“Do it,” she said.
Rodwik started to say something, but before he had the chance, four of his people appeared, forming a loose ring around him. He smiled and shrugged.
“Good work, Ialhar,” said the Countess.
“You know,” said Rodwik, “I have more right to the signet than you do.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t mean legally,” he said. “I mean that we’re five to three.”
“Dragon logic.”
“You know, if you just give it to me, I might be able to duplicate it, then we can both have one.”
“Yes, of course. Because wizards of our family have failed since the Fourth Cycle, but you’ll succeed, because none of them had such perfect teeth.”
“Magic works better with an Athyra on the throne. I have the notes—”
“Don’t waste my time, Rodwik. Attack if you’re going to, or else leave.”
“Maybe we should find it first, then fight over it?”
“How about if you just tell me where you hid it?”
“Oh. You know about that.” He didn’t seem embarrassed.
“I can use birds as spies as well as you.”
“Ha. I taught you how to do that.”
“Yes. Thank you. Now, where did you hide it exactly?”
“I don’t think I’ll show you, my dear niece.”
“In that case, attack, leave, or defend yourself.”
“As you please,” he said. He drew sword and dagger, his retainers did the same, as did Ialhar and I; there was suddenly a lot of naked steel in the area. The Countess took her baton and let it expand to staff size, orbiting black pearls on one end, the other flashing red from the ruby.
I moved toward the Countess to protect her; as I did I lifted my dagger and pointed a line on the ground in front of Rodwik, and sent Bornia’s Tremors along it. His retainers obligingly fell over as they tried to cross it, giving me time to reach her. Ialhar moved around to the other side, and we took what defensive position we could.
“Blocked,” said Ialhar.
“What do you mean? Who—”
“I did a block to keep him from bringing anyone in,” she said. I caught the sheepish tone in her voice, but no one else would have. I was going to enjoy twitting her about it later. If there was a later.
A five-against-three fight isn’t the sort of thing you look for—unless you’re a Dzur—but we had the advantage of having done this before, at the Lowferry raid, the fight at Land’s End, and twice at the Mundaara River Crossing. We fell into our pattern quickly and easily as far as sorcery was concerned: I kept up a randomly changing net of defensive spells, my sister cast counterspells to open holes in their defense, and the Countess looked for the openings or weaknesses Ialhar made to strike them. We hardly moved—my sister and I only moving our daggers to point to the spots we needed, while Mundra’s hands sent her staff through the motions needed by her attacks. I liked our chances with the spells.
The trouble was, there were also those swords. Five of them, against our two and a staff. A staff is good against blades if you know what you’re doing, but not if you’re using it to cast spells.
A sword was coming at my face and I knocked it aside, and kept my dagger weaving. I loved that dagger; it was deceptively plain, but I’d cast the enchantments on it myself, standing next to Edger the smith as he forged it. Enchantments that go into the blade at the same time it is forged are always smoother, stronger, and easier to reach than those added later, and with this one, the feather touch of command would bring the Tailspin to life where I wished, its endless, invisible turnings wrapping up any sorcery that tried to get past it, and even pull it in from the edges. It was a beautiful weapon.
The next time the guy swung his sword at me I made a too-big sweep, pulling both of his weapons out of line, and plunged the dagger into his chest as hard as I could.
I had a plan. A quick, hard stab to take him out of combat, and then back to the spell before any of them had time to exploit the hiatus. That was the plan. In fact, I had apparently struck bone, and the knife didn’t want to come out. I didn’t lose the grip as he fell, but it took a lot of work to hold on. When he was prone, I put my foot on his face and pulled. He didn’t like that, but he wasn’t in any condition to do anything about it. I raised the knife—
—and something hit me.
I didn’t feel it hit, but I was on my back, my ears were ringing, and I could see the fight happening about twenty feet away from me. I didn’t hurt, but I knew better than to think that meant I was all right; sometimes when the body is damaged, the mind folds a blanket over the pain.
I watched Rodwik fall to his knees, rise, fall again, while one of his retainers cried as her lower leg dissolved in fire and smoke, then I must have blacked out, because the next thing I remember seeing was Ialhar’s face, very close to mine. She was looking me over, and she had that tight-lipped narrow-eyed expression she wore when she didn’t want me to know how scared she was. I tried to ask about the Countess, but my mouth wouldn’t work.
“Don’t try to speak,” said Ialhar.
I tested my limbs to see what moved, which was pretty much nothing. “Stay still,” she said, and moved her hands over me. She didn’t look any less worried. My left arm was one of the few things that worked, and there was something in it. I turned it over and opened the hand.
“You found it!” she said.
I had no memory of finding it; maybe I’d landed on it, or right next to it? I didn’t know.
She took it from my hand and held it up. Behind her was the Countess, bleeding from her forehead, and with her right arm hanging limp, but steady on her feet. The Countess said, “Can you…?”
Her voice trailed off, and Ialhar shook her head, and put the signet on my finger, and I heard music.
That was—
What in the…?
Who am I? A Hawk? No, I was …
My back hurt, my legs ached, and moving seemed like a lot more work than it was worth. I wondered if this was it. I mean, right now, this very instant. The little jolt of fear forced my eyes open.
Not yet. Not quite yet.
I was in my bed, in my room, surrounded by my things, and that’s how I liked it. My right hand above the blanket was spotted and withered and all of the veins stood out, but the nails were perfect, because Jaf had seen to that, knowing how much I cared. Dear Jaf. He would miss me more than most of my relations.
On the wall in front of me was my lineage block, Lyorn on top, then the symbol for the Sixth Cycle Princess Loini who had made us official, then only three more symbols. We were still new in that sense, but I’d done my part; my own Tokni had given me three children before preceding me to Deathgate. I thought of her and smiled as Jaf came into the room.
“I’ve found it, my lord,” he said. “A copy of a copy of a copy, I’m afraid.”
I gestured with a finger, but he understood and placed it in my hand: a disk just a little larger than an imperial, made of smooth ceramic, very cold to the touch. I squeezed it tightly and looked a question at him.
“Yes, my lord. Toknasa has vowed to bring you to the Falls.”
I felt myself smile.
My thumb caressed the disk, and visions floated before my eyes: droplets of water, a terribly, terribly bright light in the sky, a tangle of long vines, a life-size statue holding a pair of curved swords as if caught in the middle of a dance. Then they faded. I felt Jaf’s hand squeezing mine, and it was strangely comforting, and I had the sensation of falling backward away from my body at great speed, then all the world became silence.