“Has there been unusual Aetheric activity here?” Nik asked. “Or unifications?”
Savaadh sipped, shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. As in Carethia, there’s been less magic about since the god walked away.”
I considered telling them what Luna had told us—that the god was “unavailable.” But I wasn’t sure that secret was mine to tell, or that it would make much difference. Gone was gone, whatever the reason.
“What about Carethians in the caravanserai?” Nik asked.
“There were a few Carethians here during the last full moon, traveling home after a winter spent in the south. They complained about the emperor, as always.”
Galen gave a look of disgust. “Insulting the Lys’Careths is punishable by death.”
“We aren’t in Carethia,” I pointed out.
“Very true, Little Fox. The Carethians had no love for the Lys’Careths, but they mentioned nothing of magic or violence.”
“What about your people?”
Savaadh’s eyes widened. “Why do you ask?”
“We were investigating an Aetheric incident,” Nik said, “and found one of the assassins from the market attack. He fought us with this.” He put the assassin’s windblade on the table. It was clean now, the metal gleaming. I hadn’t been close enough to see it before, but the blade was engraved with a pattern of stars.
Theranys inspected it. “A good blade. Good quality.”
“Carethians love our windblades,” Savaadh said. “They’re sold across the border.” His tone was mild, but he’d drawn his hand into a fist, like he was holding tight to his anger.
“Someone also tried to make an arrow look Vhranian,” Nik said, and placed the arrow on the table.
Theranys put down the blade and picked up the arrow. “Similar. But only a replica.”
Wren leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “How can you tell?”
Theranys lifted his gaze to her; he must have seen the enthusiasm for weapons in her eyes. “Wrong fletching. And while the arrowhead shapes are similar, Vhranian arrowheads are forged with small barbs inside the shank to keep it secure to the wood and reduce rotation. It is a difficult technique, and not one this smith has managed. Replicas that miss this detail are common.”
Wren nodded. “Good to know.”
Savaadh shifted his attention from Theranys back to Nik. “This was shot at you?”
“Fox was with me. So me, Fox, the assassin, or all of us. But they only shot one arrow, then disappeared. We didn’t find the archer.”
“Or the practitioner, assuming they were different people?”
“Correct,” Nik said, and the word carried disappointment.
“So the practitioner wants to kill the prince,” Theranys said, “and he’s willing to violate—and kill—Carethians to do it.”
Savaadh nodded, then put a finger on the windblade’s handle and slid it toward me. “You should take this.”
Beside me, Wren made the tiniest, puppiest whimper.
“No, thank you,” I said. “I barely know how to use a blade, and my skills are definitely not worthy of that one. I’m more of a runner than a fighter.”
Savaadh leaned forward. “I could teach you.”
“Before we go back to the stronghold?”
He sat back again, smiling broadly. “No. It would take moretime than that. You would need to travel with us through many seasons. But by the end of it, your skills would be unparalleled.”
The look in his eyes suggested fighting wasn’t the only skill I’d develop.
