Read Online Fifth Quarter by Tanya Huff - Free Book Online
Authors: Tanya Huff
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Fantasy, Fantastic fiction, Canadian Fiction, Fantasy Fiction; Canadian
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afraid to die."
He stared at her strangely and murmured, "But I notice you're choosing life, regardless."
"I said we weren't afraid, not that we wanted to. Besides, if we die after you've taken the prince, at least we'll have the satisfaction…"
"The pleasure!"
"… of taking you with us."
He studied her as if weighing her sincerity, then he smiled. "I think I can meet that condition."
"Then you have a deal." Except that he'd be dead and out of Bannon's body long before they reached the prince. Bannon was right. There'd never been a defense they couldn't breach together. "Now, if I'm, we're, going to help you, you can start your part of the bargain by cutting me free."
"Of course. Pardon me." The dagger he chose was the long, slender blade she'd carried into the room. He slid it between silk and skin, and she shivered at the caress of the chilled steel. The silk parted like water around stone, flowing away from the edge.
"Very sharp," he repeated approvingly, turning the knife and offering it to her, hilt first.
His fingers laid warm pressure against hers during the exchange.
"Is something the matter?"
Vree shook her head. "No." Safest to stick to single syllables. Or maybe not. "Just so you know…" The dagger whispered promises as she slid it back into the thigh sheath. "… I know twenty-seven ways to kill you with no weapons at all."
The theatrical recoil was so Bannon it was difficult to remember that it involved Bannon's body alone. He clutched a handful of the robe over his heart. "You're scaring me to death."
She cocked her head thoughtfully. "Twenty-eight." Two could play at that game.
Impossible not to laugh with him. With Bannon's body. I'm so tired .
"You need to sleep. Come, there's a guest room just next door you can use. I'm afraid you'll have to share…"
"Vree, that's not funny."
"Sorry." She swallowed a chuckle, recognizing how close she was to losing control—a very bad idea when trapped in enemy territory—and scooped up the rest of her weapons. "What will you tell the servants?"
"That my traveling companion has joined me and we'll both be leaving in the morning." He waved the signet ring under her nose as he pushed open one of the louvered doors and led the way out into the courtyard. "Governor Aralt prepared the servants for my arrival."
"How will you explain me just appearing? I didn't come in through the front door, you know."
"I'm sure you didn't, but you'll agree there's no need to tell them that." The next room was identical to the one they'd just left except there was no desk, no chair, and no pile of knotted scarf fragments. "If you insist on journeying in the heat of midday, you have to expect a lack of a welcoming committee when you arrive. Fortunately, I'm a light sleeper. I heard and I brought you in."
"And they'll believe you?"
"As long as I'm wearing this ring. There's a pot in that small chest if you need it."
She paused just inside the room, toes curling against the raised pattern in the braided straw mat. "What do I call you? Obviously you're not Aralt anymore. At least not here."
He stared at her for a long moment and she had the oddest feeling that he was actually seeing her for the first time. "You may call me Gyhard," he said at last. "Gyhard i'Stevana."
"Gyhard i'Stevana? That's a strange name."
"Perhaps. But it's the one I was born with." He sketched her a courtly bow. "I haven't used it for some time."
The glass mirror had cost him a great deal, but from the moment he'd seen the clarity of the reflection they cast he'd wanted one. The artisans who knew the secret of joining liquid mercury, tin, and glass lived in one small, but very wealthy city on the shore of the Fienian Sea. He'd gone there himself in the time before he became Governor Aralt, risking the dangerous overland route and paying nearly everything he had for an oval mirror no
He stared at her strangely and murmured, "But I notice you're choosing life, regardless."
"I said we weren't afraid, not that we wanted to. Besides, if we die after you've taken the prince, at least we'll have the satisfaction…"
"The pleasure!"
"… of taking you with us."
He studied her as if weighing her sincerity, then he smiled. "I think I can meet that condition."
"Then you have a deal." Except that he'd be dead and out of Bannon's body long before they reached the prince. Bannon was right. There'd never been a defense they couldn't breach together. "Now, if I'm, we're, going to help you, you can start your part of the bargain by cutting me free."
"Of course. Pardon me." The dagger he chose was the long, slender blade she'd carried into the room. He slid it between silk and skin, and she shivered at the caress of the chilled steel. The silk parted like water around stone, flowing away from the edge.
"Very sharp," he repeated approvingly, turning the knife and offering it to her, hilt first.
His fingers laid warm pressure against hers during the exchange.
"Is something the matter?"
Vree shook her head. "No." Safest to stick to single syllables. Or maybe not. "Just so you know…" The dagger whispered promises as she slid it back into the thigh sheath. "… I know twenty-seven ways to kill you with no weapons at all."
The theatrical recoil was so Bannon it was difficult to remember that it involved Bannon's body alone. He clutched a handful of the robe over his heart. "You're scaring me to death."
She cocked her head thoughtfully. "Twenty-eight." Two could play at that game.
Impossible not to laugh with him. With Bannon's body. I'm so tired .
"You need to sleep. Come, there's a guest room just next door you can use. I'm afraid you'll have to share…"
"Vree, that's not funny."
"Sorry." She swallowed a chuckle, recognizing how close she was to losing control—a very bad idea when trapped in enemy territory—and scooped up the rest of her weapons. "What will you tell the servants?"
"That my traveling companion has joined me and we'll both be leaving in the morning." He waved the signet ring under her nose as he pushed open one of the louvered doors and led the way out into the courtyard. "Governor Aralt prepared the servants for my arrival."
"How will you explain me just appearing? I didn't come in through the front door, you know."
"I'm sure you didn't, but you'll agree there's no need to tell them that." The next room was identical to the one they'd just left except there was no desk, no chair, and no pile of knotted scarf fragments. "If you insist on journeying in the heat of midday, you have to expect a lack of a welcoming committee when you arrive. Fortunately, I'm a light sleeper. I heard and I brought you in."
"And they'll believe you?"
"As long as I'm wearing this ring. There's a pot in that small chest if you need it."
She paused just inside the room, toes curling against the raised pattern in the braided straw mat. "What do I call you? Obviously you're not Aralt anymore. At least not here."
He stared at her for a long moment and she had the oddest feeling that he was actually seeing her for the first time. "You may call me Gyhard," he said at last. "Gyhard i'Stevana."
"Gyhard i'Stevana? That's a strange name."
"Perhaps. But it's the one I was born with." He sketched her a courtly bow. "I haven't used it for some time."
The glass mirror had cost him a great deal, but from the moment he'd seen the clarity of the reflection they cast he'd wanted one. The artisans who knew the secret of joining liquid mercury, tin, and glass lived in one small, but very wealthy city on the shore of the Fienian Sea. He'd gone there himself in the time before he became Governor Aralt, risking the dangerous overland route and paying nearly everything he had for an oval mirror no
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