Destroyer of Worlds

by Larry Correia

  “I see that you started without me,” the Grand Inquisitor said as he climbed down from the carriage.

  “Apologies, sir,” stammered one of his men. “I was told we were to secure the property and—”

  “It’s fine.” Nothing was going to ruin Omand’s good mood tonight. Besides, he was too old for kicking in doors. He had young, expendable Inquisitors for that sort of thing. “Is everyone in the household accounted for?”

  “Yes. No one resisted. We are searching the place for religious contraband now.”

  “Very good.” Omand knew there would be no such evidence here, which was why he had arranged for one of his men to plant some. He glanced across the street and saw that the commotion had gathered a crowd of curious onlookers, many of them wearing clothing indicative of wealth and privilege. They were curious. Once they saw the golden mask of the Grand Inquisitor himself at the scene, they became nervous. It was rare that the Inquisition performed such an overt show of force, especially in a wealthy district, and even rarer to have the head of that nefarious Order present. This was a special occasion indeed.

  Even though his men had already cleared the building, Omand kept a tiny piece of black steel in his hand so he could call upon its magic at a moment’s notice. He had not been the most successful witch hunter in the history of his order by being complacent.

  This was not the first time he had been inside this very impressive mansion. He had attended events here, both as himself, and in disguise as a less important man. Parulkar Akershan threw some of the most noteworthy parties in the Capitol, which was an impressive feat, and also a terrible burden upon his financially struggling house. Sadly, all his efforts, all the favors earned and alliances struck, would be for nothing, because Parulkar had ended up in opposition to Omand, and nobody played the great game better than Omand.

  The servants, slaves, guards, and even grandchildren of Parulkar Akershan were all waiting along the back wall of the great room, frightened and being guarded by Inquisitors, but the judge himself was reclining on his couch, looking amused and annoyed that there were intruders in his living room. When he saw Omand enter, Parulkar nodded in greeting. “Ah, Omand, I am glad to see you. There seems to have been some confusion with your underlings. Now that you are here we can get this misunderstanding sorted out. Please, have a seat.”

  Omand stopped in front of the couch but did not sit down. “Inquisitor Satya, I will question Judge Parulkar personally. You will take every other member of his household to the dome for interrogation.”

  As the Inquisitors began to roughly herd everyone from the room, the children started to cry. The warriors begged for mercy. Nobody wanted to go to the dome.

  Parulkar became enraged at the brazen display, as any important, Law-abiding man would. “How dare you? We’ve done nothing wrong!”

  “We shall see.” Omand kept his voice smooth. “Parulkar Akershan, you have been accused of transgressions against the Law.”

  “I am no criminal. I will not be treated as one.” Only the warriors obligated to protect him were currently being loaded into a wagon, and everyone else in the room worked for Omand, so that declaration had no teeth.

  “Leave us so we may speak privately,” Omand told his Inquisitors. All of them did so, except for Taraba, who walked around the couch to stand directly behind Parulkar. A good assistant always knew without being told where his master would best need him.

  When the others were gone, Parulkar snarled. “You are playing a very dangerous game, Vokkan snake. I am not some lowly arbiter who will piss myself at the sight of a mask.”

  “No. You are not.” Omand kicked a cushion over in front of the couch, and then sat cross-legged before the judge. There was no need for foolishness like trying to loom over his opponent. There was no need to put on any airs. Then Omand took off his golden mask and rested it upon his knee. This was the first time he’d shown Parulkar his face, on purpose at least, and the judge would be trying to figure out what hidden meaning such a display meant.

  In truth, Omand was merely craving his pipe. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

  “Feel free. Do so knowing that every minute of my time, or my family’s time, which you waste will be removed from your life a hundredfold.”

  “Please, leave the threats to me. I am the professional.” Omand took out his pipe and tobacco tin from one of the pockets inside his robe. One nice thing about the Capitol was the almost total lack of humidity kept his tobacco from clumping. He gently put a bit in his pipe, used his ebony tamper on it, put in a bit more, and then lit it with a match that appeared in his hand as if by magic. Parulkar waited, fuming, while Omand went through his ritual.

  The old judge had been around for a long time. Everybody in the Capitol was guilty of something, but Parulkar was sharp enough never to be caught. He was one of the few people Omand had no leverage against. He could not be blackmailed nor bought. Despite the general moral weakness inherent in the first caste, Parulkar was one of the old breed, a man of strong opinions and unbending nature. It was men like this who had created the Law to begin with, and every now and then that strong blood showed through.

  Omand actually respected Parulkar for his obstinate ways, but he was on the wrong side of the game and was thus a liability. Fortune had given Omand a way to write off that liability. He would have been a fool not to take it. Plus, on a personal level, he found this sort of interaction rewarding. There were a multitude of ways to inflict pain on others.

  “What are you playing at, Omand? You will regret this harassment. I have many powerful friends.”

  “Not as many as you believe,” Omand said as he enjoyed the taste of fine Vadal tobacco. “Tell me, is your grandson a tax collector?”

  “I have twenty grandsons. I don’t know what post each of them has wound up with. Only half of them are worth a damn.”

  “His name is Pankaj.”

  “The dumbest of the litter.” Parulkar rolled his eyes. “I’ve not seen him in years. What embarrassing thing has that fop done now?”

  The lad did have a history of bad decisions, but from the Inquisition’s dramatic entrance, Parulkar should have realized they were not here for a minor offense. Omand drew upon the pipe and took his time answering. “This one was a rather serious transgression.”

  The judge snorted. “The boy has a grandiose opinion of himself, so that’s not surprising. How much is it going to cost me to fix his mistakes this time?”

  Omand exhaled a pungent cloud. “Everything.”

  Parulkar chuckled, but then he realized that Omand was not joking. “What did he do?”

  “You have heard about the fall of the city of Chakma to the rebels?”

  “Yes,” Parulkar answered suspiciously. “Did Pankaj allow himself to be taken hostage? Do I need to pay a ransom?”

  “Oh no. He’s dead.”

  Parulkar gawked at him. Usually the first caste tended to dance around bad news, not deliver it so bluntly. “A tragedy. How?”

  “He was executed by Lord Protector Devedas for treason, because Pankaj helped Ashok Vadal overthrow the city.”

  “What? Impossible!”

  “Oh, it is very much possible. And there is no doubt as to his guilt, since after opening the gates to a gang of criminals, your grandson then declared himself the king of Chakma, and flaunted the Law concerning the worship of illegal gods in front of several hundred witnesses.”

  All the blood drained from Parulkar’s face. He looked like he might be ill, and it certainly wasn’t from the shocking loss of a loved one.

  Omand waited for the judge to collect himself.

  “Pankaj has always been an idiot, Grand Inquisitor.” Earlier it had just been his first name, as if they were equals, but oh, now it was his title. “But I had no idea he was insane. He was barely a member of the family at all. We only tolerated him because his father was such an honorable, Law-abiding man, and we vainly hoped he would grow out of his foolish ways as he aged. Since he did not, I say go
od riddance to the louse.”

  Omand nodded. “Ah, the difficulties of family…I have no children myself, though I like to think of myself as a father to all my Inquisitors. But you can see the problem we face here today, can’t you, Judge Parulkar? This is not some quarrelsome son getting into untidy duels, or an embarrassing daughter who got pregnant before her marriage was arranged.” His voice grew low and dangerous. “Pankaj was a religious fanatic. That is not just something that happens. That is not a thing that wayward children simply blunder into. Terrible beliefs must be taught. They must be handed down in secret. And now it is the duty of the Inquisition to discover where this cancer spread from so that we may cut it off the bone.”

  Parulkar swallowed hard. “I can assure you it was not learned from me, nor my family. We are honorable servants of the Law.”

  “Perhaps…and perhaps not. The Inquisition assumes nothing. Your entire household will be interrogated. The guilty will roast upon the dome. Those who are not themselves fanatics, but who suspected others of that behavior yet remained silent, will be stripped of status and sold as slaves. They will serve five years per criminal they failed to inform upon.”

  “You can’t do that to my people! I am a respected man.”

  “Respected men do not overthrow cities and rule them as god-kings. You are now suspected of fostering rebellion. Your replacement has already been arranged. Your position and obligation will be temporarily given to your cousin, Faril Akershan, who will represent your house until the Inquisition clears you of this wrongdoing.”

  Parulkar’s eyes narrowed. The disgust was plain on his face. “Faril, the loyal dog who eats scraps from the Grand Inquisitor’s hands. I should have known. I did not understand why Faril would volunteer some of our lands to your bizarre crusade against the fish-eaters, but I saw no reason to intervene. I see now that my silence was insufficient. You only accept fawning adoration.”

  “Truthfully, I find fawning adoration tiresome.” Omand leaned back on the cushion and chewed on the stem of his pipe thoughtfully. “Regardless, for the time being your life belongs to the Inquisition. None of your friends will step into this particular bog. The whole affair is rather embarrassing, even by Capitol standards.”

  “You do not care about foolish Pankaj. You are just using him to remove me. Why? How have I wronged you?”

  Parulkar was a steadfast ally of the Chief Judge, and often sided with Harta Vadal in the Chamber. Those two were really the only other men in the Capitol with the clout and wherewithal to form a coalition sufficient to stop his plans, but Omand just smiled and said nothing.

  The judge was a sharp one though. “I recognize that you hold the advantage here, legally and politically, Grand Inquisitor, but a man with nothing to lose can be very dangerous. If I see no other way out, I might be desperate enough to see how many of my old friends would still come to my aid and call for a vote of competence against you. It would be interesting to see how many judges believe you are abusing the power of your order.”

  “That would be inconvenient,” Omand agreed. He had already counted the votes and knew he was probably safe, but it would still look bad. “But tell me, what kind of alternative way out do you envision for yourself? Other than being stabbed while trying to escape custody by Inquisitor Taraba here.”

  The judge looked back over his shoulder, to where Taraba was standing, masked and silent, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Inquisitors did not put as much effort into individual combat as Protectors, but Taraba was still very good with a blade. His face couldn’t be seen, but he stood with a confidence that said his target would not have a chance.

  “You wouldn’t dare strike down a judge.”

  “On the contrary.” Omand laughed. “Nothing would amuse me more. Usually such a high-status death would be hard to explain, but you had a remarkably overachieving criminal spring from your line, so I believe I could make my report a plausible one.”

  Inquisitor Taraba gave the judge a polite nod, as if to say it was nothing personal.

  Parulkar turned back to Omand with involuntary tears forming in his eyes. The tears were real, telling the Grand Inquisitor that he had won a complete victory. “Please, leave me my dignity. Spare my family from slavery. I will declare that with Great House Akershan in crisis, my Thakoor needs me at home more than I am needed here. I will name Faril as my successor and then I will immediately leave the Capitol.”

  “Forever,” Omand added.

  Parulkar had been here so long that he probably couldn’t even remember what his homeland looked like, but he gave Omand a curt nod. “Of course. Forever. As far as you are concerned MaDharvo might as well be on the other side of the world.”

  “It practically is. But this is good. A man should return to die in the house he was born. It keeps the heritage strong. I think our caste is often too quick to forget where we come from.” If everything went according to plan Omand didn’t intend to die at all. However, if he had to remain mortal he wouldn’t mind expiring in Vokkan. Its cutthroat politics and vicious infighting had made him the man he was today. “Very well, Judge. I accept this reasonable offer.”

  “Thank you, Grand Inquisitor.”

  Omand gathered up his mask and stood. “When you are all settled in MaDharvo, send word, and I will have your household released from the dome so that they may go and join you.”

  The judge almost balked at that cruelty, but he should have known that Omand would keep some insurance. He dipped his head in submission. “I shall leave this very night.”

  “Good.” Omand then made a big show of looking around their opulent surroundings. “Unfortunately, it seems you have no one left to help you pack. You will have to travel light. Come, Taraba, we are done here.”

  ✧ ✧ ✧

  “I feel that went rather well,” Omand said as his personal carriage took them out of the city and across the desert toward the Inquisitor’s Dome. “Don’t you?”

  The only other passenger was young Taraba. “I would agree. You capitalized on an opportunity and deftly used it to remove an enemy.”

  “Indeed. When the stakes are this high, one cannot be hesitant. However, with Parulkar banished and Harta Vadal distracted, I feel as if I am running out of potent adversaries. Most of the judges are easily manipulated. It is becoming almost too easy to get what I want. This worries me. I would hate to become complacent in my old age.”

  “There is still the Chief Judge himself to deal with, sir.”

  “Yes, a capable man, and a staunch traditionalist. As long as he directs the affairs of the Chamber, things will not be allowed to spiral too far out of control. As he often repeats in his speeches, Lok has faced great turmoil before and every time adherence to the Law brings us back to prosperity. If I were allowed to give speeches in the Chamber, I would tell them that too many of the judges will vote to keep things the same only because change frightens and confuses them. It is hard to look forward. It is easy to look back. If a man walks backward, eventually he will fall off a cliff.” Omand sighed. “It is difficult at times, to be a man of vision. Speaking of which, is there any new word about Asura’s Mirror?”

  “No, sir. Historian Vikram and his family have disappeared.”

  “That man is as much a Historian as I am. Vikram was a cunning raider some conniving Historians decided to make their guard dog.”

  “Several witnesses have seen Vikram heading west into Harban. As directed, I’ve made his capture our number-one priority.”

  With an active rebellion in the south and murderous Ashok still on the loose, people might question why the Inquisitors’ most wanted man was a lowly Historian, but luckily the judges who nominally oversaw his Order rarely paid attention to such dirty business. “He will be found. And the others we seek?”

  “It has been confirmed that Protector Karno and Devedas’ woman, Rada, stayed with Vikram for a time, but then went their own way.”

  “Did we ever find out how they knew each other?”


  “Vikram was friends with Rada’s father. She probably sought shelter there.”

  Omand did not like coincidences. Having two people he was hunting turn out to have a connection was no mere accident. “Perhaps. And Protector Karno?”

  “We’ve had no further contact since Apura.”

  By contact, Taraba meant that Karno Uttara had killed two valuable witch hunters and many Zarger warriors before they’d managed to kill him, or at least that was what Khoja’s message had said…Though the senior witch hunter had protected himself by adding that he had been pursuing their primary target at the time, had not himself seen Karno’s body thrown into Red Lake, and was going off the Zargers’ word, so could therefore not personally confirm the Protector’s death. By the time the Inquisitors had eluded Vadal pursuit and snuck back across the border, he must have floated away.

  “And Rada?”

  “Khoja is observing the librarian from a distance. She is still Harta Vadal’s guest.”

  “More like Harta’s hostage,” Omand mused. That situation could be useful for him though. If any harm was to come to the lovely young lady, then Devedas the Fearsome would take that as a personal insult and seek revenge. He doubted very much that Harta would survive such an encounter. The heart was a strange and unpredictable thing, but even ambitious men like Devedas had exploitable weaknesses. Devedas already hated Harta because he suspected his involvement in Ashok’s fraud, but couldn’t prove it. Assassinating Rada while she was in Harta’s care would implicate Great House Vadal, and surely push Devedas over the edge. That would be an interesting way to get rid of that particular annoyance. Omand would file that option away for later.

  Something about this situation was troubling Omand though. “I doubt that Vikram would have entrusted his obligation to anyone else, but it also worries me that someone so clever would let himself be recognized in Harban. I wonder if he is using himself as a decoy to draw us away from the real prize.”