Dagger's Edge (Shadow series) (21 page)

Urien stroked her hair and pulled back a little to look at her.

“What’s the matter?” he asked gently.

“Nothing,” Jael said quickly. “I mean—”

Urien nodded, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“You’re a maiden, aren’t you?” he asked.

Jael’s face flamed.

“Well—uh—elven women don’t have—I mean—but—”

“That sounds like a ‘yes.’“ Urien smiled understanding, reaching out to stroke her hair again. “I thought as much. This isn’t really what you want, is it, Jaellyn?”

“Well—” Jael sighed miserably. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but most of me’s never wanted much of anything, if you understand what I mean.”

“Ah.” Urien smiled again, then pulled Jael close, cradling her head on his shoulder. Jael was grateful that she didn’t have to face him. “It was different at the Basilisk’s Eye, wasn’t it? But that was likely the Bluebright. It sometimes has that effect on people.”

“Is that why you gave it to me?” Jael asked daringly.

“No.” Urien’s voice was gently reproving. “Jaellyn, do you think I have to resort to drugging young ladies with Bluebright to make them want me? Or that I’d even wish to?”

“No, oh, no,” Jael said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I’m sorry.” She buried her face in his tunic. “I’m just embarrassed, I suppose, and a little disappointed.”

“There’s no need for either,” Urien said firmly, tightening his arms around her warmly. “My feelings for you aren’t dependent on whether I can coax you into my bed tonight. When you want me, Jaellyn, then I’ll teach you every pleasure I know. But there’s no need to be impatient.”

Jael sighed explosively, relieved and dismayed at the same time.

“You’re as patient and reasonable as my father,” she said wryly. “It’s almost irritating.”

“Oh, really?” Urien laughed. “Would you prefer that I drug you, seduce you, or just ravish you, then? Hmmm, seducing you seems unlikely, and ravishing you would get me thrown in the castle dungeons. Wait here, I’ll fetch the Bluebright.”

“All right, all right,” Jael growled. “I don’t recall asking for salt for my wounds, thank you.”

“I’m sorry.” Urien nuzzled Jael’s short curls, stroking her back gently. “This must be exasperating for you. But I assure you that I’m not disappointed. At least not
too
disappointed.”

Jael hid her grimace in Urien’s shoulder. Gods, what she wouldn’t pay for an hour of feeling like a normal twenty-year-old woman—elf or human, either one.

Urien was kind and understanding and tried to coax Jael back into a better mood with tea and pastries, but for Jael the evening was ruined, and Urien wisely did not protest when she left rather earlier than planned.

Jael wished regretfully that Aunt Shadow hadn’t left town—she would have been the perfect person to talk to—but Aunt Shadow
was
gone, and that meant there was only one person she could ask for help.

It was late enough that Donya and Argent were in their quarters, and Jael found them poring over the rough map she’d seen earlier. Donya hurriedly pushed the map aside when Jael entered, but Jael excused herself, saying she’d only come to talk to her father. Argent, very surprised, quickly rose and walked back with Jael to her room.

“What kind of problem could you possibly have,” Argent asked her, “that you couldn’t ask in your mother’s presence?”

“It’s rather embarrassing, actually,” Jael admitted. “Can I ask you something as an elf and an herbalist instead of as High Lord and my—my father?”

Argent raised both eyebrows and settled himself on Jael’s bed. He poured himself a cup of water from the jug beside the bed before answering.

“I can’t promise anything but my best attempt,” he said at last. “But go ahead.”

“Back when you were working as an herbalist,” Jael said slowly, “what would you have given an elf who was—well— soul-sick, for example, and when she was with an attractive person under the—uh—proper conditions, couldn’t—well—”

“—enjoy his attentions?” Argent prompted. He shook his head, frowning. “Jaellyn, are you asking me for a potion to make you feel a desire your body isn’t ready for?”

“It’s not my body that isn’t working,” Jael protested. “It’s because I only have two parts of three of my soul, and I may
never
have the rest of it! Am I supposed to wait forever?”

“I see.” Argent looked down at his hands for a long moment. “Jaellyn, are you utterly certain that that is what you want, or are you prepared to listen to an herbalist’s advice?”

“I’ll listen,” Jael said reluctantly.

“Do you remember what Mist told us, that certain potions can temporarily heal soul-sickness?” Argent asked her. “The dreaming potion you took in the forest was apparently such a potion. Remember that magical energies are closely linked with the body’s sexual energies as well, and think about what happened when you took that potion. You had a hint of the kind of power within you. If I make a potion which sets that power free before you are capable of handling it, what do you think could happen? Is it worth the possible price, to have a night’s passion now instead of later?”

Jael sighed exasperatedly. It was much easier to shout and argue with her mother than to refute Father’s gentle, inexorable logic. A night’s tumble seemed a small gain when compared to the damage that might be done by a power strong enough to melt stone.

“All right,” Jael said reluctantly. “I’ll wait. For a while, at least.”

“You
are
growing,” Argent said comfortingly, “inside as well as outwardly. And with the elven blood in you, there’s no need for impatience.”

When Argent was gone, Jael realized that he had had even more potent arguments that he had, perhaps through kindness, chosen not to use. Seemingly casual liaisons often had long-term consequences, Jael herself being a good example. Even though she had never yet ripened, and might indeed be barren, there were plenty of other, less tangible risks. Urien could lose the support of more of his worshippers—possibly even of his priests—were it known that he was engaged in a liaison with the High Lord and Lady’s apparently elven daughter. Such a rumor could do as much harm to Urien as it could benefit Ankaras’s cause. The anti-elven faction in Allanmere, especially those worshippers who had left the Temple of Baaros, could even suggest that the High Lord and Lady had used their daughter as a tool to sway Urien and the Temple of Baaros.

That last was a sobering thought. Jael had never thought that there might be city-wide repercussions to her actions. She could now appreciate the discretion Urien had shown so far. He had met Jael only under very private conditions, or under scrupulous chaperoning. If even Tanis didn’t realize that Urien had been meeting with Jael, it was unlikely that anyone else did.

Jael grimaced and shook her head, remembering Urien asking her if she never wished to forget for a short time that she was the daughter of the High Lord and Lady of Allanmere. If being High Priest of the Temple of Baaros caused this much trouble, little wonder Ankaras was such a walking briar patch!

Or that her mother sometimes acted like an overzealous mother wolf trying to defend her only pup. Gods, could Donya even
spit
without it being told from one end of Allanmere to the other? And this would be Jael’s lot if she was declared Heir.

Jael carried that disturbing thought into an uneasy sleep.

The next day Jael was almost grateful for her lessons, since at least they passed the uneasy time until evening, when she could go to the market to meet Tanis. She did, however, have time between her afternoon lesson and sunset for an errand or two. She thrust her copy of her mother’s map into her tunic and hurried south and east to the Noble District.

Teva was on guard patrol there, and it took only a few inquiries to find the burly guardswoman. Teva had already been questioned numerous times about Merchant Daral’s disappearance, and did not appear overly surprised that the High Lord’s daughter would come to question her again. Daral had left the Golden Grape early, shortly after moonrise. He had had a little wine at the Grape—what elf would not?—but was still fairly steady when he left, according to the friends who had been drinking with him. It was his friends’ impression that he was going directly back to his home, and his usual route was a busy street, well lit and well traveled at that hour. Daral had a little money in his purse, but not more than a handful of Moons; like most elves, he was not clever with money and it was commonly known that his small wood-carving shop did not keep him in luxury. He had no known enemies, but many friends; it was his lover, waiting at his home, who reported to the guard that he was missing. Beyond that, Teva knew nothing more.

Solly would be more difficult to contact, since Jael had no intention of walking into Rivertown alone to try to find a thief; nor could she simply ask about him on the street as she had Teva. There were a few other options, but Jael chose to walk south to the Thieves’ Guild herself. She could leave a message for Solly there, and at the same time she could talk to Aubry.

The few thieves standing idly at the front of the Guildhouse called cheerily to Jael or waved; Jael was a frequent visitor, in Shadow’s company or alone. Jael found Estar, Aubry’s assistant and treasurer, sipping an ale and poring over the Guild accounts book.

“Good afternoon, Jael,” Estar said, closing the book with a grin of relief. “I don’t suppose you’ve come looking for an apprenticeship? I hope not. We’re fresh out of apprentice tokens until next week, when the new lot are done.”

“I don’t think my parents would really like me to become a thief,” Jael said regretfully. “It would be awfully embarrassing for them if the City Guard caught me, wouldn’t it?”

“I suppose it would,” Estar admitted, chuckling. “What can I do for you, then?”

“I’d like to talk to Aubry,” Jael said. “And I’d like to leave a message for another Guild member, if I can.”

“Aubry’s upstairs, and the message will cost you ten coppers,” Estar said, opening the accounts book again with a sigh. “Which Guild member?”

“Solly,” Jael told her. “He’s the one who found those two elves in Rivertown, isn’t he?”

Estar grimaced.

“Yes, he is. That’s a nasty bit of work, isn’t it? And now these others. Some of our members think it’s too much like during the Crimson Plague twenty years ago. Of course, you weren’t even born then, but for our elven members, it’s like yesterday. But what do you want Solly for? Never mind, it’s none of my affair, is it? What’s the message?”

“Tell him I want to talk to him,” Jael said. “Ask him to send a message to me at the castle, and I’ll meet him anywhere he likes—but not in Rivertown. If he’ll meet me, I’ll treat for ale and pay him, too, for his time. I promise it’s nothing that will make any trouble for him.”

“Well, I suppose he’ll talk to you,” Estar said, grinning. “He’s the one who used to steal you sweets, wasn’t he, when you were so little Shadow could carry you here on her shoulders?”

Jael chuckled at the memory.

“Half the Guild used to steal me sweets,” she said ruefully. “Mother used to scold Shadow for bringing me here. I’d always come back sick-bellied from all the candy. May I go on up to see Aubry?”

“Yes, go on,” Estar told her. “He’s just looking at his maps. Here, take this wine up with you.”

It didn’t seem odd to Jael that the Guildmaster’s assistant might expect the High Lord’s daughter to ferry wine upstairs for her. When she’d been younger, Jael had loved to spend her time at the Guild, running errands for the members in exchange for pocket money she didn’t need, or just for the enjoyment of being part of the Guild for a little while. Shadow or Aubry always kept watch over her at first, but their caution soon became unnecessary, as the fumble-footed, bright-eyed child quickly became the pet of the Guild. After her childhood it always amused Jael to remember scarred, vicious-looking thieves carrying her on their shoulders or tossing her, shrieking with laughter, back and forth between them, or dignified elves tickling her with their braid tips, or Guildmaster Aubry sprawled on the dusty floor teaching her ten-stone.

Aubry was in the small back room he used as an office; as Estar said, he was poring over his maps, as much ink on his fingers and cheek as on the parchment, drawing and scratching out new territories. The entire room was cloudy with the malodorous smoke from Aubry’s pipe.

“There you are, Estar,” he said grumpily, not looking up. “Did you bring my wine?”

“Estar sent it up with me,” Jael said. “Fair evening, Uncle Aubry.” She coughed.

“Jael!” Aubry put down his pen and reached out for her, then looked at his ink-smeared hands and stopped with a grimace. “Sorry, I don’t want to stain your tunic. Sit down and pour a cup for yourself. You haven’t had much time to spend with us lately, little sapling. What can I do for you?”

“These elves that have been killed—” Jael shrugged. “Mother and Father won’t tell me much. They don’t want to frighten me, but I think it’s my concern, too, as long as I’m not barricaded in the castle. I hoped you could tell me more.”

“You’re right that it’s every city elf’s concern,” Aubry said, nodding. “I’d advise you to avoid Rivertown, but you’ve known that much for years. Let’s look at my map.”

Aubry pushed the territory charts aside and pulled out another map. Jael was not surprised to see that he had marked the incidents just as Donya had. This was larger than Donya’s rough map, however, and more detailed.

“The first two elves, Garric and Crow, were found here,” Aubry said, pointing to an alley marked on the map behind the Fin and Flagon. “Solly found them propped sitting against the wall. He thought they were drunk at first and was going to lift their purses.”

“Well, nobody would sit quietly against a tavern wall while somebody cut their hearts out,” Jael said slowly.

“No. They were obviously carried there after they were killed, or the alley would have been covered with blood, and there wasn’t any, just a little on the corpses,” Aubry said. He tapped the map where the Docks were marked. “The woman in the river was Aliss, brought in wine from the forest to sell through the local merchants.”