House of Assassins

by Larry Correia

  The big worker scowled, but was wise enough not to push the issue. “Sorry. It’s being on all this water. Makes a man grumpy.” The apology was directed at Ashok, not the untouchable. Because status aside, Ashok had killed a thousand men and Nod had not.

  “Continue speaking,” Ashok ordered.

  Nod did so, looking a little bewildered that the legendary hero from the gods had just chastised a whole man on his behalf. “It’s just that our youngsters are obvious. Skin and bones and sores. And these were scared of the barge master, but they’d get upset and show it, sometimes yell and kick and scream. Us casteless, even our little ones know better. We keep our heads down. Never know when a whole man will get mad for no reason.” He gave Gutch a sideways glance as he said that.

  “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

  “Only the barge master got real eager when he had to make deliveries to his house made of gold. He’d whip us to pole faster everywhere the current gets slow. He hated Haradas. Made no secret of that. He wanted to live at the golden house. I think the ones who brought the stolen kids, they were the same. They called each other brothers. They’d talk a lot.”

  “About what?”

  “Killin’ mostly. Oh, they’d brag about the women they’d bed and the riches they’d stole, but mostly the killin’ they done.”

  “Competitive bunch,” Gutch muttered.

  “Yeah. Like when me and Goat try to see who can push the barge harder. I always win.”

  “Your mother must be so proud.”

  “Silence, Gutch.” Ashok wished Jagdish was here, but their risaldar was on the other barge. Jagdish had a mind for logistics and tactics. He would probably think of other important things to ask. “You said before that you’ve not seen the golden house, but you’d get close and then Chattarak would go the rest of the way on foot. How long did his journey take?”

  “Depends. Fastest he went there and back was the same day. Usually he’d go for the night, and come back the next morning.”

  “Sadly his time means nothing to us. Chattarak could change into a snake. I assume when he was out of view he’d change, and who knows how fast a snake can slither through a swamp.”

  “We’d tie up and hope no demons came for us in the dark. It’s real close to the sea.” Nod shuddered. “Real close. The barge master would tell us not to stray from where he left us, ’cause demons probably wouldn’t go there, but they wander all over the rest of the flooded forest.”

  “That’s probably why they haven’t been discovered. My former Order did not spend much time in this region. We seek out and destroy demons whenever they come on land, but when there are no people living there to report them, we have no reason to investigate.”

  “Oh, there’s people who live in the flooded forest, Fall, and not just wizards. Wild men. We’ve seen them along the shore sometimes, wearin’ furs and faces painted white like skulls, but the barge master said the wild men were afraid of him and his brothers, so they wouldn’t raid us while he was away.”

  Ashok knew of a few groups like that who lived beyond the boundaries of civilization, heedless of the Law. Many years ago he had come across an isolated tribe living deep in the jungles of Gujara, in mud huts, probably descended from a lost settlement of whole men, but so forgotten by the Law and degenerate that their language had become gibberish. So he’d done as the Law required, and reported them to the Order of Census and Taxation. An expedition had rounded them up, declared them casteless, and shipped them off to various settlements around the peninsula to assimilate. Then their village had been put to the torch so they’d had nothing to flee back to.

  That group had been relatively peaceful. The Gujaran warriors had only needed to make an example of a few of them before the rest had complied with the Law. Except he’d heard stories from Protectors about other tribes they’d encountered who were capable of great savagery. Since these wild men were surviving someplace demons freely roamed, Ashok had to assume they were dangerous.

  “The barge master always said the wild men eat people and wear their skin, but I don’t know if I believe him. He said the same thing about us non-people…But it’s still a scary place. Least this time of year it’s cold so all the alligators and poison snakes will be sleepy,” Nod added helpfully.

  “Lucky for us we’ve got a secret weapon for finding the Lost House.” Gutch stuck himself in the chest with one beefy thumb. “I’m the best tracker in the business. That many wizards have got to be sitting on piles of magic. Get me close and I’ll find the way. We’ll be in and out of there in no time!”

  Ashok was not so sure. These wizards struck him as clever. So many powerful users of magic successfully avoiding the Law like this suggested a great deal of intelligence and organization. He doubted it would be easy.

  * * *

  They drifted by day and camped on land at night. The casteless knew of every spot along the way where it was safe to stop. Though Ashok was impatient, it was too dangerous to ride the river in the dark this time of year because of submerged rocks. When the snows melted in the mountains around Neeramphorn, then the river would become higher and faster, but now they would be asking for a late-night wreck and drowning.

  To their north it was mostly forests of gnarly trees and low, rolling hills. To the south was an endless expanse of dead grass, the beginning of the great plain of Akershan. It was warmer here than in the mountains, but every morning they woke up with their blankets covered in frost. The air around Neeramphorn had been sharp enough to make their noses bleed, but here it was perpetually moist and foggy. Being on the evil river put the Sons in a bad mood, being perpetually damp and cold did not improve their spirits.

  Unlike the well-traveled Martaban, there were no locks on the Nansakar. There were a few waterfalls along the river that required them to land, disassemble the barges, and reassemble them further downriver. Nod called it portage. He also said that usually Chattarak would nap during this process while the casteless did the work, until one year they’d been set upon by a pack of wolves and one of them had been devoured. Chattarak had laughed at their loss, but after that he had at least remained awake to be on guard.

  The first waterfalls they crossed were obviously natural, but this one had once been part of a manmade structure. It was hard to tell since plants had grown all over it, but Ashok guessed that it had been a great dam. From the construction, it probably dated back to before the rain of demons, but like most things left over from the ancients, it had crumbled into rubble.

  Ashok and Jagdish supervised the whole endeavor from a nearby hilltop, armed with bows in case the wolves or anything worse still lived nearby. When they had to take the barges apart, Ashok marveled at how quickly the warriors had joined in to help with the unfamiliar duty. Since they were all fitter and stronger than the casteless, they made quick work of moving the heavy logs, planks, and supplies.

  “I did not know that warriors would so willingly lower themselves to tasks better suited for workers,” Ashok told their risaldar.

  “Sure, in town, with witnesses, you won’t ever catch one of us getting our hands dirty. But out in the field there are no workers to carry our burdens for us. War’s not all battles and duels like they sing songs about. It’s making camps and building fortifications. A warrior can dig a trench as fast as any worker, especially when our lives depend on it…But don’t let that get out. You’ll ruin our glorious image.”

  That said, not all of their worker caste had gone south with Keta. For whatever reason, Jagdish had picked a few of them to go downriver too, including the miners who had been with them since Jharlang. There had been some bickering between the two castes. Then there were also men of several different houses, all proud, all with various grudges and history between them. There were tensions, but Jagdish had addressed those before the issue ever came to Ashok’s attention…For the most part…

  “I heard there was almost a knifing on your barge yesterday, Jagdish.”

  “It turns out
the Somsak have led many raids into Kharsawan territory over the years.”

  “I did not know that.”

  “Neither did I, until Dilip tried to stab Abor over something his grandfather supposedly did. Something about the wasteful and dishonorable burning of a barn full of cows. I don’t know. I got it sorted out though. It won’t happen again.”

  Ashok didn’t ask how. Jagdish was in charge of discipline. Which was good, since the majority of the discipline Ashok had handed out in his life had involved executions, so he lacked the patience for such things. “Good.”

  “I’ve not had to toss any of them over the side yet. I’ll savor that small victory.”

  Ashok’s heightened senses could hear no wildlife anywhere nearby bigger than a monkey, so he put down the bow and took a seat on a rock.

  “I do not understand them,” Ashok muttered as he watched the men work below.

  “For you, that would be true of most people. I mean no offense.”

  “I seldom take offense at the truth. But the Sons in particular elude me. They’ve sacrificed their status to join us for something they can’t know is real or not. They still fight over the honor of their houses, even when their very presence here brings dishonor to those houses. They all worship forbidden gods and are all equally criminals before the Law. You’d think that would be a greater bond than any petty family grudges.”

  “I don’t know Ashok. To hear Dilip tell it, they were rather magnificent cows.”

  Ashok did not laugh often, but that made him chuckle. “You are right. I don’t understand people. Their motives and decisions often baffle me. Like you, Jagdish.”

  Jagdish leaned against a tree and folded his arms. “What of me? I think I make my case rather clear.”

  “A man of integrity has thrown his lot in with criminals to achieve his goals. You vowed to avenge the men of Cold Stream. In a few days we should be at the gates of the Lost House. It will be death or victory. If victory, then what?”

  “You’ve never struck me as the type to dwell on the future. But fine. If you must know, I’ll take my revenge, collect some heads, then go home. Where I’ll proudly reclaim my name, and get a new command, so I can raise my son as a proper warrior.”

  Jagdish possessed nobility that was rare among any caste. It saddened Ashok to think of that thrown away. “What will your house say when they find out you consorted with criminals to get this revenge? Or worse, that you served alongside me?”

  “I suppose that’ll depend on how much treasure I bring back. To justify working with the infamous Black Heart, those wizards had better be absurdly rich.” Jagdish forced a grin onto his face. “Don’t worry. I’ll work it out.”

  “Hope is not a strategy.”

  “Hope’s all I’ve got.” Jagdish’s smile died off. “Don’t let my optimism deceive you. I’m no fool. I know what they’ll say. But with my name ruined, no command would have me. It was spend the rest of my life being rented out as a lowly bodyguard for rich workers. Or worse, how long do you think I’d be willing to let my family go hungry before I swallowed my pride and ended up breaking knees to collect debts for some man like Bajwa? All while my son—who should be a warrior—was instead raised to be a baker, or a potter, or whatever mundane nonsense it is workers do.”

  “Your disgrace is my fault,” Ashok muttered.

  “Yes! Twice over. Which is why when fate gave me a chance to use you to get back what is mine, I took it! It was chase after you, or a safe dwindling into irrelevance. I chose boldness. I will not regret it.”

  “I may not understand most people, Jagdish, but I understand evil very well. Harta is Thakoor of Great House Vadal now, and his mother died because I exposed her crimes. He doesn’t care about truth, only power. Harta lied to conceal my identity. He will blame me for the destruction of Vadal’s ancestor blade, but I am currently beyond his reach. When he finds out that you were my ally…” Ashok paused. He didn’t choose his words lightly. “That you are my friend…Then he will utterly destroy you.”

  “I’d be lying if I said that thinking about that hadn’t caused me a few sleepless nights…I don’t think I ever told you this, but after you escaped Cold Stream, when I caught Sikasso’s wizards murdering my men, I was only there because I knew it was my last chance to challenge you to a duel for Angruvadal. I knew you were obligated to try your hardest, so I’d most certainly lose—”

  “Without a doubt.” Ashok wasn’t being boastful, simply truthful.

  “But regardless, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t try?”

  “A living one.”

  “It’s the same reason when I found out Gutch could sniff out magic I went after you.”

  “I am glad it did not work out that way. It would have saddened me to kill you.”

  Jagdish nodded. “I appreciate that.”

  Ashok and Jagdish watched the men work in silence for a while. The workers had taken up a rhythmic song to make the carrying of the heavy logs easier. It turned out the casteless had a similar tune, and they’d joined in. The warriors tried too. It turned out they were truly awful at songs not related to marching or boasting, but they learned quickly. Their differences of house and status were temporarily forgotten, lost to the labor and distracted by aching muscles. It wasn’t a belief in imaginary gods that united them, but rather heavy, water-logged lumber.

  “To be frank, Jagdish, back when I thought the judges were going to execute me, my greatest fear was that Angruvadal would take offense and shatter because of such a dishonorable end. I hoped it would not, because I could think of two men who I thought might be worthy bearers. The first was Devedas, who was the son of a bearer, and the fiercest and bravest man I have ever known…The second was you.”

  Jagdish grew solemn, for there was great weight to Ashok’s words. “Why me?”

  “An instinct. Perhaps it was your conduct during Bidaya’s duel, or your agreement to practice against me in prison. I don’t know. The motives of swords are as inscrutable to me as the motives of men.” Ashok still didn’t understand why Angruvadal had picked him, a poor little casteless blood scrubber. Or why it had chosen to destroy itself in Jharlang, leaving him lost and alone. “It was just a hunch…Or perhaps, hope.”

  “You just said hope was no strategy.”

  “Then I suppose you are right. Sometimes hope is all you have. I believe with either of you, Angruvadal would have found worthiness.”

  Jagdish knew what an incredible honor that was. That was the highest compliment a bearer could ever give. “Thank you, Ashok.”

  The bearer of a great house’s ancestor blade was automatically of the highest status, but more importantly to a warrior, being a bearer meant becoming a legend. Only Jagdish was not the sort of man to be consumed by melancholy, wondering about what might have been. Soldiers lived in the present.

  “So if we come across any discarded ancestor blades lying around, you think I could take this Devedas fellow in a duel over it?”

  “No.” Ashok answered without hesitation. “You would die poorly. He is the only man alive I would not hesitate to call my equal in combat.”

  “I imagine he’s humble like you too.”

  He shrugged. It was what it was. “Devedas was my brother and truest friend. He has also vowed should we ever meet again to kill me.” Though he hated to admit it, Ashok was mourning more than just the loss of his sword. “Our kind do not make vows lightly.”

  “Sad,” Jagdish agreed. “Come to think of it though, the other great houses still have their black-steel blades. That’s what, at least eleven of them out there still. If one of those was to be in need of a bearer, you were found worthy once, couldn’t you do it again? You could even challenge another bearer to a duel. If you won, even considering the true station of your birth, being chosen by not only one but two ancestor blades would be enough to convince anyone in the Capitol you were a whole and just man.”

  Ashok thought about that for a long time. Angruvadal hadn’t merely been his
sword, it had been the basis of his identity, his power, and his companion. Its absence had left nothing but pain and a sense of emptiness. Other bearers who’d lost their swords had been driven mad with grief. Like Devedas’ father, who had leapt into the sea. Of course the idea of a being able to fill that void was tempting, but it was also wrong.

  “It wouldn’t convince me, for I am neither a whole man nor just.”

  “If that’s what the Law declares, then maybe it’s the Law that’s wrong. Not you.”

  Ashok wasn’t even offended, because Jagdish meant well. “I am what I am. My existence has already destroyed one black-steel blade. I would not deprive the world of another. They are more important than any one of us…” Yet, each of them could still be important in their own way, and not all of them needed to die humiliated. “Listen to me, rather than go back and be executed by Harta because of offenses I gave, you could try to earn a place in a different house. You’d have to start over, but surely some commander would appreciate your skills.”

  “Naw. I’ve shed too much blood and too many tears serving Vadal already. It’s my home and my family. I was born to fight in the bronze and gray, and I’ll die that way.” Jagdish looked down at the stolen red uniform and shook his head sadly. “Hopefully…But come on, it isn’t just other houses that need a decent officer. Who is going to keep your fanatics from knifing each other if I’m not around?”

  “Of course, you will always be welcome among the Sons of the Black Sword. Your skills and your leadership are invaluable.”

  “Is that a request?”

  “A request to a man of honor often results in him feeling some responsibility to help. I would not put you in such a position. You’re not like me, condemned to this path. You’re no fanatic like Keta or these men. I think they do what they want and then pretend it’s because the gods told them to. As for you, there are no commands to hide behind, all you can do is what you think is right.”

  “What I think is right…Not what the Law demands?” Jagdish asked, incredulous. “You sure you haven’t caught a fever?”