The Ghost Tiger's Lament

Chapter Eleven

They broke out from under the shadow of the trees to pale skies and dark clouds gathering swiftly on the horizon. The air itself was charged with energy; Ashne could feel the hairs on her arms standing on end.

She spat out the worst curse she knew. Behind her, Braksya laughed.

She whipped around. “Is this all just a damn game to you?!”

He held his hands up in a placating gesture, still laughing. “If it were, I should hope I’d be having far more fun than I am now.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if joining him in mocking her.

“What are you after, anyway?” She cast her gaze out upon the plains, seeking shelter, finding none.

“As I told you and Phas, I am looking for the foreign sorcerer.”

A flash of lightning.

“But you said —”

“What did I say?”

She fell silent as she crouched down in a shallow ditch nearby, shielding herself behind a rock, and thought back to his words in the village. Indeed, he had spoken only of the scabbard. Of his interest in it.

She supposed that did not preclude an interest in this sorcerer as well.

“I do not understand you at all,” she said through gritted teeth.

He flashed her a quick smile. “Good!”

It would be counterproductive to kill him. “Tell me this, at least: why do you seek that man?”

He heaved a great sigh. Joined her in the ditch as the rain began to fall, slapping pitter-patter against the thirsting ground. “Will this satisfy you? There are questions I wish answered. And I believe this sorcerer possesses the answers I desire.”

“And yet you deliberately kept the scabbard hidden and made some crazy deal with those bandits, even though revealing it would have gained you access to him?”

“This again!” he cried, waving his hands about, almost striking her in the face. “Do you not understand? I would be loath to give up one just for the other.”

“But that’s precisely what you did! Whether you intended it or not, the scabbard is now in the hands of that Matron and her prince. And not only have you lost the scabbard, you have thrown away your only opportunity to meet with the very man you’ve been seeking!”

“Not only,” he said, looking quite amused. “The scabbard will not be enough for their purposes.”

This time she hesitated. Scabbard and blade, blade and scabbard. If what he had said earlier was true — and perhaps it was, for had not the scabbard responded to the prince just as the sword had once responded to his double? — one could not exist without the other. The sword at the bottom of the lake could be called back to the earth. It was not its power the men of Khonua needed, only what it represented. But perhaps Braksya had not spoken the entire truth. “What do you mean?”

“Think of it as a contract. With the scabbard, only half of the contract’s requirements are fulfilled. Perhaps not even half.”

“You keep speaking of contracts. As if this all were some — some business transaction.”

“If it helps to think of it that way, go ahead.”

“And I suppose this all has something to do with whatever agreement you made with the bandits.”

“Very good. You seem to be learning.”

“How can you be so sure they will uphold their end? Especially now that you have betrayed them. Yet again.”