Read Crossed Blades for Free Online

interplay of light and shadow.
    Each individual shadow takes on a sort of depth that isn’t quite color, but still possesses all the subtle shading of that palette. Where my own eyes might have perceived a simple block shadow where the edge of the tomb across the way cut off the light from several altar fires, I now registered a whole gradient of shadow flavors. It gave me an extremely precise sense of things, like the way the three magical tomb-fires that cast the bulk of that shadow sat, and how their intensity varied over distance and with the flickering of the flame.
    No single part of my mosaic of the senses was enough to give me what I needed, but together . . . together was a different thing entirely. As I moved deeper into the graveyard, flitting from shadow to shadow, I followed my nose and that faintest hint of exotic spices until a change in the quality of the light drew my attention to a particularly tall tomb. There, the flames burned a little brighter in the reflection off a couple of faint scuff marks where the moss on the fountain had been displaced. Moving around the back, I put an ear to the wall and waited . . . there, the quietest of grating sounds came through the stone. Unless the tomb’s primary inhabitant was moving about, there was a lurker on the rooftop.
    I squatted down to make an even smaller target and released my hold on Triss’s will.
Wake up, my friend. We’ve got company of an unexpected nature.
    As I filled him in on what I’d learned so far I double-checked all of my gear. The pair of short straight swords I wore on my back in a custom built hip-draw rig hung light and loose. All I needed to do to release either of them was pop the catch with a thumb and let the blade drop a few inches to free the tip. Wrist and boot daggers were likewise properly aligned and ready to go, as was my little bag of tricks.
    Who do you think it is?
Triss silently asked me when I had finished both narrative and preparations.
    I can’t say for sure, but I’ve got a suspicion. It’s the spice scent. I’ve only ever smelled it secondhand myself, but Master Kelos mentioned once that some of the Hand of Heaven’s sorcerer-priests use a special ritual soap. It’s supposed to help keep them pure in the face of the corrupt world out here beyond Heaven’s Reach.
    Triss let out an angry mental hiss when I mentioned a possible Hand presence.
Should I slide up and take a look? Maybe tear out a throat while I’m at it?
    Much as I’d love to let you, I don’t think we can risk it yet. If there’s one finger of Heaven’s Hand trying to push the scales down here, you can bet there are more close by. Killing this one could all too easily alert the others.
    Point. So, what’s the plan?
    Finish scouting. If it is the Hand, I want to know how many more of them are around and where they are before I make a move. I just wish we had some way to warn Faran. She’s damn good, but the Hand are the people who destroyed the temple. They’ve killed a lot of Blades.
    Faran and Ssithra survived then, they’ll be all right now. When she’s playing it smart that girl is one of the most promising young assassins I’ve ever seen.
    And if she’s not playing it smart?
    Triss just hissed. Faran was good, but also ruthless and prone to kill first and worry about the consequences later. And she
hated
the Hand. It was a bad combination, but we couldn’t do anything about it without giving ourselves away. Not for the first time, I wished that my kind had better methods of communication. But our powers simply didn’t work that way, which was part of why Blades had always worked solo far more often than in concert.
    What if it’s
not
the Hand?
asked Triss.
    It would still be nice to know if there are more of them around before we start slitting throats. Either way, we’ll have to come back and pay a quiet visit on our friend up there before we head down to meet Jax. What do you want to bet that rooftop has a clear view of