Picking up one of his knives, Junel leaned forward. He reached out with his left hand to smooth the skin on Karari’s brow. He pressed the tip of the blade to her flesh and waited for a red drop to collect. He waited for the surface tension to break and for the blood to inscribe the line he would follow.
It made things so much more artistic.
But his hand jerked as something stung him in the neck. He dropped the knife and turned, clapping his right hand to his neck. He could feel a slight swelling, but knew it was nothing of significance. In fact, he was certain it meant nothing, then it occurred to him that he wasn’t stopping his turn.
His legs wrapped around each other and he sat down hard on the floor. His shoulders hit the wall and his head smacked into it hard enough to crack plaster. He felt flakes slip down his collar. He ordered his right hand to brush them away, but it fell to the floor, limp, beside him.
Junel looked up and found a tall, slender man standing beside the chest of drawers. He held the bottle of hooded viper venom and was replacing the stopper with the needle in it. The man had incredibly long fingers and hazel eyes that seemed to shift colors.
Junel tried to speak, but only managed to open his mouth.
The man nodded and his cloak closed-a cloak woven with the emerald-and-black pattern of the butterfly’s wings. “You will be wondering if I was the butterfly, or if it merely served to distract you while I entered the room through a locked door, unheard and unseen. My transformation from insect to man, despite being the more improbable of solutions, is the one you will believe. Your vanity will not allow you to accept that someone could be more skilled in the shadow arts than you are, would you, vrilcai?”
The man squatted and closed Junel’s mouth with a finger. “You’ll want to know who I am, and why I am doing this. I am Kaerinus. You know of me, the last vanyesh, the magical imbecile who lurks in Xingnakun, save when he emerges once a year to heal those who don’t have enough sense to fear him. I can heal them, you know. The blind, the lame, the diseased.”
Kaerinus glanced at Karari. “Alas, you’ve done too good a job on her. I can’t heal her.”
Though the man’s voice had a cold edge to it, Junel took pleasure at his words.
“And you have figured out, Junel Aerynnor, that I’m here to kill you. I will. I would even enjoy taking my time at it, but I haven’t much to spare. I’m meeting a friend to the south, and the sooner I arrive, the better for everyone.”
The vanyesh stood, then crouched again in a billowing of his cloak. “Oh, yes, the why of it. You killed Nirati Anturasi, and she is most dear to a friend of mine. Next time, don’t choose a victim with powerful friends.”
Kaerinus stood, then laughed. “Next time. There won’t be one. And, yes, I know the hooded viper venom isn’t fatal. Your body will recover.”
He looked at the girl. “Yes, you’ve quite broken her. I can’t fix her, but I can do this…”
Kaerinus gestured and light sizzled before Junel’s eyes. It poured over his face and burned into his brain. His world went black for a moment, then vision snapped back. During the time he’d been unconscious, the vanyesh had moved him.
Then, as the pain began to gnaw at him, he glanced to the right and saw his body propped up against the wall.
Junel’s eyes widened with horror.
Not my eyes, her eyes! I am now in her body, and she in mine!
“Splendid, you understand.” Kaerinus smiled. “You did very good work, vrilcai. It will take you hours to die.”
It did take him hours to die, many hours. And while pride in his work insulated Junel at the start, despair and horror claimed him at the last.
Chapter Fifty-three
2nd day, Month of the Hawk, Year of the Rat
Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court
163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty
737th year since the Cataclysm
Tsatol Deraelkun, County of Faeut
Erumvirine
I could scarcely imagine a finer martial display. Though I had the sense that I’d seen it all before, I could not summon up any memory that matched what I saw from the battlements of Deraelkun. The kwajiin had drawn itself up in a broad line running from the Imperial Road to the east, paralleling the fortress’ broad front to the west. Bright banners flew, each of them with legends in precise Imperial script, and I imagined this is why I was thinking I’d seen this before. Sunlight glinted from swords and spear blades, and bamboo mantlets protected the front ranks from our archers and ballistae.
The troops defending Deraelkun, though numbering no more than four thousand-roughly a fifth of the force facing us-had raised their own banners to proclaim membership in a military unit, a noble household or, with a few xidantzu, the schools where they had gotten their training. I actually thought our display outdid theirs, for each banner marked a hero, while most of the kwajiin wallowed in anonymity.
Still, the enemy had to take heart in the fact that they had five for our every one. Deraelkun could fall, and if the kwajiin below were half the fighters of those I’d already faced, the fortress would be lost before the day was out.
Taking it would not be a simple matter, however. The road itself curved west and ran along below the first fortress wall, and the two bridges that spanned the gaps had been drawn up. This cut the road and split the front, so that the armies would have to come in three sections. Shifting reinforcements to any one of the sections would necessitate a withdrawal and redeployment-or a deployment from so far back in the line of battle that they wouldn’t be able to advance for a critical amount of time.
The ravines that trifurcated the battlefield had been expanded so that a small island existed in the center. From the roadbed heading south, and the battlefield heading north, two narrow bridges connected the island with the fortress. This island made the center utterly impractical for attack and had long been used as a spot where warriors fought duels of honor. The center had been set with a ring of stone, and dotted outside with several small monuments to warriors who had fought and died there.
So, in reality, any advance to take Deraelkun would be heading uphill, would be divided into two parts that could not communicate with or support each other. Siege machinery could be brought up to breach the first wall at the place where the road turned to the west, but archers in the towers overlooking that point would murder the soldiers trying to break the wall.
I listened to the snap of banners in the breeze. The wind blew north, toward the fortress, bringing with it the faint stench of the vhangxi. The kwajiin had herded them to the center and would release them as a distraction. I did not think they could leap to the top of the battlements, but they might be able to scale the walls. Even though we would slay them all, they would use up arrows and demand attention at a point away from the two main assaults.
And I knew it would be assaults, two of them, coming hard and fast. The enemy leader had no other choice. If he concentrated on one wing or the other, we could mass our troops and fend him off. Along either of the two fronts we could match his strength easily. Only by engaging us along the entire front could he tax our supplies and slowly bleed us to death.
And the logic of it was not the only motivating factor he had. He was arrogant and overconfident. He’d already had reports of troops abandoning Deraelkun, heading north into Nalenyr. If we knew the defense of Deraelkun was hopeless, our morale would be low and his troops would be that much more elated. He’d not faced any strong opposition prior to this and Kelewan had fallen easily, so he had no reason to suppose his troops would not function perfectly and take the fortress without much trouble.