“And those are?”
Kabir smiled. “None of your concern.”
“I swear, the next one of you vipers that tells me that, I’m going to cave his head in. Speak plain, wizard. I’m tired.”
“Very well. Sikasso’s deal with the Inquisition has made us richer, but he is content to bide his time while we continue to serve as mercenaries for the very system that wronged us. Some of us feel he has lost his way and forgotten our true purpose. And that purpose is righteous vengeance. Vengeance upon the Law which condemned us, and vengeance upon the houses who fulfilled the Capitol’s commands.”
He hid it well, but this was a man driven by anger, and he meant every word of what he’d just said. Thera was no stranger to a desire for revenge—she had her own list of names—and she could see the truth of this statement in Kabir’s eyes.
He stepped away from the door, and came toward her, stopping only when his lips were right next to her ear. “I dream of blood and fire. The Capitol in ruins and the bones of the judges being picked clean by vultures. But that is not enough. The very system they represent must be destroyed. They must pay for what their ancestors have done. So we’ve waited, and watched, taking their assignments, committing their murders, learning their secrets, all while secretly growing our power and influence in the hope that someday the Lost House would return to the light. That is our goal. And as I said, methods matter not. Each of us has sworn a blood oath toward this end.”
Uncomfortable with his proximity and his fervor, Thera stepped away from the wizard. “Let me guess. Some of you think the time to strike is now, but your master urges patience.”
“Sikasso is content to make secret deals for us to serve as Omand Vokkan’s deniable thugs in exchange for scraps from the Inquisition’s table. He is so blinded by habit that when a glorious opportunity presents itself, all he thinks of is cracking it open to see if there is treasure inside. I speak of you, Thera. Sikasso wants what’s inside your head, hoping he can turn your gift into a weapon. He does not realize that you already are a weapon.”
She had heard the same thing from Ratul all those years ago. It was odd that two men so very different could arrive at the exact same conclusion. “You mean the rebellion.”
“Exactly! Over the last few years your words have inspired the non-people to rise up like never before.”
“They aren’t my words.”
“Fine. The Forgotten.” Kabir laughed at the absurdity of the idea. “Wherever the words come from, they inspire hope and courage, dangerous high-minded ideas unfit for casteless. Things are precariously balanced. It wouldn’t take much to incite bloodshed sufficient to crack the very foundation of the Law. You could inspire all of them to rise up, in every land, all at once.”
That annoyed Thera. She had no particular love of the casteless, but she’d lived among them, and for some bizarre reason, they believed in the Voice, and loved it. The rebellion was really Keta’s, not hers…but she did feel some loyalty to them.
“You listen to me, Kabir, the casteless aren’t just a pack of dogs you can sic on your enemies. They’re people too. Fighting against the Law will get them slaughtered.”
“You are the one urging them towards violence, not me.”
Thera had no good response to that. “Yeah, well I still don’t want to see them all get killed.”
“Perhaps they wouldn’t, if your rebellion had the wizards of the Lost House on its side.”
Now it was Thera’s turn to scoff. “A bunch of powerful wizards, going to pledge their swords to aid the plight of the untouchables? That’ll be the day!”
“The casteless would be aiding us. We share a common enemy. We have eyes in every great house, within every Order of the Capitol, and when the time comes for us to strike, there will be a night of bloody knives the likes of which the world hasn’t seen since the Age of Kings. But to truly win, and to overturn the Law once and for all, what we don’t have is several million foot soldiers. If you help me further our goals, I can help you further yours.”
Thera could feel the waves again, pushing her back and forth. She didn’t like it one bit.
It was time to learn to swim.
“What do you propose, Kabir?”
“You help me, and I help you. Sikasso’s dog Omkar is teaching you about the fundamentals of magic, but he’s a terrible assassin. I spit on him.”
“Did he get too fat to be a good murderer or something?”
Kabir was incredulous. “He’s always been obese. Omkar’s not a good assassin because he’s too cruel. He gets caught up in making targets suffer, needlessly prolonging their deaths, and endangering the mission.”
“Oh…Damn.” It was a good thing she’d been trying to avoid provoking her teacher.
“Regardless, they wouldn’t dare teach you the real secrets of our house. We are outside the Law, but we have our own very strict rules. I can teach you those things, so when the time comes, you can use that knowledge to secure your fate and help me overthrow Sikasso. Once I am in charge, we will gladly aid your rebellion.”
He seemed so smug, but the offer was intriguing. “What’s to keep me from betraying you?”
“The fact you are intelligent enough to weigh your options and see that I have reasons to keep you alive, but Sikasso does not. Plus, you must realize that I would deny your allegations and then murder you somehow.”
And she had thought the politics of Great House Makao had been disgusting. They had nothing on this nest of vipers.
Kabir extended his open hand, to shake on their agreement, as was the style of a southerner. “Do we have an alliance?”
Was it better to take the word of an assassin who laughed at the very concept of honor, or trust in the mercy of the killer who had abducted her to begin with? Her father had told her that when faced with a choice that had to be made quickly, to always go with her gut.
“Only on the condition that you tell me everything. If you leave me floundering in the dark, then I will find a way to make you regret it.”
“Agreed.” They shook on it. Kabir had strong callused hands worthy of a warrior. “The pact is sealed…I must go. We will speak soon.”
“I have questions now.”
“And I have almost used up the piece of demon which is allowing us to keep this conversation private.” Kabir began walking away.
Thera just shook her head as she opened the door to her room. Damn these waves, once again caught between a demon and a rock.
Kabir stopped at the end of the hall, as if he had just remembered something important. “I almost forgot, that food which was left on your table. I would advise you not to eat the fruit.”
She sighed. “You poisoned it in case I was disagreeable.”
“No. I was merely hungry and ate one. They’re out of season and sour. I thought I’d spare you the misery. But it is good that you are starting to think like an assassin, Thera, because everything here can kill you…Sleep well.”
Chapter 24
His pattern was flawed.
Sikasso tried to manipulate the elements into place, but they refused him every time. Logically, it should have been easy. When a wizard changed form, the tiniest fragments of their bodies were rearranged into new patterns. Arms became wings, toes became talons. Skin could stretch into scales. The same tiny elements that made his hair and fingernails could just as easily be condensed into a talon hard enough to pierce a shield. Or he could divide his matter into a million living pieces, a swarm that was still united by his consciousness. A wizard was only limited by his ability to master the patterns the ancients had left behind.
His basic lessons, received in this very room nearly thirty years ago, had sounded so very trite. His master had told him a wizard is like water. Young Sikasso had not cared for this comparison, because he had been raised by parents who talked about water as a necessary evil, for drinking, cooking, and legally mandated bathing, but let it collect into a body and it became an extension of hell.
&nb
sp; Be like water…A lesson can be trite and offensive, yet true. A wizard was very much like water. If it was held in a bucket it was in the shape of a bucket, but pour it into a vase and it took on that shape. It was in a new pattern, but it was still water. Energy could boil water into steam and taking energy away could freeze it into ice, but it remained water. In the end it could all be poured back into the same bucket it started as.
Provided a Protector didn’t take an axe to your bucket…
His experiment failed again.
“Damn you!” Sikasso shouted as he burned up another piece of valuable magic. He dropped the now empty chunk of bone on the stone, and then smashed it beneath his boot. Drained of its magic, the piece of demon crumbled into dust. Only that petty act of destruction didn’t satisfy him, and with an angry roar he used his remaining arm to sweep all the ancient books and scrolls from his desk. He hurled the candles against the wall. And then he made a fist and slammed it against the wood, over and over, only stopping when he thought he might break the bones of his hand.
Now, a fracture he could heal. Magic could mend bone and knit flesh, but no one knew the pattern for replacing an amputated limb. Of the secrets given by Ramrowan to the ancients, among them had been such a formula, but that pattern had been lost during the great upheavals.
With Sikasso’s body damaged, its pattern so fundamentally altered, he could no longer use half of the abilities he’d learned, and the remainder were flawed. It made him vulnerable, and that, he could not tolerate. All predators sensed weakness, and it was in their nature to make the weak into prey. His assassins were no different than any other pack of hunters. They would not long be ruled by prey.
The fury caused by yet another failure was so great that his vision was tinged red. Veins throbbed in his forehead. If there had been someone here to kill, he would have done so. At least he could still do that. But luckily for the wizards and slaves of the Lost House, Sikasso was alone in the vault. The partial demon corpses hanging from meat hooks were his only company. At some point of his rampage he must have collided with one, because it had started swinging.
Sikasso watched while it swayed. This one was missing its head and lower body. Parts of it had been skinned, and incisions made to carve out chunks of precious meat.
The hook next to it held just an arm.
His eyes lingered on that limb…It would be so easy to take that and press it against the stump that Ashok had left him. No one understood how or why, but demon parts could be grafted onto a human, reanimate, and become functional. It also came with a perpetually refilling source of magic that was always in reach. It was incredibly powerful.
However, this came at too great a cost, as the bonding would turn the host into a dreaded hybrid. The demon wasn’t just an attachment, their tissues would intermingle, and man and demon would gradually become one. The resulting creatures were more dangerous than either of their original species.
He shook his head in disgust, having recently seen that kind of degenerate magic in action, and he would rather die than end up an abomination like the thing he had turned Nadan Somsak into. It had been eight hundred years since a wizard had last regrown a limb, but no wizard ever had become a hybrid without eventually being driven mad with bloodlust. With certain medicines and alchemical treatments, the intermingling could be slowed for a time…But Sikasso was not that desperate.
Yet.
There was a knock at the door. Sikasso composed himself. He ruled because he was effective and coldly terrifying. Having an underling see him being neither would not help maintain his tenuous position. He picked up the scrolls and returned them to the desk, and then went to the door.
“Good evening, master.”
It was only Omkar, a loyalist who lacked an imagination sufficient to aspire to Sikasso’s office, so he spared no time on vapid pleasantries. “What do you want?”
“It concerns your project.” The vault was kept unnaturally cold to better preserve their demon stockpile, so Omkar folded his thick arms as he entered the room. “Her talents are severely lacking. If she was one of my regular charges, I would waste no further magic on her. She has such a stubborn and rebellious nature I don’t know if the treatment to make her a slave would stick. I’d have her beaten for her insolence but I suspect that would just make her even more obstinate. She feigns compliance, while her eyes plot murder. It would not come as a surprise if she attempts to kill me soon.”
Sikasso scowled. He had no time for this foolishness. If he couldn’t regain his abilities, he at least needed something to show his brothers for their losses in Jharlang or some of them might rise up against him. When the chief assassin was removed from office, it was never because of a willing retirement.
“It is vital that we understand what forces are at work. I would see to the oddity myself, but I am occupied. You will continue to train her until her power shows itself again, and when it does you will document everything. Understand?”
Omkar nodded. “It will be done.”
“I don’t believe this gods nonsense, but there is something there. I’m having her watched in case it manifests when she is alone. If this method doesn’t work, then we will switch to more extreme measures. If mercy will not unlock it, then perhaps stress and danger will. If there is a third source of magic we must claim it for ourselves.”
“What about your promise to sell her to the Inquisition?”
“A hollow threat. I would not give the Capitol another power to eventually use against us. Omand is one of the few men in the world who knows more about magic than I do, and he’s got more secrets than we can even begin to guess at. We will continue, and the Inquisition must never know we’ve seized her.”
“As you command, master.”
He could tell there was more. “Speak, Omkar. I’ve work to do.”
“It’s our brothers. There’s been some murmuring. The alchemist Hemendra is the most vocal, but there are others. Your presence has been missed. Some are worried…I mean no offense, but they’re wondering why you’ve given them no new orders, or why you’ve not responded to any of the Inquisition’s recent messages.”
Sikasso’s lip curled into a snarl. It was truly bad if his potential usurpers were talking freely in front of a loyal brute like Omkar. The predators had caught his scent. They would isolate him, and then they would move against him. Sikasso had done the exact same thing to their former leader when he had seized control of the Lost House many years ago. He had maintained his status by keeping his brothers content or afraid. They wouldn’t backbite him so brazenly if they didn’t think he was vulnerable.
“Tell them it is under control.”
Omkar’s eyes narrowed when he noticed that there were already at least a hundred ash piles on the floor, all that was left of the bones consumed in his master’s futile quest. “Is it though?”
That demonstrated the danger of whispers, when even loyal Omkar would dare question. Sikasso thought about killing him on the spot for his insolence, but the act would be wasted without witnesses, and then he’d have one less ally. He’d learned a long time ago that if you were going to murder a subordinate, to do it in a manner that sent the most effective message.
“Provided you complete your assignment and get inside the oddity’s head, it will be.”
“Of course, master,” Omkar nodded. “One last thing. During today’s session Thera revealed another memory to me. I don’t know if this will be of use, but the one who first taught her about her gift, who introduced her to the casteless as the prophet they’ve been waiting for, was none other than Lord Protector Ratul.”
“The heretic?” Curious. Before he had gone mad and abandoned the Protectors, Ratul had also trained Ashok Vadal in that Order’s secret rites. Could there be some connection? He would dwell on that later, for now he had more pressing matters to attend to. “Be gone, Omkar. No further interruptions unless you have something important.”
The other wizard appeared happy to flee the chill o
f the vault. Sikasso made note of that. The next time the fat man annoyed him, he’d be sure to give him an assignment someplace cold.
Sikasso picked up another piece of bone, crackling with energy, and prepared to try again. He had become the greatest assassin in the world and earned his place. Whether they realized it or not, the Lost House needed his leadership. His. This was the most power they’d had since the days before the ocean had swallowed House Charsadda, and it was all because of Sikasso. Ashok Vadal had taken his arm, but Sikasso would not let him take everything else he’d worked for all these years. He’d sacrificed too much to give up now.
Only the predators were circling. The sick and weak would be culled. His time was running out.
Before he tried changing the pattern again, Sikasso’s eyes lingered a bit too long on the dangling demon arm.
Chapter 25
Several day’s journey from Neeramphorn lay the town of Haradas, on the Kharsawan side of the River Nansakar, where the rugged mountains gave way to forested hills, and the wizard’s secret courier lived as a humble barge master. However, before Ashok could find this man and force him to reveal the location of the Lost House, he had to deal with the matter of their new recruits.
Their advance rider had spotted nearly a hundred people waiting along the road south. Ashok had crept forward to observe. They were in a clearing in the middle of nowhere. From the hasty condition of their camp, they had not been there for long. Since they were obviously armed, his first assumption was that they were warriors sent by the Inquisition to find his criminal band, only they were flying no heraldry. They could be warriors from a neighboring house on their way to raid Haradas, except they were making no attempt to conceal their presence, and there were too few horses. There were a couple heavily loaded wagons, but fully half of their number had to be on foot. It was too deserted a stretch of road to support such a large number of bandits. The only thing that frequently traveled through here was shipments of lumber toward Neeramphorn and there were far easier things to steal than logs.
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