by Phil Tucker
“Sounds easy,” said Kish. “Especially if your poison matches her preferred shade and color. Which I’m sure it does, right?”
“Right,” said Acharsis weakly. “I’m… no. But it doesn’t matter. She’ll only discover it once she applies it, and by then it’ll be too late.”
“Great,” said Kish. “And of course your poison is in a container that looks exactly like her own?”
“I… I’ll slather the paste atop hers,” said Acharsis, looking to Jarek for help. “Well?”
“Well what?” asked Jarek.
“Aren’t you going to insist on joining me for my own protection?”
Jarek snorted. “You’re a grown man, and far less attractive than Kish. No.”
“I’m a grown woman,” said Kish, leveling her now cleaned kebab spit at him. “Are you saying that’s any less?”
“Yes,” said Acharsis. “That’s precisely what he’s saying. That as a woman he can’t trust you to take care of yourself, and feels that he must protect you and shelter you from the cruelties of the world - and only, to be clear, because you’re attractive.” He stood up. “There. You’re welcome, Jarek. I’m going to go check on Sisu.”
Jarek threw his wooden spit at him, but Acharsis sidestepped with a grin and began climbing the ladder. “I’ll be back this evening. Going to want to talk to Anscythia before we begin. Have fun!”
The trapdoor closed behind him. Jarek scowled. Kish had one eyebrow raised, arms crossed, lips pursed. “Well?”
* * *
It was dark when Acharsis and Sisu returned. Jarek jolted awake from an uneasy sleep at the sound of their footsteps, sitting upright in a convulsive manner and reaching for his Sky Hammer.
“Rise and shine, my slothful beauties,” called Acharsis. He bore a rush lamp in one hand, whose long, tapering flame danced and left a sooty trail of smoke in its wake.
“Success?” Kish had fallen asleep beside Jarek but arisen at some point to pace; now she stood against the far wall, hands on her hips, eyes gleaming in the rushlight. “Are we ready for tomorrow?”
Acharsis hesitated. “Do you want the bracing truth, or a more comforting version?”
“Out with it,” growled Jarek. He rose to his feet and rubbed vigorously at his face. “I’ve been trapped in this basement for centuries. I’ve no patience for your witticisms.”
“Alas,” said Acharsis. “Witticisms are all I have, most times. But no matter. To the point! Sisu?”
The young Nekuulite stepped forth and set a hemp sack beside the rushlight. “A long day of fruitful labor, I’m pleased to say.” His long, clever fingers undid the knot that bound the bag closed, and with great care, as if handling lapis lazuli from distant lands, he drew forth a glimmering medallion of black stone. “My adventures today would take weeks to recount. Suffice to say that I used my powers to infiltrate the ziggurat complex and there commandeer four of these beautiful medallions. Ah! I never guessed that returning home would be so sweet an occasion, nor that I would enjoy myself so much.”
“Sounds wholesome,” said Acharsis.
Sisu inclined his head. His smile was as sharp as a scythe in the buttery light. “But look at this! What craftsmanship.”
“Modest you are not,” said Jarek.
“I’m not referring to my own work, but what they’re using today in the ziggurat! Had you the eye to see the magics interwoven through this amulet you would marvel as I do. See here? First, the base is some new stone that I’ve never seen before. It gleams as if always wet and is as smooth as bronze to the touch. It resonates strongly with my magic, however, and holds my enchantments far longer than metal, stone, or even bone. Magnificent.”
“Nice rock,” said Kish. “C’mon, Sisu, give us the short version.”
“For once, I’ll indulge myself,” said Sisu. “You’re a pathetic audience before which to boast about my accomplishments, but I’ll take what I’ve got. Now, look here. You see this pattern of green gems embedded in the amulet? They’re held in place by Nekuul’s magic. They’re called emeralds, and I’ve only ever seen them used in the ritual to create the deathless. Clearly mother’s been busy, for she’s found a way to embed them in these amulets.”
Jarek drew closer, curious. He peered at the amulet in Sisu’s hands. The chips of emerald glimmered as if with their own inner fire. “What’s their significance?”
“With the deathless, they are one of the key ways we anchor their souls to their bodies after they’ve been pushed past the point of death. Here? They are used to attune the amulet to its bearer’s identity. A soul bond. Preventing any common thief from simply stealing an amulet and using it to enter the ziggurat.”
“Luckily, we’re not common,” said Acharsis.
“You would be without me. I was able to obtain, through subterfuge and sheer brilliance, four untethered amulets. I can now attune them to our spirits, giving us access to even the most restricted of areas.”
Acharsis raised an eyebrow. “Even Irella’s own rooms?”
“That - no.” Sisu stared down at the amulet in his hand. “Everything but. I’ll have to personally disable the wards that protect her quarters. If I can.”
Jarek felt a dull beat of excitement begin to pound within his chest like the beginnings of a drum circle. “Well done, Sisu. These will keep the undead monstrosities from seeing us within the ziggurat?”
“To be precise, they shall see us, but they’ll then ignore us, yes. The deathless, the common undead, and the rarer creations will all pass us by.”
“Excellent,” said Acharsis. “Excellent! A crucial part of our plan has fallen into place. I have also been busy. In this sack I have four Nekuulite robes with which to sneak into the ziggurat. Istrikar has sent word that he’s secured a position in the kitchens for Kish - he didn’t sound pleased, but he did it. Kish, you’ve got to present yourself at the kitchens tomorrow afternoon.”
Jarek felt a flicker of alarm. “And me?”
“Success on that front as well, though you’ll not be masquerading as a leech. It seems the kitchens have a number of common laborers whose tasks range from carrying the massive cauldrons around to scrubbing the floors and walls. You’re to join the ranks of these servants at dawn and work within the kitchens until you decide it’s time to step away.”
Kish grinned and bumped his shoulder with her own. “A glorious position! When this is all turned into song later, I’m sure your scrubbing pots will be the centerpiece.”
“Ha ha,” said Jarek. “But good. What of you, Acharsis? Any luck with the head priestess?”
Acharsis thumbed his eyes. “Nothing yet. Istrikar’s final miracle was to get me into the slave team that will clean her quarters. It’s confirmed. I’m to infiltrate the crew during the late afternoon. From there I’ll simply have to improvise.”
“And me?” Sisu dropped the amulet back into the sack. “What am I supposed to do?”
“You’ve got the easiest job of all,” said Acharsis. “All you’ve got to do is enter the ziggurat and avoid notice until we make our move against Irella’s quarters. Once I’ve accomplished my task and Kish has poisoned Irella’s food with the apple, we’ll all meet in the empty storeroom Istrikar’s identified for us, and from there we’ll follow you up to her quarters to launch our attack.”
“Nothing’s going to go wrong,” said Jarek. “This plan is completely and utterly foolproof.”
“Your confidence is bracing,” said Acharsis. “Which is why I’m going to try one last thing before we enact our plan. I’m going to summon Anscythia and see what aid she can render us.”
Sisu hefted the sack on his palm. “You sure that’s a good idea? Last time she got involved we all ended up diving down a corpse chute.”
“This time she’s bound by Ekillos’ power,” said Acharsis. “She has to render me aid in a few more matters. I want to see how best we can use her.”
“We’ve already used her several times,” said Jarek uneasily. “First to take us to the
peak of the God’s Mountain, then to bring us to Uros. How can you be certain she’ll be dependable within the ziggurat?”
Acharsis gave a broad shrug. “I can’t. But we need every advantage we can get. Call it a gamble. But it’s better to gamble than not even make it to the card table.”
“Fine,” said Jarek. He settled his hand on the head of his Sky Hammer. “Let’s get this over with. How are you going to summon her?”
“Like this,” said Acharsis, stepping away from the light and turning to face the darkest corner of the basement. “Anscythia? I call you to my side. By Ekillos’ authority, I command that you attend me. By the bond that exists between us, I order you to appear in a pleasing guise. Come forth, Anscythia. Your service to me is not yet done.”
His words rang out with strident authority, and Jarek stared at the same dark corner, watching for movement, for some sign of the demon’s dark limbs. Kish let out a strangled gasp, and Jarek whirled around. Anscythia was there beside them, standing brazenly in the pool of light, her lithe body nude and as dark as the amulet stone Sisu had praised but moments ago.
Her eyes were trained on Acharsis, however, and they were utterly inhuman; darkness roiled in their depths like clouds streaming through a stormy night sky, hinting at thunder, promising lightning and dismay to all mortals who thought they could withstand the terrors of natural forces.
“Ah,” said Acharsis. He tried for a smile but it faltered and fell away. “There you are. Very good. Tomorrow night we plan to infiltrate Irella’s ziggurat—”
“I know,” whispered Anscythia, and her voice was like that of the wind over a battlefield, summoning visions of brutalized bodies and grasses bending before the breeze. “I have been listening.”
“That’s… that’s good,” said Acharsis. “So I can cut to the heart of the matter. We need your aid tomorrow. How best can you serve us and help us achieve our goals?”
“You can’t trust it to answer honestly,” said Sisu. “You must command it!”
“My powers are varied,” said Anscythia, her voice mocking and demure at once. “Perhaps you wish my assistance in passing unseen? Or do you wish me to kill?”
“Kill Irella?” asked Kish, then clapped her hand over her mouth.
Anscythia glanced sidelong at her. “That I cannot do.”
Jarek’s heart was thudding, and he felt his palms grow damp with sweat. The very act of standing beside this evil polluted them all, and were they not already so damned by their passage through the underworld he’d have cried out in horror for the state of his soul. “The blood,” he said, voice little more than a rasp. “Can you remove Irella’s blood from the gems?”
Acharsis shot him a quick look, brow furrowed.
Anscythia bowed low. “I am familiar with blood. Yes. I can cause it to move, to dance, to flow where I will.”
“But that won’t help,” said Sisu. “Even if they don’t see us remove her blood, they’ll see that the chalice is empty when it comes time to pour it into the gems. Or that the gems are empty when my aunt prepares them for the ritual.”
Jarek grimaced. “You’re right.”
“But as a last-ditch effort, perhaps,” said Acharsis, “what if we weakened Irella? What if we distracted her, lowered her guard? Could you strike at her then?”
The demon paused as if in thought, and then shrugged. “I could try.”
“Then that’s what we’ll have you do. We can’t guarantee that she’ll consume the entire apple, mixed as it will be into a larger dish. It might be wiser to expect her to be weakened, but even so, she’ll stand in the heart of her sanctum and be suffused by Nekuul’s powers. We’ll need every advantage we can get.” Acharsis passed his hand through his hair, and Jarek saw that it was shaking. “Hide yourself until I call for you, Anscythia.”
She once more gave her mocking bow, and then flickered and was gone.
“Urgh,” said Kish, rubbing her palms up and down her thighs. “After this is over, I’m going to run through every thorn gate I can find and ask every apsu to shrive me.”
“After this is done,” said Acharsis, “I’ll be able to shrive you myself. What we do, we do for the greater good. I’m willing to take on this pollution for our people.”
“I know,” said Kish. “I know. It’s just – never mind.”
Jarek reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Soon. This will all be over soon.”
“For better or worse,” said Sisu. “I can’t believe you’re trusting that thing. How do you know Ekillos’ power still binds her? What’s to stop her from lying to us and turning against us at the last moment?”
Acharsis shrugged. “Planning and anticipation will only get you so far. After a certain point, you must trust to luck, fate, and the love of the gods. If Anscythia betrays us at the last, then so be it. But I’ll use her if I can. Tomorrow night’s impossible enough with some supernatural assistance.”
“Inspiring words,” said Kish, stepping in under Jarek’s arm to hug him tight. “Pinning our hopes on a fickle demon.”
“Pin your hopes on our efforts,” said Jarek. “Istrikar’s giving us an edge here. Irella doesn’t anticipate our attack - she must think us in Magan still. We’ll use the element of surprise, and with a little luck, tomorrow’s plan will come together and we’ll topple Irella and free the River Cities from her rule.”
“Let’s summarize,” said Acharsis. “Tomorrow at dawn, Jarek will join the servants who clean the kitchen. After lunch, Kish will enter the kitchen staff. I’ll infiltrate the slaves who will clean the head priestess’ quarters shortly thereafter. Sisu, you enter the ziggurat just before the feast.”
Everyone nodded.
Acharsis rubbed at his jaw. “Istrikar is going to make sure that the three assistant cooks don’t show tomorrow. The chief cook will promote Kish to take their place, along with two other assistants who will cover for Kish’s inability to cook. She’ll then poison Irella’s dish with the apple. If there’s any trouble, Jarek, you’ll be on hand to step in and help. Meanwhile, I’ll find a way to poison the head priestess. The feast will then take place, Irella will eat her tainted food and lose her power. She’ll draw her mundane blood thereafter and store it in the chalice, which will be taken to Nekuul’s temple atop the ziggurat by the head priestess till the ceremony is to begin. We’ll infiltrate that temple when Irella enters to commune with Nekuul, and there we will strike her down. If we fail to do so, at the very least her blood will have lost its potency, and she’ll be unable to open the permanent portal to the netherworld, giving Elu time to bring his armies from Magan to crush her a few years from now.”
“Let’s make sure we don’t leave a mess for Elu to clean up,” said Jarek. “Tomorrow we end this, one way or another.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Acharsis kept his head down. Looking around drew Peruthros’ attention, which in turn meant the lash. Sweat ran into the three cuts the slave master had already dealt to Acharsis’ back, and it took a surprising amount of discipline to not rise up on his knees to give his aching muscles relief. Instead, he focused on the large brush he held in his hand, and worked it back and forth over the clay tiled floor, trying to work up a lather.
His shoulders burned. His hand ached from gripping the brush’s broad body. His knees stung from rubbing against the floor. Sweat ran into his eyes. Around him the other slaves worked in diligent silence, striving with numb determination to erase all signs of the festivities that had taken place within this hall but hours ago.
Spilled wine. Dirt worked into the grain of the clay tiles. Smeared foodstuffs. Were all nobles such pigs? Surely Acharsis had never dropped so much food and spilled so many drinks while feasting? Had he?
Acharsis rubbed his brow surreptitiously against his upper arm and attacked a stubborn streak of grease with renewed vigor. Sure, he’d been exuberant at times while feasting; who hadn’t given a wild toast that may have led to some spilled drops? And you couldn’t exactly charge down the center of a
table to embrace a friend or join a minstrel in song without dislodging some platters or sending them flying, could you? It wouldn’t be a true feast without a little wildness, a touch of rambunctious disregard for - well.
Acharsis gritted his teeth. The stain wasn’t coming out. Peruthros was walking his way. The man had inordinately muscled calves, as if he’d socked away a loaf of bread in each one. Quite nicely trimmed toenails, too. Acharsis would have paid gold for the privilege to smash his brush into those sandaled feet.
Peruthros stopped right beside Acharsis. The reflex to glance up was overwhelming, but at the last moment Acharsis clenched his jaw and bent down further to work on the stain.
“You’re rubbing at dry tile,” said Peruthros, sounding almost kindly. “I can barely see any soap suds at all.”
Acharsis hesitated. Was that permission to stop? To engage in conversation? The man was right, damn it. He’d been scrubbing mechanically, lost in thought, and had forgotten to dip his brush in his bucket again. No. Best to quickly soak his brush and get back to—
Thwack!
Acharsis’ whole body spasmed with pain. It was astonishing how the unexpected nature of the blow made it so much worse. Was a second one coming? Throat clenched, Acharsis scrubbed hard at the now soaking tile. The rasp of the bristles was audible, and soon bubbles from the soap were streaking everywhere, mercifully obscuring the stain.
“You’re new to my team,” said Peruthros, his tone distracted, as if he were gazing away beyond the horizon, “so it is natural that there be a period of adjustment. A time during which you learn my rules, and how to thrive under them. Now, your previous master said that you were a lazy slave, and begged that I take you on, worthless as some might think you with but one hand. He said that with the right incentive, you could easily prove an asset. I am starting to fear he was wrong.”
Acharsis bit down on a curse. Istrikar! He’d roast him over a bed of coals! Was this his petty revenge?