20: BANDITS, AGAIN

Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Three days since Thurvishar D’Lorus committed crimes against historical accuracy

“In hindsight, I think Relos Var told the truth. He may have approached my grandfather,” Janel admitted. “In some ways, Oreth interfered with Relos Var’s plans, which I find ironic.”

Dorna blinked. “Your grandfather would have never taken metal from an outsider.”

“Oh, I know,” Janel said. “But I would have.”

“Janel!”

“No, Dorna. I absolutely would have. The canton needed aid. If Relos Var—or his people—had arrived in Tolamer offering that aid in exchange for ‘minor favors,’ I would have accepted. Except Oreth made his move to confiscate my lands and castle the moment he heard my grandfather had passed, before anyone else reacted.”

“But why would Relos Var care?” Kihrin asked.

“There aren’t many passes through the mountains between Yor and Jorat,” Janel explained, “but one is in Tolamer. Indeed, we have a mountain pass and a sea route, besides the Gatestone itself. Since I’d dismissed Kovinglass, there was no Gatekeeper on staff to warn anyone about unauthorized Gatestone usage. Just as no one in Mereina would have warned House D’Aramarin or the imperial army about unauthorized Gatestone usage there. If you’re going to invade a place, wouldn’t you desire as many approaches open to your forces as possible?”

“That’s not the only reason Relos Var would have chosen Tolamer,” Qown said. “Duke Kaen wanted your canton for that, but I doubt it was Relos Var’s only motivation.”

“That’s true,” Janel agreed. She met Kihrin’s eyes. “It’s what you said about Xaltorath seeking me out. Relos Var was hunting the ‘volunteers,’ the people who’d agreed to help the Eight. He was looking for me.” She smiled. “I should thank Taja you ended up on that auction block in Kishna-Farriga. It meant Relos Var had no time to deal with me in Barsine.”

“Hmm. That’s an unexpected blessing I hadn’t considered,” Kihrin agreed.

“Anyway, I should finish this next part,” Janel continued. “It’s not my favorite.”

Janel’s Turn. Atrine, Barsine Banner, Jorat, Quur.

I have never been comfortable in cities.

I admit this is due to unfamiliarity; Tolamer is a rural canton. The closest equivalent to a city I had ever known were the tournaments. A city as western Quuros sees it—a large concentration of permanent residents—lay outside my understanding or notions of comfort.

Still, it turned out cities are like forests in one important regard; they both come stocked with thieves.

We hadn’t walked for more than a few minutes before we ran into them.

“All right, then,” the lead man said as he stepped from an alley. “Lovely evening for a walk, ain’t it?”

The man had hidden in ambush, his intentions anything but pleasant. He wore a patchwork mask over his face and a dark gray cloak over beaten, worn leathers. I couldn’t tell if he was Joratese, Marakori, or some other more exotic fare. I recognized the loaded crossbow easily enough.

As well as the crossbows of his friends.

I sighed as I stepped forward.

“It is indeed a lovely evening. We don’t wish for trouble, so let us pass.”

I thought the odds he’d take my offer slim; he didn’t disappoint.

“That ain’t up to you, girlie,” the man said, “and there’s a toll to pay to come this way. Figure you owe us five thrones each for the lot of ya, and that ought to do it.”

He was Marakori. A Joratese would not have called me “girlie.”

I looked back at Brother Qown and Ninavis, both without weapons. At least Brother Qown was; I hadn’t forgotten how Ninavis kicked. I had my sword, but it would be awkward to wield in quarters this tight. I wore no armor, no other protection. Arasgon didn’t graze nearby to sweep in for a dashing flank attack. They outnumbered us, and they had range.

Most importantly, we carried no metal to pay them.

“That won’t be possible,” I said, “but since what you’re asking is illegal, why don’t we call it even and both be on our way?”

The bandit chuckled. “Ah now, you’re a small thing to be talking so large. I like the look of you, though, so I’ll make you a deal. You leave your fancy sword with us, and if you want it back, why, you can just come back here with our metal.” He aimed the crossbow at my head. “Not that I’m giving you a choice.”

I clenched my jaw. His demands would have never been agreeable, but this was less agreeable than most. My family had owned that sword for five hundred years, since Jorat’s founding.

Ninavis must have seen the look on my face. She stepped up next to me. “Are you lot this stupid? You know our kind can’t own swords by law. You walk into any shop in the city and they’ll know you stole it.”

“That’s why it’s ransom, not theft. I’ll melt the damn thing down before I—” The man tilted his head and raised an eyebrow in Ninavis’s direction. “Wait a minute. ‘Our kind,’ you say? What clan are you, woman?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, I say it does.”

She gave the men a critical eye. “What are you lot? Leumites?” She scoffed. “Be off. You don’t want the trouble I bring with me, let alone her. She’ll make you scream for your old god-queen.” Ninavis removed her apron and began twisting it.

I didn’t think it was a nervous gesture.

“Look at her face.” A bandit pointed to Ninavis’s wine-stain birthmark. “She’s Diraxon, I bet.”

I kept my face blank. Diraxon. Leumites. These names meant nothing to me. Were they Marakori regions? The way I hailed from Tolamer, a canton of Stavira?

The bandits seemed more familiar with Ninavis’s clan name. The crossbows wavered. One man went so far as to clutch crossbow and bolt to his chest. “Diraxon, but…” He took a step back.

Their leader proved more immune to intimidation. “I could call myself the high general of Quur and it would mean as much. Now strip off your valuables and drop ’em on the ground.”

“What happened to just taking the sword?” I asked as I unsheathed my weapon and held it with the blade pointed downward.

“That was before I found out your bitch is Diraxon.” He pointed at Ninavis with a combination of chin and elbow, still holding the crossbow aimed at me. “Count yourself lucky I’m not slitting her throat. Most good folk would consider it their duty to kill any Diraxon they met, after they caused the Hellmarch.”

After they …

My muscles tensed. I looked over at Ninavis for an explanation, but she paid no attention to me. She didn’t deny his accusation, but only because she wasn’t listening.

Ninavis was preparing for a fight.

“Don’t do this,” I said, not quite sure if I spoke to the man or to Ninavis. I lowered my arm, still holding the sword. It wouldn’t do much against crossbows, but at least I had freed it from its sheath.

“You know what? Never mind. I changed my mind,” he said. He raised a hand to give an order I was sure I would neither like nor enjoy.

“Don’t do this,” I said again, but he paid no attention either. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

No one gave me the slightest mind; all their focus was locked on Ninavis.

“I’m a count! Harm me or mine and the duke will never stop hunting you.”

The bandit sneered. “The duke can go freeze.”

“Brother Qown, hide.”

“Count, please—”

“To Hell with you,” the bandit leader spat. He pulled the trigger.

I twisted to the side. The bolt’s feathers whistled as it passed, ripping through my tunic and cloak, and tearing open a gash on my left arm. It sailed on to slam against an apartment’s dirty white marble wall.

Pain made me hiss.

“Damn it,” Ninavis cursed. She swung the rolled-up apron at one man’s crossbow while she lashed out with multiple swift kicks to another bandit’s head. He collapsed.

Others remained, however, each a heartbeat from loosing a barrage at us. They all thought Ninavis the greater threat.

I needed to change their opinion.

I ran at the bandit crew’s leader. He had time to consider his mistakes in life before my fist, wrapped around my family sword’s pommel, smashed through his skull. A shocking spray of blood splattered against a wall, but I paid little mind. Instead, I grabbed the corpse by its tunic and held it up as a shield—to block two bolts otherwise headed for Ninavis. I threw the corpse at another bandit to distract him while I sliced him open from groin to gullet. Someone called my name in warning.

I turned and for a moment …

Ah, but for a moment.

I didn’t recognize Ninavis. I didn’t see her as a friend. She stared at me with wide eyes. She must have realized I stood a hairsbreadth from turning my sword on her.

The same bandits trying to kill her saved her life.

A crossbow bolt hit me in the back.

I felt the pain as a hot wash of flame across my spine. I screamed in rage and twisted around, ignoring Ninavis to concentrate on my attacker.

I didn’t bother with the sword.

I tore out his windpipe with my nails, tossing it to the ground as I moved to impale another bandit through the stomach, ripping up and out until he spilled his intestines in a great steaming pile on the ground. A fecal stench, sharper than the road’s sewage, joined the aroma of spilled blood and wet metal.

I don’t know what happened to Ninavis or Brother Qown. I didn’t see them, for which I will be forever grateful. The two remaining men backed away with their empty hands raised. I think they begged, but I had no ears for human tongues.

I killed them too.

It’s just as well for everyone I don’t go into details.¹

I don’t think I stood there for long before I returned to my senses. At some point, I realized I stood in the middle of a half dozen Marakori corpses, no more recognizable as humans than slaughtered livestock. Blood covered me, some of which was my own.

And I didn’t know if Ninavis or Brother Qown were alive or dead.

“Nina? Qown?”

I heard whispering to the side. Brother Qown stood up from behind a broken, overturned cart despite Ninavis’s best efforts to pull him back. He scanned the scene, horrified. I wouldn’t have begrudged him for throwing up, but sometimes I forget he doesn’t faint at the sight of blood.

I wanted to say something, but my vision began darkening.

“On second thought, I’m also kind of glad you didn’t prove you could use that sword when you and I first met,” Ninavis said. Her joke fell flat as she stared at me. “Janel? Janel!”

The world slid out from under my feet, and I plummeted into an abyss.