“You know, Ashok,” Keta’s words were becoming slurred. “People keep asking me questions about how our religion works.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “When I don’t know the answer, or the Voice hasn’t talked about that, I just guess and make up something that sounds good. It’s a lot of pressure.”
“I assumed it was something like that.”
“I shouldn’t be tellin’ you this, but every day I pray to the gods that they’ll help you find something more than just the Law to live for, so someday you could be more than just the black-hearted bastard killer they made you. That’s why I tell you stories about heroes and ideals, hoping you’ll be inspired to change, hoping you can become free! But then the gods don’t answer my prayers, and I start thinking what if that’s why they chose you? The gods don’t care if you’re a good man any more than the Law did. They just need a killer, and killing is all you’ll ever be good for…And that just kind of makes me sad.”
“Perhaps, Keeper…” Maybe he was right. After all, every man has his place. “Let’s get you to bed.”
The small man really couldn’t handle his drink. Ashok had to steer the stumbling Keta back toward where the Sons had made camp. Surely the local warriors knew a large unknown group was camped near their casteless quarter, but they’d not ridden out to challenge the possible criminals who were obviously leaving soon anyway. There were not that many warriors in Haradas, but as a former enforcer of the Law, Ashok found their lack of commitment disappointing.
“Don’t abandon the jug!” Keta gestured futilely toward where they’d left the alcohol.
“That stuff has made you stupid. I should throw it in the river.”
“No! If it floats all the way to the sea then the demons will declare war on us!”
“They would be justified.”
* * *
The casteless of Haradas were fully committed to assisting the Sons of the Black Sword. One of their barges would be used to ferry Keta and most of their number across the Nansakar to the Akershan side, where they would begin their journey south. They would be taking all their horses, as there was no use for the animals where Ashok’s group was going. Since he still wouldn’t let Keta tell him about the rebellion’s secret hideout, he figured they’d probably end up snowed in and eating the horses to survive at this rate. Their other available barges would be used to take Ashok and the rest of them downriver toward the Lost House.
The casteless were overjoyed to provide their labor and expertise, and there was no longer a barge master to command them otherwise. As far as they were concerned, the gods had sent the great hero Fall to deliver them from the hands of the devil Chattarak, so the least they could do was help Fall destroy all of Chattarak’s vile friends.
Ashok did nothing to disabuse them of that notion.
In the morning, Keta had been too ill to give much of a speech, a fact which Ashok was exceedingly grateful for. He had mumbled some blessing from the gods upon those going downriver, and then lurched to the side and vomited. The newly arrived fanatics probably weren’t too impressed with their new priest, but he would have to do.
Keta approached him, looking gray and humbled. “Farewell, Ashok, until we meet again in Akershan.”
“If Thera lives, I will bring her to you.”
“I know you will…” Keta’s bloodshot eyes blinked against the brightness of the morning sun. “By the way, do you remember what I said last night?”
“You spoke honestly. It was appreciated.”
“Oh, good. I was worried I’d embarrassed myself.”
“I did not say that.” He gave Keta a bow that would have been appropriate between equals in status in Vadal lands. Surprised, Keta returned the respectful gesture. “Good luck to you, Keeper.”
Ashok walked to the end of the dock and stepped down onto the waiting barge. He tried to hide his involuntary shudder as it shifted beneath his feet. He was the last aboard. The casteless used their poles to push them away from the natural safety of the land and out into the cruel river.
With the addition of their new recruits, the Sons of the Black Sword traveling east were thirty strong. Most of them were of the warrior caste, and had never ridden upon a barge before. They were not happy about their method of transportation, but Ashok didn’t give a damn about their happiness. The river was the fastest way to reach the Lost House. If they wanted to remain on land with their dignity intact, then they shouldn’t have become criminals.
From somewhere, the casteless still ashore had produced homemade instruments, rough carved flutes and drums made from discarded garbage, and they began to play a discordant tune. The fanatics ran along the bank after them, waving and cheering. Some warriors were going south to guard Keta’s group. Those looked dejected to be left behind while the warriors on the barges taunted their friends, loudly declaring that they were off to gain glory.
“May the gods watch over you and keep you safe!” Keta shouted after them.
Gutch was leaning on a spear a few feet from Ashok, looking amused at the whole spectacle. “You should have told Keta to keep his gods, because there’s no safety where we are heading.”
Chapter 28
“Damn you, Ashok!” Devedas bellowed at the top of his lungs.
The window shattered as he hurled a chair through it. With an incoherent roar he kicked over the map table, breaking bottles and spilling plates. Then he took up the other chair and dashed it into pieces against the far wall. He cracked the bricks of the fireplace with his fist.
For a moment he spent his rage against the furniture and walls. Decorum was forgotten. The Lord Protector stood there in the middle of the destroyed room, chest heaving, knuckles bleeding.
Devedas picked up the crumpled note and read it again.
Ashok had killed Ishaan Harban.
A Protector had died on his watch, while following his commands, murdered at the hands of a former brother. Ishaan had been one of their best, a longtime friend of Ashok and Devedas both. This had to be a cruel joke. Devedas took a deep breath and composed himself. He needed to be calm once he started giving orders, or at least he needed to appear that way.
When this letter had been written, Bundit had still been in a coma, but would more than likely survive. Teerapat, the least experienced of the three, had taken up the chase, but he had been given faulty information by a local Inquisitor which had put him on the wrong road. By the time he’d discovered the mistake and doubled back, new snow had obscured their tracks. Ashok and his gang had been lost. Teerapat was deeply shamed by his failure, but Devedas very much doubted that the Inquisitor had made a mistake.
And not for the first time, Devedas felt the pangs of regret that came from entering a political alliance with a treacherous snake. If the Inquisition was covering for Ashok, what did Omand have to gain by prolonging Ashok’s existence? It had to be more than merely embarrassing the Protector Order. Omand’s ultimate goal was to overthrow the judges. He’d denied having any part in Ashok’s current endeavors. But it was an Inquisitor who’d misled Teerapat, and it was another Inquisitor who’d claimed to have seen Ashok here in Shabdkosh.
He’d completed his investigation. The casteless had been inspired by tales of Ashok, but there was no proof he’d ever actually been here. He’d delivered his report to the new Arbiter, and more importantly, he’d shown his face so the Capitol knew the Order was taking this threat seriously. At least the occupants of this house had been murdered by the casteless during their uprising, so it wasn’t like they’d complain about their broken furnishings.
It was time to go. Every Protector in the eastern regions of Lok would already be converging on Neeramphorn. They would probably find Ashok long before Devedas could travel all that way. He was so very tempted to ride to the much closer Capitol, to beat the truth out of Omand instead.
Only the Inquisition was currently far better favored than his own. Any overt move would simply get Devedas slandered and arrested. Regardless of what games the Inquisition migh
t be playing, Devedas was better off keeping the Grand Inquisitor as an ally rather than an enemy. His conspiracy was too entrenched. Their success was inevitable. The judges would be overthrown, and rightfully so, it had been a long time since those useless curs had accomplished anything of note. All they did was collect taxes to build themselves bigger palaces and government buildings.
If he fought against Omand’s conspiracy now, he’d only be protecting the gang of fools who held him in such contempt. Omand would slander the Protectors, and the judges would eagerly lap up his lies. If Devedas left the conspiracy alone, as per his agreement with the Grand Inquisitor, after the coup Devedas would be installed as their figurehead. A crisis required a strong hand, and the people needed someone to look to for leadership. Who better to unite the houses than a war hero and champion of the Law, who had no home, and thus held no bias toward any one great house?
Only Devedas did not intend to remain Omand’s puppet king for long. He was done being anyone’s servant. He intended to rule.
There was no other choice. Despite giving his whole life in service to the Law, when it was done with him, it would give him nothing in return. The Capitol would use him up and then toss him aside without a second thought. Outside the Order he would have no status. At most he would become a minor vassal to the Great House which had consumed his.
Firstborn of a Thakoor and a bearer, he’d been robbed of his birthright. He’d risen through the Order by the strength of his arm and the quickness of his wit, second in reputation only to a man with unattainable gifts. He’d given everything to the Law. Bled, suffered, and killed for it. Devedas understood it was the Law which was vital, not the men who wrote it. He’d been in the highest chambers of the Capitol and seen the judges in action. They were lazy, corrupt, vapid fools. But most of all, they were replaceable.
Other powerful men had come to the same conclusion. Change was coming. If Lok was destined to end up with a king, he’d at least make sure that king was a worthy one. If one man alone would wear a crown, better a noble Protector than a pawn manipulated by a merciless Inquisitor. Devedas had struggled with this, and it had kept him up many nights, but he’d come to terms with the necessity of his Law breaking. It was for the greater good, both for him personally, and for all of Lok.
But this plan became far less palatable when his Protectors died due to his ally’s games.
Devedas had dislocated a finger punching the wall, so he popped it back into place. Then he picked up the map.
Where are you going, Ashok? What drives you now?
Ashok was a man of singular purpose. When that purpose had been the Law, he had been the most predictable man in the world. Now he was a mystery. Devedas had looked him in the eyes in prison, and despite his fury, he’d also felt pity. He’d seen in Ashok no reason to live beyond hoping his sword would find a good home.
Something had caused this drastic change.
Ashok was casteless. There was a casteless rebellion in Akershan. That had to be his destination. But why enter the busy city of Neeramphorn, where he was likely to be recognized? It made no sense.
His eyes lingered on the map for a moment. He wasn’t too far from where he had hidden Rada. It said something, that his feelings for her were strong enough that he was briefly tempted to postpone his ambitions for a day so that he could go see her…But that was foolish. He had work to do now, so that they could all have a better future. Better to delay their reunion for a bit, so that he could spend the rest of his life with Rada by his side, as his queen.
Karno would keep her safe until the coup, and since Karno was one of the Protectors who was politically astute enough to piece together what was going on, it was better to keep him away from the Capitol. He was afraid that if Karno had to choose between their friendship and the letter of the Law, neither would like the answer.
Ashok’s new purpose was a mystery, but Devedas understood his own. He’d make a much more convincing candidate for king if he was the man responsible for catching the most dangerous criminal in the world. Devedas folded the map and went outside.
Protector Abhishek Gujara, five-year senior, was waiting for him. Their horses were already prepared. He took one look at the broken chair lying in the yard, but said nothing about it to his superior.
“We ride for Akershan immediately.”
“The word is there’s big storms coming up the Ice Coast. We might not be able to cross the passes until spring.” Abhishek was from the northern jungles and had no love of the southern cold.
“Then we’ll ride until the horses flounder, and then we’ll walk the rest.” Devedas was from the harshest place in Lok, a land of endless brutal ice, where giant predatory bears lurked camouflaged in the snow, and volcanos perpetually spewed lava into the sea. The trek from the central desert to Akershan was nothing compared to that. The Heart would keep them warm enough to keep their fingers and toes. “Where is the Inquisitor?”
Abhishek nodded toward the barn, where the messenger was tending to his horse. “He was telling me how the Inquisition’s wizards had done us a great favor, using up valuable demon to speed this message along to us, but then he heard you breaking things and decided to retreat.”
“That was wise. Go inside and gather my things.” He didn’t want the other Protector to overhear what he had to say.
Devedas approached the Inquisitor, who was busy brushing down his tired steed. When he saw the Lord Protector approaching, he quickly pulled up his cloth mask to hide his face. It had the fangs of the Law stitched over his mouth. The metal or wooden ones made for a better show, but weren’t as pragmatic for galloping across the desert.
“Greetings, Lord Protector Devedas.”
“I have a message which you will deliver directly to Grand Inquisitor Omand and no one else.” Devedas stopped, uncomfortably close to the Inquisitor, and glared at him. “Tell him I said no more games.”
Devedas turned and began walking away.
“Uh…” The Inquisitor seemed rather frightened. “That’s all?”
“Omand will understand,” Devedas muttered.
He had better…
Chapter 29
“What horrible need could wizards have for stolen children?”
The untouchable spread his callused hands apologetically. “Don’t know, Fall. The barge master would drown us for talking to them, but they was children of whole men, and they’d cry their little eyes out for their mommies the whole way downriver.”
There was nothing to do on a river journey except sit and wait. They couldn’t even train without the risk of knocking someone over the side. So Ashok had passed the time by questioning the casteless about the nature of Chattarak’s business. So far it had been more confusing than enlightening.
Ashok looked to Gutch, but the longtime criminal seemed to have no idea either. “I don’t know why wizards would kidnap kids, General. There’s no reason. Well…business reasons anyway.”
“I know. In my years of enforcing the Law, I have punished men for acts of evil you can’t imagine.”
“Not surprising. I meet all kinds in my line of work. Just because you can smuggle magic, some folks ask you about smuggling other things. For those disgusting sods, it’s a brick to the head and then a trip to the nearest deep hole to toss the body. There’s crime because it’s against the Law. And then there’s crime because it’s just plain wrong. Even smugglers have some standards.”
Ashok had always seen things in black and white, but it seemed the rest of the world loved to wander about in the gray. “Yet, from Nod’s description of these criminals, their dress, and their manner of speaking, the kidnappers and their victims came from every corner of Lok. Perversions would more easily be satisfied in places like the dark corners of Neeramphorn’s pleasure district. Why bring children from the opposite side of the continent, as far away as Gujara or Uttara, all the way out here? It makes no sense.” He turned back to the casteless. “How often would the barge master’s associates bring these c
hildren to him?”
“Not too often, Fall. A few times a year, and never more than one at a time.” The untouchable was called Nod. Apparently, just like in Vadal the non-people here were fond of simple descriptive names. “The barge master would stow them with the rest of the cargo, and whip us if we got caught lookin’ at ’em.”
He’d dealt with cults who believed there was power in human sacrifice, the more valuable the life, the better. Perhaps the Lost House believed in such superstitions as well? “You said they were children of whole men? Were they workers, warriors, or of the first?”
“It’s hard to say, them not wearing their parent’s badges, but they for sure weren’t casteless!”
“How could you tell?” Gutch asked.
“They’d been eatin’ good and weren’t stunted and sick.” Nod said that like it was painfully obvious. “You ever seen the state of casteless babies, worker? Only a dolt couldn’t tell no difference.”
“Dolt? Watch your tone with me, fish-eater,” Gutch snapped.
Nod flinched, and immediately lowered his eyes, expecting to be struck. “Forgive me.”
Every man had a place, and even outside the Law they seemed determined to find it. Gutch had no right to be here. Nod was at least fulfilling his assignment of poling this barge. Yet they were so certain of their roles that they all fell right back into them.
The moment struck Ashok as incongruous.
Within the Law, if a whole man took offense at any non-person, he could beat them for their insolence, and the only legal repercussion would be that he’d be required to pay their overseer for the value of any lost labor. If killed, then he’d be liable for the cost of a replacement and damages for the inconvenience caused…But here they were, violating other parts of the Law. Why were they all still compelled to spurn some things while clinging to others?
“Gutch, these casteless are here because I asked them to be. They are the same status as I, and more Law abiding than you. Let him speak.”
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