The Prophecy Con (Rogues of the Republic) (35 page)

But Loch had chosen well. As much as she loved her witty rejoinders and clever banter, Isafesira de Lochenville had chosen for herself a man who knew when to let his actions speak.

The armor shattered under the next blow. Ringmail scattered across the deck, greaves and plates and buckles spraying in every direction.

From the wreckage, a serpent the size of a man—with a woman’s face—darted away, leaving only a husk of empty armor.

Pyvic raised Ghylspwr, and then twisted against his will, his strike turning into a block as he caught the Imperial warrior’s ax before it cut him down from behind. The effort sent him stumbling back nevertheless, and the Imperial warrior, splinters of wood still dropping from his shoulders, spun his ax as he stepped in to follow up.

“Ghylspwr!” Desidora cried, and in a flash, he was in her hands, and however fast the Imperial warrior was, it wasn’t fast enough to turn that quickly.

“
Kutesosh gajair’is!”
Ghylspwr’s blow smashed into his breastplate from behind—knocking him not down but
up
—and he sailed from the airship. He should have fallen to his death, but the ax wrenched the warrior’s arm to the side, and he crashed instead into his own airship.

“Kail,” Desidora called over, and threw Ghylspwr. “I believe it is time for us to leave.”

“Fine with me!” Kail yelled. Ghylspwr blasted one of the zombies that was on top of him, then flared back into Desidora’s hand. With the rest of the team relatively safe, he looked for the serpent-beast only to see zombies leaping back into their own airship with the thing that was Shenziencis in their arms.

She smashed in the skulls of the few remaining zombies on
Iofegemet
, covering her shuddering and shaking with grunts as she struck, and tried to forget the feeling of the dark coils wrapped around her aura.

And how once again, it had fallen to another to save her.

“That should do it,” Tern said, stepping back from what she swore was some kind of fern covered in slime. The lights in the room flickered, then came back to normal. “Now, if Ululenia swapped the mushrooms or whatever the hell they are, Loch should be good to go.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Hessler said, wiping his hands on his robes.

“Only had one arm,” Tern said.

“A fact that is both compelling and convenient,” Hessler said. “I suppose we should join up with Ululenia.”

They headed back down the hallway. An elven guard headed their way, and Hessler covered them with a cloaking field until he was gone.

“You are very good at that,” Tern said.

“Cloaking fields are more difficult than the layman really expects,” Hessler said as they started walking again, “given that the caster has to decide whether to make the body of the target perfectly transparent—which gives more reliable cloaking, but also risks severe damage to the target if the spell goes awry—or create a bubble that projects an image of what a viewer would see if the object inside the bubble were not present, which is far more difficult, but . . .” He broke off. “I mean, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She leaned against him, letting him take the lead for a little bit. “You don’t need to do more than illusions to impress me.”

“What about to save you?” Hessler asked. “My illusions nearly got you killed.”

“Overloading the railway bindings and freeing the fire-daemon didn’t help either,” Tern said.

“So what?” Hessler asked, and she heard the pain in his voice. “I should just stick to the figments instead of trying anything
beyond
me?”

“I
like
the figments,” Tern said, “and you were plenty useful. You could maybe worry less about impressing me and just keep doing what you were doing . . . which
was
impressing me.”

He looked away, flushing. “I didn’t say it was to impress you.”

“You didn’t have to. I am a sensitive and caring girlfriend.”

They reached the stairs up to the passenger deck and started up.

Then the door opened quickly, and Ululenia stepped through and closed the door behind her. She was out of breath, her pale hair askew and her horn not shining. She held up a hand to stop them, and it was red and blistered.

“What’s wrong?” Hessler asked.

Ululenia listened for a moment, looking at the closed door as though she could see something behind.

Then she turned and gave them a thin smile. “Nothing. Everything is going as planned.”

Another elven guard was moving very casually into a position on Loch’s left.

“Ma’am?” Dairy asked beside her.

“All within the parameters of the plan,” she murmured.

“Perhaps one more time, then,” the first elf said, “and then I am afraid that the situation will be outside my ability to help you. However, you may be assured that one of our other experts will ensure that your needs are met.”

One of the other experts had just taken up a polite stance that ensured Loch would be blocked if she made a run for it.

“As you say,” she said, and gestured for him to try again.

He placed the ticket on the pedestal.

The pedestal blinked, went silent for a moment, and then finally chimed happily.

“Ah, good,” Loch said, and swept past the elf with a smile.

“It is our hope that you enjoy your trip,” he said, still seeming a little doubtful, as Loch crossed the gangplank with Dairy in tow and stepped onto the deck of the great treeship.

“Gawk for me,” she murmured. “How are Kail and the others doing?”

“They’re flying off,” Dairy said. “The alarms are still going, though, and there’s another airship. And part of the railing is on fire.”

“As long as they’re leaving, we’re good.”

“Is that part of the plan?” Dairy asked with a little edge in his voice that wouldn’t have been there a few months ago.

“Right. I was going to show you the plan once we were aboard.” She fished into her pocket and came out with a slip of paper. “Here you go.” She passed it over.

Dairy unfolded the paper as Loch started walking. “Wait.”

She took in the treeship. The deck was spacious and crowded even still. The wood was light underfoot and dark at the railings, shining as though it had been smoothed, though it gripped her feet like living bark with every step. Elves leaned at the railing, chatting happily, the crystals in their cheeks sparkling. Humans, some white, some Urujar, and a few even Imperial, looked at the treeship curiously while their servants carried the luggage aboard.

Fairy creatures walked the deck as well. A pixie fluttered past, her wings shining in all the colors of the rainbow, while a centaur, elven from the waist up and deer from the waist down, trotted after her, laughing, a crown of leaves glowing around his head.

“Ma’am. Loch.” Dairy came up beside her. “All this says is ‘Get in. Get book. Get out.’”

“I was unconscious this time yesterday,” Loch said. “What did you expect?”

“I
expect
you to surrender,” Princess Veiled Lightning said as she stepped out from around the corner and came at Loch, hands crackling with blue energy, “but I
hope
you fight.”

Seventeen

D
AIRY
,” L
OCH SAID
, “if you would?”

Dairy stepped into Veiled Lightning’s path, and the Imperial princess reached out, the first two fingers of her hand straightened to a point that shone with radiant azure light.

She hit Dairy, and energy played around him, sputtered, and died out.

“I was pretty sure that qualified as magic,” Loch said. “Where’s your muscle?”

“Only pretty sure?” Dairy asked.

“My bodyguard and Attendant Shenziencis were covering your airship, on the chance that you would attempt to flee that way.” Veiled Lightning tried to sidestep Dairy, then glared when he moved to block her again. “But I knew you would come here.”

“Here’s where the book is.” Loch smiled. “Remember how I tried to surrender last time, and your idiot bodyguard came at me anyway and crashed the train and killed innocent people?”

Veiled Lightning glared. “You crashed the train yourself to escape him. At least have the honor to own your murders.”

“Oh, right, you’d already gone down by that point. Is that what Gentle Thunder told you? I guess he guards you from unpleasant truths. Did he hide the fact that he and Shenziencis killed a justicar to find out I was at Ajeveth, or were you there for that one?” Loch took a quick glance at the crowd of humans and elves and fairy creatures starting to form around them. “Dairy, I’ll need a moment.”

With that, she stepped back, cut politely through the crowd, and walked briskly toward the treeship’s main hall.

“Ma’am?”

“All part of the plan, Dairy,” she called without looking back.

“I
saw
the plan!”

And then she heard the sound of punches flying and lightning crackling.

The crowd watched her walk through the great arched doorway but did nothing to stop her, though murmurs were moving around the deck. She guessed she had five minutes at most.

The main hall had windows running along its sides and a raised stage at the far end. The overhead chandeliers were formed from what looked like petrified sap, shining with the pale light of a fall afternoon. At night, guests who did not wish to dine in their cabins could come to the main hall for meals suited to human, elven, and fairy-creature appetites, after which the chairs and tables were removed to make room for drinks and dancing. Loch guessed that the
suf-gesuf
tournament would be held in here as well.

The bar was open at the moment, and those with strong livers or a fear of flying were already taking advantage of the unlimited service, which gave Loch enough of a crowd to lose the eyes.

Then, by the windows on the right, Loch saw Irrethelathlialann holding a wineglass and speaking to a massive, red-bearded man whose fine robes could not completely hide the muscles underneath. He looked human, but the ship carried both humans and very dangerous things that
looked
human, and Loch knew which group she’d put the red-bearded man in.

She stepped into a crowd of laughing human nobles, laughed along with them, and spotted Baron Lechien, the noble who’d been ahead of her in the line. “Hello again,” she said, smiling and leaning in a little. “Signed up for the tournament already?”

“Just did, yes.” He blinked, having already forgotten her, but Loch was smiling, so he went along with it. “And you?”

She put herself opposite the noble. The crowd outside was getting louder, and elven guards with wooden blades and leaf-armor were making their way to the door with the purposeful, no-eye-contact body language that all discreet guards who worked for wealthy people learned to cultivate. “I was considering signing up. Sounds more interesting than looking at a bunch of trees, and it’s either that or listen to everyone complain about things going to hell with the Imperials.” She looked at the wealthy Imperial man who’d been talking to the noble, shrugged with a bit more shoulder than usual, and smiled helplessly. “No offense.”

“None taken.” The Imperial man wore rose-colored spectacles that matched his flowing silk robe, and he smiled genially while staring at Loch’s chest. “Who knows what foolishness our two countries will put themselves through before returning to the beneficial friendship we all want?”

“Exactly.” Loch leaned against Lechien a little. “Where do I sign up? Might as well spend the family inheritance
somehow
on this trip.”

Lechien put his hand on the small of her back while the Imperial man pointed down the hall toward the stage. “Right down there.”

“Great!” She smiled, looked past him, and saw Irrethelathlialann staring directly at her. He stepped away from the large red-bearded man he was talking to and gestured to one of the guards who was passing by. “Oh, crap. Really, he can’t just let it go?” As the Imperial man and Lechien looked at her in confusion, she sighed. “The elf over there, the rich one with the green cheeks? He’s been bothering me ever since my family did business with him last year. You know how it is—don’t want to cause offense, but he refuses to take the hint that I’m more interested in . . .” She looked over at Lechien and lowered her lashes a little. “. . . men.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Baron Lechien said, puffing out his chest a bit. The Imperial man chuckled.

“I think I’ll go sign up,” Loch said, easing herself from Lechien’s arm with a smile. “Hope to run into you both later.”

Somewhere, her sister was laughing. Loch wanted a long hot bath.

She strutted through the main hall, shoulders and hips tossing off the scent of money and power with every step.

Behind her, Irrethelathlialann called, “Well, fancy
meeting—” and then broke off.

“I think the lady would rather be left alone,” Baron Lechien said, and Loch heard the sound of robes swishing and boots stomping manfully.

She kept going.

Behind her and to the left, a window shattered, and people shouted in surprise as someone hit the ground. “Sorry!” Dairy cried, and Loch nodded to herself without looking up.

“Isafesira!” came the yell from by the window, and Loch spared a single glance to look around like everyone else was doing to see who this Isafesira person was and what trouble she might have gotten herself into. In the corner of her vision, elven guards were coming in from side doors on both sides.

She reached the main stage, ignored the stairs, and vaulted up with an effort that made her wounded side pull a little. The pretty elven woman behind the signup table looked at her with polite surprise.

“I’d like to sign up for the tournament,” she said, and as the elven woman opened her mouth, Loch unbuckled her belt and dropped her sword on the table. “This is the Nine-Ringed Dragon, legendary sword of the Empire. I believe it should cover the buy-in. Agreed?”

“Ah—”

The elven guards were coming up the stairs, although some of them had moved to stop Veiled Lightning, judging by the sound of electricity crackling in the main hall and people yelling in surprise. “The sword is genuine. I swear it. If you later believe its worth to be less than the buy-in, you may ask me to cover the difference, but I will be greatly offended if you refuse this, and it will adversely affect my enjoyment of my trip, now do we have an agreement and where do I sign?”

The elven woman stammered, and finally, as the guards reached the stage, produced a page and a pen. “Well, then, I suppose—”

“That’s a yes.” Loch grabbed the pen and wrote her name just as half a dozen swords pressed gently into her back.

“We are not technically in the Elflands yet,” Irrethelathlialann said coldly from behind her, “so it would probably break some kind of law to kill you.”

Loch turned around extremely slowly. “Probably,” she said, smiling. “So what do you intend to do, then?”

Irrethelathlialann stepped past the elven guards until his face was just inches from Loch’s. “I can think of
nothing
worse for you,” he murmured, “than to see you ejected from this treeship and tossed back into that little town, watching helplessly as I leave and your pathetic country goes off to war.”

Loch blinked. “That
does
sound bad.”

She very slowly lifted a hand and showed Irrethelathlialann the card in it.

“It also violates rule seven, that no member of the tournament be denied admission once payment has been accepted until such time as he-slash-she has dropped out, or the tournament is complete.”

The elven woman at the table behind Loch squeaked.

Irrethelathlialann closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, and Loch smiled.

“See you at the table.”

Captain Thelenea of the treeship whose name Loch had never quite figured out was a tall elven woman whose crystals glittered like angry diamonds in her age-lined cheeks. Her skin was darker than many of the elves Loch had seen, closer to olive green than the mint or emerald she saw on most of them. She wore a long black coat and trousers rather than the robes most elves favored, and the sword that hung at her waist was most definitely metal and not wood.

“Am I to understand,” she said, standing with her arms behind her back while Loch sat flanked by a pair of guards, “that you wish to participate in the
suf-gesuf
tournament despite having boarded my ship illegally?”

“The rules say that the tournament is open to anyone on the ship,” Loch said. “It specifies nothing about having to purchase a ticket.”

Irrethelathlialann stalked across the room, his robes flaring. “You think you can game the system, Isafesira? You’re in
my
homeland now.”

“Oh, we crossed the border? Glad to hear it.” Loch grinned. “Too late to dump me back in port.” As Irrethelathlialann shook his head, Loch’s grin faded. “Stings a bit when it’s
your
country’s rules being sidestepped, doesn’t it?”

Captain Thelenea raised a gloved hand in Loch’s direction. “I’ll refund the buy-in, pay for your passage back to Republic territory, drop the trespassing and fraud charges, and give you a discount on your next
legally purchased
ticket.”

“You can keep the buy-in,” Loch said, “and forget about the discount—if you have Ethel here return the elven manuscript he stole. It’s the only reason I’m here.”

Irrethelathlialann laughed. “You have committed an act of war against the Elflands—”

“And
you
are the reason that act of war against the Elflands is on
my ship
,” Captain Thelenea cut him off, “a fact you neglected to warn me about when you took advantage of my hospitality.”

Irrethelathlialann smiled thinly. “I was on the Dragon’s business, Captain. Is it your wish to get in the way of that business?”

The silence hung between the two elves for a long moment.

“She plays,” Captain Thelenea finally said, and Irrethelathlialann shook his head and turned away with a snarl. “The sword is good for two hundred plus twenty, so she starts with eleven thousand.” She turned and gave Loch a hard smile. “Anyone confident enough to bluff her way onto a ship to enter a tournament
must
be a professional, and I’m permitted to place bounties on professionals. Five thousand to whoever knocks her out,” she said, and smiled at Irrethelathlialann. “At which point, Ambassador, she’s all yours to dump off in the Republic.”

“You’re making a mistake, Captain,” he said, the stones in his cheeks glittering balefully.

Captain Thelenea kept smiling, one hand on her sword. “And hopefully you will remember the kind of mistakes I tend to make next time you consider bringing trouble onto my ship.”

Irrethelathlialann stalked out the door and slammed it behind him without replying. The captain waved to the guards flanking Loch, and they bowed and left as well, shutting the door much more quietly.

“I regret causing you difficulty,” Loch said, giving a small seated bow.