Sworn To Transfer

“I know, but I’m glad it’s a pleasant one,” she said as they reached the other side of the street and walked into the city’s public gardens. It was the only green area maintained by the Imperial household, a gift from the emperor to the city’s inhabitants.

“Well?” he said, tapping an occasional rock in their path with his long cane.

“Haven’t you ever heard that patience is a virtue, Milord?”

“Yes, but it’s not one of the virtues that I’ve known you to be even passable at.”

“That’s true,” said Ciardis as a rueful smile graced her lips. Looking up towards the sky she couldn’t help but admire the wits of the tall, but gangly man who towered above her with long gray hair falling to his shoulders.

“I need your help, Lord Varis,” she admitted. “Just with information.”

“There’s nothing just about seeking information, Ciardis Weathervane. Particularly in the Imperial Courts. What is that you wish to know?”

“Why is the Duke of Cinnis trying to kill Prince Sebastian?”

“He’s not.”

“But...”

“He’s trying to kill you.”

“That’s impossible. There have not been any attacks on me...not recently, anyway.”

“That you know of,” he pointed out.

Varis looked down at her thoughtfully and then said, “That information was free, Ciardis. Ask me another question.”

She stood flummoxed for a moment, but decided there was only one question that was pertinent now. “What can I do about it?”

“Not why? Very good. You can run...”

Her stiff expression told him what she thought of that idea.

“Or you can fight,” he said.

Ciardis nodded. “The latter will be more to my style.”

“And the most likely to get you in trouble,” he said dryly. “Well, my dear, according to the ears I have on the ground, no one has made direct moves against you yet.”

“And indirectly?”

“Rumors circling around. Some courtiers of the Duke have been whispering unpleasant things about you to receptive Imperial ears. Not the Prince Heir’s mind you, but the ears of those he must pay attention to if you catch my meaning.”

She did. If the Duke had enough clout to poison the Emperor’s thoughts against her it was no wonder that Prince Sebastian had been avoiding her for months.

“But it doesn’t seem to have the desired effect. Prince Sebastian has closed his ranks, has begun relying only on trusted advisors,” Varis said in a lower voice. “And he hasn’t renounced his intention to make you his Companion. Despite significant pressure.”

Ciardis nodded, trying to keep her face impassive. To be honest, she hadn’t been aware that was even a consideration.

“The duke is not appreciative of your influence on Prince Sebastian.”

“Well, I’m not appreciative of his butting into my personal affairs.”

Vardis sighed and cautioned her, “Be careful. You aren’t protected by Imperial forces. And the duke is quite sure the Prince Heir’s bold endeavors in the matters of the Imperial Courts are a direct result of your whispers in his ear.”

“Impossible.”

“Why? One would think the rumors are true. You are practically his unofficial Companion and it’s said that he invites you to the Aether Realm for private consultations.”

Ciardis frowned, while partly true she didn’t feel like opening up about her relationship with Sebastian. They’d just gotten back on friendly terms. “It’s not relevant.”

As they headed back to the palace, Varis left her with whispered warnings.

“Most of all, Ciardis, keep your head down. The duke shouldn’t attack if you don’t strike first. And stay out of trouble. Your court escapades over the summer have angered quite a few, the Duke not least among them.”

Chapter 6

The next morning Ciardis rose bright and early. A light fog had drifted in on the coast and she watched it silently from the balcony of her apartment. Staring out at the sea, she quietly gathered her thoughts. She knew, deep down, that many things were about to change.

For better or for worse, she couldn’t tell.

The door to her bedroom banged open with a loud crack.

Starting now.

Turning swiftly in her gown and robe, Ciardis confronted the person who’d barged into her room. She stared in shock at Stephanie, a transfer Companion with the talent to copy and deliver a specific talent from one person to another. Ciardis hadn’t seen the girl in almost half a year—not since they’d made the transfer deal for the Sahalian language at the very beginning of her arrival at the Companions’ Guild.

“What in a demon’s ass do you think you’re doing?” Ciardis demanded in outrage. She swiftly strode forward, intent on pushing the woman out of her room. But then Stephanie stepped around the bed and Ciardis stopped in her tracks. She held a loaded crossbow in her hands.

Hastily backing up a step, she said, “I mean...Stephanie, it’s been so long.”

She saw the second weapon she’d been training with out of the corner of her eye: her glaive. It stood in the corner, a wooden staff built of the finest hardwood with a wicked sharp curved blade on the end. She was as good at wielding the staff as she was at firing a bow and arrow. But it was something to defend herself with. Ciardis lunged for it and brought the weapon up so that the sharp end was pointed at her opponent. Standing with the glaive in her hands, her feet spread for traction and swift movement and her nightgown fluttering in the morning air, she didn’t look like the greatest warrior. But it didn’t matter so long as she came out of this alive.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Stephanie said with exasperation.

“Oh, well, then I guess I should put the glaive down.” She wasn’t stupid; the weapon didn’t move an inch.

Sighing, Stephanie tossed the loaded crossbow on the bed and held her hands out by her sides.

“Better?”

“I’ll ask you again: What in a demon’s ass do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving your neck.”

Stephanie lunged towards Ciardis’s bed and grabbed her loaded crossbow in a smooth movement. Turning toward Ciardis, she fired a bolt. Ciardis dropped to the floor, evading the shot but unfortunately putting herself at a disadvantage. The glaive had fallen. And the way her body lay facedown made it hard to use the staff for any sort of defense. As she pushed herself off of the floor, keeping an angry eye on Stephanie, she frowned at sudden wetness on her hand. Bringing her hand up to her face, she stared in horror at the red blood dripping down her fingers.

She wasn’t wounded. But someone was.

Turning around, Ciardis saw a man lying on the floor. Face up, with a crossbolt sticking out of his chest.

Standing up and moving off the bed, Stephanie said with sarcasm, “You’re welcome.”

“What? Who?”

“One of the Duke of Cinnis’s men,” answered Stephanie as she came over and yanked her crossbolt out of his chest. “I don’t think I have to tell you why.”

Pale and shaky, Ciardis moved away from the body, laid the glaive down on the bed, and sat down.

“I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I?”