The Heresy Within (22 page)

“H'ost's army met with another of the blooded, a family named D'roan, and they agreed to settle things the old way so none of the blooded folk got hurt. They both pick champions from their army and they fight. The winner gets the land, the loser retreats. H'ost picked Catherine.”

“And this D'roan picked you,” the Arbiter said nodding.

“Picked would be one word I guess, sure. I was his... prisoner. He agreed to let me go if I fought and won.”

“He had an entire army at his command and he picks you.”

“I told you back in gaol, I'm good with a sword.” Jezzet stared at the table, seemed she couldn't look the Arbiter in the face for the next bit. “D'roan told me to make a show of it. To humiliate H'ost's champion and I wanted to please him so I agreed.”

Jezzet fell silent, waiting for the Arbiter to ask what happened but he didn't. He just sat there silent, watching. “It wasn't a clean death,” Jezzet said after a while. “I cut her to pieces.”

Master always said, 'death should never be a spectacle. A Blademaster should always kill quick and certain.' and I ignored him.

“When Constance tried to intervene I took her left eye, left her bleeding over the corpse of her sister.” It wasn't something Jezzet liked to talk about; in fact it wasn't something she had ever talked about before. Seemed some of the stories were true about Arbiters, they could force a person to speak the truth.

“I'm sorry, Jezzet,” Arbiter Thanquil Darkheart said in a quiet voice. “But I still need your help.”

She shook her head. “You'd be better off with someone else, anyone else. Constance wants me dead and she'll stop at...”

“Even so. I need your help and you're going to help me.”

Jezzet snorted. “Why would I do that?”

The Arbiter pushed the pouch of gold bits towards her. It sat there heavy on the table, felt as weighty there as it had on her belt. “Because I've already bought you and because if what you say is true this Constance won't ever stop coming after you and because with my help maybe you can find a way to stop her.”

“Only way to stop her would be to kill her.”

“I'm sure we could manage that.”

Jezzet found her mouth open. Again the Arbiter ignored it. He stretched out his arms and yawned then reached forward, took Jezzet's beer and finished the drink in one big gulp.

“Time to go, Jezzet Vel'urn.”

“Where?”

“To see a man about a dress.”

With the sun as high and bright as it was the morning was beyond hot. Heat shimmers sprung up everywhere in front of her eyes and with not even a breeze of wind the air felt thick and heavy and moist. Jezzet wore the simple set of lightweight leathers she had purchased with Arbiter Thanquil's gold but still she found herself sweating. She kept wiping the moisture from her forehead into her hair but more kept springing forth. To make matters worse the Arbiter with his long coat didn't even seem to feel the heat. It might have made her angry but truth was Jezzet was too busy feeling sticky to get angry.

He led them to the merchant’s street in Goldtown and with the heat came the smells. There was no escaping the odour that hung above Chade in the heat. A constant aroma of shit and rot assaulted the occupants. Some of the more ladylike women, and indeed some of the more ladylike men, took to walking around with scented kerchiefs held to their faces and held their heads high like the stink meant nothing to them.

Clearly none of them have had to crawl through a sewer on their hands and knees before. The experience might do them some good.

They attracted a few stares, not as many as Jezzet might have thought and the truth of it was that it was the Arbiter attracting the stares. None of them would have given Jezzet a second glance but she was walking next to a witch hunter. It still made Jez nervous to have so many eyes pointed her way; all it would take was one of them to recognise her.

“Doesn't it bother you?” she asked Arbiter Thanquil as they walked. “The stares and such.”

He shook his head. “Being purposefully stared at is just a little bit better than being purposefully not stared at.”

Jezzet couldn't say she understood what the Arbiter meant by that but it didn't make her feel any better either way. Her hand hovered near her new sword, ready to draw steel at a moment’s notice. Her eyes darted everywhere, assessing every person to determine which, if any, were threats.
A Blademaster should always know where the next strike is coming from so he will never be surprised.
Her master used to say.

“This is it,” the Arbiter announced and ducked into the door of a large wooden building with a sign that stated the shop was a dressmaker. Jezzet had assumed the witch hunter was joking, a play on words or such that she hadn't understood. Now she had that terrible sinking feeling in her gut she got when she was about to be humiliated. She fixed a dark scowl to her face and followed the Arbiter inside.

It was bright inside but still a lot darker than in the sun, it took a moment for Jez's eyes to adjust. The shop was full of dresses, clothes, bolts of cloth, hats, dainty little shoes, powders and other concoctions designed to be applied to the face. Colours Jezzet couldn't even name assaulted her eyes from all directions and she felt her lip curling up in distaste.

“This is her,” the Arbiter said to an effeminate-looking man with a powdered face, big bulging eyes, a hook of a nose and short greasy hair pulled back over his skull. The man pouted at her.

“No!” Jezzet stated in her most firm voice. Both men ignored her.

The effeminate man walked towards her and his eyes swept over her in a rudely appraising manner. The only time Jezzet felt self-conscious about her body was when people looked at her scars but the way this man looked at her... she felt her hand twitching towards her blade.

“She's skinny,” the man said, his voice was as girlish as his manner.

“Recent adverse living conditions.” Arbiter Thanquil spoke for her.

“Not much in the way of breasts.”

“Some would say that's an advantage,” the Arbiter said and Jezzet had to agree with him.

“She has the hair of a boy.” Jezzet fought the urge to run her hand through her short, spiky mess of hair.

“Gives her a certain appeal I'd say.”

Enough!

Jezzet looked the effeminate man up and down the same way he had done to her. “He's overly plump. Lacks balls by the looks of him, probably a eunuch and his hair looks like it crawled out of someone's arse.” She had expected the man to look shocked, had hoped he would, instead he just raised a plucked eyebrow. Jezzet turned to Arbiter Thanquil. “No!”

“It's only a...”

“Jezzet Vel'urn has never and will never wear a dress.”

The Arbiter smiled at her. “You can't very well turn up to a ball wearing leathers.”

“Why not? You wanted someone to tell you how things are done here in the wilds. Well during the rich folk's balls many important people decide to bring bodyguards with them. I wouldn't look the least bit out of place in leathers.”

“Really...” the Arbiter prompted at the dressmaker.

“It's true,” the dressmaker said in a resigned voice.

“Still,” the Arbiter continued, “It wouldn't look right for an Arbiter to turn up with a bodyguard. One dress, one night.”

“I'm not wearing a dress.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I'm not.”

Jezzet glared at the Arbiter, the Arbiter stared back and an uncomfortable silence held the room. It seemed to stretch out forever until the silence became a living thing eating up the world around her until only her and the Arbiter remained each staring as stubbornly as the other.

“Try not to restrict her movement,” the Arbiter said and Jezzet knew he was talking to the dressmaker again. “And try to stay clear of her sword arm while you're measuring.”

The Arbiter started for the shop exit. “I'll be across the street, there's an interesting looking weapon shop.” He said as he walked past her.

Jezzet's hand shot out and caught the Arbiter's wrist. “No.”

He leaned closer so the dressmaker wouldn't overhear. “The ball is in four days. Most people of any import in Chade will be there. Your friend the warlord arrived in Chade this morning. I think she's less likely to recognise you in a dress.”

Jezzet let go of the Arbiter, her mouth had gone dry. “Why didn't you tell me earlier?”

“Didn't want you hiding in the inn all day. Come find me when you're finished.” With that the Arbiter strode out the door to the shop. By the time Jezzet turned back around the dressmaker was already advancing upon her with a tape measure.

You could still run, Jez. Still got the gold, still got a sword. Just slip away before the Arbiter notices and jump on the first boat headed anywhere.

The effeminate little dressmaker started measuring her arms, and then moved onto her legs, her shoulders, her hips, and her chest. All the while Jezzet stood there scowling at the man but not running, not jumping on the first ship headed anywhere.

“Your hair is a little short but with some make-up I could make you a vision any man would...”

Jezzet glared at the man and her hand moved towards her sword. “You come anywhere near me with any of that powder and I'll paint the shop red with your blood.”

The man backed away. “Of course, sorry. I meant no offence.”

“We done here?”

“Yes. You can tell the Arbiter...”

Jezzet didn't listen, didn't care to listen. She stormed out of the shop and straight towards the weapon market she had seen Thanquil enter. She stopped inside and looked around. This shop was more to her liking. Blades of all types hung on the walls and more than blades besides, hammers, maces, flails, daggers, swords, axes, spears. The shop could have supplied a small army by itself. Most of those on show were fancy works, good steel no doubt but jewelled and ornamented with all manner of fancy metalwork. She remembered her master's words, '
A blade should reflect its owner. Blademasters are meant for killing, not for showing.
'

The Arbiter was busy with the shop owner; he was being shown a small wood and metal device with a rounded handle and some sort of barrel. It looked as though it would fit in one hand but did not seem to be dangerous in any way, it didn't even have a blade.

“What is it?” Jezzet asked, curious despite herself.

“He calls it a ball shooter.”

Jezzet raised an eyebrow at that. “It... shoots balls?”

“Little metal ones,” the Arbiter said holding one such little metal ball up. “See.”

Jezzet took the little metal ball from the Arbiter and gave it a closer inspection. It didn't seem to be special in any way, just a small lump of rounded metal no bigger than the marbles children sometimes played with.

“It throws them like a sling?”

“No, good lady,” the merchant said, his accent was not of the wilds though Jez couldn't place where it was from.
The Pirate isles, I reckon
. “It shoots them like a crossbow but with no string.”

That made no sense at all to Jezzet. “How does it shoot them?”

“With black powder.”

“Never heard of it.”

Thanquil handed the device back to the merchant. “It's a fine black powder alchemists discovered some years ago. Ignites and explodes upon contact with fire,” he explained.

The merchant pointed the device with one hand at the back of the store. “You simply aim and pull on the little trigger, like a crossbow.” A tiny metal hammer on the top of the device clicked against a metal plate and nothing happened.

“It doesn't work,” Jezzet said.

The merchant laughed. “It is not loaded, good lady. It is accurate up to ten paces.”

“That seems a little short. I've seen bows shoot twenty times that.”

Again the merchant laughed. “It is not meant for range, good lady.”

Jezzet hated people calling her a lady. “Have you seen it work?” she asked Thanquil.

The Arbiter grinned at her through his stubble before turning to the merchant. “I'll take it, along with some black powder and some of your little metal balls.”

The merchant was all smiles and compliments after that. He charged the Arbiter eight gold bits for the device but Thanquil seemed happy to pay it. Truth was he seemed as happy as a child with a new toy. Truth was, Jezzet reckoned, the Arbiter had just been conned.

“You should have seen it work first before buying it,” Jezzet said to the smiling Arbiter. “Folk in the wilds will sell you anything if you got the money and they'll happily dress something up to be something it's not.”

The Arbiter nodded and looked at her. “You might be right. The dress...”

Jezzet shrugged. Last thing she wanted was to be reminded about that. She'd gone her whole life without wearing one of the stupid things and just a few days after meeting this Arbiter he'd have her in one to parade her around.

Not even D'roan had tried...

“Jezzet Vel'urn?” came a harsh-sounding male voice from behind her. Jez realised she hadn't been watching the streets, hadn't been watching the people and when people knew her name it rarely turned out well.

She turned to find the ugliest man she'd ever met staring at her with something akin to a smile on his burned face though in truth it was more like a horrific tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Thorn. Never thought to see you in Chade ever again,” Jezzet said with a smile of her own, one a great deal prettier than his.

“Ya know this one then, Thorn?” asked the big black-skinned southerner beside him.

“Aye, me 'n Jezzet go way back. She helped me out when...” Thorn's voice trailed to a stop and Jezzet realised he was staring at the man beside her, staring at Arbiter Thanquil. For his own part the Arbiter looked disinterested in the whole situation but content to wait it out.

“What're you doin' with one o' them, Jez?” Thorn asked.

“Working, Thorn. The Arbiter's hired me as a guide.”

“That's that short Arbiter we saw?” asked a skinny youth, looked to be half a boy still but with a nasty-looking curl to his mouth and a bit of brown fuzz on his chin. “Well don't jus' stand there, Black Thorn, kill him!”