Shadowblade Page 2

  “I believe I might have neglected to introduce myself,” he said. “You may call me Dal Gassan. I am on my way to see your headmaster.”

  “Dal? You’re a Daljeer?”

  “I thought you recognized the emblem, didn’t you?”

  Naia glanced at the dagger, still lying on the pavement between them. She was recalling it now. The curved lines didn’t depict a bird, but the contour of an open book seen from the side. The Daljeer were known for their scholarly activities, as well as hospitals and schools that served everyone, regardless of their ability to pay. Every city had a Daljeer serai for the poor.

  The last thing she expected for a Daljeer was to seek an audience with the Jaihar Headmaster. Or to throw daggers with this kind of a skill.

  “I never realized the Daljeer were so proficient with weapons,” she said.

  Gassan laughed. “Come now, you can’t possibly call this proficient. Not at your level. How about another test?”

  Before she could respond, he whipped out a whole pack of daggers and hurled them at her, one by one.

  Naia could tell that, just like last time, he was trying to avoid targeting her directly, but at this short distance it didn’t really matter. The challenge was simply too hard to resist. She reached out toward the flying blades and caught all of them in turn, stacking them neatly into her hands.

  “Six.” Gassan nodded approvingly. “At a very close range. Now, this has to be impressive, even for you.”

  “Only as a party trick.”

  Gassan frowned. “Why?”

  Naia swallowed. The last thing she wanted was to discuss her situation with an outsider. Yet, it was hard to hide the resentment in her voice. The best of her peers were already training on the upper grounds, hoping for a chance of attaining an elite Jai rank. She – well, she would be lucky to leave here with a Har cloak, if she earned any ranking at all.

  “Never mind,” she said.

  “Is it really that bad?”

  She briefly looked away. Never before had she felt so tempted to share her story with anyone at all, let alone someone she’d just met. Gassan seemed different somehow. He was looking at her so intently, as if she mattered. She knew she shouldn’t be falling for a trick like this, but was there really any harm in telling him just a little more?

  “I’m about to be expelled,” she said.

  “Expelled?” Gassan’s frown deepened. “Why?”

  “I… I got into a fight.”

  “I thought fighting is what you are supposed to learn here, isn’t it?”

  “I attacked a trainer.”

  “Oh.” Gassan regarded her thoughtfully. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

  “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  “It would, to me.”

  Because you are not a Jaihar. She swallowed. Past deeds couldn’t be revoked, not that she had any regrets. “Well, it doesn’t. Not in my case.”

  “What’s so special about your case?”

  “Nothing.” She guessed it was part of the problem too. If she showed enough promise, her superiors might have tried harder to salvage her situation.

  Gassan leaned closer.

  “There are many things that could go wrong in your life,” he said quietly. “But I can think of only one that matters. Losing faith in yourself. You must never do that.”

  Naia’s eyes widened, but before she could respond, his expression changed again, as if an invisible shutter had clicked into place to cut off the emotions inside. Three hells, this man was like the foothill weather, his moods flipping too fast to follow.

  “I’m afraid I have to go,” he said. “It’s almost time for my audience with your headmaster.”

  Naia nodded. “Goodbye, then.”

  “It’s been a pleasure.”

  A pleasure. It was, even if the realization in itself was surprising. She looked at his dagger, still lying on the pavement between them, feeling mildly guilty. It couldn’t have hurt her that much to show some courtesy and just hand it to him, could it?

  “Likewise,” she said.

  “I hope we’ll meet again.”

  Me too, she wanted to say, but she kept her silence as she watched him pick up his dagger and stride away toward the archway on the other side of the grounds.

  Only now did she realize that, despite introducing himself, he never asked her name. And now, even if he wanted to find her again, he wouldn’t know who to ask for. A part of her wanted to run after him and tell him. Another, more reasonable part, told her to forget the whole thing. She was about to leave these grounds for good. Chasing after strangers was the last thing she should concern herself with.

  She strode to the weapon stand and grasped the heaviest two-handed sword, plunging into a battle routine that left her sweaty and breathless in just a few moves. She didn’t slow, though. With luck, she still had time to exercise herself to exhaustion before the day even started, so that she could forget everything that happened on the training grounds today.

  CONFRONTATION

  Naia lowered her sword and flexed her tired muscles. In less than half an hour she had managed to all but forget her encounter with the Daljeer. And now, the start of the training day was upon her, which meant that for the rest of it she was not going to enjoy any peace. As she glanced around the training range, rapidly filling with people, she noticed a group of young men about her age, watching her from a distance safe enough to stay out of weapon range, but not to afford any privacy.

  “Trying to build up some manly muscles, Naia?” the nearest one said.

  Naia sighed. She knew this group, the cocky youngsters who had too much trouble with the fact that she nearly always beat them in practice. Their jabs didn’t normally bother her, but today she wasn’t in the mood.

  “Leave me alone,” she said.

  The speaker squared his shoulders, stepping up closer so that their height difference – about a head and a half – seemed even more impressive. “Or what? Are you going to beat the crap out of me, like you did with Har Ishim? Oh, wait. He’s the one who beat the crap out of you, wasn’t he?”

  Hesitant laughter echoed around them. Naia looked away. Following the formal inquiry, Ishim, the Har trainer responsible for all her troubles, had recently been reassigned to a distant Jaihar compound. Everyone here knew it was her fault.

  “Get lost.” She turned away pointedly, taking unnecessary care to slide the sword she’d practiced with back into its slot at the stand. But her tormentors simply wouldn’t take the hint. In fact, they shuffled closer, fanning around until she couldn’t possibly pretend she wasn’t aware of their attention.

  She sighed. Dear Sel, why couldn’t they just leave her alone?

  “So, what did happen between you two?” another young man asked. He sounded friendlier than the first one, but Naia knew better than to take the bait.

  “None of your bloody business.”

  The laughter around them became louder as more people approached them from the direction of the trainees’ quarters.

  “Come, now,” the speaker insisted. “You can tell us, Naia. We’re all friends here. What did Ishim do to you? Did he, um, grab your feminine parts?”

  Blood rushed into Naia’s face. She was surprised at the speed of her own reaction. As she swung her arm at the speaker – the biggest and strongest of the lot – she didn’t expect his block to seem so clumsy and slow. In her altered state of mind, everything around her seemed to stall, giving her plenty of time to calculate every step, to slide between his blows without letting him land any of them.

  It felt as if she barely had to touch him to overbalance him, sending him down to the ground. He landed flat on his back, looking up at her in disbelief.

  Naia let out a breath. Time around her slowly returned to its normal flow, the wind shifting her short hair, sweeping an unruly lock over her face. She tossed it back, watching her opponent scramble up to his feet and retreat toward his suddenly quiet comrades.

  Silence desce
nded on the group around her, their awed expressions making Naia feel uncomfortable. This had to be yet another way to make fun of her, but she couldn’t quite tell where this was going.

  “Are they really planning to expel you?” The trainee who spoke sounded genuine, as if this was a real question. He was also younger, definitely not one of her usual tormentors.

  “I believe so, yes,” Naia said.

  The young man shook his head. “This isn’t right. They should have set you up for a proper evaluation with the Jai.”

  “Right,” a tall girl said from the back of the group. “Naia’s too good to be expelled. Maybe the headmaster–”

  Several senior trainees around her lowered their heads. Their resigned looks spoke without words. The headmaster would be highly unlikely to overrule the Har trainer’s decision. Not in the case of a trainee who hadn’t even undergone a formal Jai evaluation.

  Naia noticed a change of mood in the group, the trainees’ sympathetic glances cut short by the sight of an approaching man. A trainer. None other than Har Valmad, the head trainer on the lower grounds. Ishim’s best friend, at least in the Har’s very loose definition of the word.

  Three hells. It had to be her luck that out of all the trainers to show up first on the grounds today, Valmad would be the one.

  The group around her rapidly scattered away. She willed herself into calmness as she watched Valmad stop in front of her, his beady eyes running over her from head to toe, as if trying to find a fault in her appearance and gear. He frowned as his gaze fell on her lowered hand, and she raised it belatedly, pressing it to her chest with an open palm in a formal Jaihar salute.

  “Up to your tricks again, are you?” Valmad asked.

  Naia only shrugged. There seemed to be no reason to engage in this conversation at all. Not when the outcome was more or less decided anyway.

  Valmad’s gaze drifted to the trainees she had been talking to, suddenly so busy with their warmup routines on the far side of the range that Naia wondered if they were going to fall over with effort.

  “Care to explain what happened?” he said.

  “Nothing important, Har Valmad.”

  “You’ve just knocked a young man to the ground.”

  He asked for it. She knew this line of argument would only make her situation worse. She continued to stare at him, blankeyed.

  Valmad’s face twitched into a malicious grin. “Well, if anything, it only reinforces the decision we’ve just reached about you. We’re expelling you without a rank.”

  “Without a rank?” She knew it wasn’t a good idea to show surprise, but she couldn’t help it. Even though she’d always known this was a possibility, deep inside, she never believed it. Her skill was far superior to everyone else’s on these grounds – including some trainers by now, even if Valmad probably wasn’t aware of it.

  “You seem surprised,” Valmad said.

  “I am, Har Valmad. I believe, with my skill, I’ve earned a Jaihar cloak.”

  “It isn’t about your skill. Your advanced level makes it worse, actually. People like you should never be trained to fight at all. You are volatile and temperamental. Training you any further would pose a danger to your peers – and to the regular citizen, once you leave these grounds.” Valmad glanced at the trainees again. “The scene I just witnessed is yet another confirmation.”

  Naia continued to stare. She knew how much Valmad hated her for what happened with Ishim, but all the other Har trainers couldn’t possibly have gone along with him, could they? They all knew what really went on, even if no one was willing to volunteer the information.

  She was most certainly not volatile and temperamental. Well, perhaps she did tend to get confrontational far too easily, but it wasn’t all her fault, was it? Not when it came to fights, at least. Why couldn’t her trainers see it?

  “I’d like to formally appeal this decision,” she said.

  Valmad shrugged. “Don’t bother. Your appeal will be denied. On my authority as the head trainer on these grounds.”

  Naia held his gaze. Taking a swing at him suddenly seemed more tempting than she liked.

  “You will surrender your gear,” Valmad said, “and leave the training area immediately. Stay around, though, until the headmaster formally approves our decision. Later today, I expect.”

  Later today. Naia blinked. She had expected to leave these grounds formally ranked. Anyone of her skill deserved a Jaihar cloak and a steady guard job somewhere in the empire. Expelling her without any rank at all meant committing her to a life of hardship and humiliation. Worse, there didn’t seem to be anything she could possibly do about it. But even as she lowered her eyes in resigned silence, her encounter with Gassan came into her mind. This wasn’t the worst that could happen to her. The worst would be to lose faith in herself. She couldn’t afford to do that, no matter what.

  Working as hard as she could to complete her training had been the focus of her entire existence up to now. Yet, did she truly have a place here, among the people who put obedience so far above compassion and normal human decency?

  She was surprised at the way her resentment receded as soon as these thoughts swept through her head. She squared her shoulders as she met Valmad’s gaze.

  “There is at least one good thing about your decision, Har Valmad,” she said. “It means I won’t have to ever see you again. I consider it a bonus.”

  Valmad’s brow furrowed, his burly neck flaring up with pink splotches. If they continued this conversation, these spots would soon cover his whole face, fusing into a uniform red color by the time the discussion elevated to a regular yelling session. He appeared to have decided against it, though, as he looked at her for another long moment, then turned and strode off the grounds.

  Naia took her time to strip off her gear and return it to the stand, piece by piece. The grounds around her sank into silence, all the trainees watching her frozen-faced. Many of them, even the ones who constantly pestered her, had to be feeling bad right now. None of it mattered, though. Not anymore. All she could think of was finding a nice, quiet place where she would not have to talk to anyone at all.

  GAMBIT

  Gassan looked down at the shatranj board, encrusted with an alternating pattern of ebony and ivory squares. He was playing the black, and his opponent – Arsat, the Jaihar Headmaster – had already laid carnage to his suite, leaving only two pieces besides the shah: a tall swordsman and a small, delicately carved pawn. On the opposite side of the board a much more impressive white pair – a priest and an elephant – protected the secure corner where the white shah stood in relative safety.

  Arsat’s face, tanned to a deep brown that sharply contrasted with the white curtain of his shoulder-length hair, bore a serene expression that betrayed none of his thoughts. The man’s top Jaihar training made him so much harder to read – and so enjoyable as an opponent. Gassan had a weakness for a good shatranj game, and these regular visits with the Jaihar Headmaster were a treat that made the job of mediating the complex business dealings between the Jaihar Order and the Daljeer Circle more pleasurable than they had any right to be.

  He leaned forward and picked up his swordsman, placing the piece halfway across the board on the crossroad of two diagonal black lines. Arsat responded almost instantly, moving his priest in a sneaky pattern to block the swordsman’s advance.

  Gassan smiled inwardly, while keeping his face impassive. He knew Arsat’s style, and counted on exactly this response. The man played with the brutality and strategic sense that left no doubt of why he occupied his high post. To head the Jaihar, Arsat not only had to belong to their top, Shadowblade rank, but also to prove himself a superior leader that held together some of the most complex threads governing the affairs in the empire. Yet, with careful plotting, one could upset this balance – just as Gassan was about to do.

  He picked up his pawn, hovering it over the board for a dramatic moment before placing it right into the middle of the white defenses. “Shahmat.” br />
  Arsat raised his eyebrows.

  Gassan let his smile surface, leaning back in his chair to allow himself a full moment of enjoyment at the look of surprise on the senior blademaster’s face. His shatranj matches with Arsat tended to get exhausting at times, as appropriate when facing an opponent of equal skill. This was why a clean and painless victory like this felt especially rewarding.

  Arsat’s long, deft fingers moved slowly and deliberately as he reached over and lifted up his shah piece to lay it down on its side, signaling defeat.

  “I am not familiar with this gambit,” he said.

  Gassan’s smile widened. He had worked the gambit out in his head on the way here, and he was glad to see how well it worked in practice. Shatranj players tended to focus on the more powerful pieces and often underestimated what one could do with a simple pawn.

  “It’s a new one,” he said. “I’ve been looking forward to trying it out, before I could introduce it to the shatranj players at court.”

  Arsat briefly inclined his head. “Your visits here are always a pleasure, Dal Gassan.”

  Gassan shifted in his chair. It was time to come to the main reason for his visit, but despite the calming effect of a good shatranj game, he still couldn’t quite settle his racing thoughts. Seeing the girl on the training grounds stirred up memories of that night, seventeen years ago, in the Daljeer’s Challimar serai. Naia. He’d chosen the name himself, but until now he didn’t have a chance to see how well it suited her. In ancient Aramit, the language that used to dominate these lands before the Chall and the Zeg rose to power, the word “naiah” meant “lost” – befitting, for someone of her hazy origins. For the past seventeen years, Gassan had been digging as deep as he could into the events at Challimar, but even with his nearly unlimited resources he was unable to learn anything at all about the girl’s lineage, or the reason that the Challimar queen’s closest protectors chose to risk their lives to bring her to the Daljeer.

  Placing her with the Jaihar was part of the plan of keeping her safe. It seemed appropriate, especially after her caretakers had spotted her unusual affinity for weapons. The Daljeer in Haggad kept an eye on her, and reported to Gassan regularly, but he had never seen her in person until today, when his Daljeer informants had told him about the trouble she was in with the Jaihar Order.