FireSweet

Plots and Preparation

                It took a full week before I was strong enough to begin to fight.  I sparred with Flint every day, and he flourished with my undivided attention.  After a second week his movements were smoother, his eyes darting between mine and the daggers I held in my hands.  I could no longer maneuver him around the roof of the compound, he was constantly aware of his surroundings.  Of course he was still no match for any member of Mají’s crew, but I now had faith that he wouldn’t be killed if I turned my back for a few minutes.

            Narasia healed Briamy slightly every other day.  I learned that the source of her power was energy, that the energy needed to heal always came from herself, and that she needed to replenish that energy before she could heal again.  So on the days when she was not healing Briamy, she was sleeping in the lounge far below us.  Beginning the third week, Briamy was up and moving again, almost entirely healed.  Her body bore no scars, she could breathe without rattling, and the worst of her superficial burns only looked like she had spent a bad day at the beach.  I offered to teach her to fight as well, asking if she still had the red hilted dagger I had given her.  To my surprise the blade had been tucked against her ribs the entire time, though she still refused to learn to wield it properly.  She insisted that she would use it when she needed to and not a moment sooner.

            As for myself, I felt fully recuperated by the end of the third week.  My body hummed with energy, unbidden sparks dancing between my fingers when I was excited.  Every waking moment was spent training, to the point where I began to use my daggers to scale partway down the sides of the compound.  Every swing at Flint was a strike toward Mají-jalio in my mind.  I sparred with my former captain in my dreams, waking each time drenched in sweat after the tip of the kingblade touched my throat.  I waited for the night when I would win, when I would make him pay for stabbing me in the back, but it never came.

            It was Vidan who finally stopped my training, sending Narasia to bring me from the roof and into the compound.  He had me blindfolded as he led me down steps and around the sharp corners of winding passages.  He let me walk into the wall a few times, but for once, I didn’t complain about it.  I was grateful that he had let me stay on the roof for this long, though I would never admit that aloud in his presence. 

            When he removed the blindfold we were in the lounge, the overwhelming array of garish furniture unmistakable. 

            “There is a Conclave tonight,” he said unceremoniously.  “And you and your friends need to be off the roof by the time it begins.  This is not an inn, especially if I am receiving nothing for my troubles.  And of course, the three of you girls will be going on tonight.”

            I rolled my eyes, mentally crossing out my gratitude.  He had probably ensured our safety only because a death would cause difficulty for the Conclave, he just didn’t want to fill out the paperwork. 

            “If you brought me down her to ask me play nice with Mají-jalio then you can forget it,” I hissed.  “You know what he did to me.”

            “Strange,” he said.  “I’ve heard things about you Gittoran Flame, but never that you were a fool.  Remember that as Saldré you have not been wronged by Captain Mají-jalio; though that does not mean you wish to continue to drape yourself over him.  As Queen of Thieves you should be a master of deceit; use your head.  I’d hate to be forced to take action for one foolish girl trying to ruin the year’s second to last Conclave.”

            I stared at the owlish man, his words had sounded like advice.

            “The rest of the girls will arrive soon,” Vidan continued, handing me my mask.  “I suggest you tie this on before they do.”