Slave Girl 3: Chapter 62 (Patreon)

At last Kreer speaks, his fingers resting on the blade as if feel any residual hum. “That platform you speak of was a place of sacrifice. It was old, from before the Empire, from before Homer, when the power of the tribes of Greece spread as far as Italy and beyond. From back when the gods still thirsted for the blood of more than just animal offerings.” His fingers run up the blade, tracing the oh so subtle labyrinthine pattern in the metal, then across the crescent-shaped cross guard and handle to linger at the pommel to feel the rough, almost organic, shape that resembled the head of a horned creature with two elongated eyes. “The platform and the plaque were crafted by human hands. That ring you speak of, the one that drank blood, that was forged on a telchine anvil. Likely under the orders of the King of the Sea himself. It would have been older still. Such things have not been made since the time of Atlantis.” Pulling his hand away he looks up at me. “Though it was old the magic should not have ruptured from its ring as they were one in the same, yet clearly it has. Faded, perhaps. A sudden violent breach, maybe. But this? It defies any laws of magic that I know of. There must be another variable to bridge the gap.” Rosa’s hand, unseen, once more grips my thigh. “Did you notice any sign of arcane talent in this Toke?”

“No. None at all.” I answer honestly.

He sets pulls back from the sword. “It should be impossible and yet here it is. I suppose there is not much point in asking you if you would be willing to part with this item. I would be eager to study this further at a one of my people’s forges.”

“Absolutely not.” I say. “Especially now.”

“Of course. Well, I am afraid I have no answers for you. Only questions of my own.” He says, his wet eyes turning to Rosa. “Questions that I believe you will not answer.”

“Kreer…”

He raises a hand. “I will not ask them. Sometimes ignorance is a blessing.”

“Thank you, Kreer.” Rosa says softly.

That was that. He knew. Or, at the very least, he heavily suspected. I shouldn’t have been surprised that his wizardly intellect had gleaned that there was a Rosa sized hole in my account as he had already shown a keen curiosity toward her role in my group of ‘adventurers’. Silently I thank the gods for his discretion though in truth it was likely more to do with Rosa’s easy charms and that fact that he and Nikias were counting on us to help their island allies than the influence of any god. At this point the less said the better so I bring the conversation back to the sword.

“So is Toke’s soul forever bound to this world?”

“He is bound to the blade, so I would say yes.” Kreer says. “Though I am no holy man. These are mysteries beyond my experience.” He begins to collect up his tools and magical paraphernalia. “What is left of the man you knew is merged with that steel. A piece of him at least. An echo of his final moments reverberating out from beyond death itself. You carry a blade like no other I’ve ever heard or read of, Quintus. A fitting weapon for a legend.”

“I am no legend, Kreer.”

“I never said that you were.” He says, folding up his kit. “Though you travel with one.” Whether he spoke of the blade on the table before me or the petite slave girl at my side I could not say. Before either Rosa or I could reply he waves us away, anxious to maintain what plausible deniability he had left to claim. “We are done.”

“Wait!” I say as he goes to rise. “One more question.”

He settles back into his chair. “Choose it wisely.”

Pausing a moment to consider how much I pushed this fragile trust we had established I decide to try for one more answer. “A creature of smoke and shadow, eyes like moonlight, in the shape of a hound. It follows us. It traces our steps. It has not yet seen us but we have seen it.”

Kreer goes still for a few heartbeats then looks up at me, surely wondering how we’d managed to see it without being seen. For a moment I worry I had pushed our luck too far, but then answers in that flat, neutral tone that gave nothing away. “A Scythian shadowhound. You’ve been tangling with Amazons, haven’t you?”

A gasp escapes Rosa as my insides flutter. Scythians? Amazons!? WHAT!? That was about the last answer I’d been expecting. Lydia, an official Imperial mage, or even an Egyptian wizard were among the answers I might have expected, but the Amazons? How? Why? In our time together Rosa and I hadn’t had a single encounter with another Amazon, at least not that we knew of, and in her upbringing she’d had little contact with that half of her heritage outside of her mother and sister.

Again, before I could answer, he holds up a hand. “Do not answer that.”

“Ignorance is a blessing?”

“With you more than most it seems.” He says. “The hound itself is not dangerous. It is merely a tracker. If it has caught your scent it will find you, eventually, and let its master know that you’ve been found.”

“Can it be fought? Can it be killed?”

“Not by conventional means. Not before it can accomplish its task at least.” His attention flows from me to the sword then up to Rosa. “But for those capable of the impossible…who can say?” For a long moment Rosa and I sit in stunned silence. Once more Kreer motions us to leave. “No more questions. No more answers. Leave.”

Quietly I wrap up my blade and rise to leave, Rosa clutched tightly to my arm. We had walked in here simply to let Kreer assuage his curiosity about my odd sword and we would be walking out with the weight of Toke’s soul added to our load, our most dangerous secret all but exposed and the revelation that somehow we’d gained the attention of one of Rome’s most ruthless adversaries.

Chapter 63