Except the Queen by Jane Yolen & Midori Snyder

Author:Jane Yolen & Midori Snyder [Yolen, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781101664513
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2012-04-02T16:00:00+00:00

37

Hawk and Aileen

I know well the sounds of my shop, even sequestered in my room: the metallic hum of machines, the chime on the door as it opens, the low conversation of the women waiting their turn. But my ear is also tuned to a deeper sound, the quiet crackle and decay of women’s bodies as charmed inks turn their spleens black as gall. I delight in their febrile pulses as my spells invade the marrow. I hum to the noise, shaping it into a death song so sweet that even the hollow-eyed girl I am working on offers me a hopeful smile. I stop tapping the needle into her skin and stroke her cheek. She closes her eyes, grateful for the soft touch of my hand, as tears escape from beneath her pale lashes.

They will all die of course; some quickly of an unnamed illness, others by their own hand. And some I help, like Jenna, whose skin was covered with my runes. I refused her, angry that the girl she brought me did not return. I went with Jenna down by the river, holding her hand while she stumbled and wept. I promised her peace, but did not tell her it would come in the grave. I summoned the monstrous Jenny Greenteeth to the bank and bid her feed. Hungry as always, Greenteeth made short work of the woman, taking her by the ankles as she waded into the river and dragging her beneath the dark current. What harm was there in that? Let her death offer nourishment to even the least of our kind who are still better than any mortal woman. The water churned as I watched from the bank, and only when I saw the thick, ruddy foam rise and float on the swirling eddies, did I turn and leave.

I look up from my work, suddenly aware of the silence. I hear nothing; not even the ordinary sounds of the street and the shop. I reach to draw back the curtains of my private room when they are drawn for me with the fierce jerk of a gloved hand. I curse that I have become so used to the mewling of weak women that I have not thought to keep my dagger close at hand.

A woman fills the doorway, wrapped in a full cloak of gray with a hood that hides her face. I step back, into the room, opening wide my arms and bowing my head just enough to acknowledge the power of the woman who has silenced even my own song. The girl on the table turns on her side, curling her knees up toward her wounded heart where I had placed a tattoo of a bell that she may know only the clang of calamity.

Flushing with anger, I am outraged at the impertinence of my visitor. I was once Hugh, son of Etar, clan leader of Inver Chechmaine, though now I am known as Long Lankin, the knight of blood and death. No one enters my rooms without permission.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.