She didn’t bother mentioning how her previous knife had gotten ruined. She was pretty sure Zeth remembered well enough. The wounds on his shoulder had already closed, but there were a few tiny scars where she had stabbed him before the tip had snapped off. As far as Rona could see, they were the only scars on his otherwise perfect body.
“Careful,” Murdok growled. “Remember what happened the last time she had a knife in her hands.”
“Oh, I remember,” Zeth said, smirking. “But I think she’s learned her lesson.”
Rona nodded.
“I’m sure as hell not gonna try to stab you with it. There’s no point in that… no pun intended.” When that received a smile, Rona batted her lashes and went in for the kill. “But I’ll need a blade when I go back to the village after this is all over. I mean, you’re not going to leave the mother of your child all alone with no way to defend herself, are you?”
It worked. Zeth led her down to the knifemonger’s stall.
The weapons were arranged in padded boxes, and they came in every shape and size. Straight blades, recurved blades, flat grinds, hollow grinds, clip points, and edgeless trench spikes designed solely for stabbing. Rona’s eyes widened a little as they roved over the plethora of knives, searching for the perfect one.
On the other side of the table, a man was sharpening a butcher’s knife on a grinding wheel. The blade was sending out a spray of orange sparks, filling the air with the scent of hot steel. When he noticed the two big Mercs studying his wares, he stopped what he was doing and came over.
“You gentlemen see something you like?” he asked, rubbing his hands on his leather apron.
“Are these sharp?” Rona asked sweetly.
The knifemonger lowered his gaze, apparently noticing her for the first time. He let his eyes wander down her body and back up again before flashing a lascivious smile.
“Sharp enough to split hairs,” he said.
Then, to prove it, he plucked out one of the long, greasy strands combed over his balding pate, and he severed it lengthwise with a small paring knife.
“Impressive,” Rona said. She pointed to a knife with an inward curving blade, like a harpy’s talon. “What about that one?”
The knifemonger chuckled.
“My, my. The lady has a good eye. That’s one deadly little knife there. A deadly little knife, indeed…”
He lifted the harpy knife from its case and offered it to Rona, handle first. She accepted it, turning the blade so the edge caught the light. It was so sharp it hurt just to look at it.
She brought the blade up to her throat.
And slashed.
CHAPTER 12
The leash was a chain. No way Rona could cut through that. But the collar… the collar was fashioned from leather, supple and soft. The harpy knife sliced right through it like butter.
She cut herself in the process, but that was unavoidable. The wound was barely a scratch though, and the blade was so sharp, she didn’t even feel any pain.
The important thing was that she was free.
Zeth saw what she had done and made a grab for her, but his hand only caught her jacket, and she slipped out of it like a snake shedding its skin.
She ducked low and scrambled under the knifemonger’s table.
Before she was completely on the other side, Rona stood up violently, striking her back painfully against the table’s edge. She had done it on purpose though, and it had the intended effect. The table toppled over, spilling its contents in a shower of flashing steel.
“Oh my!” the knifemonger shouted. “Oh my!”
He tried to grab Rona, so she served him a swift punch between the legs, and the man fell back with a high-pitched groan. That was payback for the creepy way he had checked her out a minute ago. He was lucky she’d used her empty hand. Her right was still holding the harpy knife, and she could have unmanned him permanently if she’d wanted to. But she wasn’t that mean.
She heard Murdok bellowing angrily behind her. It was time to move.
Rona sprinted down the sidewalk, overturning vendors’ tables in her wake. She knew she would never be able to outrun the Mercs in a fair footrace, but maybe she could use the environment to her advantage.
