Three Quarters

  THREE QUARTERS

  Published as an eBook in 2015 by JABberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.

  Copyright © Tanya Huff

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover design by Tiger Bright Studios

  978-1-625671-57-8

  DEATH RITES

  Originally published in ASSASSIN FANTASTIC, DAW 2001

  Copyright © Tanya Huff

  EXACTLY

  Originally published in PLACES TO GO, PEOPLE TO KILL, DAW 2007

  Copyright © Tanya Huff

  QUARTERED

  Originally published in ASSASSIN FANTASTIC, DAW 2001

  Copyright © Tanya Huff

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Also By Tanya Huff

  Overture

  Death Rites

  Exactly

  Quartered

  The Quarters Series

  ALSO BY TANYA HUFF

  THE BLOOD BOOKS

  Blood Price

  Blood Trail

  Blood Lines

  Blood Pact

  Blood Debt

  THE SMOKE BOOKS

  Smoke and Shadows

  Smoke and Mirrors

  Smoke and Ashes

  THE QUARTERS NOVELS

  Sing the Four Quarters*

  Fifth Quarter*

  No Quarter*

  The Quartered Sea*

  THE KEEPER CHRONICLES

  Summon the Keeper

  The Second Summoning

  Long Hot Summoning

  TORIN KERR NOVELS

  Valor Novels

  Valor's Choice^

  The Better Part of Valor^

  Heart of Valor

  Valor's Trial

  The Truth of Valor

  Peacekeeper Novels

  An Ancient Peace

  THE ENCHANTMENT EMPORIUM

  The Enchantment Emporium

  The Wild Ways

  The Future Falls

  STANDALONES

  The Fire's Stone*

  Gate of Darkness, Circle of Light*

  Wizard of the Grove

  The Silvered

  SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

  What Ho, Magic!

  Stealing Magic

  Relative Magic

  Finding Magic

  Nights of the Round Table*

  February Thaw*

  Swan's Braid, and other tales of Terizan*

  He Said, Sidhe Said*

  Third Time Lucky*

  *available as a Jabberwocky ebook

  ^also available in the omnibus A Confederation of Valor

  Overture

  Some years ago, I wrote a quadrology of books that came to be named the Quarters Series. Mostly because I'm bad at titles and terrible at series titles.

  The books are Sing the Four Quarters, Fifth Quarter, No Quarter, and The Quartered Sea. They're now all available as ebooks and you can find the covers and the cover copy at the end of this collection. The books are based around the Bards of Shkoder who Sing the four elemental kigh – earth, air, fire, and water – and who act not only as entertainment but as the lines of communication that keep the country together. Most bards Sing one or two quarters, a few Sing three, and a very few Sing all four. The Bardic Captain is always chosen from the bards who Sing all four quarters.

  As with all my created world fantasies, I began my worldbuilding with geography. Geography determines not only what crops can be grown and what animals can be raised, but what trade goods exist and how easy or difficult it is for trade to happen. Shkoder is far enough north to have four seasons, and often a long and difficult winter. Essentially Southern Ontario weather. It's surrounded by mountains because I needed a somewhat isolated country that would be more trouble than it was worth for larger countries to try and conquer – geography influencing politics. Rivers are important, because rivers are sources of both potable water and fast transportation. Humans build along rivers.

  Next, I decided on a tech level. In this case, early Tudor. Ish.

  Religion? Faith of some kind has been tremendously important throughout human history. That said, there are no gods, as such, in Shkoder. They believe in the interconnection of all things, everything contained in the Circle. They have temples, circular temples of course, and priests. The bards, who Sing services in the temples if they're around, often act as lay priests while out Walking.

  Walking specifically refers to the planned journeys the bards take around the kingdom and here we are back to geography. What are the building materials of the houses they visit? How do the people make a living? What kind of trees? Of wildlife?

  As well as musical ability, the bards have perfect recall and often stand as witnesses in civil cases. Most can Charm and Command and Sing their enemies to sleep – although there are strict rules concerning all three abilities. The Bardic Hall likes to think that Bardic Training weeds out any possibility of a bard abusing their power.

  South of Shkoder is the Havakeen Empire. Shkoder is a small country above a large and expanding one – which also gives the books a Canadian feel. (Although I realized that after the fact.) We may be geographically large, but there's not that many of us.

  North of Shkoder is a lot of bad weather.

  West is Cemandia, who fear the kigh and hate the bards who Sing them. I'm assuming a member of the royal family with talent and no training and who was terrified of what they could do created the situation, but I haven't really explored the details.

  East of Shkoder is an ocean. Far east is.... well, that would be The Quartered Sea.

  The three stories in this collection can be enjoyed without knowing any of this.

  I also believe they can be read without having read any of the books, but as I carry the books in my head, I can't know this for sure. Say.... with ninety percent certainty and those aren't bad odds. Of course, the stories will be more textured if you read the books first, but there's nothing wrong with texture applied after the fact.

  Think of this collection as a sampler. An appetizer. A medley...

  In the second book of the Quarter's series, Fifth Quarter, the story leaves Shkoder and heads south into the Havakeen Empire where we meet Vree and Bannon, sister and brother assassins, the deadliest blades of Jiir in the Seven Armies and two of the most fascinating characters to write I've ever created, their worldview and relationship skewed by their training.

  When asked to write a story for Assassin Fantastic, I knew I'd be writing about Vree and Bannon. After all, they had a history before Fifth Quarter. A history where they're the best and the brightest.

  And, just maybe, the gods are on their side.

  Death Rites

  As the sun rose and the Seventh Army rose with it, the assassin's body appeared, lifted up over the top of the fortress wall by unseen hands.

  "Marshal Arnon!"

  Holding his kilt, the marshal stepped out of his tent in time to hear the soft melon crack of the assassin's head hitting stone as the body reached the end of its arc. "Sound carries in these hills," he said thoughtfully threading straps through buckles and cinching them tight. Kilt secured, he glanced up first at the wall and then at the senior of the two soldiers on guard. "Was that what you wanted me to see?"

  "Yes, sir."

  The marshal nodded and turned on one bare heel back toward the tent. "Tell Commander Zayit I want to see her immediately. You have my permission to leave your post."

  *

  "Sir, if Orban is dead..."

  Marshal Arnon glanced up from his breakfast. "I think we can safely say that Orban is dead, Commander."

  "Yes, sir. Orban's death following Visolela's and Ganit's leaves the Seventh Army with only two assassins. Both are very young and wouldn't stand a chance
against Commander Jolan. Ex-Commander Jolan," she corrected hurriedly as the marshal's expression darkened.

  "Especially as Jolan has already dealt with Orban, Visolela and Ganit?"

  Commander Zayit winced at the question clearly not intended to be answered. The failure of the three assassins was, in a sense, the marshal's failure and he wasn't the sort of man who'd appreciate the reminder.

  They'd effortlessly regained the three villages that had fallen under the ex-commander's control but First and Second Divisions together had not yet been able to come up with a way to pry her out of her hilltop fortress – which wasn't surprising since the place had falling to Imperial expansion originally by betrayal from within. All three dead assassins had manage to get inside the walls, but with Jolan expecting them...

  A coin hit the table in front of her. Startled, she looked up to see the marshal's amber eyes locked on her face.

  "Crescent for your thoughts, Commander?"

  "I was just thinking about the situation, sir."

  "Yes, the situation." His lip curled. "It's beginning to look as though a siege is my only choice. So much for a quick and glorious end to Jolan's treason."

  "Yes, sir." A siege had been his only choice from the moment he'd allowed the ex-commander's small army to reach the hill fort. Too bad it had taken the lives of so many good soldiers to prove it to him.

  "You're thinking again. How long was the siege in '64?" he continued before she could work out the response he required.

  Zayit waited until he finished wiping his face with a damp cloth and said, "Almost two years, sir."

  "Seventeen years ago." He indicated to his body servant that the table could be cleared. "And Jolan was there."

  "Yes, sir."

  "How long do you think she was planning this... rebellion."

  Probably from the moment some pissant third cousin of the Emperor was promoted over officers who actually knew what they were doing. "I don't know, sir."

  "No. Of course not."

  Zayit stepped out of the way as Arnon stood and strode purposefully from his tent, falling into step behind his left shoulder as he passed. When he stopped at his customary place and stared toward the fortress, she wondered if he was thinking about the men and women who, by his command, had charged the narrow approach and died. Not once, but twice.

  "I think we can safely say she's stocked up on arrows, rocks, and oil," had been the marshal's only comment at the time.

  His tent should have been in the center of the encampment but he'd ordered it placed so Jolan could see him from the walls.

  "I want her to know I'm here."

  "I doubt she cares," Commander Baird had muttered a little too loudly and now Zayit was the only senior officer the marshal saw.

  "The raven's back, sir."

  "Are you certain it's the same bird, Commander?"

  She was actually. Something set this raven apart. It was larger than most and it had a way of staring into the camp that lifted all the hair on the back of her neck. Today, it had drifted silently down to land beside the crumpled black figure outside the fortress walls. "Yes sir. I'm certain."

  Then a second raven landed like a shadow beside the first.

  "It seems to have found a companion."

  "Yes, sir. Shall I send a squad out to collect the body?"

  "No. Let him lie, as Visolela and Ganit lie."

  "Sir, Visolela and Ganit went off the cliff. Orban is on the road."

  "I see where the body is, Commander. Why do think Jolan had it thrown onto the road? Precisely so we would send a squad to reclaim it." He squared broad shoulders and folded his arms. "But I give the orders here, not her."

  Zayit couldn't see his face but she could hear the edged smile in his voice. Her right hand clutched at the silver and onyx ring she wore on the smallest finger of her left hand. The ring, given to officers with their commission, marked her as priest of Jiir, Goddess of Battles. The marshal's ring held a ruby, the color of fresh blood. As he commanded the Seventh Army, he was high-priest of its goddess as well. He'd accepted the position as his due and had performed the necessary rituals as though they were about him, not Jiir..

  To challenge his orders would be to challenge his authority as a marshal of the Seven Armies and destroy her career.

  At least five soldiers – as well as the two on guard – were close enough to have overheard. By mid-day, everyone would know Marshal Arnon had refused rites to one of the dead.

  "Sir, we weren't able to do the rites for the others, but Orban..."

  "Will have to do without them as well. I have brought two divisions here for Jolan, burned a village, and lost three assassins. Now, I will have to maintain a division at her feet indefinitely. I think she has dictated quite enough." He nodded toward the road. "Besides, Jiir has sent her ravens. I'd say it was Visolela and Ganit come for their friend, but assassins have no friends even among themselves. Have a courier prepare and I'll send my decision to the Capital this morning."

  Eyes locked on the ravens, Zayit started. "Your decision sir?"

  "About the siege, Commander." Turning, he smiled down on her. "I doubt the Emperor, my cousin, needs to be kept abreast of carrion."

  "Yes, sir." She remained where she was until she heard the tent flap fall, and then she stayed a moment longer as the senior of the soldiers standing guard murmured, "Why aren't the ravens feeding?"

  They were standing, one at each end of the body, looking toward the camp.

  ***

  The marshal of the Seventh Army was the Emperor's cousin and that brought his message directly to the Emperor. His Imperial Majesty read the report and asked to speak personally with the courier.

  "Meaning no disrespect, Majesty," Marshal Usef of the First Army protested, "but why?"

  "Why indeed?" the emperor asked dryly. "Given that Arnon allowed the traitor to reach the hill fort in the first place, I find it difficult to believe things are going as well as he suggests."

  "You think he lies to you, Majesty?"

  "I think he omits detail, Usef."

  *

  Face flushed, the emperor slid forward to the edge of his throne. "Do I understand you to say that Marshal Arnon refused death rites to a blade of Jiir?"

  "Yes, Majesty."

  "When he could have recovered the body?"

  "Yes, Majesty."

  "And this is known?"

  "Yes, Majesty."

  The Emperor lifted his gaze from the kneeling courier, met Marshal Usef's eye, and jerked his head toward the door. When the courier was gone and the two men were alone, he growled, "Didn't we send our cousin to the South Province to keep him out of trouble?"

  "Yes, Majesty. You'd observed he was neither stupid nor without ambition."

  "I've changed my mind about the stupid part." He slapped the rolled report against his thigh. "He'll send both divisions over to that traitor if he keeps this up. He'll turn a small rebellion into a civil war."

  "That is possible, Majesty." The current border of the Seventh Province had been secure for barely a generation.

  "I want this taken care of. Now. Send a message immediately – Second Division can go back to the garrison, but Arnon's to remain with the siege."

  "Punishment, Majesty?"

  "Let's just say I'm not happy with him." The Emperor's smile was tight. "If I'm to fix this, I can't have him wandering all over Jiir's battlefield."

  "Shall I..."

  "No." A raised hand cut Usef's question short. "He's family. I'll deal with it myself.

  ***

  Marshal Chela of the Sixth Army read the message handed directly into her care by an Imperial Courier for the third time. His Imperial Majesty wanted to borrow her best assassin. Unfortunately, her best assassin would be under the authority of the garrison's healers for another few weeks...

  *

  "If his... Imper... i... al Majes... ty com...mands..."

  "Lie down, Neegan." Chela pushed him back onto the bed with her voice. Not even
she would touch an assassin uninvited. "Even if the healers would let you go, I'm not sure I would. Jolan's already destroyed three blades – I'm not saying you wouldn't be able to deal with her under normal circumstances, but you've got a hole in your throat you've barely recovered from."

  His lips pressed into a thin line and one brow rose.

  Chela, who'd known him for twenty years, translated easily. "Then why am I here? I want to know what you think about my sending Vree and Bannon instead. Granted they're young, but they're good – they should be, with you overseeing their training – and they'll be unexpected. Jolan resigned her commission before they were posted and as far as I know there has never been a team of assassins in the Seven Armies before." Her smile nearly buried her eyes in curves of flesh. "Also, it's considerably more politic to send the Emperor an option rather than a refusal."

  Neegan held out a thin hand. "Or... ders..."

  "Sorry, my eyes only. And theirs if you think they can handle the job."

  This expression a stranger could have translated.

  "How can you decide if you don't know what you're sending them into?" She lowered her bulk onto the stool beside the bed. "This much is common knowledge: Commander Jolan's treason has allowed Arnon, that pompous ass, to put himself into bad situation. The fortress is impossible to take down from without, but there's a way in Jolan hasn't been able to find or she'd have closed it down. It isn't like her to make a point by killing assassins as they come through."

  "Ar... un?"

  She smiled again at the missing rank. An assassin had no family but the army. For Neegan to deliberately insult a superior officer... "They'll be taking no orders from Marshal Arnon. The Emperor is taking care of this, they go in under his orders alone."

  He forced a lungful of air through the ruin of his throat. "Send... them."

  ***

  Bannon dug a finger into one of the grain bags they shared the wagon with and ground the kernels together. "I'm not sure I like being loaned out like a waterskin or a whetstone."

  "Orders are orders," Vree shrugged without looking over at her brother. She didn't have to look, she'd know what see. He'd be lying back, wearing only kilt and sandals and a petulant expression. "These orders just happen to come directly from the Emperor."