“So that’s it, then?” I said as I took a step forward. “For all the posturing and magic and mystery, you end up doing business like a common Cutter on the street? ‘Give me the swag or you bleed!’ I’d hoped for more from a Gray Prince.”
“You get what you deserve,” said Shadow. “For you, little Nose, this is good enough.”
I stopped beside the candle. I looked down at the book in my hands, then up at Shadow. And met his gaze with my own.
He was smiling. It was a smug smile on a full mouth, with a dark spade-shaped beard beneath and a long nose above. An otherwise round face was given a hard edge by high cheekbones. But what struck me the most were the generous laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. Who expected a Gray Prince like Shadow to genuinely laugh enough for it to show on his face?
I smiled in turn and watched Shadow’s grin falter. He could sense something had changed, but he hadn’t figured it out yet. Hadn’t figured out I could see him now; that all the magic in the room had been burned up by Jelem’s candle.
“No,” I said, “I deserve more.” And I tossed the journal at him. My last glimpse of Shadow in the candlelight was of his eyes going wide and his reflexively lunging forward for the book. Then I kicked the candle over, and the room went dark.
Chapter Thirty
I rolled to my right, getting out of any direct line of fire. The candle flame had been dim, but it was still going to take a moment or two for my night vision to adjust. I didn’t want to be caught standing still, waiting to see my death coming at me.
That was assuming my vision would adjust. My stepfather had performed the ritual nearly twenty years ago; with magic that old, Jelem hadn’t been sure what the candle would do to it. Like everything else tonight, it was a risk.
I circled two steps farther to my right in the darkness, silently drawing my rapier as I went, and waited. I could hear Shadow in front of me, muttering under his breath. Then I saw the hint of a gesture-an amber-hued blur several yards away that looked like a hand passing rapidly through the air. And another. And then, rapidly, I saw the image of a cloaked figure, crouched and gesticulating in the darkness, the rectangle of a book lying at his feet, all but forgotten.
The air before Shadow was empty: of power, of light, of threat. I slipped farther to my right, moving to circle behind, even as he reached to his belt and tossed a scattering of coins before him. They clinked on the floorboards, refusing to melt and burn as they had against Degan.
Shadow was no fool. As soon as he saw that his portable glimmer wasn’t going to help him, he turned and raced back the way he had come. I couldn’t blame him; if I were in a dark room with a man who put out the lights, I’d want out, too. People don’t set up situations like that without a plan.
I flicked my left hand, felt the wrist knife drop into it, and let fly. I knew better than to try to hit him-it was dark, he was moving, and I was throwing left-handed. The odds of my even bouncing the pommel off him were negligible. But hitting the wall hard enough so the blade made a loud noise against it, and then again when it fell to the floor-that was another matter entirely.
Shadow skidded to a halt at the sound. In an instant his sword was out, sweeping before, beside, and behind him in a deadly circle. When no one tried to stab him, he began backing slowly away, two steps at a time.
“It was the candle, wasn’t it?” he said to the darkness. “It interfered with the magic somehow.” I could see his cowl searching back and forth for any hint of motion, of sound. His left hand made another pass in the air. Nothing happened. “And I can’t imagine the darkness was an accident, either. Which means you have a way of finding me, yes?”
I stayed silent and adjusted my course so that I would come at his back from an angle.
Shadow swept his blade through the air again and shifted direction. Another cut, another direction, then two more steps, a series of cuts that whistled as they clove the air, then a dodge and a quick thrust across his body.
I couldn’t tell if it was a patterned drill or just a collection of random counters, but whatever it was, it kept him-and more important, his sword-moving in an unpredictable manner. He was doing his best to create a wall of steel around himself; one I would have to breach if I wanted to get this over with quickly.
And it needed to be quick.
I reached down and pulled out my boot dagger. As much as I would have liked to dust him with a single thrust, I knew it didn’t always work out that way. Swords like mine can wound just as easily as they can kill, but get in close with a dagger, and the odds of someone going home dead go way up-especially if one of the people can’t see.
I dropped my sword’s tip so that it just skimmed the floor. I came on.
Shadow was tending left, trying to get to one of the walls. His sword was still moving, his fingers still dancing. I slipped closer. Two steps more now, at most.
“Are you using the night vision?” he said as he cut a circle around himself.
I froze. His face was pointed directly at me. Then he looked away. I let out my breath.
“I’ve heard of it, of course,” said Shadow, “but I’ve never known anyone who had it.” His cowl shook back and forth. “If I’d only known
… The use I could have made of you.”
I stood up straight. “You used me enough as it was,” I said. Then I dropped.
Shadow immediately threw a cut at where my voice had been. He was good; even crouched low, I felt the breeze of his sword’s passing, telling me he had gone for my body and not my head-bigger target, better odds.
I did the same, only I pushed a thrust from down near the floor, low to high, right at his ribs. My sword connected, stuck and… bowed?
I felt the scrape of metal on metal down the length of my rapier, could hear a faint grinding as I twisted the blade in a move that should have stirred up his insides but only managed to pucker and turn the fabric of his doublet. Shadow let out a grunt but didn’t fall or bleed.
Armor. Chain mail, by the feel of it, under his clothes.
Bastard.
I pushed my rapier’s point deeper into Shadow’s chain mail and lifted the guard above my head even as I lashed out at his leg with my dagger. Our blades connected at the same instant-my dagger with his leg; his sword with my rapier. It didn’t go well for either of us. While I managed to lay open a sloppy gash above his boot, Shadow brought his sword down hard enough on mine to snap it in two. I’d been hoping the force of his cut would act like a hammer on a nail and drive my rapier’s point through his armor, but, instead, my bracing the blade had simply made it easier for him to break.
Damn Shadow and his Black Isle steel blade, anyhow.
I leapt back, barely avoiding a blind follow-up, and scrambled away.
“Nice try,” said Shadow. His voice was tighter than it had been a moment ago. “Lucky for me I’m not the trusting sort, eh?”
“What, you mean the armor?” I said as I slipped back across the room toward the satchel. “That just means I’m going to have to take you apart a bit at a time, starting at the edges.” I tossed the remains of my rapier noisily off to my right.
Shadow’s cowl swiveled toward the sound of the rapier’s hilt hitting the floor, then came back in my direction. The fingers of his left hand were dancing again. He was favoring his right leg.
“You think so?” he said. He began cutting at the air around him, forming the deadly circle once more. “Considering you just lost your sword to someone who can’t see in the dark, I’d say you have your work cut out for you.”
I grinned darkly from across the room as I knelt down beside the bag and reached inside. “You got lucky,” I said as my hand closed on the handle of Iron Degan’s sword. I drew it out softly and stood up, hefting it. Iron’s Black Isle steel practically danced in my hand. It was a heavier blade than I was used to, weighted more for the cut than the thrust, and slightly curved, but it would do. “I don’t think I need anything more than a dagger to take care of you,” I said. “Not in the dark.”