Cathexis: Necromancer's Dagger (49 page)

The man named Broker looked chagrined, “Aw
Poison, I didn’t think you saw me.” He tossed a
jewel-hilted
dagger that Hetark kept hidden in
his boot onto the table, it landed in front of the incredulous
knight.
Broker
then left the room
after his partner.

“G’lan, we’re surrounded by thieves!” Hetark
snarled.

“You shouldn’t come to a place like this if
you don’t know how to watch for thieves,” Poison admonished the
livid Hetark.

Hetark’s mouth worked up and down, but no
words were coming out.

Amused at Hetark’s expression and inability
to speak, Elizabeth filled in the words. “I think my companion is
at a loss for words to thank you, but I will thank you for him, it
was a nice show and I appreciate your style and expertise.

Poison gave her a return nod.

Noise picked up now that the show was over
and people returned to their conversations.

Elizabeth smiled and spoke softly, “Answer
me a question, if you will; is there such a thing as tarslin
sap?”

Sitting down Poison leaned forward and spoke
quietly for Elizabeth’s ears only. “Yes, I believe the
Siorlians
use it
te
chew on
fer
pleasure.”

“And the effects on their men?” Elizabeth
prompted.

“Worse
tast’in
mouths? But I’d be
guess’in
,” Poison responded with a wink.

“That’s what I thought, and what’s on your
blade?” Elizabeth asked.

“Just blood, I
fergot
te clean that one today,” Poison said
nonchalantly.

“I don’t want to know,” Elizabeth
responded.

“If he’s recovered from his fright I think
we should
be go
’in,” Poison said
wickedly, nodding toward Hetark.

“I agree,” Elizabeth replied while trying
not to laugh at the new dumbfounded expression Poison’s latest barb
had
brought to
Hetark’s face.

The two ladies stood up together and walked
out the side door with the speechless Hetark following behind, one
hand on his belt purse and his dagger clutched in his other
hand.

Elizabeth,
Poison,
and Hetark rode out of Roper the next day and
took the wagon path toward Myrnvale. It was a hot sunny day without
clouds, so they rode at a
slow
pace to keep from overtaxing their horses.

They started out with Poison leading the way
and Hetark following behind Elizabeth. He kept back as far from
Poison as he could, but after a short
time,
Elizabeth moved her horse up next to
Poison’s
. Hetark sullenly stayed behind.

“It’s going to be a hot one today,”
Elizabeth said in way of greeting.

“Yes,” was Poison’s short response.

Watching her carefully to make sure she
didn’t alienate the tough girl, Elizabeth continued trying to start
a conversation.

“Do you do this sort of bodyguard job
often?”

“Often enough,” was Poison’s next brief
statement.

“If it bothers you to talk I will leave you
alone, but I admire the way you handle yourself and I would like to
learn more about you,” she tried, hoping to draw Poison out of her
shell with a compliment.

“It’s all right, I don’t mind talk’in...
with you,” she said pointedly, glancing back toward Hetark, who was
far enough away to hear, but not make out the words they said.

“Hetark’s not that bad, he’s just proud,
like you. Two proud people often have trouble when first put close
together,” Elizabeth said.

“E’s an arrogant buffoon,” Poison
replied.

“Interestingly enough, that’s what he called
you, well, at least the arrogant part,” Elizabeth said with a small
smile.

“He’s right, I am arrogant, but I have a
reason to be. As a woman in the business of
fighting,
I have to show more confidence, skill and
toughness than the men I’m competing with for the jobs.
Otherwise,
who’s going to choose me over a
man they can hire for the same metal? It’s even more important when
they hire me to lead a squad of bodyguards. It’s hard to get a
group of tough men to follow the orders of a woman during a battle.
If they don’t think you’re twice as confident, twice as skilled and
twice as tough as they are they’ll ignore you and do what they
think is right,” Poison told Elizabeth.

“Then why do you do this work?” Elizabeth
asked.

“Because it’s what I know. Besides, I AM
twice as good as any man I’ve met, including Sir Tough Guy behind
us,” Poison finished.

“Why did you call him ‘Sir’?”

“I’m not sure, ‘is speech is
ol
’ right, but he acts too haughty like
e’s
above this
scum
if ye catch my
mean'in
. I’d bet ye ten silver ‘
e’s
been a knight
fer
some petty noble somewhere,” Poison guessed, “Where did you pick
‘im
up anyway?”

“Well, actually, my husband hired him,”
Elizabeth answered truthfully, but incompletely.

“Oh, so you don’t know much about ‘im, ‘e
probably did
someth’in
dishonorable and got booted out so ‘e
stooped
down te take the job work’
in fer
a merchant,” Poison surmised.

“I really doubt he did anything
dishonorable, you have to know Hetark to know that. He may be the
most honorable man you’ll ever meet,” Elizabeth answered.

“Figures, ‘e’d probably get me killed to
save his honor,” she ridiculed. “And regardless of his
postur’in
, I know what ‘
e’s
after; I’ve never met a truly honorable man.
Pardon my sayin’, but you know what they all want, no matter what
they say. You always have te watch them, carefully,” and with a
flick of her
wrist,
a dagger
appeared, then she flicked it again and it was gone.

“There are men in the world who are
honorable, Poison, and Hetark’s one of that breed,” Elizabeth
assured the tough girl.

“’E just has you fooled, or ‘
e’s
a fool idealist. Me, I believe in myself, if
the rest of the world wants
te
kill each other, let them. I’m not
join’in
their crusades,” she said vehemently.

“There may come a time in your life where
you have to take a stand for what is right, otherwise you
automatically side with evil by default,” Elizabeth explained.

“I’ll not side with either, I make my own
way. If someone tries to take what’s mine,” she flicked her wrist
again calling forth the dagger, “I handle them,” and ‘flick’ it was
gone.

“That’s a neat trick, would you mind
teaching me? I’d like to learn how to protect myself better,”
Elizabeth asked.

“Well, I’m not sure,” Poison started.

“Hetark’s been teaching me already,”
Elizabeth added quickly, knowing that Poison would want to take his
place, just because she knew he would be bothered.

“Him, what a waste o’ time, ‘e’ll teach you
all wrong. What’s right
fer
a man,
assuming ‘e even knows that, is wrong
fer
a woman. You have te use yer strengths te make up
fer
what nature gave
te
men. They often waste their strength ‘cause
they ‘ave all that muscle. It allows them te be sloppy. Now a woman
hasn’t got all that power, but if she uses finesse, guile,
quickness and grace, she can take away those advantages the men
have in brute force,” Poison explained.

“So you’ll teach me?” Elizabeth asked.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll begin
show’in
you what you need te know,
but remember it will only be a start. It takes years of practice te
achieve the
tim’in
and skill
necessary te become truly dangerous.”

“I understand, but do I have your permission
to observe you completely and learn as fast as I can?” Elizabeth
asked, looking to get permission for more than what Poison
guessed.

“Sure, no problem, every teacher likes an
attentive student. For a good start tell me what he's been
teach’in
you.”

“Well, mostly about dagger fighting, we were
going to get to swords next,” she replied.

“Daggers are the perfect weapon
fer
a woman, but he probably taught you te
fight man style, I’ll have
te
unteach you a little. Pull out yer dagger and hold it in a fight’in
grip,” Poison instructed Elizabeth as they rode.

Elizabeth pulled her dagger out in her fist,
the blade pointing out the bottom, the
hilt
near her thumb.

“Typical male grip,” Poison muttered.

“Hetark said it’s harder to get it knocked
out of your hand this way, and you can punch, slash and stab,” she
told Poison. Elizabeth began to read into Poison’s surface thoughts
and memories, absorbing her experience quickly.

“
Punch’in
is a man’s blow; here’s what you should be ready te do with that
knife, slash, stab and most importantly, throw. Assume
you’re fight
’in a male opponent; there aren’t
that many female ones. If you grapple with him he’ll tear you
apart, so you need te keep him at a distance. The best way te take
him out is by
throw’in
the
knife
if you can. That way he
won’t ever touch you,”

“What happens if you miss?” Elizabeth
asked.

“Then you pull out another dagger while he
is
dodg’in
the one you threw,”
Poison responded. “The same thing goes
fer
los’in
yer knife
te a
kick
or blow. It’s true that
ye’re
less likely te lose yer knife in that grip ‘e
taught you,” she said nodding her head toward Hetark, “but it’s
harder te throw it from that position. Yer best bet, as a woman, is
te keep many knives handy and learn te throw them well.”

“What happens if you get into a duel with
only one knife allowed?” Elizabeth asked, still reading information
directly from Poison’s mind.

Elizabeth’s odd question puzzled Poison and
she thought,
Why would a merchant’s wife ever get in a knife
duel? ,
but she said, “Yer best bet is te try not te get in any
duels, they’re low percentage, but if it happens, keep your
opponent at a distance and slice him up. Get him bleed’in and soon
he’ll lose much o’ that strength ‘e’s count’in on te beat you. Then
it will come down te speed and skill versus his
wain’in
brute strength. Always shift the rules
o’ the
game te
yer advantage. If
the odds are against you, change the rules.”

Elizabeth listened and learned, from the
words and from the experiences that had forged the lethal weapon
named Poison.

The tough girl’s past battles flowed through
her consciousness as she talked to Elizabeth and the Kirnath
sorceress experienced them within her mind, learning.

When late afternoon arrived they came upon a
small group of trees in the rolling hills. Elizabeth decided they
had traveled far enough for that day. “This looks like a good place
to camp. I’d like to get a chance to practice some of what you’ve
been teaching me before the sun sets completely.”

Poison nodded and replied, “It’s all right
with me, besides ‘e probably needs the rest.” She shrugged in
Hetark’s direction, giving him a smirk.

Hetark just looked away and pretended he had
not heard the remark. After dismounting and readying their gear for
the
night
, Elizabeth and Poison
left Hetark to picket the horses while they chose a gnarled tree
trunk to begin their knife throwing practice.

Poison stopped twenty paces from the trunk
and removed six knives from about her leather outfit. She handed
five to Elizabeth. “I’ve already
showed
you the proper way
te
hold a knife you wish te throw, now watch the way I
throw it. I’ll throw it as slow as I can.”

Poison didn’t know that Elizabeth had
observed her throw within her mind’s memories often throughout the
day.

The professional bodyguard pulled her knife
hand back over her shoulder, with her left hand held palm down and
forward for balance. Then she rolled her
shoulders
while bringing her knife arm forward. At the
last
moment,
she cracked her wrist
and released the knife, pointing at the tree. The hurling blade
rotated once, completely, then thwacked into the center of the
hard wood
.

Poison walked to the tree and rocked the
knife back and forth to draw it out of the wood. She returned to
Elizabeth’s side and said, “All right, move up ten
paces
and try it. Don’t be concerned about
stick’in the knife in yet; we’ll just work on proper form and aim,
right?”

“Right, but can I try the first one from the
same place you did?” Elizabeth asked.

“It’ll make it harder to hit the trunk, but
you can try it if you want.”

Elizabeth tucked four of the knives in her
belt and then she carefully gripped the last one in the position
Poison had shown. Closing her eyes she pictured the look and feel
of the memories she had read from Poison. Opening her eyes again
she took a breath, relaxed control, and allowed her body to flow in
the memories of Poison’s body motions.

The knife went back over her shoulder and
her left hand balanced her in front, the arm snapped forward and
she let it fly.

The balanced knife tumbled once through the
air, imitating Poison’s recent toss, and hit the tree two hand’s
spans high and one hand’s span to the right of the mark Poison’s
dagger had left in the trunk.

Poison stared at the knife sticking in the
tree and then at Elizabeth. “You’ve thrown knives before, haven’t
you?” she asked, suspiciously.