The Cutting Edge Read Free

had loved; here she had brought forth sons and daughters-four shed borne and four shed reared, not many women could say as much. Here Keez had died, but easily, without pain. Here she was dying. The forest could have it back now, and thank you; she was done with it.
    A shadow moved. Phain opened her eyes. The sunlight was angling steeper, so she must have slept. Yes, the walls were a network, holes held together by wicker. Time to go.
    "Do you need anything?" asked a small and tremulous voice. Phain shook her head on the pillow and tried to smile, to put the child at ease. It was a hard time for a youngster. Death Watch was never easy.
    She couldn't remember the girl's name. Terrible how the old forgot! She could remember Keez clear enough. She could recall every ax stroke and every knot as the two of them had built the cottage together, over their special Place. But for the life of her she could not remember which poor child had been sent to keep her Death Watch. She could not even remember all the family coming to say good-bye to her, but she knew they must have. How long had she been lingering and making this poor girl wait? She licked her lips.
    "Drink?" the child asked. "You want a drink? I'll get you one. " Eager to please, eager to feel that she was doing something useful : ..
    Phain recalled her own turn at Death Watch. A nasty, stringy old man named ... couldn't remember, never mind. He'd taken a week to die, given her no thanks, thrown up everything she fed him ... He had smelled quite horrible, as she doubtless did to this youngster now helping her hold her head up to sip from a half gourd. The water was cool, so it must have come fresh from the stream.
    "Name, child? Forgotten your name."
    "Thaile of the Gaib Place."
    Gaib? Didn't mean anything. Phain tried to speak again. "Yes?" the child cried in sudden panic. "What? I can't hear!" And she sprawled over Phain on the bedding, pressing an ear close to her lips.
    Poor thing was terrified, of course. Frightened of death, frightened of suffering, frightened of messing it all up.
    "Not yet!" the woman gasped, almost wanting to laugh. "Oh!" The child-Thaile-scrambled back. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean ... I thought ... I mean, I'm sorry. "
    Phain dug down in her lungs, finding just enough air at the bottom there to make a chuckle, and a few words. "Just wanted to ask who your mother was, Thaile."
    "Oh! Frial of the Gaib Place."
    Ah, yes! Frial was her oldest granddaughter, so this leggy filly must be one of her great-granddaughters. Fancy that! Not many lived long enough to pass on their word to a greatgrandchild. Gaib was the quiet, solid one with the pointy ears. Pointier than most, she meant.
    "Food?" Thaile asked. "Can I get you something to eat, Grammy?"
    Phain shook her head and closed her eyes to nap a little. She hoped she wouldn't linger much longer. She was too weary to speak more now. Only one word left to say, and she knew she would find breath enough for that.
    Maig! Maig was the name of that smelly, stringy old man she'd done Death Watch for. Maig had taken a week to go. She hoped she didn't take a week. Or hadn't already taken a week. Hard on a child. Maig hadn't been able to speak most of the time, but he'd found enough breath at the end to pass on his word.
    And no good had it ever done her, Phain thought. Perhaps she'd never had any special talent, or the word had been too weak, or shed just not had the Faculty.
    No, there'd never been any magic in her life, just a lot of hard work.
    And love. Much love. But no magic.
    The wind sighed through the little ruin. She thought she would nap now, and maybe eat something later ...
3
    The standard was a pig of a thing, almost too heavy for Ylo's spent muscles to manage, but it was life. As long as he clung to that pole, the whole Imperial Army was going to fight to the death to defend him. He clung.
    Battle screamed around him and he ignored it, concentrating on holding the standard vertical and avoiding being