The Truth of Things Unseen

Do you want a finger guard?

Taliette’s new boots were waterproof, and the early morning dew could not soak her feet. There was no need to keep to the path, so she strode through the long grass, enjoying the feeling of going where she wanted for a change.

She had no swinging skirts to get wet, and she had pockets in her shirt and jerkin to carry any little things she wanted to keep with her. She had a bun from breakfast tucked up, warm as kittens, close in next to where her heart should be. Her bow was a firm certainty in her fist.

"This house is called Blazeby," said Gintas, striding out beside her. "I’ve got fifteen chaps here at the moment, but there’s room for a hundred or so."

"What happened to the other eighty-five?"

"Heh, I like you," replied Gintas without actually replying. "You ask good questions."

They passed a row of low single-story buildings. Several capable-looking men and women lounged on benches out the front, eating meat and picking their teeth with knives. The women were dressed as she was, none of them identical, but all of them equally practical.

The men’s eyes tracked her, but none catcalled. She kept her chin high. They were beneath her.

A tall, rough-looking fellow jogged up behind them and fell into step with them. Gintas clapped him on the shoulder.

"Haldane, good to see you back, my friend. Taliette, this is Hal. He’s in charge of my crew here. I’ve asked him to take a look at you."

Hal grinned at her, "Gintas has told me good things."

His eyes were blue, his fringe was blonde and floppy. He had big, round muscles in his arms. She had to stop herself from grinning back. Never let them see.

"Here, you’ll need these" He tossed her a quiver full of arrows.

She snatched the quiver out of the air. The soft leather crumpled, and she felt the firm certainty of the shafts within.

"Taliette will be your protege for the next few months," said Gintas. "She likes to shoot."

"Self-taught?" said Hal. "She'll have picked up bad habits."

"She received a grounding in the basics when she was young." Gintas hesitated just a fraction of a second. "The mother was... very good."

They were right around the back of the house now, there were dark trails in the dewy grass behind them where they had walked. Still, her feet were dry and warm. She slid an arrow from the quiver and inspected it. This was not a sports arrow or a birding arrow. It had a bright steel tip, filed to a knife edge, one point in front, two trailing. It was an arrow that would disembowel a man if he tried to yank it out of himself. The morning sunlight glinted on the metal.

"You like them?" asked Hal.

She did like them. She shrugged, cold and neutral. "Who cares if I like them."

"We don’t use sport arrows here," said Hal, unperturbed. "The weight is wrong. We practice with bodkins."

"Even though they rip my practice range to pieces," said Gintas.

"You contracted me to train your guys," replied Hal. "Targets are cheap. Lives are expensive."

Gintas grunted, apparently satisfied.

"It’s good to have you back, my man,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of work to get through, starting with this one."

Wicker targets had been set across the lawn, a golden invitation. She itched to nock the arrow and shoot. Instead, she frowned at them and pretended not to notice. Never let them see.

"Do you want a finger guard?" said Hal.

She fixed him with an icy stare. Was she some weak little girl who needed protecting? Maybe he thought himself her equal because he was in charge of a few men.

She held his gaze, expressionless. He didn’t look away. She carefully laid the index finger of her left hand over the bodkin point. Keeping her eyes locked onto his, she pressed, just a little, denting the skin. Still, he didn’t look away. She pressed a little harder and felt the bloom of pain. Hal laughed nervously and dropped his gaze.

She felt the tug at her soul and saw Gintas shake his head at her slightly. No working against the mission, but it had been worth it. Hal wasn’t looking at her anymore. Subtle is the path, subtle and full of knives. She was in charge now. She turned her attention back to the targets.

She knocked the arrow, and half drew, feeling the weight and action of it. The layers of wood made the bow wonderfully light. The draw was smooth and a little more powerful than she was used to, but not so heavy it tired her shoulders.

She sighted along the field, enjoying the flex across her back and the tightness in her fingers. Drawing the bow felt like freedom, like running through a field naked with no one to see. It was secret. It was wild. Her fingertip was slightly wet with blood, and a little blood went into the bowstring. "You’re my thing now," she whispered to it. "I own your soul."

She let go. The heavy arrow flew true and whacked into the middle of the nearest target.

Gintas came close and murmured in her ear. "Your father didn’t like you shooting, did he?"

Taliette took aim at the next target, imagining her father standing there, short and ugly, a little triangle of belly fat showing where his shirt had come untucked. The string twanged, and the arrow thudded into her father’s stomach, splattering intestines out the back of him.

"He locked me in my room if he caught me."

"You like to shoot?"

"Yep."

"It reminds you of your mother?"

"I don’t want to talk about my mother."

Taliette took one step back, planting her feet. She leaned back, aimed high and sent an arrow whistling over the house, scudding like a bird in a storm. She kept her expression cold, but inside she was grinning, as though she were the one flying over the house.

She half expected someone to tell her off. It was a dangerous move - to shoot without sight of a target. Anyone standing on the front lawn could have been hit. Moreover, the arrow was certainly lost for good. ‘Arrows are expensive,’ her father would have said. Gintas didn’t say a word, but he made a small grumbling sound in his throat that showed his disapproval.

"You got any men out front, Hal?" he asked.

"No, you?"

"Better send someone to check."

A half dozen mercenaries were walking along the path behind the lawn. Hal signalled to them with hand gestures, and one of them set off at a jog.

"Don’t do that again, please," said Hal.

She looked to Gintas. Her soul didn’t restrain her. She could do what she liked.

The next target was fifty paces away. She hit it, but didn’t put the arrow in the centre.

She scowled. "I can do better than that."

"Make your release softer," suggested Hal. "Don’t hold your hand so hard."

Her bow twanged, her shot went very wide, missing the target and disappearing into the grass. She growled under her breath.

"Breathe out before you release. Stand straight. Relax your face. Stretch out afterwards. Pretend we’re not here."

Taliette tried again. She hit the target, but she was still wide of the bullseye.

"She’s got the talent, but she’s picked up some bad habits. I can knock them out of her, but she's got to practice more."

"You hear that, Taliette?" said Gintas. "You’ve got to practice more."

This time, Taliette felt the tugging at her soul, but she didn’t mind it.