The Blood Mirror

“I’m not convinced. And if we get her killed, her sister goes from a very tenuous ally to a mortal enemy. But you don’t need to convince me. You don’t need to ask to bring her along at all. Simply give the order… my lord.”

Chapter 17

Biggest day of my life, and all I can think about is how I have to pee.

When the complement of full Blackguards had joined Teia and the other nunks in their vigils before dawn, the one-handed new Blackguard trainer Samite had thoughtfully brought Teia and a few other Archers-to-be cups of kopi, still steaming from the kitchens. Teia had only sipped the stimulant before, and hadn’t liked the taste, so she’d never had a full cup.

This morning, she’d drained it with gusto.

Now she had to pee, and she felt jittery. With the burden of Quentin’s life and death off her shoulders, she’d then had something quite like the vigil she’d always hoped to have: she’d wept and then sworn at Orholam for all her problems, then beseeched him for forgiveness, then begged him for guidance, then been at peace, and then wept again. She’d had a sense, for some fragile tender minutes, that she wasn’t alone, that she wasn’t forsaken, that she had purpose, that he knew her. He saw her. He cared. He saved. It had been a night overfull.

Like my bladder.

Orholam, let me not wet my new blacks.

Fifty Blackguards had gathered to stand in rows with her and five other nunks on the roof of the Prism’s Tower, saluting the sun as it rose. Commander Fisk turned as soon as the sun had barely cleared the horizon. It was going to be a busy day for all of them, so the ceremony would be abbreviated at best. Not that Teia was complaining.

“Adrasteia Gallaea’s daughter,” Commander Fisk said, after greeting each of the others. Teia hadn’t heard her mother’s name since the day she’d been signed over to Blackguard training. She didn’t want to think of herself as that creature’s daughter, though slaves were traditionally known by their matronymic. “The Blackguard is an ancient order, heavy with honor. We were born out of fealty and failure, out of the honor of Lucidonius’s thirty mighty men and the shame of the satrapies failing to protect his widow and our second Prism, Karris Shadowblinder. Upon her death, those who remained of the thirty organized this guard to protect the Prism, and, in the last extremity, to protect the Seven Satrapies from a Prism.”

A quiet descended, the full Blackguards contemplative, the newest ones confused. Protect the satrapies from the Prism?

Then a crack like a musket shot rang out. Fifty pairs of hands went to weapons. Fifty pairs of eyes were covered with colored spectacles.

But it was only the propped-up replacement door falling to the ground as someone came up to the roof.

Karris Guile, Karris White Oak, now Karris White, stood in the opening for a moment to let her former brethren relax, then stepped outside. She wore the white dress of her station, but one newly made, cut to her slim, muscular figure. The points of her high collar were sharpened, reminiscent of swords, and all her accents were bright silver, not gold. The dress itself was lean cut, and if Teia didn’t miss her guess, infused with luxin, as were the Blackguards’ blacks. As much as a dress could be, it was one in which the former Blackguard could move. It was steel femininity, and Teia immediately recalled that just days ago, when they’d tried to throw her off the testing platform, this woman had kicked two big men to their deaths without hesitation, remorse, or much effort.

The Blackguard Karris White Oak had been small, fast, and fierce.

The only thing small about Karris White was her frame.

As the Blackguards saluted her and her attending Blackguards fanned out onto the roof, she said, “If I may, Commander?”

“It’s an honor, High Lady,” Fisk said. “Please do.”

Karris addressed them somberly. “Prisms don’t break the halo like the rest of us, but they do go mad after their allotted time. Some of them. Others can’t handle what the Freeing demands of them. Others, when the end of their term comes, and they know they’re going to die, try to escape.”

Teia had never heard of that. She saw some of the others were rattled by it, too. Who could imagine being called upon to kill a Gavin Guile?

Then she realized she hadn’t heard of it because the Blackguard was that competent. Prisms who shamed themselves by breaking their oaths and trying to flee were always quietly killed. Word never got out. Who could escape the Blackguard?

Teia asked, “But how do they know that they’re going to die? If Gavin Guile made it to his third term, how would another Prism not know if they might not have a second or a third term themselves? Or is that it? They don’t know, so they flee?”

“They know. Somehow they know.” But Karris looked troubled, as if there were parts of this she didn’t understand, either.

Orholam have mercy, had that been in the papers Teia had helped steal?

“Do we know, too?” another asked. “Is there some warning?”

Commander Fisk said, “The Colors and the Magisterium will tell you when it’s likely. But it’s always possible. None of the Blackguard now serving have ever had to hunt a Prism, and we pray we never do, but ours is the long watch. Do you have any other questions before we continue?”

Teia shook her head.

Karris said, “Your duty is hard, but this I promise you: you shan’t be asked to betray your honor.”

It was an answer to the question Teia couldn’t ask with all the others there: will my attempted infiltration of the Order of the Broken Eye compromise my oaths?

But it wasn’t an exact answer, was it?

I won’t have to betray my honor, but I may have to break—or appear to break—my oaths. Would Karris thread so narrow a needle’s eye with her words?

Karris White Oak wouldn’t have. Would Karris White?

Why had Karris come up here? To bond the Blackguards further to her, to wish a former pupil well, or to make sure that Teia did take the oaths?

All of the above, no doubt. We are warriors, and this is our lot.

“Commander,” Karris said, “may I continue with you?”

“We would be honored, High Lady. Though one may be called to other duties, one never ceases being a Blackguard,” he said, and then he turned to Teia and the others. “The Blackguard forms an unbroken chain extending back to the time of Lucidonius himself. At induction, we recite the stories of our forebears to remind us who we have been, who we are, and to what we should aspire. At the end, we each name a Blackguard who inspires us, a patron whose qualities will help us become the best Blackguard we can be. High Lady White, will you start for us?”