The Righteous Blade

AGRICULTURE

Kutch could guess which subjects Caldason would be perusing. ‘All right. See you when you’ve finished.’

‘Don’t forget Serrah’s meeting us here.’

‘I’ll keep an eye out for her.’ He moved off.

As Caldason put his foot on the first stair, the bookseller quickly raised his head. He wore an expression reminiscent of a hawk spying prey. ‘Tread with care up there,’ he snapped, but offered no explanation as to why that might be necessary.

When Caldason got to the top of the shaky staircase he understood the warning, and the two-customer restriction. The sizeable room he came to had an uneven floor, and the boards groaned with every step. Unlike downstairs, here there were just a couple of tables, stacked high. But the walls were equally crowded with books. The only difference being that they were jammed into a series of massive wooden bookcases, the enormous weight bowing the shelves in places. As he crossed the room the floorboards felt springy underfoot. The whole place seemed to creak and wobble.

One part of the room consisted of a shelved alcove, and as he drew level with it he saw the old woman there. She was stooping to look at a herbal laid out on the seat of a chair. Caldason nodded. She gave him an apple-cheeked smile.

He found the combat section, ran his eye along the titles and tugged out a hefty volume. The book was glamoured, and as he flipped the pages its illustrations sparked into life. Painted characters fought with swords, axes and quarterstaffs. Lances raised, warriors rode chargers into battle. He

paused at a picture showing a siege, with a battering ram hammering at a castle’s doors while defenders rained down arrows from the ramparts.

There was a faint noise. Of movement, rustling and soft commotion. Then the hint of a fragrance mingling with the smell of decaying books. Something sickly-sweet with a sulphurous tinge to it.

He looked up.

Downstairs, Kutch had located several of the books he needed. Their cost was higher than he’d expected, and he doubted whether the money Phoenix had given him would be enough for everything. So he’d started sorting them into vital and not-so-necessary piles.

He froze, letting a book slip from his fingers, and slowly straightened. He was aware of a cognisance, not dissimilar to the feeling he got before a vision, and feared he was about to have one. Several seconds of stilled breath later, he knew that wasn’t it. Something else was happening.

He looked up.

Caldason realised the sounds were coming from the alcove. Stealthily, he moved towards it.

Before he got there, a figure stepped out to face him. It wasn’t the old woman. But it took no great leap of logic on his part to guess that it had been.

He was looking at someone who appeared to be neither one sex nor the other, though their features inclined a little more to the feminine. She was wiry, hard-muscled and near flat-chested. Her fair hair was severely cropped, and she had a shockingly white complexion. The eyes were arresting; astonishingly big, unblinking, black as coal. Overall, the sight of her was dismaying, and his first thought was that she must be a glamour. Some instinct made him reject the idea. He reckoned her to be magically enhanced in some way, but human.

Before he could speak, she jerked to one side, leaving a ghostly silhouette of herself in the place she’d just occupied. The wafting outline quickly filled with light. In short order it began to solidify, offering brief glimpses of bones, sinew, blood and finally flesh.

A duplicate of the woman stood beside her, and initially seemed identical. They could have been unholy twins, and were even dressed the same way. But he saw that the new arrival did differ slightly, and certainly appeared more masculine.

Then he noticed that they were connected. A gossamer film, shiny and moist to the eye, tender as moonlight, bound them from shoulder to ankle. But only for a heartbeat. It tensed and ripped apart, and each half was instantly sucked into one of the twins’ bodies.

They regarded him as though he were a horse they were thinking of stealing. But when the female spoke, it wasn’t Caldason she addressed. ‘What do you think, Aphrim? One of us or both?’

‘Hmmm.’ He studied the Qalochian. ‘Both to be sure, I’d say.’ The creature’s voice was a giveaway to the sharp-eared; it had a jot of the inorganic that marked it as glamoured.

‘Don’t mind me,’ Caldason told them, fury building.

‘We won’t,’ the one called Aphrim replied. ‘Let’s get this done, Aphri.’

The woman nodded and they both drew blades.

Caldason quickly unsheathed his own, cursing himself for having no second sword.

The woman came at him, and fast. He reflexively dodged her swinging blade. She wasn’t fazed. Spinning swiftly, she struck out again. This time, steel met steel and they slipped into a frenzied exchange. She was a supple fencer, hard to pin down, and checked his passes unerringly. Caldason was just as adept at blocking her.

For a full minute they traded blows, seeking a path to flesh. Ducking and weaving, blades clattering, each tried to tease an opening from the other.

She took a savage overhand swing at him, fit to crack his skull. Caldason hurled himself clear. Unstoppable, her sword came down hard on a table, its edge cleaving into a book. When she whipped back the blade, the book was still attached. Deftly she flicked it clear and the book flew across the room.

Caldason exploited the distraction. As she turned to him again he lunged forwards, grasped her arm and half pulled, half threw her at the wall. Crying out, she struck one of the bookcases heavily with her back. The case rocked alarmingly. A dozen volumes dislodged and fell, showering down on her. Hand over her head, she scurried clear, and shouted

‘Aphrim!’

Her twin moved in. Caldason spun to face him. But he didn’t meet the blade he expected. Something gleaming and hot narrowly missed his bobbing head.

On the lower floor, Kutch was staring at the ceiling. There were thumps and rumbles from above, and dust was filtering through the boards.

‘What the

hell

?’ the bookseller exclaimed, leaping to his feet and upsetting his stool. He glared at Kutch. ‘What are you two up to? What’s your game, eh?’

All Kutch could do was gape at him.

‘We’ll see about this,’ the bookseller resolved, making for the stairs.

The noises overhead grew louder, and he hesitated on the bottom step. Then he cautiously began to climb.

Swinging a chain in a hissing circle above his head, the glamour twin was about to cast again. The iron ball at the chain’s end glowed cherry red and left a fiery trace in the air. It may have been glamour-generated heat, but it felt real enough.

The chain was loosed; the flaming orb shot in Caldason’s

direction. He threw himself aside, barely evading the blistering missile. It hit a shelf of books, scouring their spines as it passed. The acrid smell of scorched leather pricked his nostrils. Aphrim yanked back the chain and quickly had it circling again.

An irate head popped out of the stairwell.

‘What in damnation is going on up here?’

the bookseller shrieked. He clambered to the top of the stairs and gawked at them, red faced with indignation. ‘Hooligans! You’re wrecking my shop, you philistines!

Stop it!

Stop it now, or I’ll call the watch!’

With a roar, Aphrim swung the fireball at him. It came close enough to blister his nose, without actually striking him. The bookseller instinctively drew back. For a second he stood poised on the edge of the step, arms flapping wildly in a vain attempt to keep his balance. Then gravity took him. Issuing a high-pitched shriek, he fell backwards and disappeared. They heard him thud against every step as he tumbled back the way he’d come.

Aphri tutted and wagged an admonishing finger at her twin. ‘You can’t play with people like that,’ she said. ‘They break.’

As one, they returned their attention to Caldason.

Kutch was at the foot of the juddering stairs when the shop owner bounced down them. He descended like a drunken acrobat, in a confusion of flailing limbs and disarrayed clothing, and came to rest in Kutch’s shadow.

‘Are you all right?’ Kutch exclaimed, bending over him.

The bookseller moaned. He sat up painfully, shaking off the hand Kutch extended to help him. Refocusing, he stared at the boy. ‘You’re trying to ruin me,’ he whined.

‘Of course we’re not. I mean…it’s just a misunderstanding. I’m sure we-’

The fight resumed noisily upstairs. With surprising agility for a member of a cerebral profession who’d just fallen down

a flight of stairs, the man leapt to his feet. ‘You’ll pay for this!’ he raved. ‘Just you wait ’til the watch gets here!’

‘No, don’t!’ Kutch pleaded. ‘There’s no need for-’

But the bookseller was halfway to the door, moving at speed despite a new-found limp. Kutch almost went after him, thought better of it and returned anxiously to the bottom of the stairs.

‘Reeth!’

he bellowed.

‘Your boyfriend’s calling you,’ Aphri taunted. She slashed at Caldason and he parried.

‘Stay away, Kutch!’

he yelled.

‘Get out!’

He was facing both of them simultaneously now. The female tried for a low sweep, aiming at his legs. Caldason leapt over it. When he landed, the pliant floor shook mightily.

Aphri had to retreat to let her partner use his ball and chain. This time, Caldason side-stepped and got himself parallel to it. He thrust out his sword and let the chain wrap itself around the blade. One good tug wrenched the chain from Aphrim’s hands. Then, as a man might rid himself of a poisonous snake curled round a stick, Caldason shook off the chain with a flip of his wrist. Sliding along the blade and off, the ball and chain clanked across the floor. Parted from their glamour host, and energy source, they instantly transmuted to flickering sparks and in short order turned to ashes.

The twins weren’t happy about it. They charged together, looking to overwhelm Caldason. He deflected both their blades. A flurry of pounding swordplay followed as he engaged them in turn, blade flashing from one to the other. Brisk and furious, the three-way duel allowed no margin for error. One slip would be his last.

He succeeded in wrong-footing them, retreated a few steps and grabbed the side of a bookcase. A powerful heave toppled it. Scores of volumes tumbled from the shelves as the massive slab of furniture came down. It landed with a resounding

crash between him and his foes. The impact made the floor shake.

What Caldason didn’t reckon on was setting off a domino effect. The cases on either side of the one he’d felled began to sway, disgorging books. A second later they came down, one after the other, smashing to the floor with a deafening reverberation. Nearby, one end of a floorboard flew up like a child’s see-saw, exposing the rusty nails that held it down. Another followed, imitating a catapult’s arm.

Aphri vaulted each of the obstacles keeping her from Caldason. Aphrim ran to skirt them. They came at him head-on and from the side, and the fight resumed.

The floor was making ominous sounds, the room shuddering.

Then the world lurched crazily.

In a neighbouring street, Serrah and Tanalvah were making their way through the mid-town crowds.

‘What’s going on over there?’ Tanalvah said, pointing to the other side of the road.

A skinny, dark-haired man in a dishevelled state was running along the pavement, waving his arms about and shouting.

Serrah shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Can you hear what he’s saying?’

‘Something about the watch, I think. And sandals. It could have been vandals.’

‘Big cities. You get all sorts.’

‘Perhaps he’s one of those poor deluded people you see talking to themselves on the streets sometimes.’

‘Could be.’

They walked on. The shouting man faded into the distance.

‘You don’t think…’

‘What, Tan?’

‘You don’t think that man could have had anything to do with Reeth and Kutch, do you?’

‘Why should he? What possible trouble could they get into visiting a bookshop? Ah, there it is.’

No sooner had they spotted the shop than a sound like thunder came from it. Clouds of dust billowed from its open door.

Caldason and the twins were still fighting when the floor collapsed. It dropped like the deck of a rapidly sinking ship. Timber, masonry, plaster, thousands of books and three hapless figures plummeted through the ceiling of the ground floor. In a chorus of tremendous crashes the tables and unsecured bookcases fell with them.

A blizzard of countless fluttering pages descended, followed by the fusty grime of ages to garnish the chaos.

An after-the-storm silence blanketed the scene, broken only by the sound of an occasional book late in falling.

‘

Whoooaa!

Do it again! Do it again!’ Aphri, still on her feet, was grinning, jubilant as a child just off a fairground ride. Her glamour twin was nearby, sitting incongruously on a heap of books, cross-legged, an impassive expression on its face.

Half covered in debris, Caldason lifted his head. He found he was still clutching his sword. Disentangling himself from the wreckage, he got up.

‘Still alive?’ Aphrim snorted petulantly.

‘We must rectify that, my dear,’ Aphri told him.

They started to move in on the Qalochian.

‘Hey!’

All heads turned. Serrah and Tanalvah were scrambling over the rubble towards them, and Serrah had her sword drawn.

‘Playtime’s over,’ Aphri decided. ‘Come.’ She beckoned Aphrim.

He ran to her, and

in

to her, merging instantly. Aphri twitched ever so slightly as she reabsorbed her twin. Then she turned on her heel and streaked to the door. Tanalvah drew back as she passed, appalled at what she’d just seen. Serrah made to give chase.

‘Let her go!’ Caldason called out, re-sheathing his blade. ‘Chances are she already looks like somebody else.’

‘What happened?’ Tanalvah said.

‘And what the hell

was

that?’ Serrah wanted to know.

Caldason ignored them. ‘Kutch?’ he yelled.

‘Kutch?’

‘Here!’ a muffled voice responded.

It came from the foot of the staircase, which remained standing, just. They set to clearing the debris, and found him curled up under the protective wooden slats. Reeth and Serrah took an arm each and pulled him out.

‘Are you all right?’ Tanalvah inquired anxiously.

‘Yes, I think so.’ He seemed more excited than upset as he dusted himself off. ‘I got a peek, from back there. It was a

meld

, Reeth! I’ve never seen one before. They’re really rare.’

‘And the woman was wearing a masking glamour, pretending to be old,’ Caldason said.

‘Neither sounds cheap,’ Serrah ventured.

‘Far from it.’

‘And they…she was after you?’ Tanalvah asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Looks like you have a complicating factor in your life, Reeth,’ Serrah announced.

‘Just what I needed.’

She saw blood on his sleeve. ‘You’re hurt.’

He hadn’t noticed, and hardly gave it a glance. ‘It doesn’t matter. You know how quickly I heal.’

‘Does that make it less painful?’ Serrah took hold of the fabric and ripped it apart. He had an ugly gash running along the outside of his arm. Tearing off a portion of her own,

much cleaner, shirt sleeve, she proceeded to bind the wound. There was something almost tender about the way she did it.

‘I hate to break this up,’ Tanalvah said, ‘but-’

‘Yes,’ Caldason agreed, finishing the last knot himself, ‘we have to get out of here.’ He caught Serrah’s eyes and added softly, ‘Thanks.’

They headed for the door. Kutch hung back, surveying the mess.

‘Come

on

!’ Serrah chided.

‘But I didn’t even get a book,’ he grumbled, slinking after her.