The Prophecy Con (Rogues of the Republic) (29 page)

He heard the keening shriek of a bird of prey, but when he looked over, what he saw coming his way was a great white bear.

He felt the smashing impact, then the crash of the wall on his back, and then the shuddering shaking roll of the floor beneath him. The bear was closing to strike again, but then Glass stepped in, and his silver dagger slashed out, leaving a thin line of blood across the bear’s paw.

The bear roared in pain and stumbled back as though burned. The air around it shifted, and suddenly it was a horse with a shimmering rainbow horn, collapsing to her knees by the stairs.

“Eat silver, bitch!” Glass shouted, and lunged in.

Then, just as suddenly, he jerked back, took two steps, and fell.

A crossbow bolt protruded from his visor.

“One-handed!” a woman yelled from downstairs.

Nystin lunged past the unicorn—past the serving girl and the Imperial and his own recruit—and down the stairs, to where a target had just fired and was hopefully unarmed. He didn’t look back to see if Rib was coming.

Loch’s alchemist woman stood in the smoke, her crossbow still raised, and as he came down the stairs, Nystin saw Grid rush in and come down hard with her mace, a blow that should have smashed the woman’s skull open like an overripe fruit.

It passed through harmlessly, and Grid stumbled through the illusion, turned, and took a chair across the head from behind as Loch’s Urujar lieutenant came out from under a table. Grid went down, and the Urujar grabbed the mace, turned, and blocked Nystin’s blow before it could smash in his skull.

It still sent the man stumbling back, though, and that was all Nystin needed. He kicked the chair at the Urujar, then turned as the rest of Grid’s people charged into the room. Another sprouted a bolt between the eyes, and Nystin traced its path with speed from a hundred similar fights, saw the telltale gleam in the smoke that marked a cloaking field, slid his second and final silver dagger from its sheath at his wrist, and threw it.

A warhammer spun across the room and knocked the dagger from the air, and Nystin looked to see a woman in the robes of a love priestess still standing with her arm extended. “No.”

Then Hex slammed her into the wall. “Repent, necromancer.”

The woman hit hard, and her head rattled, eyes going vacant, but her arm still moved up to block Hex’s blade as it came in at her throat. It was the warhammer, Nystin saw, already back in her grasp and protecting its necromancer mistress even after she fell. Hex stumbled back, slammed a kick into her midsection as the hammer blocked his high stab, and then screamed as a vial of something green splashed over him.

“Ever wanted to know what makes
yvkefer
melt?” a woman holding a crossbow said as she stepped out of the cloaking field where Nystin had thrown the dagger. “Maybe next time you come after the women in the dresses—” She broke off as another knight lunged at her, and a gangly robed man knocked her aside and hit the knight with a chair.

Nystin had caught it all as he moved through the room, seeing his men charge in, watching them fall, running the numbers, and above all looking for his target. She was nowhere in sight, and he broke out through the inn’s front room, kicked open the door, and grabbed a mace from the fallen knight in the street in front of him.

“Stand down!” shouted a man holding a sword like he knew how to use it—military training, nothing fancy, but enough. There was blood on the blade. The knight on the ground was Scale, who had always been good against beasts but a little too slow against plain old people.

Behind the man was Nystin’s target, Isafesira de Lochenville. She wasn’t even holding a blade.

“On me!” Nystin shouted. “On me!”

He swung. The man with the sword was fast, but he wasn’t wearing armor, and the blade skated along Nystin’s reinforced banding, and then Nystin’s mace smashed down, forcing the man back. He moved fast, eyes tracking everything around him, and that was when the face clicked for him.

“Captain Pyvic.” Nystin spat the name. “Here to protect your convict, your criminal.”

“I’d know if there was an order for her arrest,” Pyvic said. There were two other knights on the ground around him, and while they weren’t moving, Pyvic was trying to hide how he favored his right leg a little.

Loch herself just stood there, arms folded over the wound the report had said she’d taken.

“You’ve done good work, Justicar,” Nystin said, “closed some cases, handled what needed handling. But you’re soft.”

His men burst out of the inn and into the street. There were only five of them left, but it would be enough.

“Do your men think this is a legal takedown?” Pyvic asked, and turned to them. “This is a hit! Your commander is carrying out an assassination against—”

Nystin moved. Pyvic caught it, but he was indeed favoring the leg a bit, and while he ducked away from Nystin’s strike, he left his stance sloppy, and Nystin followed up fast with an ugly short swing that Pyvic had no choice but to block. The impact battered his blade and he staggered. As he did, one of Nystin’s knights came in from behind with a pommel-strike to the back of Pyvic’s skull, putting the justicar on the ground.

Nystin looked at Loch, still standing unarmed and unmoving.

“I surrender,” she said.

“I don’t care.” Nystin stepped to one of the fallen knights and slid a dagger free from the man’s hip.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Nystin ignored it, flipping his dagger to an inverted grip as he came toward her. “I told you it would be hard,” she said, “and you’d have to follow orders even when you disagreed, but I never thought it would be like this when I made you promise.”

“When the hell did you tell me that?” Nystin asked, not stopping. They always talked, always asked questions to slow you down. The key was to keep going, no matter what they said.

Loch shook her head. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Nystin heard the jangle of metal as someone hit the ground behind him.

He kept moving toward her as someone grunted and dropped to their knees, and then as someone hit the wall of the building across the street.

Nystin didn’t stop. If he didn’t look, they couldn’t stop him.

“You think you’re too good for the rules the rest of us live by?” he said, raising his dagger as he took the final steps. “You think you’re above the law?”

“No.” Loch met his stare. “But I’m not beneath it, either.”

“Captain Nystin,” said Rib from behind him, “I need you to stop.”

Nystin swung.

A grip like a vise clamped down on his arm. The banded metal creaked, then crumpled, and as Nystin tried to turn, a great force slammed him to the ground. He bounced, fell, bounced again, and slid.

When his eyes worked again, he saw Rib coming toward him, helmet off.

“You always were too damn strong, Recruit Rybindaris.” Nystin struggled back to his feet. The pain was savage, but he’d gone through worse. “What are you? Golem? Monster? Some new kind of undead?”

“I just wanted to help,” Recruit Rybindaris said, and there were tears in his pale blue eyes as he said it. “But you care more about killing people than stopping innocent people from getting hurt.”

“Grow up, boy.” Nystin looked around. The other knights lay unmoving on the ground around him. “You joined the bad guys today, you know that? What you did right here is going to get sons and daughters killed.”

“Dairy has saved more lives than you or I ever will,” Loch said from behind Rybindaris, “and after he did that, he wanted to serve the Republic with honor and dignity.” She smiled, and now, for the first time, Nystin saw the anger. “Guess you got
that
out of his system.”

Nystin heard movement inside the inn, and he doubted it was more of his own men.

“You’re a traitor, Rib, and you’ll die a traitor,” he growled.

Then he turned and ran as Loch’s monsters and criminals poured out into the street.

The last thing he saw as he turned the corner was Rybindaris falling to his knees, crying.

Fifteen

S
O YOU JOINED
the Knights of Gedesar,” Hessler said to Dairy the next morning as he, Ululenia, and the young man walked into the ticket office for ships to the Elflands.

Dairy flushed. “I wanted to help people.”

The ticket office was done in rich wood paneling and green carpets and curtains that made Hessler feel like he was inside a tree. That was probably the point. A dark-haired young human woman sat behind a counter that curved gently to meet the wall, smiling as they came inside.

“You saved the entire world from the Glimmering Folk, which would seem to meet any reasonable quota for altruistic good works,” Hessler said, “and then you decided that you would
hunt us down
as your next big act?”

Rybindaris, or “Dairy”, former Champion of Dawn who had fulfilled the prophecies by defeating the Champion of Dusk atop Heaven’s Spire a few months ago, continued to flush. “But see, Mister Hessler, that wasn’t really me. That was just the prophecy.”

At the counter, Ululenia spoke to the ticket woman. “I wish to book passage to the Elflands, that my friends might see a land of true magic unfettered by the restrictions of mortals,” she said, allowing her horn to shine brightly.

“Of course.” The dark-haired woman at the counter apparently had experience dealing with fairy creatures. “Are your friends cleared for travel? As citizens of the Republic, they’ll need a permit and written permission from the elven embassy to enter the Elflands.”

“As the hare pats down the burrow with the first fall of snow, we have made all necessary preparations,” Ululenia said, smiling and confident. “I shall purchase my ticket first.”

“What do you mean it was just the prophecy?” Hessler asked, turning to Dairy and lowering his voice. “You’re stronger than any normal person, you’re immune to magic, and lucky things happen around you. You can’t turn any of those things off.”

“But all I did with that was fulfill the prophecy,” Dairy said, sighing. “I didn’t do anything that I decided to do on my own.”

“Here you are,” Ululenia said to the woman at the counter, passing over a small pouch of coins. “I understand if you must ensure that they are not enspelled.”

The woman behind the counter smiled as she carefully poured the coins into a shallow golden bowl inset with detection crystals and runes. “I’m glad someone does. Last week we had an ogre who took it as an insult.”

“That is not uncommon for ogres,” Ululenia said, smiling, and the young woman laughed.

“So putting aside the fact that you think you can make future accomplishment immune to accusations of privilege just by going off the expected trail laid for you by the prophecy,” Hessler said to Dairy, “what you decided to do on your own was
hunt us down
.”

“Well, I’m immune to magic,” Dairy said, “and I’m stronger than most people, like you said, so it didn’t seem fair to join the normal army.”

The young woman had the ticket out now and set it down on the counter, smiling at Ululenia. “I hope you enjoy your visit to the Elflands. I hear it’s wonderful, though few humans ever get to see it.”

“You have never been yourself?” Ululenia looked at the dark-haired woman and raised an eyebrow. “Ah, it seems there are
many
things you have never done.” As the dark-haired woman blushed, Ululenia put a pale, slim finger on the ticket and slid it around the table in a little circle.

“At first, it was good,” Dairy insisted. “We fought some daemons that had gotten loose. We killed a woman who was using magic to kill people. We even stopped a manticore that was terrorizing a village . . .”

“Two, please,” Hessler said to the woman, “and I understand that there are restrictions of some kind on what we’re allowed to bring with us?”

The woman, who was now chewing on a pen while looking at Ululenia, blinked, and then nodded and held out a piece of paper with a long list of banned items. When Hessler made no move to take it, she put it down on the table next to Ululenia’s ticket.

“But then they talked about hunting Miss Loch,” Dairy continued as he followed Hessler to the counter, “and a lot of what they said didn’t sound right, but Miss Loch said that I had to do what they said, even if I disagreed with it, because that was part of being in the military, and anyway, I thought that once they arrested her, it would turn out that she was innocent, and everything would be all right.”

Hessler gave Dairy a look. “And how did that work out for you, kid?”

Back at the counter, the shallow bowl filled with coins gave a soft but discordant chime, and everyone stopped.

“Oh,” said Ululenia, looking over and still idly moving the ticket around in little circles on the table, “something disturbs it?”

The dark-haired woman looked at the bowl. “Yes, I’m afraid it does. These coins have been altered with illusion magic.”

As the dark haired woman looked, Hessler hit the ticket and the travel restriction paper with the illusion that swapped them, then gave a big obvious flinch as Ululenia turned and glared at him. “You
swore
these were good!” she said, her horn crackling with energy even as her finger danced from the ticket that now looked like a travel restrictions paper to the travel restrictions paper that now looked like a ticket and continued to make little circles on the table.

“They were!” Hessler raised his hands in dismay. “I got them myself from that illusionist for purging a daemonic infestation from her tower!” He slapped his forehead. “The illusionist . . .”

“The illusionist with the low-cut gown you were admiring as she paid you?” Ululenia asked, and then schooled her face and her shining horn back to calmness as she looked at the dark-haired woman. “I apologize sincerely.” She slid the false ticket across the desk, leaning forward a little to do so. “Although since my employer was fooled as the bird blinded by the wings of the butterfly, it seems I will be staying here longer than expected. If you wish to take the opportunity to . . . explore . . .”

The dark-haired woman blushed as she took the false ticket. “I, um, yes, perhaps that would be lovely.”

Ululenia smiled, then glared at Hessler and strode out of the office.

Hessler nodded to the woman. “She’s very nice,” he said, coughing, and grabbed the paper that currently appeared to be travel restrictions information. “I’ll just take these to read while . . . sorry . . .” He hurried out after Ululenia, with Dairy in tow.

“I’m sorry I disappointed you,” Dairy said to Hessler as the three of them crossed the street and headed back toward the inn.

“Were you part of the group that nearly killed Tern?”

“No,” Dairy said, and sagged a little. “They had me doing unimportant things. I heard rumors that they were doing more, and that the things they were doing weren’t nice, but no one ever said.”

“They usually don’t, kid.” Hessler looked at Ululenia. “Anything you want to add, here?”

“Nope!” Ululenia said, not looking over. “Although I’m not sure why
he
had to come with us to the ticket office in the first place.”

“I
wanted
to come along. I’m sorry if I disappointed you as well, Ululenia,” Dairy said. “I think you’re awfully nice, and whatever it is that, um, didn’t make me want . . .”

“If you two want to bring the ticket back to Tern, I will see what the ticket seller is doing for lunch,” Ululenia said.

“Are you really certain that you don’t find Ululenia
attractive?” Hessler asked. “Maybe it was first-time jitters. I mean, as far as I can tell, she is arrogant apple, babbling brook, creeping cat, all right, I’m stopping!” He glared at Ululenia. “There was no need to resort to cluttering up my mind.”

“I disagree strongly.” Ululenia’s horn flared, and she headed back toward the office, her slim hips swaying in her white dress with every step.

“You’re . . . you’re
sure?
” Hessler said. “Because while I am by no means a paragon of masculine attitudes . . . you don’t get many chances at something like that.”

“I’m sure.” Dairy looked at Ululenia, then Hessler. “I thought you were with Tern, Mister Hessler.”

“Well, yes, but I’m not
dead
.”

Loch and Pyvic looked at the elven treeship at the docks at the edge of Jershel’s Nest.

It was massive, its main deck high enough that a special ramp had been constructed to let people climb up to board. Great green sails lined with glowing, golden veins flared out from the trunks that served as its masts, angled to catch the wan morning sun, while workers both human and elven hung from long ropes, scouring the bark of the treeship’s hull clean of all debris.

“They’re sure it doesn’t use daemons?” Loch asked.

“Strictly nature magic,” Pyvic said. “You’re going to have to do
something
about Jyelle-the-daemon wanting to kill you, though.”

“Just as soon as I end this war.”

“Fair enough.” Pyvic chuckled and took her hand. For a moment, everything was all right.

“Reminds me of scrubbing the stones in the Cleaners,” Loch said. “Hanging from the pipes, straining to reach the stones with those damn enchanted brooms, nothing but an ankle chain to catch you if you slip.”

“Sounds exciting,” Pyvic said.

“You were there. You should remember it.”

“I was there for a couple of minutes,” Pyvic said, “at the end of which, Archvoyant Silestin hit me with lightning until I lost consciousness. Pardon me if my memory’s a bit hazy.”

“Silestin, right. Speaking of assholes, how are the Knights of Gedesar?” Loch asked as the workers moved slowly down the hull. It looked like thick, clean bark from where she stood, with no knotholes or cuts visible. A network of roots extended like a gangplank to the great ramp, and passengers were already boarding.

“The survivors? Tern killed a couple of them.”

“I’m sure she was aiming for their shoulder and tragically missed,” Loch shrugged, “since she was shooting one-handed as a result of them trying to kill her earlier.”

“That’s my opinion as a justicar, yes. The girl Icy and Ululenia saved on the stairs corroborates your team’s version of the events.” Pyvic looked over. “Desidora also caved in a few skulls before she got taken down.”

“Not unless she did it by hand,” Loch said. “That would be her magical sentient warhammer acting under its own power. Anyone wants to bring charges against a magical sentient warhammer, I wish them luck.”

“I don’t think it’ll come to that.” Pyvic grinned. “Archvoyant Bertram confirmed that there was no call for the Knights of Gedesar to arrest you. This was illegal from the start.”

“Be nice if we got their commander to lock that all down.” Loch saw the familiar form coming off the main road to the docks, an elf wearing loose-fitting silks and walking with easy grace, smiling as he made his way through the crowd. “Anyway, it’s time. Let’s go.”

“You all right to move?”

She was already moving, and she shot him a look over her shoulder as she pulled out of his grip. He sighed and jogged to catch up.

Irrethelathlialann had a large black raven riding on his shoulder. Loch had no idea where it had come from, but its beady eyes moved to track her as she came in behind the elf.

“Isafesira de Lochenville,” the elf said without turning around. “You’re refreshingly difficult to kill. Thank you for returning my book, by the way.”

He had evidently thought she would stop as he called out her name, because he yelped as she clapped him on the shoulder and grabbed his waist. His raven squawked and flapped off and away as Loch leaned in close.

“You’re going to give me that manuscript before anyone else gets killed,” she hissed into his ear.

He shook her off and spun, his robes turning his whole body into a sheet billowing in the breeze. “Oh, Loch,” he murmured as he moved smoothly into a combat stance, jostling a passing dockhand as he did, “you insult me. After I heard of your encounter with the Knights of Gedesar, did you really think I would keep the manuscript on my person? I sent it ahead. You have nothing, your clumsy, desperate attempt to pick my pocket notwithstanding.”