Breaking Bard (Guardians of Terath Book 3) Read online

  “I’m glad to help out. These old mines are a hazard. Every year I hear of someone getting killed in a cave-in.”

  They hadn’t needed many people for this expedition. Just he, Kassimeigh, and a couple low-ranking Guard members had come out to tackle three more sites. These three were relatively close to one another and only a couple hours’ kite flight from the monorail. They’d be able to make it back to the fortress before nightfall. Though flying on Kassimeigh’s kite sometimes still made him queasy, there was nothing like the convenience of her unique mode of travel.

  Will hadn’t truly needed to come along. Kassimeigh could easily lead the two young troops and get the job done. She would do just that on future endeavors, but Will felt a personal responsibility to oversee as many of the collapses as he could. An appointed job from the Council was no small thing.

  Besides, it gave him some in-person time with his first officer. She was so busy lately. Her dual roles within the shiv order and the Guard meant that he sometimes went several days without seeing her in person, even when she was at the fortress for part of that time. They traded a lot of comm messages. It got the job done, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her face-to-face.

  “On to the next?” Kassimeigh suggested.

  “Let’s go.” The four of them stepped onto Kassimeigh’s four-seater kite and sat. She had a six-seater kite as well, but the smaller the kite, the better it handled for her, so she used the smallest one possible. Will preferred the bigger kites. Kassimeigh was less likely to do acrobatics with them.

  After collapsing the third mine they returned to the fortress. That last mine had barely deserved the name. The hodge-podge operation had been constructed to clean out a single medium-sized vein of ore. It hardly seemed worth the effort to mine, but the money must have justified it.

  After they landed in the training yard outside the fortress, Kassimeigh headed off to change and find Arc. Once Will had put on a clean uniform he took the quickest route to the mess hall. He was pleased to find Izzy eating a late dinner and he set his tray down next to hers.

  “How’s life in the know-it-all business?” he baited.

  She smiled. “Good. I just finished the psych evaluations on the new potential recruits. How’s life in the hit-things-with-pointy-stick business?”

  He hadn’t enjoyed her taunting when they’d first met, but he’d learned to appreciate it. “No complaints. Hitting things with a pointy stick is my favorite.”

  Her lips curved into a big smile that was quintessentially Izzy. “All went well with the mine collapses?”

  “Yes. We have two more days of that ahead, then Kassimeigh has to go back to the Northern Keep.”

  “Seems like something serious is going on among the shivs.”

  Will rubbed his chin. “Yes. But Kassimeigh hasn’t offered me any details. And if she had, I couldn’t tell you anyway.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s not like I could tell you if she had told me anything, either. Counselor’s confidentiality, and all.”

  “So we’ll just sit here and not tell each other anything about the things we don’t know.”

  “Good. Glad we’ve settled that,” she agreed.

  “So.” Will tried to think of something to say.

  “So.”

  He felt oddly discomfited, though he couldn’t identify why. He didn’t usually struggle for conversation. Especially not with Izzy, who always seemed to say something to provoke him.

  “Everything okay with you, Izzy?”

  She tilted her head to the side, and her blue hair fanned out across her jawline in that way that seemed like a trademark. He’d always wondered about her unusual hair color but had never had the nerve to ask.

  “Sure.” A careless shrug rolled over her shoulder. Then she wrinkled her nose. “Actually, the truth is that I’m a little bored.”

  “Bored?”

  “After all the excitement of the past year or so, we seem to have hit a lull.”

  “Are you unsatisfied with your position here?”

  “No, I like the work. It’s different than what I’ve done before, and that’s good. It’s just . . . there’s a lack of newness, or adventure, or something.”

  “Hmm. What to do?” He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.

  She held up her hand in a staying gesture. “It’s not your problem. I’ll figure it out.”

  “The well-being of the Guard and its staff definitely is my concern. And you’re a friend besides, so that’s another reason to care.” He thought for a moment. “Would you be interested in helping with the mine collapses?”

  “What help could I be with that?”

  “I’ve been sending a couple of Guard members to make sure there was no one in there and that the area was cleared. But it occurs to me that you’d be able to sense someone if they were around, so you’d do a great job of that. If you’re interested and you have the time.”

  “So it would be me and Kassimeigh?” She liked that idea.

  “And me, whenever I can manage it.”

  “Oh. I was going to say yes, but if you’re going to be there . . . ” She let the implication hang. Then she laughed lightly, and his concern for her eased. Izzy’s laughter was always infectious. “It sounds interesting. I’ll give it a try. Thanks, Will.” She smiled at him. Instead of her usual teasing or knowing smile, it was a soft expression. He liked it.

  “Anytime, kid.” He was pleased to see the spark and snap come back to her eyes.

  “Kid? Last time I checked, I was a few years older than you.”

  “Age is relative.”

  “No, beauty is relative. Age is chronological. Defined.”

  “So let’s talk beauty then, since you brought it up. Why blue hair?”

  He had the satisfaction of seeing Izzy truly nonplussed. She sat staring at him.

  “My hair?” Her fingers skimmed the blunt cut that angled around her face. Her hair had been the same unusual, icy blue shade since he’d met her. “Well. It’s rather silly.”

  Will was instantly intrigued. Anything silly about Izzy was something he definitely wanted to know. He leaned forward slightly, keeping his eyes on her to indicate his rapt attention.

  “When I was young, I used to read a story about a tree fairy who could read minds. It was my favorite. The fairy was wise and beautiful and everyone loved her. No one thought she was strange and no one mistrusted her because of what she could do.” She hesitated and glanced around to ensure that no one else was listening.

  “She had long, light blue hair,” Izzy confided. “When I was a kid, I thought that if I had hair like hers, I could be like the fairy. When I got old enough, I knew better, but I still liked the idea of having blue hair.”

  “I like your hair color,” he assured her. “And the style too. But you’d be the same Izzy Gin no matter your hair color.”

  “I know. But I think the blue suits me.”

  “What’s the natural color?”

  “Oh, this is my natural color. Now.”

  “Right, but if you stopped having it processed, what would it grow out as?”

  “Blue. I don’t have my hair processed. I had a manahi doctor alter my DNA so I could have exactly this shade of hair.”

  Will’s jaw dropped. “That’s illegal. Purely aesthetic DNA changes aren’t allowed.”

  “Yes. But my hair’s still blue, isn’t it?” She tossed him a threatening look. “And if you tell anyone about it I might have to arrange an unfortunate accident for you.”

  He was still surprised by her admission, but he smiled. “No need to threaten me. I’ll keep your secret.”

  “Good. Now, Azure is approaching behind us, so we’ll change the subject.”

  Will turned and, sure enough, saw Azure carrying a tray toward them. The doctor asked, “Mind if I join you?”

  “Of course not. Have a seat.” Will gestured to the chair across from them.

  As much as Will enjoyed Azure’s company, he was a little sorry to have
his conversation with Izzy come to an abrupt end. She wasn’t one to talk about herself, and her candor had provided a rare peek into her past.

  Élan laced up her old knee-high traveler’s boots. Her favorite boots. She kept them in her locker at Bob’s, and tonight they were coming out to play. Under them she wore a pair of slim-fit brown pants that were embroidered along the outer seams in gold thread. She wore a clingy gold tank top and her hair was simply pulled back from her face with a clip. The outfit had also been in her locker. Most of her favorite things stayed at Bob’s.

  With a small instrument case clipped to her belt and two more slung over her shoulders to fall into place on either side of her backpack, she was the consummate image of a bard. Dammit. She huffed out a breath.

  “You’re sure I need to reveal myself to get the information I need?”

  Night, as always, wore all black. His tall, lean form was both intriguing and elegantly menacing. “There’s nothing to do for it, sweet one. You said you would do anything you needed to, and we need these guys falling over themselves for your attention. You are the bait you need.”

  “This is not how I would choose to go public.”

  “Hush, now. We all make choices we don’t want to, when we must. Besides, you’ve been hiding for too long now.”

  He wasn’t great for sympathy. But he was great for connections, and he spoke the truth about choices. She’d do what she had to and hope it didn’t blow up her whole life.

  “Are you sure Sim can’t come?” She’d feel better with him along.

  “They invited me. Me, with a date, I can get by with. There would be no explanation for him.”

  “Convenient for you.” Sim and Night got along fine, but they weren’t really friends outside of gatherings. Night always seemed most content as part of a large group inside Bob’s or some other venue, but he did try to get Élan on her own as often as possible. She’d tried to ask him why, once. He’d rambled off some inexplicable nonsense about coconuts and moss.

  Now he ignored her. That was also typical.

  She tried one last time to change his mind. “The guy mentioned sparkle to you before. Shouldn’t wanting to impress you be enough?”

  “We can try it. But if it’s not enough you’ll have lost your chance. Up to you.”

  As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She couldn’t afford to risk losing this opportunity. Even if she suspected that half of Night’s motive was to get her to out herself.

  “So where is this place?”

  “Outside the city, on the other side of the little lake. Hard to describe. I’ll just have to show you.” He stopped and squinted at her. “You’re less pretty when you’re glum.”

  “How I rate on the attractiveness scale isn’t my big concern right now, Night.”

  “It should be. If you want to find what you’re after, you need to dazzle them. Half-ass it and you’ll walk away with nothing.”

  “Thanks for the tough love,” she muttered. “Fine. I’ll be dazzling.”

  For a bard, being “on” was a matter of flipping the performance switch. All well-trained bards had the skill. Whenever she approached a stage, she was in performance mode, and she didn’t flip the switch back off until she was safely away from all event attendees. It didn’t matter if she was sick, distraught, or exhausted. Once the metaphorical curtain went up, there was nothing but the performance.

  Tonight would be her best performance ever. She’d play the role of herself. Élan Gray, former superstar. But since the curtain hadn’t gone up yet, she allowed herself some mental head-smashing-against-wall sentiments. She really couldn’t believe she was going to throw away her anonymity to help out the shivs. Well, to help the shivs protect the people of Terath and prevent senseless deaths. When she thought about it that way, it did make more sense.

  “So what is this party?” she asked. Distracting herself with details might help.

  “Birthday. The guest of honor wanted me to perform. Offered a ridiculous amount of pay, but it’s not my kind of scene. Young people with too much money and not enough to do. No real appreciation for art. But our person of interest seemed to be a close friend of the birthday boy, and for you, sweet one, I’ll do what I must.”

  “Yes, I suppose I’ll have to owe you one.”

  “Still don’t want to tell me what this is all about?” he prodded.

  “No. It’s probably best you don’t get involved.”

  “If you’re involved, I’m already involved.”

  She frowned at him. He could be so unsympathetic, yet completely loyal. He was like an ancient clock, the kind with parts that spun around in circles. She understood his essential function but she had no idea how his internal cogs and spinny things worked.

  “So what’s our story?” She didn’t know what Night had told the people when he’d accepted the gig.

  “We’re bards.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What else do you want?”

  She sent him an exasperated look. “I thought maybe you’d told them I was your girlfriend or we were a duo or something.”

  “The best story is no story at all. Just go. Be you. Get what you need.”

  “Fine. I will,” she snapped.

  “Fine.”

  She was a little annoyed that his “fine” sounded like he really was completely fine, while her “fine” sounded distinctly not fine. The man was impossible.

  She resolved to remain silent for the rest of their hike to the party. She listened to their footsteps and the swaying of the trees in the light breezes that occasionally wafted through them. A sudden wistfulness for the hinterlands seized her. She was thinking about the observatory when she noticed a sound that wasn’t from nature, Night, or herself. She glanced around but saw nothing in the wooded area they’d traveled into. Peering up into the trees revealed nothing out of the usual.

  Then three men stepped out from behind separate trees, holding swords. She and Night froze.

  “Easy,” one of the men said. He had greasy brown hair and shifty eyes. “Just give us all your valuables and you won’t get hurt.”

  Élan caught Night’s eyes and they both slowly reached for their instrument cases, lifting them off their shoulders. She was glad she hadn’t brought her leth. It was priceless and she’d never recover from losing it. She’d grieve for any of her instruments, if lost, but the leth was truly irreplaceable.

  “Just put them on the ground, nice and slow. The backpacks too.” Greasy gave them his best intimidating sneer.

  Night and Élan set their cases down gently. Élan’s fingers flicked over the backside of her mandolin case as she straightened, and she pulled out her second, rarely seen leth from a hidden compartment. This leth, which she called “gleth” to differentiate it from the other, was not an instrument. It had saved her from trouble more than once.

  Greasy had stepped forward in his eagerness to survey his stolen goods. Élan stepped forward too and swung the blunt side of her gleth upward to break his jaw. Night moved past her to engage the other two thieves. With one swift move he sliced his short sword across the throat of one. The second guy landed a light swipe to Night’s chest, but the bard twisted slightly and the cheap sword seemed to barely skim him.

  Élan keyed her gleth with a series of light touches and the blade shot out, turning it into a lightweight scimitar. Greasy was still rolling on the ground and holding his jaw, so it wasn’t hard to press him to the grass with her knee. He could have thrown her off easily but the sharp blade of the scimitar convinced him not to try.

  Night cracked the second guy in the head with the hilt of his sword, knocking him out cold. He checked the other guy, who lay on the ground bleeding profusely from the throat. Satisfied that neither of them presented a threat, he came to relieve Élan of her captive. She was glad to step back. She didn’t like touching the guy.

  “You okay?” she asked Night.

  “Of course. I’d be one sorry schmuck if these three could take
us.”

  She grabbed her hand comm and in less than ten minutes, a shiv from Sanctuary arrived to clean up the mess.

  Once they turned the bandits over to the shiv, Élan focused her attention on Night. “You’re sure you’re okay?” She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it back to see where the sword had sliced him. She skimmed her fingers over his chest.

  “That sword was little more than a child’s toy. It’s nothing.”

  The wound was more than nothing, but it wasn’t bad. A minor cut. Long but shallow. “We should have a doctor clean it up.” In the meantime, she had an antiseptic patch that would hopefully prevent infection and stop the bleeding.

  After she carefully applied the patch, he shrugged out of his torn shirt and tucked it into his pack. He pulled an identical one from another compartment and shrugged it on. “We need to get to the party. I’ll find a doctor later.”

  He had an odd knack for being prepared. And he was right. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  They put their weapons away and swung their instrument cases back onto their shoulders. She gave the shiv and the three criminals a last look, then strode away. She felt relieved to put some distance between her and them.

  “What is going on with the world that we can get attacked near Sanctuary?” she wondered as they walked. “This is a safe haven. There are plenty of justices around to discourage any dumb ideas.”

  “People are stupid. That’s not new.” Night shrugged. “It was worth it to get you to half undress me.”

  She rolled her eyes and smirked.

  He led her along confidently but she could discern no path. Whatever landmarks he was using, he didn’t share them with her. After another twenty minutes of walking they finally arrived at their destination.

  Once there, Élan wasted no time finding the birthday boy. “You need to summon a doctor for Night,” she instructed. “We were attacked in the woods on the way here and he got a small sword wound.”

  Birthday Boy, whose name was apparently Jonas, seemed inclined to argue. “That will cost a fortune, you know. Bringing a doctor out on location for something minor.”

  “If you want us to perform for you, that’s the way it is. As the host, it’s your job to ensure our comfort.” Not doing so could result in him being blacklisted by the entire guild, which meant that no bard would perform for him, regardless of how much he offered. Bards took proper hospitality very seriously.