Blade Singer Read online

  There was a murmur from the other human swordsmen, as if they were unwillingly impressed. Even Desmarais eyed the blade warily.

  "Feeling a bit nervous?" asked Etienne.

  "Of what? A worthless piece of faerie glass?" Desmarais snorted.

  "But just think how lovely it'll appear stained with your blood," Etienne said, and for an instant his face was way more dangerous, and he looked much less like Manny's father. Manny blinked, and the image was gone. Etienne was again the elf-version of his dad.

  "Do you really think you'll ever get that sword to sing, Etienne?" Desmarais countered. "Who's the colossal buffoon?"

  Etienne's smile faded.

  Desmarais chuckled, and seemed pleased he had struck a nerve.

  Get the sword to sing? Manny wondered. Maybe it was a metaphor.

  The two men circled each other, ignoring the shouts and encouragement of the other men, focused only on each other. Then Desmarais lunged forward. Etienne parried, and the clashing swords, steel against the strange crystal, a sharp ring that resonated in Manny's bones. The flurry of thrusts and parries was almost too quick to follow. The men broke apart, Desmarais panting and backing away a few steps, then they came together again as Etienne attacked. Etienne wasn't even breathing hard.

  He wasn't just bragging, Manny thought, watching the two men intently. Etienne wasn't the least bit worried, and didn't look as if he had any reason to be. He was faster than Desmarais, more focused, more accurate.

  With a sudden flourish, Etienne disarmed Desmarais. The elf vaulted over his stunned opponent, caught his rapier in mid-air, then slapped Desmarais' backside with the flat of his own blade. Manny snorted and Rabican laughed appreciatively.

  "That was quite a jiggle," said Etienne, spinning to face Desmarais again. "More marching, less pastry I think."

  Desmarais took an angry step forward but froze when he was met by the sharp points of two rapiers, one metal, one crystal. "You would attack an unarmed man?" snarled Desmarais.

  Etienne grinned, then tossed Desmarais his sword. "Not hardly."

  Desmarais attacked again and the duel resumed, but by now it was clear that Etienne was only toying with his opponent. The scowls Desmarais' companions were giving Etienne confirmed it. Even Rabican seemed to be tiring of the sport.

  "End this, Etienne," said the faun with an exaggerated sigh. "You've humiliated him enough for one day."

  Taking that as his cue, Etienne's blade darted in. Desmarais staggered away, his blade clattering on the pavement, one hand pressed to his arm where blood stained his white shirt sleeve. Manny whistled in admiration. It had been so fast; if he had blinked he would have missed it.

  Etienne stepped back. "Do you yield?"

  Desmarais glanced at his companions, both of whom nodded. "Yes, damn you, I yield," Desmarais said grudgingly. Then with a sneer, he added, "But this duel has proven me right. The sword didn't work for you, Etienne. Again. The legend says it only works for one who fights with true courage. Perhaps the sword knows something you don't."

  Etienne's expression hardened, the long line of his jaw tightening. He strode forward and placed the tip of his sword an inch from Desmarais' alarmed face. "Magic or not, it's still a blade, and it does its duty just the same." With a flick of his wrist, he sliced off the ends of Desmarais' mustachios, then sheathed his sword.

  Rabican laughed again, a sound that was far more of a bleat than anything else. "It doesn't take true courage to defeat the likes of you, Desmarais. Obviously, the sword's magic wasn't needed. Although your barber may disagree." The faun clapped Etienne on the back and they both left the courtyard.

  Manny darted from his hiding spot and hurried after the Sidhe cavaliers. He couldn't help grinning. He was stuck in this weird place, but at least his dad alive and well, and an amazing elf swordsman to boot.

  "That was amazing, dad," said Manny, falling into step beside Etienne.

  The cavalier stopped and frowned at him. "You again. Your jest has gone far enough, boy. Stop calling me that."

  Rabican studied Manny with some amusement. "Who is this, Etienne?"

  Etienne sighed. "I saved this boy from a severe beating at the hands of some sentries. He's most likely a thief. He claims I'm his father. Poor lad is clearly addled."

  Rabican chuckled. "Wouldn't that be something. Are you sure he's addled?" The chuckle turned into a belly laugh.

  "I'm not in the mood, Rabican." Etienne's expression was clearly unamused. "Desmarais left a sour taste in my mouth."

  "Bah! He is a buffoon and unworthy of further thought," Rabican said. He glanced at Manny. "He does look like a thief. Away with you, lad."

  "Look, this is going to be hard to explain, but you must have lost your memory," Manny told Etienne. "You have to listen to me. I'm your son, Manny." He grabbed the cavalier's arm. "And I'm not a thief."

  Etienne pulled his arm free. "The change is upon you, boy. You didn't get that way by selling flowers in the streets."

  Change? What change? Manny thought desperately. "I'm not really an elf, dad. And neither are—"

  "That's clear by looking at you, boy." Etienne seemed even more annoyed. "You're halfway to a goblin. But I agree with Rabican. Away with you now. I'm tiring of your game." He turned away.

  "No, you've got to listen to me!" Manny shouted. He raced to Etienne and again tried to grab his arm. "Isn't it true that you just woke up here last year, you don't remember where you were before that? I know you, you're—"

  Etienne grabbed Manny's shoulder, so hard it hurt, and stared him in the eyes. "Stop this nonsense, boy. I've lived in this city since I was a boy and Rabican and many others can attest to that. There's nothing wrong with my memory or my wits. I don't know who put you up to this, but I'm not amused. Now be on your way or I'll toss you into the Foundry."

  The look in Etienne's eyes choked Manny's protest off in his throat. To his horror, he felt his eyes well up with tears. He jerked away and dashed his sleeve across his eyes. Etienne released him. Even Rabican watched him grimly now.

  Etienne hesitated, then reached into his pouch and pulled out a coin. "Here, boy. Take it. My anger should not have been directed at you." He held out the coin.

  Manny wiped his eyes on his sleeve. The ache in his chest made it hard to breathe. Ignoring the coin, he looked away, and tried to swallow the enormous lump in his throat. Finally, Etienne took his hand and planted the coin in his dirty palm. Without another word, the two men turned and walked away.

  Manny watched them go. He wished that this was just a bad dream, wished it as hard as he could. This wasn't like the fantasy worlds he'd read about. He wasn't a king, or a wizard, or a hero prophesied about in a legend. It was bad enough that he was here at all, but to see someone so much like his father, who didn't know him at all...

  He shook his head, shying away from the thought. He was all alone here, and this was no place for him. I just want to go back home. But the fear that he would never find his way home burned in the pit of his stomach like a red hot stone.

  Chapter Six

  The sun had begun to set. Manny had no idea how long he had been wandering. The streets all started to look the same after a while, the buildings indistinct, the people just a sea of unfriendly and unfamiliar faces. The wind was getting chilly as the light failed and the streets grew more shadowed, and the cobbles were cold under Manny's sore feet. He was careful to hide whenever he saw anyone, Sidhe or human, in the distinctive armor and uniforms of city sentries. He had no destination and no clue what he should do.

  Feeling an ache in his hand, he looked down and saw he was still clutching the coin Etienne had given him. He managed to make his stiff fingers uncurl and stared at the coin, now streaked with sweaty grime from his palm. Maybe if he tried flipping the coin, it would send him back. But this coin was silver, not gold. And it didn't feel the same as the gold coin had felt in the bookstore. It didn't sparkle, there was no glow, and the only heat it gave off was the heat of his own body.

&n
bsp; What could it hurt? Manny placed the coin on the back of this thumb. He held his arm rigid, wanting desperately to flip the coin but dreading the likely result. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and flipped it into the air.

  His eyes snapped open, tracking the flash of silver. He barely caught it before it could bounce on the cobblestones. His heart was pounding, his breath short. But aside from that, there was no effect.

  Manny slumped against a building, staring at the coin. This has to be a dream, he thought. This can't possibly be happening. But Manny had never had a dream that felt so real, with details so vivid. He had never felt hungry, tired, cold, or sick in a dream. Dreams didn't make your feet hurt. Maybe Tia Licha was right. Maybe I should have spoken to Father Diego sooner. Maybe I have finally gone crazy. Thinking of Licha made it even worse. Had she and Beto noticed he was gone, and thought that he had run away? Had they called the police?

  Oh. Or... He wasn't in his own body. Maybe it was lying there in the bookstore, and they thought he was dead. Imagining what that would do to Licha made him want to curl up into a ball and shut out the world.

  "Well, isn't this a fortunate turn of events." Manny looked up to see the three sentries Etienne had saved him from earlier closing in on him. He scrambled to his feet, his back pressed against the wall.

  "Did I see a glint of silver in your dirty palm?" said the leader of the pack, the one Manny had kicked in the kneecap, a redhead with a pockmarked face. "Did you think I'd forget you? We have a score to settle."

  "Leave me alone," Manny muttered.

  Redhead was studying Manny as if deciding what part of him to break first. "Etienne isn't here to defend you, pickpocket. So much for a father's love, eh?" he chortled. "Now hand over the coin."

  Manny's first instinct was to do exactly what this man wanted him to do. Handing over the coin seemed the wisest course of action. He knew that this sneering sentry would not be content to simply punch him in the face a few times like Gregory back home. No, the predatory look in his eyes, and the way he gripped the hilt of his dagger, convinced Manny that he wouldn't hesitate to kill him. In fact, he would enjoy doing it.

  But a thought took root in his head, like a voice that said, Don't give him what he wants! You're faster than him. You're smarter than him. You can beat these men!

  "No." Manny's gaze locked with the sentry's.

  Redhead's eyes widened in surprise at Manny's single, defiant word. "Oh, so I'll have to take it from you then, will I?" He drew his dagger. The blade flashed in the dying light. "I was hoping you'd resist."

  Manny balled up his fists and tensed, waiting for Redhead's knife to come slashing forward, waiting to feel the painful bite of its edge.

  With a cry, one of Redhead's companions went sprawling to the ground. The other spun around, reaching for his rapier. A figure crouched behind the fallen sentry, holding a staff. Manny peered around Redhead, who had turned to face the attacker.

  The figure was dressed in form-fitting leather and had a high leather collar pulled up over the lower half of its face. The startled sentry drew his sword but before he could come on guard, the figure rammed the end of the staff into his stomach. The sentry staggered and dropped his sword, the wind going out of him in a gurgled cry. The figure spun gracefully, twirling the staff in the air and bringing it crashing down against the other sentry's temple. The sentry collapsed like a sack of potatoes. The whole thing had taken only a couple of seconds.

  Redhead blinked, holding his dagger out. Apparently realizing he was woefully under-armed, he switched his dagger to his left hand and began to draw his sword. The staff slapped the dagger of out of his hand, and the figure advanced, raining a flurry of savage blows on Redhead's body. The way the figure moved and used the staff reminded Manny of the kung fu movies he and his dad had watched together.

  Redhead was driven back against the wall. Manny sprang away, ready to run if the attacker turned its attention to him. The figure held the end of the staff a few inches from Redhead's eyes.

  "You sentries disgust me," the figure hissed. "You're the biggest thieves on the streets." Manny's eyes widened. The voice was high and strangely familiar.

  "You will pay for this," snarled Redhead. "I swear to you!"

  The figure cocked its head. "Yes, someday I'll pay for what I've done. But not today." The staff pulled back and slammed Redhead in the mouth. He cried out, clapping a hand to his bloodied lips. He leaned over and spat out rotten teeth. He glared at the figure, drooling, "You miserable, little—"

  The end of the staff caught him just above the nose. Redhead slid to the ground and slumped over onto his side.

  The figure glanced around, making sure the other sentries posed no further threat. It straightened, turned, and jogged down the darkened street. Manny just stood and stared. The figure stopped, looked around as if expecting someone to be with it. The someone was evidently supposed to be Manny, because it turned back to him and pulled down its collar, revealing its face for the first time. But Manny already knew who it was. The way the figure moved, the way it impatiently planted its hand on its hip. The voice, warmly familiar and unmistakable.

  "What are you waiting for?" asked his mother. "Remy, come on, before more sentries arrive!"

  Manny sprinted to her side. He gazed up at her, studying her face. She was human, not Sidhe like him. And she was exactly as he remembered: dark eyes, sharp features, smooth olive skin. Manny smiled at her. He had no idea who Remy was, but right at that moment, he didn't care. His mother could have called him a stupid idiot, it would have made no difference.

  She frowned and brushed the hair from his eyes. "Are you all right?"

  Manny managed to say, "I'm fine. I'm just tired and hungry." He slowly wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "And I'm really happy to see you."

  His mother squeezed him and kissed the top of his head. "I'm happy to see you, too, but now is not the time for sentiment." She grabbed his hand and pulled him along. "I need to go see Heinze and unload some goods. For both our sakes, I hope you've earned your keep today, Remy. Morrigan's been in a particularly foul mood of late. And we both know how dangerous it is to upset her."

  Manny had no idea what she was talking about, but he was content to let himself be led along. He knew in his heart this was no more his mother than Etienne had been his father. But whoever Remy was, it was clear this woman had some sort of connection to him. And if Manny was supposed to be Remy, he needed to find out what that connection was. Maybe she could help him get back home.

  Chapter Seven

  The speed and ease with which his otherworld mother navigated the city impressed Manny. She seemed to know every alley, every hiding spot, and the easiest accesses to the rooftops. She moved like a cat — quietly, gracefully, like a living shadow. And here Manny thought he was supposed to be the stealthy elf.

  As they leapt from one rooftop to land on another, Manny stopped and stared at a distant building that glowed like silver in the moonlight. It was huge, with a domed roof, a spire rising up from the center, and a blocky but elegant double tower on one end. Arches along the outside seemed meant to support the walls. I wonder what that is, he thought. Maybe an old church?

  Then Manny noticed that there were figures moving along the parapets. He squinted, trying to make them out. Their movements and shapes seemed inhuman and somehow strangely familiar. Could those be...? His suspicion was confirmed when one of them launched into the air, spread jagged wings and soared over the city. Gargoyles. Real, living gargoyles.

  In the darkness, he could also see sparks of colored light, red, green, blue, yellow, like Christmas lights or colored fireflies, flickering all over the near and distant rooftops. The whole city was alive with it.

  Then the bells of the church began to toll. It was a strangely haunting sound, that somehow reminded him of the golden coin. If he concentrated, he could still hear the ring of the tumbling coin. It was as if the sound had been permanently burned into his memory, but had re
treated to the back of his mind, waiting there for... he wasn't sure.

  "Do you find the Basilica particularly fascinating tonight?"

  Manny blinked, realizing his mother had come back to stand beside him. "Is that what that is? It's really cool," he muttered.

  "Remy, I'm asking again, are you well?" She drew him down the roof a little, and swiveled him toward the street. In the reflected glow of the torches outside the noisy tavern below, he could see her worried expression. She turned his face this way and that. "Is it the change? Do you feel different?"

  "The what?" Manny frowned at her and touched his own face. "Am I changing? Do you know what's happened to me?" His heart gave a jump. Did she know he was not who he seemed to be?

  "Of course I know what's happened to you," she replied, her look of concern deepening. "It's happening still."

  It suddenly dawned on Manny that she was talking about his unusual appearance. Apparently he didn't look right, even for an elf. "Someone called me a goblin today," he admitted.

  "Is that surprising? It's more obvious every day, Remy." She knelt by his side. A tiny glowing Tinkerbell fairy, like an animate flying flower, tried to land in her hair and she brushed it away impatiently. "What's wrong? You can tell me."

  He wanted to tell her everything. Right there, right then. But he knew it wasn't the right time. He needed to get her trust first. He couldn't just tell her that the elf she clearly cared about was no longer Remy but some human kid from Austin, Texas, named Manny Boreaux.

  "I... uh, fell," he finally blurted out.

  "You fell?" Her look was beyond incredulous. "You? Fell? When did this happen?"

  "Earlier today, when the sentries were chasing me."

  "I see." She studied him thoughtfully. "And what happened when you fell?"

  "I, uh, hit my head. Here, see?" He turned his head and pointed to a spot just below the curve of his skull.