“There’s just one of them,” she explained, “perched up there on the roof of the commander’s office.” Which was, it could be no coincidence, where all the officers were gathering to have dinner as they spoke. Squeaks went on, “I checked around, and not a single glassdancer is unaccounted for. He’s definitely not one of ours. I don’t even know how he got up there. I didn’t sense him coming in. It’s like he just appeared out of nowhere.”
Idrian looked sidelong at Squeaks. “You’re sure it’s just the one?”
“Yes, sir.”
All the reports Idrian read about Stavri’s assassination said that it was carried out by a squad of at least six glassdancers. Any fewer could not have possibly conducted such a precise and immediate slaughter. But there had been a lot more officers and hangers-on at the Bingham Brawlers Club than there were here. “Does he know you’ve spotted him?”
“My own glassdancer talent is so minor that I’m difficult to sense. That’s why I’ve been able to keep it secret so long. He either doesn’t know I’m here or doesn’t think I’m paying attention. Glassdancer senses are like any other – you have to have your sorcerous eyes open, so to speak, in order to catch something.” She paused and looked worried. “Should I have raised the alarm immediately?”
“No, that would just tip him off. You did well coming to me. How strong is he?”
“Very. He stands out in the empty night like a beacon, sir. If we had any military glassdancers in the fort right now, they’d have sensed him without even having to look.”
Idrian vacillated over raising the alarm. A single glassdancer would have a difficult time getting out of the fort alive, but a suicide mission could easily kill Tadeas, Mika, Valient, and all the garrison and cuirassier officers before a proper response could be levied. Idrian needed to turn the tables – to ambush the glassdancer – but that meant doing nothing to tip him off that he’d been discovered. He looked sharply at Squeaks. “Does everyone know that Demir went into Ossa?”
“No, sir. Hardly anyone knows. He wanted it kept quiet in case of spies. I think the garrison commander still thinks he’s coming to dinner.”
That settled it, then. That glassdancer was likely on a suicide mission, here to kill not a handful of middling officers but Demir himself. He’d probably snuck into the fort hours ago and couldn’t sense Demir’s absence until he was already in position. That meant he’d either attack anyway, or hope to hide out until he could slip away. Idrian had no intention of letting him do that. He went into Braileer’s room, where his equipment was set out for polishing. Idrian picked up his sword and shield.
“All right. I’ll deal with him. Go warn Tadeas immediately, but do it quietly. I don’t want him raising an alarm. A trapped, panicked glassdancer will do more damage than someone who stupidly thinks he has the upper hand.”
Squeaks headed out the main door of the barracks while Idrian slipped out the side, keeping himself out of the sight line from the roof of the commander’s quarters. He kept his head low, raising a finger to his lips to anyone he passed who gave him a curious glance – and there were quite a few of them. The fort was overflowing with infantry and cavalrymen here for a good military party conducted with the general’s blessing. If the glassdancer panicked, he could kill a lot of people before they managed to take him down.
Idrian made his way to the far side of the mess hall and found the rusty ladder leading up to the roof. He ascended with his shield on his back, crouching in the darkness for a moment to be sure he hadn’t been spotted, before hurrying across the slate tiles. He climbed up two more stories, moving silently on the balls of his feet and keeping his head down so no one shouted to him unawares from the muster yard below.
He’d just crested the roof of the garrison supply depot when he spotted a shadowy figure. The glassdancer was perched a few feet back from the edge of the roof, just above the patio to the garrison commander’s quarters. If someone was planning on dropping into the middle of dinner and killing everyone, that was exactly where they’d wait. Idrian was to his right and a little behind, and if the glassdancer noticed Idrian’s presence he did not react in any way. Slowly, careful not to let his sword or shield scrape on the slate roof, Idrian worked his way around behind the glassdancer.
He slid his sword and shield off his back and remained in place. The glassdancer was less than thirty paces from him, facing away. He was bigger than Idrian expected, perhaps even bigger than Idrian himself – shoulders hunched, head tilted as if listening, entirely focused on the sound coming out from the open patio door beneath him.
Idrian stared for several moments, unable to shake an unsettled feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. This was odd. Very odd. Glassdancer assassins were certainly not unheard of, but since they could be sensed by minor talents they were not widely utilized. A chill went down Idrian’s spine as he realized that the glassdancer was waiting for something – likely for all the officers to be present. Idrian himself should have been there. Perhaps the glassdancer still hoped for Demir’s return.
Enough worries. It was time for action. Idrian turned the hilt of his sword in his palm until the blunt edge was facing forward. Put a glassdancer in enough pain and they would be as helpless as anyone else. Answers would be very valuable. Break an arm, perhaps? No, a leg. Perhaps both legs with one blow.
Idrian began to sprint, running at full tilt across the slate roof, no longer bothering to hide the sound of his movement. He was wearing enough forgeglass that he could cover the short space in a matter of seconds, and he did just that. He brought his sword out and around in a wide, low swing, his shield held forward. The glassdancer began to turn before Idrian even reached him, but was not fast enough to dodge his sword. The blunt edge came down and across, sweeping at the glassdancer’s legs.
This was a maneuver Idrian had done before, and he knew exactly the amount of force to expend. The end of his sword hit right at shin level, but instead of a sweep it felt as if he’d just hit an anvil. The impact nearly wrenched Idrian’s arm out of his socket. Both he and the glassdancer grunted in surprise. The glassdancer went down, though not nearly as hard as he should have, while Idrian found himself off balance and careening toward the edge of the roof. He threw himself sideways and rolled across his shield, tumbling loudly across the slate shingles.
He recovered during the roll, returning to his feet with a practiced move, sword and shield positioned between him and his enemy, every muscle of his body coiled and ready to spring forward.
The glassdancer was big, over six feet tall and wide enough for two men. A cloak hid most of his body, but Idrian could make out massive arms encased in some kind of matte armor, and a broad helmet decorated with fanciful ridges that reminded him of the spikes on the edges of a crab’s shell. They sized each other up for half a second before shouting in the room beneath him caused Idrian to snap out of his brief reverie. It was not an instant too soon. Glass on the windows below them audibly shattered, and he could hear it tinkling against itself as the glassdancer coalesced the glass on all sides. Idrian snapped his sword back around, blade-forward, and lunged.
The glassdancer was surprisingly agile despite his bulk. Steel-shod boots clattered on the roof tiles as he sidestepped Idrian’s thrust, ducked a slash, and then rolled out of the way of a second slash. Idrian began to sweat immediately, a fear like nothing he’d ever experienced appearing in his belly and causing his hands to tremble. He didn’t have his armor on, but he was wearing enough forgeglass to be about as fast as it was possible to be and this glassdancer was sidestepping everything he could throw at him. He felt something breeze past the back of his neck and realized the glassdancer was both moving and on the offensive – something that took a lot of skill and practice to accomplish.