House of Assassins

by Larry Correia

  Beneath the table, his fingers were resting on the knife hidden beneath his sash. Jagdish’s mouth was suddenly very dry.

  “Your mug is empty.”

  “It is.”

  “Unfortunate.”

  The unfortunate part was that if he’d known this was going to be his last drink, he would have ordered something decent. He wished the Protector would move on, only he remained in place, looming over Jagdish, judging. He didn’t dare speak. You couldn’t lie to one of these men. They had all traveled across the whole of Lok. They’d know, just hearing his accent, it would be obvious he wasn’t from Kharsawan.

  “You could order another, but it appears I have scared off the servers.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Several heartbeats passed. “Look at me, warrior.”

  If he was about to die, he would do so with courage. Jagdish lifted his head.

  The Protector had cold, dark eyes. His gaze was unflinching as winter. “What’s your name?”

  He was no coward. “I am Jagdish.”

  “You are not from here, are you?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he slowly curled his hand around his knife.

  “I believe you lost something along the way, Jagdish.”

  He had lost many things, his friends, his command, his good name. “You’ll have to narrow it down for me.”

  The Protector reached into his cloak and pulled out a dagger. He held it up by the blade, so that Jagdish could clearly see the hilt, capped in horn, and wrapped in blue-gray cord, the colors of Great House Vadal. The last time Jagdish had seen that blade had been when he’d lost it fighting Bajwa’s thugs. The Protector held it out, chest high, then dropped it on the table. The metal made a loud noise when it struck the wood. Every head turned their direction. This time when the band abruptly stopped playing, the Protector didn’t order them to start over.

  Jagdish stared at his lost dagger for a long time. If he’d been able to check the little watch ticking away in his pocket, surely at least a minute passed. It felt like an eternity. The room was deathly silent as everyone waited, relieved they weren’t the one under suspicion. They’d all heard stories about Protectors dispensing cruel justice, and now they’d get to see it firsthand.

  “A Vadal man of your description is said to be traveling with Ashok the Black Heart.” There were many gasps around the room when the Protector declared that. And here they’d been expecting a regular criminal.

  There would be no surrender. He would flip the table and slash for the Protector’s throat. Who knew? Maybe Keta’s gods would find his efforts amusing enough to reward him.

  The Protector must have seen Jagdish tense up, and the hint of a smile crossed his thin lips. So inhumanly fast, he wasn’t even concerned. If anything, he was looking forward to this. “This is the part where most criminals beg for mercy. You are bold, Vadal man, I’ll give you that. But first…tell me where Ashok is.”

  “I am here.”

  If the room had been quiet before, now it became like a tomb. The Protector slowly turned his head to the side, eyes narrowed and the muscles of his jaw tightening. Jagdish had to look over his shoulder, but he’d recognized the voice. Sure enough, Ashok Vadal had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and was standing in between several workers, a mere twenty feet away.

  “Hello, Ishaan.”

  The Protector had been so confident a moment before, but his manner changed. It wasn’t outright fear, oh no, they were far too hard an order for that, but a knowledge that the stakes had changed. Despite his professional demeanor, Jagdish could tell this man was as certain of his impending doom as Jagdish had been about his own only a moment before.

  The Protector nodded. “Greetings, Ashok.”

  With that, the workers standing around Ashok realized who he was, and recoiled as if someone had dumped a basket of cobras at their feet. All of the lower caste bolted for the stairs. Some of the warriors did too. Who could blame them? Drunks stumbled, tripped and fell, but most stayed frozen in place, too frightened to look away.

  Jagdish was forgotten as the two unnatural killers stared each other down.

  “How did you find this one?”

  “Among the Black Heart’s company seen traveling south of Jharlang, were a Vadal warrior and a worker of great stature. A few days ago a Vadal warrior and a very large worker entered this city, and immediately afterwards were involved in a street fight. There were several altercations and murders since, all involving those two. A man matching the worker’s description was seen being dragged into this establishment against his will.”

  “I taught you well, Ishaan.”

  While he’d been speaking, the Protector had begun a slow walk. Not toward Ashok, but across the room. Jagdish realized that Ashok was doing the same. Each time one of their boots touched the wooden floor, it was gradual, as if they were testing their footing, like two circling tigers about to fight. The warriors around them, surely normally brave men, were trying to squeeze themselves back against the walls, making themselves as thin as could be. Nobody was about to interrupt this duel.

  “Where are your brothers?”

  “The entire Order searches for you. Many of us rode to Shabdkosh.”

  “Never heard of the place.”

  “No? An Inquisitor reported you were seen there, right before a casteless mob rose up and murdered everyone there in your name.”

  “That was not my doing.”

  “The judges disagreed. It’s only a short journey from the Capitol. A great many important people rode past in their carriages and saw the carnage with their own eyes. They were rather cross. Devedas has gone to placate them.”

  “Is Devedas well?”

  “Well as can be expected, considering the shame you brought to this Order. He did as the judges wanted, but he thought it was unlikely you would go west from Jharlang, so he sent some of us in every direction. I came here.”

  Jagdish interrupted. “There’s two more of them in town, Ashok!”

  “Silence, you,” Ishaan snapped.

  “So that’s why you converse so freely with me, with brothers near they will see people fleeing this place and come to your aid. A wise decision, considering how dangerous this criminal can be.”

  “As you said, you taught me well.” Ishaan stopped circling. “The Law was everything to you. We all wanted to be like you. I tried to emulate your manner. How could you, of any of us, not be a whole man? How could you be a traitor to the Law? When I received word of your fall, I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t. I plead with you, Ashok, surrender, so we may end this.”

  “I wish I could, but I cannot.”

  Ashok stopped walking as well. He had picked his spot. The lines were drawn. The battle would commence. Jagdish realized then why Ishaan was desperately waiting for reinforcements. He didn’t know Angruvadal was gone. Deprived of his ancestor blade, Ashok would be in an even fight against another Protector. He would be destroyed by three.

  “Gutch is on the third floor, west wall. I caught a glimpse as I climbed past that window.” Ashok directed that to Jagdish. Then he spoke to the Protector again. “Who are your companions?”

  “Bundit and Teerapat.”

  “Good men.” For someone who was supposed to be so merciless and cruel, Ashok sounded resigned. “It would sadden me to kill them.”

  “We’ve got no choice, Ashok.”

  “I know…Neither do I.”

  Both men moved so fast it was difficult for the assembled warriors to follow. Ashok launched himself at the Protector. Ishaan drew his sword, expecting to counter mighty Angruvadal. Only Ashok didn’t even try for his blade, instead he dove right into the Protector, encircled him about the waist, and drove him back. The move took Ishaan by surprise, and before he could slash Ashok’s spine, they’d gone across the balcony, crashed through the wooden railing, and both men fell into the night.

  Chapter 14

  Ashok knew that he couldn’t fulfill his duty and protect the Prophet
if they didn’t recover the smuggler who had a way to find her. To stand and fight Ishaan—an exceedingly skilled swordsman—meant that the warriors present would be moved from their stupor. In order to escape, Jagdish needed a distraction. Taking their battle elsewhere was the best option.

  But sometimes the best option was still extremely painful.

  They didn’t fall all the way to the ground. Instead they impacted the walkway between buildings at the second level. Ishaan shattered the roof tiles with his back, then they were separated as they collided with a heavy beam hard enough to snap it. Ashok went rolling one way, Ishaan the other. Some workers had been walking across the catwalk, all of them were knocked off their feet, and one poor fellow went screaming over the side.

  Tasting blood and dust, Ashok got to his feet. Luckily, he’d broken no bones. Ishaan however, was on his hands and knees, violently coughing up blood. Such was luck. He had either snapped ribs and driven one through a lung, or he had been pierced through the back by the broken beam. Either way, it would take even a mighty Protector a moment to recover from such an injury. This was Ashok’s chance to finish him. Ishaan realized that as well, since he tried futilely to stand and defend himself, but the Heart couldn’t bring back his breath in time. Even the best swordsman couldn’t fight without air.

  It would be foolish to leave such a deadly hunter on his trail. Ishaan wasn’t helpless, but close enough against someone as lethal as Ashok. Not even the Heart of the Mountain could save you from having your head lopped off or your heart cleaved in half. It would be so very easy.

  Only he had no desire to kill a former brother. It was not his place. It was not just outside the Law, but wrong. Instead Ashok turned back toward the Face of the East to make his escape.

  “Halt!”

  Ashok had nearly run directly into Senior Protector Teerapat Makao. His blade came so close to removing Ashok’s head that it left a thin red line across his throat as it whistled past.

  “Ashok!” Teerapat brought his saber back around and took up a defensive stance. “Surrender or perish.”

  This time Ashok did draw his sword.

  Teerapat cringed as metal struck metal, but they parted, with the Protector appearing shocked to still be alive, and his sword not blasted into pieces by legendary Angruvadal. He was a young man, barely two years at senior rank, but Ashok had helped train him, and knew that he was a solid fighter none the less.

  “What? Why do you not use the black sword?”

  They clashed again, Teerapat with a quick lunge, followed by a cut aimed for Ashok’s abdomen, but he had seen it coming, intercepted it with the flat of his blade, and countered with a thrust that pierced nothing but fabric.

  “Am I not worthy of fighting Angruvadal? Do you insult me?” Men from Great House Makao were notoriously prideful.

  “Shut up and fight.”

  Ashok went in swinging, but it was a ruse to draw his guard high so he could kick Teerapat’s leg out from under him. But the Protector leapt over the kick. Teerapat slashed again, but Ashok moved into the swing, caught the blow with his hand guard, and twisted his wrists, using leverage to capture and drive his opponent’s blade down. Then he elbowed Teerapat in the face. The Protector responded, and just missed driving his fingers into Ashok’s eye.

  They parted to assess. The workers they’d knocked down were crawling for their lives. A man who was lying at their feet decided a one-story fall was preferable to being trapped beneath flashing razors, and rolled under the railing to drop into the mud. Behind him, Ishaan had managed to contort his arm until he could grasp and pull a massive pointed piece of wood from his back. He dropped the bloody chunk, and a look of concentration came over his face. Ishaan was calling upon the Heart to close the sucking hole in his lung. He’d return to the fight soon. The final Protector would be nearby. Ashok had to hurry.

  He attacked. Teerapat was good, but Ashok was better. They exchanged several furious blows, until Ashok shoulder rammed him against the railing, drew back, and thrust his blade deep into Teerapat’s thigh. The Protector gasped in surprise and pain, but did not give up. In that split second, Ashok knew he was a hair away from the artery, if he twisted and ripped the sword free, then Teerapat would be gushing blood everywhere. Experience had taught him that once severed, if that artery climbed back into the pelvis, such bleeding was difficult for even the Heart of the Mountain to stop.

  Ashok pulled the steel straight out.

  The curved sword came back around, but slower this time, so Ashok blocked it, and slammed the ridge of his hand into Teerapat’s throat hard enough to crush his larynx flat. The Protector gasped futilely for air. They still struggled, but that blow had knocked most of the fight out of him. Before Teerapat blacked out, Ashok grabbed him by the cloak, dragged him close, and said, “Calm, Senior. Just as we trained, focus on the Heart and it will keep you alive until your breath returns. Do you understand?”

  Eyes wide, face turning different colors, Teerapat nodded desperately. Then Ashok hurled him over the side.

  Looking back, Ashok saw that Ishaan was up, but not yet recovered enough to fight. In this moment, it was a good thing the Heart of the Mountain could only be directed toward one task at a time.

  “I beg you, Ishaan, do not follow me. I’ve broken the Law enough.” Ashok began walking away. “Don’t make me take its servants’ lives too.”

  Chapter 15

  The warriors had momentarily been too stunned by Ashok and the Protector falling off the building to react. Jagdish used that to his advantage and ran for the stairs. Most of the Kharsawan men were far more interested in watching two Protectors fall to their death, so they ran to the windows to look down, but a few remembered the petty criminal who had started it all and tried to intercept Jagdish.

  A man stepped into his path, and without slowing, Jagdish kicked him in the groin hard enough to lift him to his toes. Another tried to intercept him, but Jagdish’s hand flicked back and forth, and the little ceremonial knife left a cut across his forehead just over the eyes. Another grabbed hold of his sleeve, but Jagdish sliced open the back of that intruding hand. When that warrior flinched and let go, Jagdish shoved past and leapt down the stairs. There was no time to look back, but he heard them give chase. He yanked the gaudy paintings off the walls as he went, hoping the warriors would trip over the frames.

  His boot slipped and he took the last ten steps bouncing on his chest and hands, but at least the floor on the brothel level had rugs thick enough to cushion the fall. Jagdish got up and sprinted in the direction he’d been previously denied entrance to. He turned a corner, thought better of running, and stepped behind a heavy curtain.

  Jagdish waited until he heard several angry warriors rush past. Once he was certain it was clear, he left his hiding place and continued on. Men and women in various states of undress pushed past him trying to get out. They probably didn’t even really know what was going on, but some woman was yelling about how the Black Heart was here to slaughter them all, and someone else was shouting about Protectors looking for criminals to execute. When you heard either of those things being screamed by someone obviously in fear for their lives, it didn’t matter how distracting your current activity, it could be postponed.

  Luckily the guards who had been stationed here earlier had fled like the rest of Bajwa’s men, so Jagdish was able to walk right in. This area was reserved for the wealthy, high-status customers, and the art here wasn’t cheap. Certainly, neither were the very beautiful young women who ran past him while pulling on tiny silken gowns. Jagdish noticed that. He was loyal to Pakpa, but he wasn’t blind.

  A stern-looking, yet still attractive, older woman was taking handfuls of banknotes out of a drawer and stuffing them into hidden pockets inside her elaborate robe. “Out!” she ordered when she saw Jagdish. “I’ll call the guards!”

  “They’re long gone. I don’t care about your money. I’m here for Bajwa’s prisoner.”

  “The fat one?”

  �
�How many do you people have, woman? Yes! The fat one!”

  “Far end of the hall. Take him and be gone!” She pulled a key out of the same desk drawer and hurled it at Jagdish. “Bajwa sticks his ransoms here because we’ve got the most guards, but this one’s been more trouble than he’s worth. Only one day here, he already charmed the slave girl assigned to feed him, got loose, then upset some of my customers while trying to escape.”

  That certainly sounded like Gutch. Jagdish took the key, went down the hall, and unlocked the door. Sure enough, Gutch was inside, a great snoring lump in the middle of the bare wooden floor. “Wake up! It’s time to go.”

  The sleeping had been an act. “Jagdish?” When Gutch sat up, it revealed that he had pried up a board from the floor to use as a makeshift club. He was covered in bruises, welts, and scratches, and one eye was swollen shut, indicating he’d received a good beating, but he grinned anyway. “You’re a resourceful one. And here I was thinking I was going to have to get the jump on them and fight my way out.”

  “Ashok’s here.”

  Gutch limped for the door. “Excellent. My plan worked. Then all is well!”

  “What plan? There’s Protectors here too.”

  “Oceans! Why didn’t you say that first?”

  By the time they got out, the madam was gone, though in her hurry to escape she’d dropped many papers and a few banknotes. Of course, Gutch picked them up.

  “There’s no time for that.”

  “There’s always time for money, Risaldar. But that’s not what I’m after.” He held up one page that had come from a ledger. “Ah, here we go.”

  “What’re you doing?”

  “I’m seeing which establishments Bajwa’s favorite girl keeps getting sent to, so I can find where that miserable wretch sleeps. Then I can come back later and smash his teeth in.”

  “Good man, Gutch! We’ll find those wizards yet.”

  “Sure. That’s why I want to find him so badly. The wizards,” Gutch muttered through badly split lips. “Just remind me to ask Bajwa about wizards before I beat him to death.”