“F-Fucker,” gasped Tullah, and collapsed.
41
“Are you okay?” asked Fern, crouched next to Astryx and wincing at the ragged scrape running down the outside of the elf’s arm. A dark stain slowly spread on her shoulder where Tullah had punched her. “Fuck, you look awful.”
The Oathmaiden eased into a seated position, groaning as she did. Her smile was wan. “I appreciate your gentle understatement. I have felt . . . better.” Coming from Astryx, that sounded to Fern a lot like “I am experiencing unendurable agony.”
“Wow,” said a hushed voice. “I mean, I imagined it a thousand times. Iknewit would be amazing, but . . .”
They both looked to Breadlee where he had torn his way blood-slick through Fern’s cloak.
“None of this is amazing,” said Fern, with a frown.
“Did you not see what just happened? Bridgewrecker is a thing of the past,that’sfor sure.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Tullah, unmoving in the grass. Only seconds ago, she’d been alive, vital,deadly. And now . . .
Fern felt sick, and an unexpected and profound sadness.
Beyond Tullah, Kell sat with a hand on the back of his knee and a look of dazed disbelief on his face.
“Let’s worry about your new title later, maybe,” Fern murmured.
The knife sheepishly conceded, “Okay, you make a solid point about the timing.”
“My lady,” whispered Nigel, from where he’d landed in the grass. “I havefailedyou. Shame chokes me from point to pommel. I beg your forgiveness.” His voice became strangled. “Perhaps Ishouldmake way for another.”
Astryx gingerly unwound the cloak from her arm, withdrawing Breadlee.
“Well, I wasn’t going to suggest it so soon, but . . .” the knife trailed off.
The Oathmaiden wiped him carefully on a trouser leg and held him point up before her face.
“Bradelys Tertius,” she said, with sober dignity. “Your steel is true. You have my regard, and my gratitude.”
He made a noise like a strangled squeal. Nigel gave the impression of holding his breath in dismay.
“But I think a better wielder has already found you.” She flipped him around and offered him to Fern with one hand, the ruined cloak with the other.
Fern received them both solemnly.
“Whoof. I’m feeling a lot of things right now,” mumbled Breadlee.
“Hey, I don’t want to rush anyone, but there are Gatewardens on the way,” said Quillin, cocking a thumb at the road. “That is, if you wanted to disappear.”
Astryx followed Quillin’s gaze to where three women wearing blue tunics with lanterns at their waists were detaching from the swelling group of spectators on the road.
She shook her head. “I don’t think I can move that fast right now.”
The elf stared at Fern for a long while as she considered something. She seemed to come to a decision.
Turning painfully, she found Zyll and beckoned. “Quickly, come here.”
The goblin tilted her head, but drew nearer, her orange hair barely topping the grass.
Astryx reached out and delicately took the goblin’s forearm, the one with the bracelet.
With her other hand she touched three points on the lattice of wire where the metal swirled in curlicues, murmuring something intricate under her breath.
