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body could not have known how to use it. Indeed, beyond Evanor and
myself, I know none who would have known it as other than ornament."
"What about the mage who bespelled it?" Shadow asked.
"None. Evanor brought forth its enchantment himself," Aspen told her.
"He had twelve centuries and a decade or two at his death, and was well
versed in the old magics."
Shadow's eyebrows shot up.
"I didn't know he was a mage, or so old," she said, shaking her head.
"Who would've killed him and who could have?"
"No one is beyond the skill of some assassins." Aspen shrugged. "It's
long known that the human Ganrom hired it done to gain the Guild seat."
"Must've been some Fortune-blessed good assassin," Shadow muttered
darkly. "Listen, how long would it take to have another bracelet made,
identical to this one in appearance?"
Aspen thought for a moment.
"It is fine work, but not difficult," he mused. "Perhaps five days, with
the aid of my apprentices. You think to bait those who took the bracelet?"
"Something like that. This is getting as twisted as a pricklevine,"
Shadow said ruefully. "But I'll pay you well for the copy, in gold and in a
story I know you'll want to hear."
"A story?" Aspen prompted.
"The tale of your wood sprite." Shadow grinned. "Interested?"
Aspen's eyes widened, and he put away his polishing tools.
"Come to my hut," he said. "There is wine and food, and I will most
eagerly hear your tale."
"How wonderful," Aspen said when she finished, shaking his head. "I
had heard mention of the Wilding clan, but they were gone long before the
Black Wars perhaps during the first incursions in this area and were
never seen by other tribes even when they flourished in their own places. It
seems incredible."
"I don't blame you if you don't believe me." Shadow shrugged. "It's a
pretty fantastic tale, I'll grant you that."
"I believe," Aspen reassured her, refilling her mug with wine. "You
mentioned the pictures on her skin, the flowering vine. Skin art is a very
ancient talent, practiced in only a few tribes and by only a few very
specially gifted artists.
Doubtless this Chyrie, or her mate perhaps, was one such. That art has
almost died out among us. It involved using special dyes and pricking
designs into the skin with a needle."
Shadow grimaced at the thought.
"Ugh," she said. "That's a lot of nastiness for a little decoration.
Reminds me of a backwards human lot to the west, who cut themselves up
to make decorative patterns of scars all over their faces and arms. But,
speaking of arm what will you take for the bracelet? To have it ready as
soon as you can, and maybe send it by way of somebody coming to town?"
Aspen sat silent for a moment, thoughtfully swirling the wine in his
cup.
"Evanor was friend and kin," he said at last. "Let it be thus if you
bring the one responsible for his death to the elves for judgment and
punishment at our hands, or see to it yourself, I will charge you nothing. If
you cannot do so, a thousand Suns or the bracelet returned to us for sale."
Shadow nodded.
"More than fair," she said. "I won't even haggle that price. But truth be
told, Grandfather "
"Aspen, please."
"Aspen," Shadow agreed. "Truth to tell, I'm not so much concerned
with Evanor as I am with Shady. Forgive me, but Evanor's dead and gone
and beyond enjoying his revenge, and I'm more worried about seeing that
I don't follow him back to the Mother Forest. I'm mainly concerned with
finding out who's put a top-notch assassin on my trail."
Aspen looked at her inquiringly.
"You might be able to help me, at that," Shadow said suddenly. "With
your friendship with Evanor did you ever hear anything about a
professional named Blade?"
Aspen's head jerked up as though he had been struck, and his eyes
widened.
"You are certain that is the one?" he said, his voice tight. "You could
not be mistaken?"
"I'd wager my last skin of wine on it," Shadow said drily. "Well, go on I
knew it was bad, but I didn't know it was that bad."
"Evanor knew of this Blade," Aspen said slowly. "She was one of very
few professional killers skillful enough to have killed Evanor. But of course,
Evanor's left hand was gone, which is much unlike her style."
"Professionals almost never take anything off the body." Shadow
nodded. "But you say Evanor knew her? Is she an elf?"
"No!" Aspen paused. "Evanor said she was no elf. Yet she has worked
her trade for more years than accountable for a human's short life. Evanor
had some quiet dealings with her upon occasion, for she is reliable and
works independently, not with the Aconite Circle."
"Oh?" Shadow raised her eyebrows. "That's curious. Can you tell me
anything else about her: what she looks like, how she kills?"
Aspen shook his head.
"I know nothing more than hearsay, beyond what I have told you," he
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