Unfortunately, I didn’t quite have the swing to get it all the way through, and it was still in his body when he fell. I cursed silently. I needed the blade.
Rute had stopped screaming and was up on his one good foot, his other leg propping him up, even as he put barely any weight on it. His eyes flashed.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “Did Tallu send you?”
I didn’t answer; I didn’t dare. I had recognized his voice, and he’d likely recognize mine.
“Answer me!” He lunged forward, the heavy Krustavian blade taking up more of his attention now that he didn’t have two good legs to rely on.
He swung it, and I didn’t have my sword to block him, so I fell backward, rolling under his swing. Fast. Faster than him.
I sank my blade into his arm, the flesh giving under the sharp dagger. When I pulled it free, blood flew out, spattering the ground. He slammed his injured arm into me, swinging it like a mace, and it cost him, his expression going wretched.
But the movement surprised me, sending me stumbling back, well in range of his sword again.
His blade swung like a freak wave in a storm, and I had seconds to move. If it touched me, I would be cut down. Maybe not killed immediately, but injured and unable to finish what I’d started. I leapt back, flipping over and landing on my hands before spinning back onto my feet.
I needed my own sword. My dagger would crack if I tried to use it to parry the Krustavian sword. Circling him, I watched as he dragged his limp leg behind him, trying to keep track of me.
When I came close to the servant with a sword buried in his neck, I gave myself a half second to try to pull it free, still keeping my eyes on Rute, and that was a mistake. As soon as he thought my attention was elsewhere, he lunged forward, swinging the sword in a downward diagonal slash that almost caught me. When I dodged back again, it hit the dead servant, the blade embedding itself in his thick torso.
I didn’t wait.
Leaping forward, I pressed my dagger against Rute’s neck, using my other hand to pull him back so his spine arched. I dragged the knife across and slit his throat.
Assassins are fast. The whole encounter, from start to finish, was likely less than three minutes. Two if I had been counting fast.
Rute’s body fell to his knees, his eyes wide as he gurgled, grasping for his throat, trying to keep the blood inside. It seeped through his fingers, and finally, he fell to the side, the pool of red around him seeping into the cracks between the wooden planks.
“Who are you?” Piivu asked.
He had crawled to the side of the pavilion, his hand wrapped in his yellow jacket, dyeing the fabric a muddy color. I could see the sweat on his face, the pallor that meant he was going into shock.
“Go tell the Dogs,” I said, keeping my voice low and quiet, rounding some of my vowels so my words had an approximation of a Krustavian accent. My mask guarded my face, but Piivu had been closer to me than anyone besides Tallu. “Tell him Krustau has taken our payment from the prince.”
He swallowed. “Are you here to hurt the emperor?”
Brave Piivu. I wanted to shake him. I growled, hoping I sounded like a dwarf. “Go. Dogs.”
Trembling, Piivu stood, his feet unsteady as he turned and ran.
If Piivu had ever seen anyone from Krustau, the ruse was over. I was too tall, and my voice didn’t hold the boom of lungs meant for singing through cavernous darkness. I didn’t have any time.
The dark water thrashed. The sea serpents were starving, and Rute’s blood had dripped down into the water. They wanted meat. They wanted flesh. They wouldn’t be satisfied until they got it.
Well, it would certainly cover that Rute had been killed by northern bone weapons plated in metal rather than true Krustavian blades. A genuine Krustavian blade would have sliced through his neck, severing his spine. Cleaning my dagger on Rute’s clothes, I dragged his limp corpse over to the water and tipped it in.
I’d only managed to get it halfway when the sea serpent reared up from the water, its gills spreading wide as it hissed. It looked pale white in the electric lighting, the open gills surrounding it like a corona. For a beat, we stared at each other, two lethal northern creatures far from home.
“Hello, sister,” I said.
The sea serpent considered me, then let loose a scream like metal scraping together, like a clash of gods. If it was words, I couldn’t make them out. They were so loud in my head all I heard was raw feeling, so thick and complicated I couldn’t decipher it. Her jaws opened wide, and she bit off Rute’s head in one clean line. The tug of it pulled the rest of the body into the water, and the serpent followed.
I went over to the two servants. After freeing my sword from the neck of one, I dragged them each across the pavilion andheaved them into the water. I heard shouting and footsteps, and if the guards were already here, then the Dogs were, and I still didn’t have time.
Grabbing the letters, I pulled them from the wax paper envelope I’d put them in to guard them against my sweat. Hopefully, they’d survived the plunge in the water, but I didn’t have time to check, so I tossed them at the edge of the pool of Rute’s blood and picked up the heavy Krustavian sword, plunging it into them.
The sword embedded itself into the wood, slicing through the paper easily. I saw lights coming up two of the long piers, and I ran, leaping into the water on the opposite side of the pavilion from where I’d thrown the bodies into the water.
