Shadow of the Serpent

by Shannah Jay

  'Do you need to sleep now?' he asked Benjan when the two men were alone.

  Benjan was tired, but shook his head. 'Not yet. What I want to do now is discuss with you how we shall next further our cause. We three must have been brought back to Tenebrak for a purpose. Our Brother's hand is in this.'

  Aharri leaned forward. 'As it happens, your return is very opportune, my friend . . . '

  CHAPTER 12 THE HASHITE GUILD

  Tenebrak. Midday. The streets were filled with bustling figures. Even under the reign of the Serpent, business must go on. Men in gaudy clothes walked purposefully, lads with leather message tubes in their hands ran or dawdled as the fancy took them, hawkers sold food and drinks, and tradesmen pushed handcarts full of tools and materials.

  Benjan moved carefully across the city he knew and still loved, for all its present taint. He kept in the background when patrols passed, standing in the shadows, and not, he noticed, standing there alone. He noted carefully everything that happened around him. Members of the Guild were trained to do that at all times. One day the Lady Herra would want to know how things were in Tenebrak. He must be able to tell her every detail he could when they met again. But he made very sure that few noted his passing that day.

  He’d left Carryn and Lerina in Aharri's keeping because he had another pressing duty, one he couldn’t avoid. Nor did he want to avoid it. He had to pay his guild dues and report to the Prime Craftsman of the Third Rank. All Hashites did this when they’d been out of Tenebrak. In that way, the Guild kept itself informed about what was going on across all the Twelve Claims.

  But there were changes in the city that Benjan couldn’t help noticing. The few women he saw were covered from head to toe in layers of dark clothing and were accompanied by their menfolk, who kept a wary eye on the folk nearby and a hand on their dagger hilts. And people's faces weren’t cheerful or content as they had been in the old Tenebrak; instead they were wary, mouths snapping shut after a word or two, eyes darting to and fro to gauge others' reactions, or to keep watch for something - Servants of the Shrine, perhaps.

  The area around Temple Tenebrak was quiet and he paused there to stare. Folk only went close to that invisible barrier when they had to. Aharri had told him that on Benner's orders, guards were stationed nearby, to keep watch night and day. If the barrier ever vanished, an attack could be ordered within minutes. Benner was most insistent that guards always be on the alert, and dealt very harshly with anyone who transgressed this order.

  Watching the barrier was the most hated duty of all for the guards, it was said. The Lord Claimant's orders were very strictly enforced. The guards couldn’t toss dice to while away the time, and were punished severely if they were even caught chatting. They could only stand stiffly and keep watch on the immobile figures trapped behind the invisible barrier, the barrier they had to go forward and touch every hour. And even the hands of strong men trembled as they did that, for no one had ever learned what caused it.

  You couldn’t help wondering, they told each other afterwards in whispers, if the trapped people were alive or dead, and if the former, what they were feeling and how could they stand still for so long. You couldn’t help wondering about other things, too. If the Sisters could keep themselves safe like that, what else could they do if they chose? What else were they planning to do? And what would they do if anyone tried to attack them once the barrier was lifted?

  Aharri's people also kept watch on the barrier, though in a more unobtrusive fashion. Folk from the shambles were used to doing things unobtrusively. But they, too, were always ready to send a messenger the instant that barrier was removed. Boys loitering in the streets attracted no attention and were always glad to earn a coin for an hour's easy toil keeping watch. A man repairing a door could see everything that was going on, and if his work went slowly, well, who was to chide him? No one lingered to watch others working in that place; people forced to take that path walked through the square briskly, and some moved so quickly they were almost running.

  Benjan turned towards Temple House, the old inn that had once sheltered those who brought their sick to be healed at the temple. It was now the headquarters of the Hashite Guild. It had been a very cheap purchase for them, too, Aharri said, chuckling. Who else would want the place? Next to it, he had warned Benjan, was a shrine run by the Guild for its own members, a small shrine with a well-guarded doorway. Other folk weren’t allowed inside it, only Guild members and their womenfolk.

  Benjan stopped at the gate to the Hashite Domain, which had now taken over the whole street. This place was infinitely superior to the Guild's old cramped headquarters in the Shambles, but he was disgusted at the sight of the shrine, and surprised when he recognised one of the black-clad Servants standing at its gate as his old friend Ferrin. Those places should all be razed to the ground and the very soil left for years to be purified by the sun and rain and wind. They reeked of pain and evil, absolutely reeked of it.

  He frowned and stopped to consider the implications of the shrine. Had the change of domain been accompanied by a change of allegiance for the Guild? If so, he’d be in danger tonight. But surely, surely Ferrin wouldn’t have gone over to the Serpent? Ferrin's hatred of that cult was as deep as Benjan's own. Was this some trick, then? If so, who was it fooling? The Guild members or the masters of the city?

  Benjan sensed no danger emanating from the shrine, and, to his astonishment, no taint of evil, either. He stood frowning at it for a moment, then shrugged and suspended judgement. He approached the main entrance to the new Guild and waited patiently while the gatekeeper sent for one who could identify him. A new precaution this, restricting entry, but Benjan approved of it.

  The Prime Craftsman of the Third Rank stepped out of the building, nodded curtly and gestured to Benjan to follow him inside. He led the way into a small chamber nearby and closed the door, then turned to stare, no friendliness in his face, only wariness.

  Viran was another such as Benjan, a mighty man, still well muscled, though he was nearing eighty years old now. He was dark-skinned, as some men were who came from Jan-Halani, and he had thinning hair that lay across his darker pate like the first snowfall on the mountains. When he spoke, his voice rumbled like distant thunder, even deeper in tone than Benjan's. His eyes, those eyes which could terrify an unruly apprentice in seconds, remained steady on the newcomer's face in a searching appraisal.

  Silence stretched between the two men for a long time, then 'What is the name given to you?' Viran demanded, folding his arms into the ritual position.

  'Starborn.' Benjan bowed his head and waited. Two gnarled hands touched his shoulders and pressed him to his knees. He obeyed their pressure, but was surprised. He hadn’t expected such formality from Viran, who’d been his own tutor in many of the fighting skills and who knew him almost as well as if they were father and son.

  Another pause, then the voice above his bowed head asked solemnly, 'Have you kept faith with the Guild, Kithman Starborn?'

  'I have kept faith.'

  'Killed no one without provocation?'

  Benjan varied the response slightly. 'I have never in my life killed anyone without provocation.'

  There was a pause, then, 'What news do you bring for your Kith?'

  'I bring much news, enough to last a night's telling.' Here in the Guild House, Benjan lost his taciturnity.

  Here, he was among his kithanfolk - at least, he was almost sure they were still his kithanfolk.

  'Then we shall call a full meeting of the Third Rank.'

  'Before we do, I must know the meaning of that shrine beside the gate.' Benjan dared to look up into the Prime Craftsman's eyes as he spoke, knowing he was putting his life at risk if the Guild really had gone over to the Serpent. 'Like the good Sisters, I serve our Brother the God, and I abhor the Serpent. If the Guild has turned to evil, then I must renounce all allegiance to you, though you kill me for it.'

  The Craftsman's face tightened, but in satisfaction, not disapproval. 'Nay,
I stood ready to kill you today if you’d turned to the Serpent, Benjan Starborn. Our shrine is a good test of those returning to Tenebrak - and you’ve been gone a long time now.' He laid one hand on Benjan's brow and at his touch, Benjan found himself unable to move. 'Good,' Viran said at last. 'You are not of the Serpent.' He removed his hand.

  Benjan stared at him. 'You can tell that?'

  'Oh, yes. But it requires me to touch a person, preferably on the brow.'

  'I knew not of this skill.'

  'We have known age-long that method of seeking the truth, of finding who is a hidden enemy, known but rarely needed to use,' Viran admitted. 'In fact, the gift for that is one of the talents for which we choose our Prime Craftsmen.'

  'And the shrine?' It had still not been explained.

  Mischief flickered in the wise old eyes, and the wrinkles creased into a true smile in the dark-skinned face.

  'We have our own shrine because what we do there is our own business. They suspect that we aren’t true to the Serpent's ways, but they can prove nothing and even the Lord Claimant hesitates to challenge or try to coerce us. Which is very sensible of him. Even he is not immune to the needle daggers of our assassins.'

  'And Those of the Serpent allow that?'

  Viran shrugged. 'We keep up the pretence. Every day, one Servant from the nearest street shrine is allowed to stand in the doorway and peer inside, to make sure that sacrifice is being made in the proper manner. And that’s the limit of their surveillance.'

  Benjan grinned. 'You must give them a good show.'

  'We make sure the observer always sees someone making sacrifice, and there is much flourishing of whips, though the backs of the participants are turned away from the doorway, so he can’t see the lash marks.'

  Benjan frowned. 'But I smelled the incense as I passed. It smelled the same as in all the other shrines. How do you resist its influence?'

  'It took our craftsmen months to get that incense to smell right without numbing the senses. Months of hard work.'

  Benjan was beginning to have hope, but a bodyguard accepted nothing until he’d checked for yourself.

  'Show me the truth of this, then.'

  The Prime Craftsman beamed at him. 'That's why you're our best bodyguard, Benjan Starborn. You take nothing for granted.' He clapped Benjan on the shoulder, hesitated, then turned Benjan round to face him, staring again into his deep-set eyes. He nodded once, as if he had come to a decision. 'One day, kithman, you shall take my place in the Guild.'

  Benjan stared at him for a moment, as this, the greatest honour in each Rank of the Guild, was lightly tossed to him, then a slow smile crept across his heavy features. 'You do me honour.'

  'You have the capacity, the inborn skills. Shall you accept the task?'

  'Yes. But not until we’ve rid our land of the Serpent. Then, if the God our Brother wills it, I shall return to Tenebrak and take up the honour of serving my kithanfolk as Prime Craftsman.'

  'Good. I shall set the word about that I’ve selected you.'

  Filled with deep satisfaction and pride, Benjan followed Viran into the Hashite Shrine through a side entrance. He stopped at the doorway. Inside all was dark, with the usual black altar and hangings. The place looked and smelled no different to any other small shrine. He looked around him, frowning.

  'Come,' Viran urged. 'Come and see what lies behind our black draperies.'

  Benjan turned to follow him. Although he had no sense of danger, yet there was a sense of strangeness to this place that was disconcerting.

  A man walked into the shrine, leading a woman by the hand, and Benjan stopped to watch them. The woman tugged off her snood and pulled open the neck of her dark robe as she shook out her hair. Laughing, she held up her face to be kissed and afterwards the man held her close to him, with a tenderness which could not be mistaken. Men didn’t hold their women like that in a real shrine.

  Each of the pair put an arm around the other, then they walked off to the side cubicles, murmuring and smiling. There a man clad in dark robes and silver insignia held up a curtain for them, winking as he did so.

  Benjan looked up to where the great carving of the Serpent hung, in its usual place above the black altar, and as he stared, his lips began to curve into a smile. 'Do they not realise what that carving around the serpent pole means?'

  'How should they? We have our mysteries in the Guild and none of our kithanfolk would betray us.' For a moment, the Prime Craftsman's face shaded into sorrow. 'Some have already proved that by dying in agony upon the altar of the main shrine in Tenebrak.'

  Benjan stiffened. 'What? Those of the Serpent dared do that?'

  'They tried it once or twice. But we soon showed them that for every Hashite they killed we would kill ten of the Servants of the very shrine that had committed the outrage. They learned quickly not to tamper with us.

  For the moment, we stand at truce with them. They have too many followers for us to attack them openly and they fear our Assassins. So we pay lip service to the Serpent, and they continue to use our services.' Scorn pulled his lips into a grimace. 'They acquiesce because they cannot do without us. At least, those who have gathered riches and who fear the world around them cannot do without us. Why, even Benner uses us to guard his son.'

  'I find that hard to believe.'

  'Oh, it's true. The lad hoodwinked the palace guards and escaped so many times that Benner looked elsewhere for help in managing his wilful son. If he’d had other sons, he might not have been so forbearing, but Evren remains his only male child and his three daughters are sickly lasses got on his own tenants. If you’d stayed in Tenebrak, you’d surely be one of Lord Evren's regular bodyguards now. Benner demands our very best and our sworn promise that we shan’t help the boy to escape.'

  'And does the Lord Evren submit meekly to such supervision? I’d heard he was a spirited lad. Rebellious.'

  Viran winked. 'We have a secret agreement with him – he’s near a man grown now, you know. We have some sympathy with anyone so closely related to Lord Benner. Evren plays the rebellious fool well and we don’t question what he does as long as he doesn't try to escape. His father doesn't fear him as he ought, they tell me.'

  'Benner is a vicious brute. He should have been put down at birth.'

  'Well that's beside the way at the moment. Go now and look round our shrine - there are no secrets from a Prime Craftsman Elect - then come back to me when you're satisfied that all is well, when you truly understand that we haven’t turned to the Serpent.'

  'I need look no further. I can sense that there’s no taint.'

  The Prime Craftsman raised his eyebrows. 'Can you know that so surely? Even without our special training.'

  'Yes.' Benjan's enthusiasm bubbled over. 'And sir, I bring you the chance for Those of the Hashite Guild to extend their skills in new ways, many new ways.' He hesitated for the barest moment, but he knew that this was the right thing to do, so he added, 'I have also been chosen to serve our Brother the God. I was the first man to be chosen thus. The Sisterhood has become the Kindred of the God now.'

  Viran's lips were pursed. 'And does this not conflict with your vows to us?'

  'No, honoured sir. I have permission from Herra, Elder Sister of Temple Tenebrak, to pass on any and all of the skills she taught me to my brothers in the Guild. And to arrange for other Sisters to continue that task after I leave Tenebrak.'

  'Ah. We’ve long wondered about their ways. That's a valuable gift you bring back to your kithanfolk. Does the Lady Herra still live, then? Is she well?'

  'Oh yes. She it was who led us to escape as the barrier came down on Temple Tenebrak. I know not where she is at the moment - we were scattered across the land - but she is undoubtedly working for the downfall of the Serpent - as am I.'

  Viran smiled at some memory, then saw Benjan looking at him questioningly. 'The Lady Herra healed me once when I was nigh unto death. That woman would have made a good Hashite, Benjan, a Prime Craftswoman, even. How she scolded me
about drinking too deeply! It was that which had made me careless.

  I never fuddled my wits again.'

  Benjan nodded, then hesitated. 'There's just one condition to my sharing the skills, sir. I can share them only with Those of the Third Rank.'

  Viran stopped in his tracks. 'How so?'

  'Because the skills aren’t suited to those who choose to work as assassins and mercenaries. They are best learned by those without the desire to kill or dominate others.'

  'Hmm. Let’s adjourn to the Third Meeting Chamber, then, before we discuss matters further.' The Prime Craftsman stopped only once on his way through the domain, to order that messengers be sent out summoning all those of the Third Rank who were in Tenebrak City and available that night for a Sharing of News.

  Benjan watched the messengers slip out. Just so had he started in the Guild, as a young messenger lad, and then worked his way up. It was the best way out of the Shambles if you had the physical strength. He’d7 have put his little sister to the same trade had she survived and had the Guild not had to stop using girls openly as messengers in order to keep them safe from the Serpent.

  He turned again to follow the Prime Craftsman. Tonight Aharri's great plan would be set into operation.

  And although it might take a long time to come to fruition, it would, Benjan prayed, lead to Benner's downfall.

  * * *

  Above them, on the satellite, Robler was in a very bad mood. He’d completely lost track of Davred and Herra, and everyone was suffering from his consequent bad temper. Even the faithful Met looked askance at the tone in which orders were tossed at him.

  'Surely, Exec, there are others you can track, who will lead you to Hollunby and the old woman?'

  'You know as well as I do that Soo has modified the tracers she and Mak are carrying. I can get only a vague idea of where they are. The only person we can track with any certainty is that devious trader, Jonner, the last person with whom I want to have any dealings. A man like him will have no influence on the affairs of this planet. He’s reverted to type and jogs through the land behind those stupid deleff, grubbing up herbs in the hedgerows and chaffering in market places.'