The Sword Of Happenstance by Steven Brust & Skyler White

Author:Steven Brust & Skyler White [Brust, Steven & White, Skyler]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: FoxFire Publishing
Published: 2021-03-27T06:00:00+00:00

Ayre still had the air of a hero that he’d had since he told our story at the inn. He shone with confidence. At every forking of the road, he knew the way. When it started to rain, he magicked it away. All day while we rode, he sat behind me. His presence there steadied Smith so much that I started to wonder if the sword were rightly his.

Smith couldn’t still be resting; it was the only one amongst us who’d slept at all last night. It was just at peace, but peace isn’t a way you stay. It’s more like standing on the back of a sheep. You may not fall off, but you’re always teetering, knowing if you tumble, you’re in sheep shit. Still, Smith seemed content wedged between my back and Ayre’s chest, until Dav the Question rode by. Then he came wide awake. We all did, tired though we had just been, tense with the work of staying quiet and unseen. My hand went to Smith’s hilt and had nearly pulled it free when my head caught up. I stuck my hand under my rump so it wouldn’t be tempted again.

Kill him now! Smith spoke into my mind. Take him unawares!

He twisted against my back, trying to work himself free, and I was glad he had but the one sharp edge.

He means you harm!

“Shhh!” I hissed and Cassandra scowled at me.

I think if Ayre hadn’t had his arm about me, Smith would have been in my hand, and we would have been racing, fast and low, hidden by Ayre’s spell, running up on the Question. Smith desperately wanted to. And I felt its need to hunt, to pounce and strike, to bite fast and hard through Dav’s kidney, under his ribs, and up to where the heart lies.

Strike now! Smith urged me. Why do we hide like rabbits? Are we not men?

We weren’t. We were a boy, an almost-guard, two scullery maids, a fairy, and a talking sword. Not a man among us.

“We avoid death,” I explained.

But so does he!

“Not for long,” Cassandra whispered. “If you don’t stop talking.” Her hand was on her sword’s hilt.

“He’s a witch!” Ayre whispered to me.

“Who? Dav?”

“Yes. I didn’t realize it at first. He has power. He—”

“But he can’t be,” I explained. “Because then the duchy would have three witches, four counting you, and that’s way too many.”

Ayre didn’t answer, so I guess I’d convinced him. I didn’t want him worrying.

We went on, and at the outskirts of the capital, we found a hiding place so perfect it must have been part of Ayre’s plan. It was but a few hours’ walk from the castle gates, but densely wooded to give us cover, with a grassy clearing large enough for us and our horses, and a little spring-fed brook. It was so ideally suited to a night’s rest before a day of scouting and a regicide that I half-expected to find another band of heroes already camped there. Perhaps they’d been delayed.

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