Page 43 of Fate of the Argosi

Another tradition Colfax had done away with, apparently.

Twenty of his fire lancers split off to take up staggered positions along the long walls on either side. That way, they could shoot anyone causing trouble without risking hitting their own comrade stationed on the other side. If negotiations got ugly, we’d have a devil of a time trying to run that gauntlet alive. A second contingent of guards escorted Ala’tris and her coven to the front of the dais, while Arissa, Chedran and I were penned in by our own little sextet of armed chaperones.

The runaways had been collected by their kin for what I could only assume would be a tremendous amount of hugging and crying followed by a whupping the likes of which none of those kids would ever forget. Only Kievan remained, defying both the tearful, heavyset but handsome man I assumed was her father and Colfax himself, who insisted on standing next to her by the entrance. I had the feeling she was just as much under guard as we were.

‘What are we waiting for?’ Arissa asked in a casual tone that warned me trouble might be imminent. She was bored and miffed in equal measure by the dull silence that offered no distractions for her to pick a few more pockets and see how far she could go before testing Colfax’s promise to chop off her fingers.

‘Kid, you are seriously gonna have to keep an eye on th—’

I cut off Durral’s warning before he got to the conclusion I wasn’t ready to hear – even if it was only in my own mind. Arissa had always tiptoed the line between audaciousness and outright stupidity. That wild, reckless streak was one of the things that made those dark eyes of hers shine so bright. The hell she’d endured in Soul’s Grave should’ve spooked the stupid right out of her, but anyone could tell she was determined to prove she wasn’t afraid of being caught again.

‘Not long now,’ I muttered, staring up at a twenty-foot-wide tapestry draped down the back of the balcony that overlooked the dais from a long brass rod attached to the vaulted ceiling. The weaving was unevenly tattered, the crowned black stallion rearing majestically clearly having seen better days.

‘Why do you keep staring up at that ratty old thing?’ Arissa asked.

‘The edges of the canvas reveal the painting,’ I said, reciting one of Enna’s old axioms for arta precis.

Arissa rolled her eyes. ‘I’m starting to sympathise with the marshal’s dislike of the Argosi.’

‘There’s no art on the walls,’ I explained. ‘No finery in the entire hall. Why would Colfax leave up that tapestry unless it served a purpose?’ I pointed to the horse’s rear end. ‘See that six-inch strip where the black is more faded than the rest?’

Arissa squinted. ‘Hard to see, but yeah?’

‘That’s not just wear and tear. Those threads have been intentionally thinned out so that someone on the other side can look out over this hall without being seen themselves.’

‘Why go to the trouble? I mean, those Mahdek elders are either going to meet with Ala’tris or not. Why lurk behind some dusty old tapestry making us wait for nothing?’

I didn’t reply, even though I knew the answer. This was one of the few times I felt a connection to my people. The Mahdek spent their lives being looked down on by others, either with pity or contempt – no one more so than the Jan’Tep. For once the Mahdek were looking down onthem.

Ala’tris knows it too, I thought, noticing how stoically she stood before the dais, waiting with that preternatural grace of hers. Not once had she looked back at Colfax or demanded to know what was going on. The other mages, especially Gab’rel, were doing a poorer job of not fidgeting. Strangely, none of them seemed nearly as flustered as Chedran.

Arissa poked my back as she whispered, ‘He keeps shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and his shoulders are so tense you can barely see his neck. Any minute now, he’s gonna lose it.’

Stupid, stupid, stupid, I thought, glancing back up at the tapestry.You’re all so determined to goad the Jan’Tep into losing their tempers by humiliating them that you can’t see how close you’re pushing one of your own people to breaking point.

The six guards surrounding us would surely interpret any sudden outburst as an imminent attack. These guys were professionals, and they weren’t oblivious to the way Chedran’s whole body was practically vibrating with suppressed rage.

Moments like these, it’s easy to get so caught up in trying to figure out how to keep the reins on one lunatic that you forget the one standing right next to you.

‘Well, will you look at what I found?’ Arissa shouted so loud I had to cover my ears. I turned and saw her right hand raised up high. A dozen steel throwing cards, taken from my pocket when she’d poked me in the back just now, shimmered in the light shining through the hall’s sloped windows. ‘Anyone want to see a card trick?’

‘Arissa, don’t!’

I tried to grab the cards from her. I was slow though, and she was unwilling to allow fear even the tiniest hold over her. What followed happened so fast I could only make sense of it by playing the events back slowly in my mind after it was already too late to stop them.

The instant she’d yelled her idiotic question, the six guards around us had shoved Chedran and me aside so they could level their short-bladed swords at Arissa. None of them had been carrying fire lances because weapons like that work best from a distance; the last thing you want is for your captive to snatch it out of your hands and turn it against you. Arissa now stood poised like the bud at the centre of a flower, the swords like six shining petals extending out around her. With the stolen steel cards fanned out, she spun like a dancer, using her momentum to knock the sword points out of line. Still twirling, she leaped straight up in the air.

The guards had clearly been about to thrust, so I’d shoved the one nearest me with my shoulder, hard enough that he stumbled into the two on his right. That left three who, seeing their comrades’ blades coming at them, drew back a step before regaining their footing and thrusting again. By now Arissa had already landed on her feet and was bowing so low the swords went right over her. Their tips stopped just short of my sternum.

‘Swords down!’ Colfax bellowed so loud I swear I felt the floor rumble beneath my feet.

With such speed and precision you’d have to call it graceful, the guards had dropped their points and stood to attention. Arissa stood back up, hands held high as if waiting to catch some imaginary bouquet of flowers tossed by an appreciative audience.

Everybody in that hall froze. The guards surrounding us, the fire lancers on the wall, Ala’tris and her coven, their fingers still curled in somatic shapes for spells they hadn’t had time to cast. Even Chedran was staring wide-eyed as if expecting me to explain what the hells had just happened.

I was shaking. Shaking so hard I couldn’t move. Deafened by the blood rushing in my ears and my heart battering against the inside of my chest. My mouth felt strange. Tingly. There was moisture on my lips that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Still trembling, I brought two fingers to my bottom lip, felt that hint of wetness before pulling them back, waiting for my eyes to focus. I knew what I’d find on them: the flecks of blood that had spattered from the wound about to end the life of this crazy girl who’d saved mine so many times.

There was no blood though.

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