“When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound particularly dignified. I wanted your opinion.”
“Really?” Her father was one of the greatest war heroes in the west. “My opinion?”
He smiled. “I’ve missed having my best advisor by my side. And also I wanted to make sure you have an honorable way out first, so if I fail I don’t drag you down with me.”
Thera was quiet for a long time. She had a question, but she was afraid that she already knew the answer. “Who gave you this idea?”
Andaman Vane took a deep breath. “It is my own.”
“No…It isn’t.”
“Then why ask the question if you already suspect the answer? It is my own now.”
“This is what the Voice told you the last time it spoke. You never told me what it said. You declared it to be nonsense, and said not to dwell on it, but I could see it in your eyes. You were scared, but you were intrigued too. This was it, this was what that thing told you about, wasn’t it?”
It was obvious where Thera had gotten her stubborn nature from. “I may not know what it is, where it comes from, or what it wants, but I know a good idea when I hear it.”
“What did the Voice say? What’ve you been trying to protect me from?”
“I am out of time. I must go now.” He began walking away.
Thera reached beneath her many silks, pulled out one of her hidden throwing knives, and hurled it end over end, planting it into the wooden target in front of her father’s path with a solid thunk. And then she demanded with all the authority she could muster, “What did it tell you?”
He stopped and gave a resigned sigh. “Oh, my tenacious child, how I have missed you.”
“I have to know. Please. I beg you, Baba. Tell me the truth.”
Her father regarded her solemnly. “It said it kept you alive for a reason, to deliver its message. It said everything is going to change soon. I didn’t believe it, but it predicted this war. It saw the future, and I didn’t believe it until I saw those things with my own eyes. Specific things, during the chaos of battle, random events you…it, couldn’t have known about years before they happened.”
When the Voice came upon her, she couldn’t hear it, as if she was sent someplace else, but it was loud and clear to those close enough to listen. “How can it tell the future?”
“I don’t know. But it did, I swear to you it did.”
“Did it say how the house war ends?”
“In a great bonfire, a thousand bodies piled high, while the Protectors watch them burn.”
“Are you among them?” she asked, hesitant, afraid to know.
“It didn’t say who was on the grisly pyre, but the Voice declared the time of rebellion to be at hand. The time of rebellion, Thera. Who else could it be speaking of other than Vane? This is our chance!”
She could see the gleam in his eye, the new energy he possessed. For the first time in many years, Andaman Vane had hope. She couldn’t take that away from him, not after all that he had sacrificed for her.
“If you think this is for the best, I trust you. Do what you must.”
“I promise that I will. The Voice said you would be the instrument that brings about this rebellion. Now I am certain. Thank you, Thera. We will not fail,” Andaman Vane declared with all the sincerity of his great heart.
* * *
Thera dreamed of long forgotten gardens and foolish promises. The Voice never lied, but it was easy to misinterpret, and it made no allowance for wishful thinking. It gave hope, but hope could kill sure as an executioner’s blade.
It had taken several slaves to remove the tiger trap, but after that Sikasso had let Thera keep the room. Once her head had cleared from the spell she’d been under, she’d been able to take in just how luxurious her surroundings were. The murals had been painted by a master: serene scenes of nature and bright, colorful recordings of great battles. She knew from the many burglaries that she’d committed that any of the sculptures here could be moved for a fortune. The value for just the jade and ivory in weight alone was impressive, let alone what collectors would pay for the illegal antique statues of old gods. The carpet was softer than the best bed she’d had as a child of the warrior caste, and the bed…well, once freed of the ropes, it was so indulgent it was like lying on a cloud. Truthfully, these were the nicest quarters she’d ever slept in, and Dhaval’s family had been pretty rich.
All that luxury didn’t keep Thera from trying to figure out how to escape. A nice prison was still a prison. She may have been untied, but the door remained locked. There was a window, with glass so fine that there wasn’t so much as a hint of distortion or discoloration, but she was blocked from opening it by solid iron bars. The view outside was nothing but low, fat trees and fog, providing her with no clue as to her actual location.
For the first day after their agreement, Sikasso had left her alone, saying that she’d need time to recover her faculties from the invasive magic that he had used on her before they began work. Slaves had returned her rough traveling clothes, all freshly washed and repaired, though they didn’t give back any of her many knives. She’d have to improvise something else for stabbing people in the meantime.
Then they had brought her a feast. At first she’d thought the slaves were preparing a banquet there was so much, but it was all meant for her, and it was all wonderful, with enough spice to bring tears to her eyes. One downside of living outside the Law was that you often ended up living off slop fit for untouchables. Eating well again was a bit overwhelming. Sikasso must have been trying to impress her.
It was said a leopard didn’t change its spots, and a cruel assassin wouldn’t suddenly become a friend. Even if Sikasso could free her from her curse, she had no doubt that he’d kill her the moment she was no longer of use. Deal be damned, she was getting out of here.
Whenever the slaves unlocked the door, she noticed that a wizard remained in the hall, watching. Or at least she assumed he was a wizard. They all looked like normal men, but this fellow kept one fist clenched, hiding something between his fingers the whole time. More than likely a piece of demon, and he was certainly ready to set her on fire, or whatever it was wizards did, should she try to run out.
Though she tried, the slaves wouldn’t speak or even make eye contact when they delivered food or removed dirty plates. Whenever she spoke to them, they’d ignore her until the task was complete, then look back at the wizard in the doorway, and he’d dismiss them with a nod of his head. She didn’t even know if they were actually condemned slaves, or just very unlucky workers to have such odd and dangerous masters. At least they looked healthy, clean, and well fed.
She’d eaten enough at lunch to survive the week, but they still brought her dinner anyway. Luckily the locking mechanism was rather loud, so she was able to hide what she was working on before they entered. Previously, she’d decided that this time she would try to make conversation with the wizard. Thera would even attempt to be charming. As a product of the warrior caste, she wasn’t very good at charming, but she knew that she was attractive, and there were times a smile and batting her eyelashes got her further than threats and sullen glares.
“There’s plenty here if you’d like to share.” She held up a bowl full of lamb in a thick red sauce.
“I do not.” The wizard was a handsome man, thickly bearded, with strong features and broad shoulders, everything that his superior Sikasso was not.
“No need to stand there in the doorway. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m to make sure of that.”
“I’m Thera. What do they call you?”
“My name is not your concern.” Even though he was probably several years younger than she was, he had one of those deep voices, where everything he said was conveyed with gravitas. He should have been a judge.
“No need to be rude.”
“There was no need for you to cut Vilsaro’s throat in Jharlang.”
Thera lost her fake smile. “Vilsaro, huh? I didn�
��t catch his name at the time.”
“He was my friend.”
“Well, your friend shouldn’t have put his hands on me.” While the wizard snarled at her, she stuck a big piece of lamb into her mouth and began to chew. “Mmm. That’s good. Your loss.”
He obviously wanted to say more, but apparently he had more respect for—or fear of—Sikasso than he had desire to avenge his dead friend, because he said nothing else on the topic.
“I am Kabir.”
“See? Wasn’t that easier? It is a pleasure to meet you, Kabir.”
When the slaves were done serving, the wizard closed the door and locked it.
As soon as they were gone, Thera pulled out the thin piece of iron from her sleeve and got back to work. It had been a decorative end cap for one of the shelves until she’d pried it off. Then she retrieved the statue from beneath her pillow and went back to sharpening her shiv while she ate. The man with extra arms sitting cross legged must have been a common image back during the Age of Kings, because despite the Inquisition’s best efforts to destroy all images of illegal gods, she’d seen quite a few of these around. Hopefully whoever he was, he wouldn’t mind her using his base as a whetstone.
Chapter 10
The lock rattled again before sunrise. It was probably the slaves bringing Thera her breakfast.
The night before she had stuffed her pockets full of naan so she’d have something to eat while crossing the wilderness, and most importantly she’d gotten a decent edge on her improvised blade. It was nothing to be proud of, but it was thin enough to slip between ribs and sturdy enough not to snap on the first thrust. She’d use some excuse to close the distance, surprise the wizard, stab him a few times, and then flee. Simple.
Only it wasn’t the young wizard at the door this time, but the far more dangerous Sikasso. At least she assumed the younger one was less deadly. It seemed like magic was the sort of thing where experience mattered more than physical strength.
“Good. You already have your boots on. We’re going on a walk.”
“Oh?” A different wizard didn’t change her plans. At least he was alone, so there would be no slaves calling for help.
“It’s good you have fashioned yourself a little knife and hidden it up your sleeve. It can be dangerous outside these walls.”
Now that changed her plan. “How did you know?”
“You are in my house now, Thera. I see everything. You should know it insults me as a host that you would doubt my ability to keep you safe from harm.” His voice grew cold and dangerous. “Leave it.”
Thera sullenly pulled out her shiv and dropped it on the bed.
Sikasso had a malicious smile. “Don’t worry. I have not taken offense. Only those who show initiative ever successfully learn to use magic. Now come along. It is not far, though if you get hungry you can always snack on some of that bread in your pockets.”
Thera followed Sikasso. It was the first time she saw what was beyond her room. The walls were stone, but uniformly fitted and polished better than in any warrior’s keep. The floors were hardwood, with different colored rugs every few feet. Her room had not been an anomaly. There was art everywhere, tapestries, paintings, and sculptures—some of which were far too big to steal easily. There were many other rooms, some doors open, revealing more rooms like hers, some closed, their contents a mystery.
The building was not nearly as large as the great house in Kanok, but if anything, it was finer.
They reached a large central hall. From up on the balcony, Thera could tell this was where the wizards dined, and home to even larger pieces of statuary. There was a great fireplace big enough to cook a whole cow in…She wasn’t sure these wizards ate beef, traditionally some houses didn’t care for it, but regardless, they could fit one in there if they wanted. A fire was going inside, sufficient to ward off the chill.
Adorning the walls were faded green banners featuring a red symbol which Thera had never seen before. These were obviously old, tattered and stained. A few of them even looked as if they’d been scorched in a fire.
“Who does that symbol represent?”
“House Charsadda.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Few have. That was what the Capitol wanted. It wasn’t enough for us to be destroyed, but also removed from history. The judges are very good at erasing the past.”
Houses were defeated, but they never really went away. Their people and holdings would be taken over by another. She knew that life well. “It’s a vassal now then?”
“Like your own family, Vane, was conquered by the Makao long ago? Houses come and go, gobbling each other up, or civil wars split them in two, but this was nothing of the sort. When we fell, no neighbors wanted to take this place over. It was a house of lepers, and the others wouldn’t risk contamination.”
That made no sense to someone raised by warriors. When borders changed, new territory was valuable, and the towns inside, their workers could be taxed in exchange for protection. “Surely someone claims this land?”
“By the lines on a map, yes, though only wild men and feral beasts live nearby. Here? This house, once the seat of our power, it was to remain abandoned. To the Capitol we were a piece of gangrenous flesh, amputated, and the stump cauterized with a branding iron…” Sikasso paused, frowning. “Strange. I’ve used that analogy while showing people around many times before, but this is the first time I’ve been able to understand such pain on a personal level. It…hurts.”
She hurried and changed the subject from the wizard’s missing limb before it put him in a fouler mood. “You have a beautiful home.”
“It has taken great effort. When our house fell, the only thing left standing of this place was the walls.” Looking smug, Sikasso led the way down the curving stairs. “We may have been forsaken by the Capitol, but my predecessors decided there was no need to live as barbarians. What you are seeing now is the result of five generations of repair and rebuilding.”
Thera understood money better than most from her caste, because she’d spent the last few years of her life stealing it in order to survive. What she was seeing here indicated a vast amount of wealth. “You make your way as assassins. Good money in that, I take it?”
“Not everyone can afford to pay us in black steel, yet there is always demand for our services. There are other forms of compensation.”
Thera knew a man’s life was only worth however many notes it took to bribe an untouchable to stab him. “You didn’t build this palace off murder alone. Killers come cheap.”
“We don’t.”
“What makes you so valuable?”
“That requires a broad answer,” Sikasso said as they reached the main floor. “If you need a wizard to do something inside the bounds of the Law, there are far more economical options than the Lost House. Outside the Law, however, when powerful men need things done in secret, no one else can offer what we can. Enough talk of business, I must show you something.”
As they walked along, Thera was able to figure out what was bugging her about this place. The building was large, but felt relatively empty, more museum than home. She saw two or three of the silent slaves, heads shaved and clothes plain, for every person she suspected from their finer dress was a wizard. Those all seemed to watch her suspiciously. None acknowledged her, but all of them were deferential toward Sikasso.
It took her awhile to realize that all of the wizards were men. The only other women she saw were among the slaves. There were no children at all. Did the wizards keep their families elsewhere? But before she could ask, they had reached the main doors.
In a normal estate of this size, warriors would have been obligated to guard such doors, but these wizards didn’t seem to have any warriors. Maybe they thought they were too good for her old caste? Sikasso casually waved his hand toward the doors and they were flung open as if by a mighty wind. Thera corrected herself. They definitely thought they were too good for the warriors.
Outside the worl
d was wrapped in a thick gray fog. Frogs croaked and unfamiliar insects buzzed. She could barely see the tops of the trees—old, wispy things—and glowing bugs flying between them. There was a cobblestone path lit with glowing braziers burning every twenty feet. Sikasso began walking down the illuminated pathway. It was chilly out, so Thera pulled her coat tight about her. She still didn’t know where in Lok she was, but if the whole region was cloaked in this damnable fog, it would make navigating difficult. Though it would make escape easier, assuming wizards didn’t have a way to see through it.
When she turned back to look at the great house, it was a solid construction, but nothing that could resist a siege. It looked like there had been more walls once, but they were toppled now. A few towers rose through the mist, but they were broken and covered in moss. “You’ve no outer defenses.”
“We’ve no need. The only things we have to defend ourselves from here wouldn’t be stopped with mere walls.”
The stones were also covered in moss, so their steps were muffled. Everything here seemed soft and green. They walked through the mist for a few minutes, before Sikasso asked, “Do you know how magic really works?”
“I’ve seen what it can do.”
“I’m not speaking of the effect, but how it is accomplished. Do you know what magic is?”
“Magic is just magic.”
“Only a simpleton defines a word with that same word. Don’t be a simpleton.” Sikasso halted in a slightly wider spot in the road. “Magic is all about energy and elements, force and patterns. Look around you. Air, earth, life. What you see is not really what it is. The whole is constructed from various elements, billions of tiny pieces, smaller than the eye can see, compacted together to form different types of matter.”
All Thera could see was fog. It smelled like rotting plants. “Sure.”
“Magic is simply a different kind of matter, also made up of minuscule elements, only it is unique in that it can be controlled by one who has the will to do so. All matter exists in various patterns. Magic simply allows me to direct it into a new pattern.”
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