The Dark River

Maya’s bare feet touched the cold floor as she took a few steps to the right and picked up her sword. She placed the strap over her head so that the scabbard touched her back. “You knew me when I was growing up,” she said. “You helped my father destroy my life. Harlequins are supposed to believe in randomness. Well, there was nothing random about my childhood! I was slapped and kicked and ordered around by you and every other Harlequin who passed through London. I was trained to kill without doubt or hesitation. I killed those men in Paris when I was sixteen…”

Mother Blessing was laughing softly, mocking her. “Poor little girl. I’m so sorry. Is that what you want to hear? Do you want pity-from me? Do you think anything was different when I was a child? I killed my first Tabula merc with a sawed-off shotgun when I was twelve! And you know what I was wearing? A white communion dress. My mother made me put it on so I could get closer to the altar and pull the trigger.”

For a few seconds, Maya saw a hint of pain in the older woman’s eyes. And she had a vision of a child in a white dress, standing in the middle of a vast cathedral, splattered with blood. The moment passed, and Mother Blessing’s anger appeared to grow even more intense.

“I’m a Harlequin, just like you,” Maya said. “And that means you can’t order me around…”

Mother Blessing drew her sword with two hands, spun it over her head, and finished with the point aimed at the floor. “You’ll do whatever I tell you. Your relationship with Gabriel is over. You’ll never see him again.”

Maya raised her right hand slowly-to show that she was not planning an immediate attack. Then she pulled her sword out of its scabbard and held it with the point facing up and the flat of the blade against her chest. “Call Captain Foley tomorrow and he’ll take us off this island. I’ll continue to protect Gabriel and you can guard his father.”

“There’s no discussion about this. No compromise. You will submit to my authority.”

“No.”

“You’ve slept with a Traveler and now you’re in love with him. That sort of emotion just puts him in danger.” Mother Blessing raised her sword. “Because I’ve destroyed my own fear, I can create fear in others. Because I don’t care about my own life, all my enemies die. Your father tried to tell you this, but you were too rebellious. Maybe I can make you listen…”

Mother Blessing extended her left leg. It was a graceful, practiced movement-like the beginning of a dance. And then the Irish Harlequin propelled herself forward, attacking with quick, sharp movements of the wrists and hands. She slashed and jabbed with unrestrained power as Maya gave ground and tried to defend herself. The candle flames fluttered and the sound of clashing swords cut through the silence.

A few feet from the altar, Maya threw herself across the room like a diver entering the water. She somersaulted away from the other Harlequin, got back up, and raised her sword again.

Mother Blessing renewed her attack, driving Maya toward the wall. The Irish Harlequin swung her sword to the right, and then twisted it around at the last moment, catching Maya’s sword near the hilt and ripping the weapon out of the younger woman’s hands. The sword spun through the air and landed across the room.

“You will submit to me,” Mother Blessing said. “Submit, or accept the consequences.”

Maya refused to speak.

Without warning, the point of Mother Blessing’s sword cut across Maya’s chest, pulled back, cut across her left arm, pulled back, and then slashed her left hand. The three wounds felt like someone had burned her flesh. Maya looked into the Harlequin’s eyes and realized that the next movement of the sword would end her life. She remained silent until a thought came to her that was so powerful it pushed away her pride.

“Let me see Gabriel one last time.”

“No.”

“I’ll obey you. But I need to say goodbye.”

22

The Evergreen Foundation occupied an entire office building at Fifty-fourth Street and Madison Avenue in Manhattan. Most of the employees thought they worked for a nonprofit organization that gave out research grants and managed the endowment. Only a small staff of workers with offices on the top eight floors handled the Brethren’s less public activities.

Nathan Boone passed through the revolving door and entered the atrium lobby. He glanced at the decorative waterfall and the small grove of artificial spruce trees placed near the windows. The architects had insisted on living evergreens, but each new transplant withered and died, leaving an unsightly carpet of brown needles. The eventual solution was a grove of manufactured trees with an elaborate air system that gave off a faint pine scent. Everyone preferred the imitation evergreens: they seemed more real than something that grew in the forest.