The assassin mirrored her motions, and Kari hesitated. Nothing in Kari’s education ever mentioned syrinthians having wings, and she considered the assassin’s coloration: She almost appeared albino. Kari realized she faced something her Order knew little about. The woman’s skill with her twin straight blades was both efficient and impressive.
Kari’s contemplations came to an end a moment later when one of the guards behind her blew his whistle, and soon it was answered by the piercing sound of watch whistles echoing down the long streets. Kari let forth a sigh of relief. Irressa was back on her feet and slowly circled to get the assassin between them again.
The syrinthian woman checked Irressa’s position and Kari pounced, leading high with her right blade but preparing an eviscerating follow-up with her left. She could scarcely believe the reaction she received. The syrinthian woman jabbed Kari hard in her armored belly with one blade while lifting Kari’s scimitar harmlessly high with the other. The assassin dashed under Kari’s arm and kicked her hard in the side, a move reminiscent of Aeligos’ training, but Kari’s reflexes allowed her to turn with the blow and bring her left scimitar around. She parried the assassin’s neck strike hard, then spun back the other way with a decapitating cut of her right scimitar.
The syrinthian woman was surprised at Kari’s speed, but she ducked out of range of the counterstrike. The two faced each other for a moment and Irressa approached, once again circling to flank their enemy. “Black is mine,” the syrinthian hissed in an otherworldly voice that seemed unaccustomed to speaking the humans’ tongue. Her angled, golden, slit-pupiled eyes fixed Kari with a baleful gaze. Kari saw the assassin understood she was outnumbered and would soon be overwhelmed. “You cannot protect him forever.”
Kari started to ask what she meant, but the woman shrank into the folds of her cloak and then vanished completely. Kari had seen sorcerers do a similar thing. Though her sister-in-law, Sonja, was still learning the nuances of arcane travel, Kari knew the assassin had teleported away. Exasperated, Kari looked around to be sure the assassin was gone, but then she pointed at a guard with a scimitar. “You! Go fetch a healer from Tigron’s temple, quickly!”
The guard saluted and ran off without question. Kari regarded Aeligos and the bleeding watch captain. “That healer had better get here quickly. I’m losing her,” Aeligos said.
Kari bit her lip for a moment; she had been in this situation before. She turned to Black, who’d made no move to help. Kari knelt beside the wounded captain and channeled what little of her deity’s power she could to help start the healing process but realized that it would make little difference. She glanced over her shoulder and said, “You have a lot of explaining to do.”
It was hard to tell in the dark, but she was pretty sure Black was suppressing a smile.
3
Blood Oath
Once Black was secure on the Order’s campus and the priests began their interrogations of the earl and the innkeeper, Kari made her way to the temple of the healer god from Koryon, called Tigron. She hoped Captain Sul’Imadra would be all right; her friend Makauric died in a similar way on Tsalbrin, and Kari hated the helpless feeling that clung to her.
Aeligos split off from her after leaving the grounds. He wanted to find Eryn and see if she knew anything of the incident at Charlie’s Boarding House or of this other assassin prowling DarkWind’s streets. Kari was glad for the unsanctioned help. She kept her pace brisk as she jogged to Tigron’s temple.
The temple itself was white and sterile, with little in the way of decorations other than Tigron’s symbol: a light-blue ankh perched above the open doorway. Inside were a small altar and some stone benches for petitioners offering prayers, but the majority of the building was comprised of rooms and beds for the ill and injured. Tigron’s priests were not only amazing healers because of the divine power they channeled from their deity, but many were also skilled alchemists and physicians. Kari recalled when Aeligos had broken his arm sparring at the local dojo, and how quickly he had recovered under the mundane ministrations of Tigron’s priests. Their skills allowed them to reserve calling upon their deity’s power for only the most severe cases—such as Captain Sul’Imadra.
A young human acolyte directed Kari to the captain’s room. Kari was surprised to find Serenjols there when she arrived, and he seemed just as shocked when Kari entered. She glanced around the sparsely decorated room and its other empty bed before taking in the captain. Two human priests of Tigron were tending to her, one suturing the wound with a needle while the other prayed quietly over her. The priests looked up briefly to mark Kari’s presence and give her a polite nod before they returned to their work.
Kari regarded her shy brother-in-law, who seemed to be blushing, though with serilian-rir it was difficult to tell. It dawned on Kari after a minute just why he was there, though, and she wrapped her arm around him in a gentle hug, which he returned after a moment. No words were exchanged, but Kari could feel Jol’s concern in the well-concealed trembling of his body. She had to wonder if that was part of why Aeligos didn’t accompany her to the temple: If he was concerned about embarrassing Jol when his relationship came to light. It explained the way Aeligos had looked at the captain when they’d arrived at Charlie’s Boarding House.
“How is she?” Kari asked quietly. She was almost afraid to break the silence and distract the priests from their delicate work.
“She was gravely wounded but is doing fine,” said the suturing priest. “The young man who stanched the bleeding did well, and your field ministrations saved this young woman’s life.”
“What happened?” Jol asked, though his eyes remained fixed on the captain.
“Is that my Jo-jo?” the captain asked weakly when she heard Serenjols’ distinctive, deep voice. She didn’t open her eyes, but she came close to a smile, even floating on the edge of consciousness. Serenjols knelt beside the bed and took the captain’s hand in his own, and the priest offering prayers paused for a moment to lay one hand on the captain and one on Jol.
“I am here, Damansha,” Serenjols whispered, and he rubbed the end of his snout against her hand as tears rolled from his eyes. “You are safe. You are with us now.”
Her arm went limp and Serenjols gasped in alarm, but the praying priest hushed him before he could voice his concerns. “She is fine,” the priest said. “She is exhausted; she lost a lot of blood. If you would like to spend the night, you may take the other bed here.”
Jol nodded and rose, and Kari wrapped him in a comforting hug. It might have seemed odd to many to see the massive serilian-rir crying, but Kari knew Jol better than that. Serenjols was extremely protective of his friends and family, even for a half-guardian, but he had a sensitive side that was well-masked by his imposing physique. Normally, Jol was the quietest of his siblings, soft-spoken much like Grakin, and Kari couldn’t think of a single time when Jol had spoken ill of anyone. In battle he was a fierce and protective warrior, using his mass, incredible weapon skill, and tactical proficiency to safeguard his siblings and allies. To see him like this left Kari with no doubt that Captain Damansha Sul’Imadra was Jol’s mystery woman.