiquette lessons.

“Is Connell around? I’d like to speak to him.”

Malmo looked at us both. I was usually pretty good at reading human expressions, but this woman kept everything off her face. At last, she said, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Amelia.”

Amelia’s voice shook. “I really need to see him, Malmo.”

“I understand that, but I have to think about my family. What you and your friend did…”

“Is it better to feed people to a big spider than to kill it and let people live?” I said. This provincialism was starting to get on my nerves.

“I don’t think you understand,” the woman said, sad and patient. “What if you’re wrong? What if Lurida Lumo takes his vengeance on us for your actions?”

“Bugs don’t seek vengeance.”

She shook her head wearily. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I can’t let you see him. It was doomed from the start anyway, honey. He’s…well…he’s wrong for you.”

Amelia’s lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “Please, Malmo. I love him.”

I was embarrassed for her sake and turned away. I spotted Damato leaning casually against a post in apparent conversation with a blacksmith preparing to shoe a horse. He glanced up at me, nodded, then looked away. He knew I knew he was watching.

“Amelia, you’ve never understood Connell. He’s…well…he doesn’t like…” She gave up and shook her head. “He’s out back with his flowers, Amelia. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

We went around the side of the house. Two little kids, much like Horva and Hatho, hung out a window and stared at us. I guess there wasn’t much else to do here except breed. I smiled at them, which made them duck back inside.

The back of this house was an overgrown garden of flower beds and bushes, and digging in it was a very handsome teenage boy. My heart jumped when I thought for a moment this might be Aaron. By the spleen-venting gods of Dowdry, was I the third side of a triangle with him and my new friend? But no, he was too young. Aaron would be older, more mature, and I had a hard time picturing him working in a garden. He’d been a hunter after all.

And when this boy looked up, I immediately knew Amelia was overlooking the most obvious thing in the world.

“Amelia!” he cried as he jumped to his feet. He wiped dirt on his hands, came over to us, and kissed her on both cheeks. Not the way a boyfriend would. Connell was one of those boys whose affection for girls was entirely sisterly.

And Amelia didn’t know.

She tried to kiss him back on the lips, but he turned away at the last second, a move he’d clearly used many times before. He was certainly a good-looking boy with big eyes, high cheekbones, and an unruly mop of hair that just begged a girl’s fingers to attempt to straighten it. I wondered if even
he
understood why he didn’t like girls.

“I’m so happy to see you!” he nearly sung. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard they’d taken you in Kelinda’s place. And then when they said you were back…well, I was delighted. You look no worse for the ordeal.” He fluffed at her dress, and she reached for his hand.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she agreed, clasping his hand in both of hers. “Connell, this is Aella, my friend. She saved my life.”

“Amelia did her part too,” I said. Connell abandoned Amelia’s hand for mine and kissed it the way Keefe did sometimes.

“Why didn’t you come see me, Connell?” Amelia asked, getting right to the point. “Last night or this morning?”

“What? Well, gosh, Amelia. I just heard that you were back. I haven’t had a chance.”

“You’ve had a chance to weed your garden.”

He looked at her as if she were a petulant child. “Now, Amelia, don’t get all huffy. I was planning to come see you later today. And look! Don’t the zelanos look beautiful? They just bloomed today, almost as if they were welcoming you.” He pretend-batted his eyes at her. “So don’t be mad, okay?” His voice was the most unique I’d ever heard. It was both deep and sing-songy. And it cracked in the most interesting places.

“Do you love me, Connell?”

She certainly got right to the point. I liked that about her. But before Connell could answer, I heard a loud, snickering laugh from behind us.

Three other boys, two about Amelia’s age and one younger, stood at the corner of the house. I did a quick evaluation, but none of them were Aaron either, which was good because I disliked them immediately.

“Look,” the tallest one said, “three girly girls in the flower garden.” The other two laughed.