The Broken Eye (115 page)

And as she raised her arms, glorying in the light, she heard the sound of something huge giving way and an enormous stone crenellation plunged right in front of her.

With the sound of a whip unfurling, a line attached to that great stone spooled out. The other end strained over a pulley at the top of the Prism’s Tower, and this stone plunged down, and down. It hit the ground and plunged through it as if the ground been designed to let it through, and it fell into the great underground yard, under vast tension. At the same time, the steel cable unspooled out, away from the tower. It sprang free of the water between Big Jasper and Little Jasper; it tore right out of the top of the walls ringing Big Jasper’s east side and then stood, straining, tight, making a straight line from the top of the Chromeria almost to the docks.

‘Would I give you a stone?’ Karris burst out laughing. And then, as she turned—everyone was watching the great cable—she saw a flash of green at the corner of her eye. What? She looked at the horizon, but she knew—she knew—that the green flash only came at sunset. And then it hit her again. She looked toward Big Jasper.

The star towers were spinning their mirrors, lighting up the crowds, festive, playful. One had caught the green tower and reflected it briefly to Karris.

Karris laughed. She shook her head at Orholam—and then watched, stunned, as a young man went flying down the cable from the top of the tower. She thought she recognized him, but he was moving too fast. Cruxer?

She went back to the stones. Her choice mattered. She knew now. Orholam had not led her to a place where her choice was pointless. She looked at each in turn, and again, felt drawn to one and repelled by the other. But she didn’t touch either. Instead, she knelt by the pedestal on which one of them sat. She couldn’t see anything there. She scratched a fingernail across it—and the tiniest shell of solid orange luxin cracked and dissolved.

And just like that, her feeling of desire to pick up this ball was gone. A hex. Magic forbidden with the sentence of death by Orholam’s Glare. But then, interfering with the choice of the White carried the same sentence, so there wasn’t much added deterrent there.

Andross—if it were Andross—had found an immensely talented orange drafter trained in forbidden arts, and had somehow defeated whatever security the luxiats had, and whatever checks were in place to make sure hexes were never placed here.

But that was a problem for another day.

Karris walked to the other ball, scratched her fingernail across the hex there, and waggled a finger toward the window beyond which Andross Guile sat. Naughty, naughty. She picked up the ball.

Some sixth sense warned her—maybe the step of a running man beneath the sound of the wind and the musket fire still ringing out from the roof. Karris pivoted and dodged as Jason Jorvis closed on her. She was only saved because he went for the ball in her hand rather than simply trying to shove her off the tower.

She spun with him, using his momentum against him to send him on toward the edge, but he snagged her weak left arm and pulled her with him.

She broke his grip with a strong move that turned his wrist; he lost his grip but grabbed again, snaring the belt rope of her robe.

He stumbled, one foot flying out over the edge, dropping his own white ball as he twisted back toward safety. The green in Karris hated to be bound. With one hand she whipped her belt rope from its two simple anchors at either side of her waist, while with the other she played out enough rope that Jason was tipping over the edge, totally dependent on the rope for balance.

She heard more steps. The backup plan to the backup plan. Of course. Everyone inside could see this, but there were no rules. Whoever came back with the correct ball was the White, and there would be no prosecution for murder.

A fist went right through where Karris’s head had been a moment before. Another punch—but this one she blocked with the white stone itself. As Akensis stood frozen with the pain in his shattered fist, Karris tossed the stone into the air. With her hand now free, she looped the rope into an open knot, and flipped it over Akensis’s hand as he watched the flying stone. Feeling the rope drape over his hand, he jerked away from her, pulling the knot tight.

Karris dove, dropping the rope, and rolled to her feet. She caught the stone.

Akensis hadn’t taken up the slack immediately, and so Jason Jorvis fell parallel to the platform they were on. But he kept his feet planted on the edge. It was an uncommonly smart move. Most people, falling, will panic and flail. Keeping his body tight, he gave himself a chance.

Akensis pulled against the rope to save himself, screaming as the knot tightened on his wrist. He grabbed the rope with both hands, and stood balanced precariously.

For a moment, Karris thought about bringing them in. They were big men, though, heavy and strong. She was still forbidden to draft; it was the only rule. If she pulled them up, they would work together to kill her. With her left side injured, there was no way she could bring them both in. Would the others intervene? And if so, on whose side? How many would die to save these two traitors?

There is a time for Orholam’s gentle gaze, and a time for his glare.

With a yell that was both dirge for her old life and rage that men would betray Orholam himself and swelling pride that she knew all of her pain and training and even her waywardness was being redeemed, Karris delivered the slippery side kick that was the pinnacle of Blackguard perfection. With such a kick, a small woman moving masterfully could launch a man into the air. And she did.

Both men flew off the platform, and plunged to their deaths.

Everyone, silent, stared at Karris.

The windows opened and the disk slid back into its place inside. Karris dropped her stone into the clear bowl and didn’t even watch the solvents do their work to reveal the stone’s color beneath. She knew.

Karris turned and addressed a stunned audience of Colors and the promachos and the highest nobles in what remained of the Seven Satrapies.

“We’re at war,” the new White said. “We’re going to start acting like it.”

Chapter 96

By the time Kip and Teia hit the ground, they saw that the squad was safe—and they’d been joined by none other than Tremblefist.

Kip had never felt more glad to see anyone.

“Which dock?” Tremblefist asked.

“Red, berth five.”

“Good news and bad,” Tremblefist said. “There’s probably two hundred Lightguards between here and there. They’ve got a big house they use as a barracks. And they’ve signaled with mirrors that they want you dead. And everyone on both islands knows exactly where you landed.”

“How do they know that?” Ferkudi asked.

“The big steel cable pointing right to us?” Leo said.

“Oh. Right.”

“You know their codes?” Ben-hadad asked.

“Please tell me that’s all the bad news,” Cruxer said.

“It is.”

“And the good?”

“I don’t like Lightguards.” And then Tremblefist grinned, and somehow, Kip thought they were going to be all right.

“Tremblefist, sir,” Cruxer said. “Before we go: we’re not Blackguards anymore. We’ve been kicked out, exiled.”

Tremblefist looked at him. “Let’s move,” he said.

And move they did. Kip would have died after about two blocks of this pace six months ago, much less a year ago. Ben-hadad couldn’t run with his knee busted up, so Kip and Big Leo—who was injured himself—carried him. And ran.

They ate distance in huge gulps, trading off who was helping carry Ben-hadad. They were aided by the fact that most people were already thronging to the main streets, so the side streets were free of the usual early morning traffic. But then they came across a knot of four running Lightguards.

The squad tore them apart before the Lightguards got off a single shot.

Then they were at the wall. Two blocks of running along the jagged edifice and they came to a small gate, barely big enough for one person to get through. The streets were laid out according to the light beams from the star towers, but the walls were laid out to conform to the shape of Big Jasper. It made for some odd nooks and crannies.

“Throw fire in the air,” Tremblefist said. “Make noise. We want to draw them here.”

Kip donned his red spectacles and threw luxin skyward and lit it. The others threw other colors into the air, too.

On any normal day, it would have drawn a thousand spectators in moments, but today was no normal day. On Sun Day, drafters who specialized in such things came here from all over the Seven Satrapies. Most of those, however, were lining the parade route, hitting up the crowds for thrown coins.

Tremblefist produced a key and opened the little gate. “Breaker, put slow-burning pyrejelly on the lock. Make it look like we burned through.”

Kip did it.

While he was doing so, Tremblefist said, “Narrow path out there, along the cliff face. Used to go down to the water, but the path fell into the sea long ago. It’s a dead end. Any who go that way won’t be on us.”

Then, instead of going through the gate, they sprinted once more along the wall. In another few blocks, they found another gate. Tremblefist produced another key. They ducked through, and he locked it behind them.

After a few hundred paces, this path dead-ended, too, and Tremblefist took them through a gate to get back onto the streets. In only a few minutes, they reached the docks and finally had to slow. The area was crowded with people arriving late for Sun Day and hundreds of merchants offloading and selling every kind of good imaginable—it would quiet at noon, but not until then. More importantly, it looked like no Lightguards were here.

Before they got to the red dock, they saw a luxiat standing, shifting from foot to foot, and Tisis Malargos, beautifully made up and looking like she had been waiting.

“You made it!” she said. “Was that you?” She pointed to sky cable, and Kip just grinned.

But he felt Teia shrinking back.

Tisis looked at Teia, and then at Kip; she didn’t look pleased. “So,” Tisis said. “Are we going to do this?”

“What do we need to do?” Kip asked.

“Sign three copies of the contract and say the words in front of the luxiat. That’s it. He knows he needs to boil it down to the essentials.”

“Give me the contract,” Ben-hadad said. “One of the copies. Quick!”

“You’re not seriously going to read it?” she asked. “Now?”

“Well, no, I’m not. But only because I’m shit at reading. Big Leo, read it to me. Over here.”

“It’s a typical Ruthgari wedding contract,” the luxiat said. But he handed over a copy, and Leo began reading it aloud to Ben-hadad.

“Do we really have time for this?” Winsen asked. He and the others were eyeing the crowd, trying not to look threatening and conspicuous and failing.

“What’s the saying,” Cruxer asked. “‘Marry in haste, repent at leisure’?”

“Hmm,” Teia said.

“Surely this doesn’t count as haste,” Tremblefist said. It was hard to tell whether he was being sarcastic or droll.

“Look, this is my deal,” Kip said.

“Deal?” Big Leo asked, breaking off from his low, murmured reading. “Was part of that deal Andross trying to kill us all?”

It was Aram, Kip thought. Aram had to be working against what Andross wanted. I think. But he said, “My deal isn’t with Andross.” Which was a lie, but Tisis was standing right here. “My deal’s with the only people who can protect me from him: Tisis and the Malargos family.”

“Leo, keep reading!” Ben-hadad said.

“Kip,” Teia said. “Breaker.”

“Oh, shit,” Tremblefist said.

“What?” Kip and Cruxer said at the same time, Kip to Teia and Cruxer to Tremblefist.

“You’re really going to do this?” Teia said.

“
This
this, or this, getting the hell off the island?” Kip asked.

“Either. Both.”

“It’s the signal,” Tremblefist said to Cruxer. “The Lightguards have control of the cannon emplacement at the mouth of the harbor. If we try to sail out of here, they’re to sink us.”

“Yes, I am,” Kip told Teia.

There was a moment of hurt, and she smoothed it down, but it didn’t disappear. “I’m staying,” she said. “I’ll help you get away, but I’m staying.”

“Is this because of—” Kip gestured to the cable they’d come down together.

“What do we do?” Cruxer asked.

“What are the parameters of your mission?” Tremblefist asked Cruxer.

Cruxer looked surprised that Tremblefist was giving him command. “Save Breaker,” he said quickly. “Nothing else matters.”

“No, it’s not about that,” Teia said. “You heard … Her. She didn’t release me.” She meant the White. She didn’t want to say it, not even in front of the squad. It was that kind of secret. “I have a mission. A purpose that’s bigger than what I want, and a task that only I can do.”

“What? What task?” Ben-hadad asked, interrupting.

They both stared at him.

“Sorry. By the way, contract’s fine. Bit archaic, ‘enemy of your enemy’ and the like, but … Sorry!”

“Teia, you don’t have to do this,” Kip said.

“No,” she said. “I don’t have to. But I choose to.” She tugged out the necklace she always wore, a little vial of olive oil. She’d always avoided questions about it. Now she broke the string, dropped the vial, and crushed it under her heel.

“Breaker,” Tremblefist barked.

“Sir,” Kip said, turning away from luxiats and women and—fuck! Did everything always have to happen at once? “Yes, sir?”

Tremblefist locked his gaze. “Thank you.” His mouth twitched a grin. The family resemblance to Ironfist was never more clear. But Tremblefist seemed free, his spirit open and joyful.

“Thank you? For what?” Kip asked.

Tremblefist said, “I’ll clear those cannons. Your ship will be safe. Go in light, Breaker.”

“Quickly, people!” Cruxer said. “I see Lightguards. Lots of them. Thirty seconds. Maybe.”

Kip turned back toward the luxiat, who’d gone pale. Someone put a pen in Kip’s fingers and presented the contracts, braced on a board. Kip signed, signed, signed.

“We have everything?” Tisis asked.

“Yes,” the luxiat said. “Hands.”