On The Edge of Blades (Chapter 4.5)

The fire was green like the necklace that her mother had never worn. And, it was beautiful in a way. If only it would not burn.

In the streets below, Lirael cried watching her father’s manor succumb to the flames like an emerald candle in the night.

“Emotion is weakness,” her father would have scolded her as the tears ran down her cheeks, “Show them nothing.”

Yet, her father was not there, and like her feet, her emotions were bare.

Lirael needed to cry. But more than that she wanted revenge. Whichever House did this deserves to burn, she thought putting her hand on the white dagger that she had pulled from the rubble, and the dark figure they sent; he will bleed.

“Who could have done this?” Josa’s anger tore through Lirael’s thoughts. Her brother’s ash stained face was contorted into a thousand folds. And, while no tears fell from his blackened cheeks, Lirael could almost feel the somber rage that she knew he held within him.  

“It does not matter. They will pay,” Lirael responded, clutching the black robes that she had saved against her chest. “No House nor Guild will stand in the way of father when he hears of this treachery.”

“Why must you talk only of blood?” Rae questioned, her voice frantic and tired, “Who will I marry if we descend to violence? What will happen to the reputation of this House?”

“Sister, are you blind? This is no House.” Lirael pointed to the smoldering remains. “We are ashes now, blackened ash-”

“You’ve said enough,” Josa interrupted. “Do not torture her anymore.”

“Where shall we go?” Rae stuttered. Lirael’s older sister’s evening gown was singed beyond recognition and her flowing blonde hair was accented by the occasional streak of soot. Despite it all, she looked a model of grace and poise.

“We will rouse Jamiel,” Josa coughed. “He will keep you two while I find father.”

Lirael wanted to reply, to tell her brother that no one needed to “keep” her. After all, she was for all purposes a more competent warrior than he. But, Lirael did not argue. There was no time.

“Well, let us go then.” Rae tried to hold herself together with words.

And saying nothing more, the singed siblings turned to walk…

Unlike most of their servants Jamiel did not live within the bounds of the manor. Rather the man rented a small dwelling near the edge of the upper city. Close enough to the manor to be walkable but not convenient.

After ten some minutes of tense travelling they reached the home of Jamiel. It was a common building made of logs that had been coated with clay and sealed in a dark glaze. The door was stained and oaken and a brass knocker hung on its face.

“Jamiel! Jamiel!” Josa shouted, pounding his fist on the door.

The was no light coming from the building windows, and Josa got no response. Deftly, he pulled a key from his pocket and opened the door.

The many candles around the room sat lightless, only the faint streetlight glowing through the windows. Lirael had never entered Jamiel’s house before- after all he was a servant.

“He must be away,” Lirael stated, looking around. Jamiel kept the place well organized. His mahogany desk was uncluttered save for a bound journal resting on its surface. A large shelf with many books lined the walls.

How does he afford such niceties?

“No matter, Jamiel will return.” Josa replied, maintaining his calm demeanor, “You two stay here I will get father.”

Josa opened the door and turned to leave.

“How do you know where he is?” Lirael watched Josa noticeably flinch at her question.

“I wish I didn’t…” Josa turned back for an instant, and his face was stained with something darker than the ash and soot. And, the door slammed shut.

Immediately, Lirael changed into the black uniform that she had grabbed upon leaving the manor. It would be simple to follow Josa. But, as she walked towards the door, Rae pulled her back.

“Do not do this.”

“You think I have a choice. Our brother can’t be out there alone, he’ll get himself killed,” Lirael replied in a stern hushed voice.

“Since when have you cared about our brother?”

“He is a member of the House, I care about him as I would my own limb,” Lirael said, but she thought, The House that I- that I burned through my own failure. I can’t let my own failings murder Josa.

“I thought you said the House was ashes. You said it was gone.” Rae stumbled for words.

“I was wrong,” Lirael admitted, pulling the hood over her face. “The manor may be ashes. But, the House, Rae, we are the House, me, you, Josa, father. As long as we live so does the House.”

Lirael said nothing more as she left her sister in the darkness of an unknown home. She could still save the House. Her brother would not die by her failings.

The air brushed against Lirael’s face. She was sprinting through streets sprinkled with curious spectators. Even from a distance the burning manor was clearly visible in the sky.

Where would he have gone? Lirael thought as she ran towards the manor. And that was when she saw it, a small and silent mob filling the streets around the burned manor in the distance. Lirael could see no way through the somber group.

All sorts of people milled about, all thinking the same thoughts, all worried, all silent. She passed a plump woman. Her children, two lumps in her night gown, were crying. She couldn’t see their faces, but she had seen them before. So many times.

Lirael kept running.

Unsheathing the white knife from her side, she hurled the blade towards the roof of a nearby building. Her sense of the blade nearly left her as she pulled it down into the tiles four stories above.

Lirael ran faster. She could feel every cold cobble on her feet. And with a leap, Lirael pulled.

Like the shadow of a dart Lirael flew through the air. One story passed her then two and three, but she began to slow. The knife had slipped from between the fractured tiles; Lirael could feel it moving towards her. If the knife reached her hand there would be nothing to pull, and she would fall.

I will not fall, Lirael thought. She drew the black dagger. The normal blade would serve its purpose.

The white dagger moved closer and Lirael was no longer ascending. Time seemed to slow as she hung in the night. From above she could see everything. The City with its many lights. The dark quarry that ran deep beneath the ground. The outlines of the endless forest enclosing everything.

The white dagger struck her hand like lightening, and Lirael plummeted from the sky.

With one knife in either hand, she drove the blades into the wooden siding of the building. The white blade anchored itself in the oak, but the other dagger bounced from the hardened wood, clattering to the cobbles below.   

Lirael hung three stories in the humid air. Wrapped around the dagger’s rough handle, her ungloved fingers burned in pain.

The fall was inevitable now. It didn’t matter how long she hung, there was no way but down.

Lirael pushed the dagger deeper. The wood folded inwards to the pressure with a shouted creak. There was nothing that she could do now but hope the blade would hold and let go of the hilt…