A split-second later she heard a humming next to her upturned ear; even behind her eyelids she could see a blue-white light fill the darkness. The sharp metal point of a sword jabbed her throat just below her chin. She opened her eyes.
Ashe stood above her. Even in the dark, his silhouette showed the signs of unbridled rage. With a vicious twist of the wrist he pressed the sword tip deeper into her neck, just before the point of breaking the skin. Within his hood two points of intense light gleamed furiously.
“Get up,” he said, kicking her boot savagely.
Rhapsody rose, following the lead of the sword. It pulsated with a blue light, a light she had seen out of the corner of her eye in battle, but never up close before. It was a bastard sword, a weapon of broader blade and hilt and greater length than her own. The sword was scrolled in gleaming blue runes that decorated both the hilt and blade, but these patterns were not the most hypnotic aspect of it.
The blade itself appeared to be liquid. It hovered in the air, rippling repeatedly toward the hilt like waves in the sea crashing to the shore. The watery weapon emitted a vaporous mist that rose, like steam from the fires of the Underworld, forming a column of fog before her, a moving tunnel at the end of which was a stranger with murder in his eyes. She knew this without seeing those eyes clearly. He would never have made a weapon of this power known to her unless he expected her sight of it to be momentary.
A deadly calm descended on Rhapsody. She stared into the vaporous tunnel in the direction of the cloaked man at the other end. He was silent, but his anger was palpable, she could feel it around her in the air.
When he didn’t speak after another endless moment, she decided to do so.
“Why did I have to get up? Are you too much of a gentleman to kill me in my sleep?”
Ashe said nothing, but pressed the blade even deeper. The world blackened for a moment before her eyes as the blood to her head was stanched. She summoned all the remaining strength she had and glared in his direction.
“Remove your sword immediately, or get on with it and kill me,” she ordered coldly. “You’re interrupting my sleep.”
“Who are you?” Ashe’s voice was thick with murderous intent.
Rhapsody’s mind leapt at the words; she had heard them before, uttered by another cloaked stranger. Her introduction to Achmed had been much the same. The tone in his voice had been similarly murderous as he rifled through her pack, while Grunthor held her stationary in the shadows of the first of many campfires they had shared.
Who are you?
Hey, put that down.
Oi wouldn’t do that if Oi were you, miss. Just answer the question.
I already told you; my name is Rhapsody. Now put that down before you break something.
“I never break anything unless I mean to. Now, try again. Who are you?
She sighed inwardly. “I seemed destined to repeat this conversation for all of eternity to men who want to harm me. My name is Rhapsody. You know this already, Ashe.”
“I know nothing about you, apparently,” he said in a low, deadly voice. “Who sent you? Who is your master?”
The last word stung, bringing back a brisk explosion of memories forged in the agony of the streets, of degradation and forced prostitution. Rhapsody’s eyes narrowed to gleaming green slits. “How dare you. I have no master. What are you insinuating?”
“That you’re a liar, at best. At worst you are evil incarnate, and about to die for the suffering and woe you have inflicted throughout Time.”
“Whoa! What woe?” Rhapsody asked incredulously. “And don’t you call me a liar, you cowardly ass. You’re the liar; you told my friends I’d be safe with you. If you were looking to kill me, I would have fought you in the venue of your choice. You didn’t need to lure me out here to the woods so you could do it with impunity, you craven piece of Bolg-dung.”
Ashe stood up a little straighter; the sword did not move. It was as if his anger had tempered a little. Rhapsody was not sure how she knew this, but she was certain of it.
“Confess who sent you and I will spare your life,” he said, a slightly more reasonable tone in his voice. “Tell me who the host is, and I’ll let you go.”
“I have no idea what you are blithering about,” she retorted angrily. “No one sent me.”
Ashe gave her throat another savage jab. “Don’t lie to me! Who sent you? You have ten seconds to come up with the name if you want to live.”
Rhapsody thought for a moment, knowing he was utterly serious. It would be simple to make up a name in the hope that he would leave her to find whatever host he was babbling about. Living wasn’t worth the lie. Time slowed around her, and she thought of the family with which she was about to be reunited.
“Save yourself the time,” she said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I won’t lie just to live.” She raised her throat to an easier angle of attack to facilitate his strike. “Go ahead.”
Ashe remained frozen for a moment, then pulled the sword away from her neck with a sweep that spattered drops of water over her face and into the fire, where it hissed angrily. He continued to look at her from beneath the misty hood.
After a few moments of returning his stare, Rhapsody spoke. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe your brain has been curdled by that skunk urine you call coffee.” She took a deep breath and used her true-speaking lore as a Namer. “In any case, your behavior is inexcusable. I am not a liar, nor am I evil incarnate. I don’t know why you’re angry at me, but I have no master, I am no one’s whore, and I don’t know anything about a host. Now get away from me. I’ll find the dragon without you.”
Ashe considered her words. “What was that comment about my heart supposed to mean?”
Customarily I’d cut your heart out, although it’s fairly obvious someone already has.
Rhapsody looked puzzled; it had been a joke. “That you’re heartless, rude.
Willing to insult the dinner I made you, to spit my tea out, to be unduly offensive. You’re an insufferable pig. You have no respect for anyone. You can’t take a joke, but you expect others to. You’re cranky. Shall I go on? When I said it I was teasing. I no longer am.”
Ashe’s shoulders uncoiled, and Rhapsody heard a deep exhalation of breath from within the hood. They stared at each other for a few moments more. Then the cloaked figure lowered its head.
“I’m very sorry,” he said softly. “Your assessment of me, in all its parts, is correct.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” Rhapsody said, her heartbeat slowing slightly. “Now, back away. If you still want to fight, I’d be happy to oblige. Otherwise, be on your way.”
Ashe sheathed his sword. The glen they were standing in became immediately darker in the absence of its light. The fire had been roaring in time with her anger; it had settled down somewhat as well, having expended much of its fuel in its fury.
“If you wanted me to leave, why didn’t you just make up a name? I would have left you here, unharmed. You’re lucky. You took an awful risk.”
“What risk?” Rhapsody snapped. “You asked me a question. There was only one possible answer, and it did not consist of making up a name. What if I had and it belonged to some poor innocent whose only crime was being unfortunately tided?”
Ashe sighed. “You’re right. These are bad times, Rhapsody. I know you deserve to hate me forever, but please don’t. I thought you were someone you’re not, and I beg your forgiveness. Many of my friends and countless other innocent people have died at the hands of something sinister that is causing these raids. For a moment I thought it was you.”