Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [142]
Stepping forward, I finished with an attack on the midpoint, sweeping the blade in a high, arching parry to my right and swinging it in a level blow, hard and straight. It bit deep into the heavy wood. I felt the shock of it clean up both arms to my shoulders. The blade belled, clear and true.
In the depths of the smithy, an apprentice let out a whistle.
"Nicely done," said the smith.
"My thanks," I grunted, struggling to wrench the blade out of the post.
The scabbard fit nicely on my rhinoceros-hide belt, which was shiny with wear, but still as sturdy as the day Ras Lijasu gave it to me. It was on its last notch, but it fit. The Ras had been right, there was room to grow in it. Joscelin eyed it as we left the armorers' district. "We can get you a new belt."
I shook my head. "I don't want a new one."
We purchased one item in the leather district, though; a leg sheath to hold a second dagger, for with the addition of a sword, only the right-hand dagger fit on the belt. Joscelin knelt in the marketplace, strapping it to my left calf. When he was done, between the scabbard at my side and the dagger alongside my leg, I felt strange and a little stiff.
"It's an awkward draw," Joscelin commented.
I tried it. The first time, the pommel of my new sword drove into my ribs. The second time, I adjusted, coming out of a quick crouch with both daggers in my hands. Out of habit, I tossed my head, forgetting my hair was too short to obscure my vision. "Smooth enough, with practice."
Joscelin sighed. "Speed's not everything."
"No," I said. "But be honest, Joscelin. I'm better with the sword than the daggers, I always have been. If I need to go for them, I'm already in trouble. Besides," I added, "I haven't sworn an oath to draw my sword only to kill."
"Good," he said grimly. "Because I want you to draw it at need."
"I will," I promised.
"Better yet," he said, "stay out of trouble."
I grinned at him. "I'll try."
Under other circumstances, I daresay I would have swaggered a bit. Most young men do, upon getting their first sword. But I didn't have the heart for it. This was no courtly accessory; it was a weapon. And Tiberium was an eminently civilized city, but there was a long journey before I reached it.
And one farewell to make before the last one.
I rode out the following day to keep my appointment with Sidonie, unsure whether or not she would show. It was the second time I exercised my independence, for I went alone. No one knew but Mavros and Amarante, and I trusted him to keep my secrets. I trusted her, too. Priestesses' daughters have closed mouths. I knew, having grown up in a sanctuary.
The Queen's Guard admitted me onto the Palace grounds without a fuss, and I made for the royal apple orchard. The Bastard was in fine fettle, arching his speckled neck and snorting, picking up his forelegs in his odd, prancing gait.
I wondered if he sensed the journey to come.
We entered an aisle of trees, their gnarled limbs dense and leafy, bearing a myriad of tiny green apples. I glanced around as I rode, spotting Amarante at the end of another aisle. She stood, her hands folded, sunlight gleaming on her apricot-colored hair. As I rode closer, I could see her smiling. Her eyes were the color of green apples.
"Prince Imriel," she said. "You look quite the hero."
I laid one hand on the hilt of my new sword. "Defender against deer, savior of dogs." Amarante laughed.
"So Sidonie knew the place," I said softly. "Did she come?"
"I came." She stepped out from behind a tree. Her sun-dappled face was somber and unreadable. "I don't have long. I told my guardsmen we wanted a private stroll. They'll come looking for us if we don't return soon."
I dismounted and looped the Bastard's reins over a tree branch. "Thank you."
She smiled ruefully. "I thought I owed you as much. Although you've well-nigh broken Alais' heart, and Mother's not pleased." Sidonie turned to Amarante, touching her sleeve. "Will you give us a moment?"
"Of course." The priestess' daughter inclined her head.
We both watched her withdraw,