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Authors: Ryk E Spoor
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started pulling her down the stairs. “You’re leaving now, but we’ve got something to show you on the way.”
“Something to show me?”
The crowd had looked disorganized to Poplock, but as the two women approached it parted in a straight line up Dawnlight Way, the central street of the city. The rest of the little party followed Kyri and Miri; Poplock glanced to his right.
Rion returned his glance. “I still can’t believe my little sister’s come so far, so fast.”
“She had a lot of motivation. And a little help,” Poplock said. Inwardly, Poplock still wasn’t completely convinced that “Rion” was who he appeared to be. Oh, the story made sense , and it was hard to imagine that someone could have planned out the sequence of events that put him in their party…but Poplock felt that there was an awful lot of evidence that the head baddie—this “Viedraverion”—was just exactly that good. Still, Rion had passed all the tests they could figure. There were a few minor quirks of magic around him, but since there was no telling yet exactly how his new body could have been supplied, that wasn’t very informative.
“Still…” He gave a disbelieving chuckle. “I thought I was the one who was going to be the Justiciar in the family, the hero to bring our parents’ murderers to justice. And here’s my sister doing the job for me, while I was…dead? Or something close to it.”
The crowd closed in behind them, not quite close enough to be intimidating, but following the group as they moved up the street.
“Just be glad she and the rest of us did, or you’d still be in that tank. Anyway, as I understand it, you’re something pretty darn tough yourself. We can use all the help we can get.”
Rion ran his fingers through hair vastly lighter than his sister’s; according to Kyri, Rion got all the traits of their mother, while Kyri and their little sister Urelle both took after their father. “I’m pretty good, yes—and now that I’m feeling more myself, I’ll be able to help.” He glanced down at the armor he was wearing. “This stuff isn’t bad , and I’m grateful to our hosts…but I need to get better armor and weapons. If we’re going up against the other Justiciars…”
“We’ll keep an eye out, but from what he said, the Spiritsmith was heading out a little while after we left, so I don’t think we can get you a real replacement for the one you lost.”
“I didn’t lose it. I was killed in it.” When he spoke with the angry iron in his voice, Rion did sound very like Kyri. “And I plan to get it back from the people who took it from me—the ones that played at being our friends.”
Poplock bounce-nodded. “That’s our plan, too.” He glanced up. “Ooo, looks like we’re almost to the show-and-tell—whatever it is.”
Miri and Kyri were standing in front of a building that Poplock thought, thinking back, had been some kind of large storefront before the big battle. Now the front was covered with a huge piece of cloth held in place by a few ropes; the little Toad squinted and was able to make out a few people standing on either side of the building, holding ropes. Ah, it’s an unveiling. They’ll pull those ropes, and the cloth gets pulled apart like a giant curtain.
“What’s going on here?” Kyri asked, staring at the cream-white cloth as it rippled in the breeze coming down the street. There was a similar ripple in the chuckles that ran through the crowd.
“We wanted to make sure that you all saw this before you left.” Shae raised her hand, and the veiling cloth fell away to each side.
Poplock stared, then wished he could grin as widely as Tobimar.
The face of the building had been reworked, its front now in deep sky blue with touches of silver and gold, and over the doorway, the symbol of the Balanced Sword. And clearly visible inside, by light shining down through what must be a skylight, was a statue of a tall woman holding an immense sword
“Something to show me?”
The crowd had looked disorganized to Poplock, but as the two women approached it parted in a straight line up Dawnlight Way, the central street of the city. The rest of the little party followed Kyri and Miri; Poplock glanced to his right.
Rion returned his glance. “I still can’t believe my little sister’s come so far, so fast.”
“She had a lot of motivation. And a little help,” Poplock said. Inwardly, Poplock still wasn’t completely convinced that “Rion” was who he appeared to be. Oh, the story made sense , and it was hard to imagine that someone could have planned out the sequence of events that put him in their party…but Poplock felt that there was an awful lot of evidence that the head baddie—this “Viedraverion”—was just exactly that good. Still, Rion had passed all the tests they could figure. There were a few minor quirks of magic around him, but since there was no telling yet exactly how his new body could have been supplied, that wasn’t very informative.
“Still…” He gave a disbelieving chuckle. “I thought I was the one who was going to be the Justiciar in the family, the hero to bring our parents’ murderers to justice. And here’s my sister doing the job for me, while I was…dead? Or something close to it.”
The crowd closed in behind them, not quite close enough to be intimidating, but following the group as they moved up the street.
“Just be glad she and the rest of us did, or you’d still be in that tank. Anyway, as I understand it, you’re something pretty darn tough yourself. We can use all the help we can get.”
Rion ran his fingers through hair vastly lighter than his sister’s; according to Kyri, Rion got all the traits of their mother, while Kyri and their little sister Urelle both took after their father. “I’m pretty good, yes—and now that I’m feeling more myself, I’ll be able to help.” He glanced down at the armor he was wearing. “This stuff isn’t bad , and I’m grateful to our hosts…but I need to get better armor and weapons. If we’re going up against the other Justiciars…”
“We’ll keep an eye out, but from what he said, the Spiritsmith was heading out a little while after we left, so I don’t think we can get you a real replacement for the one you lost.”
“I didn’t lose it. I was killed in it.” When he spoke with the angry iron in his voice, Rion did sound very like Kyri. “And I plan to get it back from the people who took it from me—the ones that played at being our friends.”
Poplock bounce-nodded. “That’s our plan, too.” He glanced up. “Ooo, looks like we’re almost to the show-and-tell—whatever it is.”
Miri and Kyri were standing in front of a building that Poplock thought, thinking back, had been some kind of large storefront before the big battle. Now the front was covered with a huge piece of cloth held in place by a few ropes; the little Toad squinted and was able to make out a few people standing on either side of the building, holding ropes. Ah, it’s an unveiling. They’ll pull those ropes, and the cloth gets pulled apart like a giant curtain.
“What’s going on here?” Kyri asked, staring at the cream-white cloth as it rippled in the breeze coming down the street. There was a similar ripple in the chuckles that ran through the crowd.
“We wanted to make sure that you all saw this before you left.” Shae raised her hand, and the veiling cloth fell away to each side.
Poplock stared, then wished he could grin as widely as Tobimar.
The face of the building had been reworked, its front now in deep sky blue with touches of silver and gold, and over the doorway, the symbol of the Balanced Sword. And clearly visible inside, by light shining down through what must be a skylight, was a statue of a tall woman holding an immense sword
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