by Guy Antibes
She gave the Toryan a dirty look. Trak took that for yes.
“Why doesn’t he kill the Vashtans himself? He is a strong magician,” Trak said.
Mori looked down at the sword, still on the table. “He would rather use his intelligence. In his point of view, swords and magic are just novelties, mostly, but I think he is truly afraid of the Vashtans. It gets right down to the fact that Jojo doesn’t really know that many poses.”
That made a lot of sense to Trak. “He doesn’t care how we do it, just so we get the Vashtans out of the way, so he can retake power in Bennin on his own.”
She nodded. “I think you have it right. But he is playing too much in the dark, which is usual for him. Nashi has been exposed, but don’t doubt that Jojo has many others who will follow him once the Vashtans are removed from the castle.”
Tembul raised his hand slightly. “Why didn’t you kill Nashi?”
“Agree with Jojo or not, he knows Nashi intimately and would rather have someone he knows and can predict on the other side than someone he doesn’t, especially when dealing with enemies as alien as the Vashtans.”
“So it still gets down to how do we stop the Vashtans?” Trak said.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Mori said and raised her hand and put it on her chest. “That is something for you to solve; it is far beyond me.”
Tembul stood, muttered an apology, and helped Mori rise from the low couch, and then he watched her leave the room.
“There are methods, but none are perfect,” Tembul said. “Death is the easiest and most sure, but as you said, we aren’t assassins.”
Trak knew that Tembul would never kill out of hand, but their mission to retrieve the princess would save lives if they succeeded. What was the relative worth of a few magicians actively plotting around the world to upset governments at the cost of thousands of lives? Trak could easily see Tembul killing the Vashtans to save Torya, if he saw the situation that way.
“I don’t think of it as assassination,” Sirul said. “Those Vashtans were enemies in Santasia, and they are enemies here. It’s not like we would be killing them for money.”
Trak played with his new sword. He observed the blade as he pulled it out a few inches and then slid it back into the scabbard. Trak wondered if his expression betrayed the moral argument going on in his head. Jojo’s expectation still seemed like an order to assassinate the Vashtans, and it didn’t sit well with Trak. Sirul said it the best; the Vashtans were enemies that needed to be taken out.
He began to play with the sword again. Trak liked the feel of the hilt and the blade. The scabbard didn’t match the sword’s quality, but it served its purpose well enough. Would he be able to use the weapon against the Vashtans as he had against Riotro? He could. The Vashtans weren’t superhuman, Trak knew that first hand, and now that he could teleport, they didn’t have any advantage over him. However, in any conflict with the Vashtans, how could he keep them from teleporting?
He snorted. Trak realized that, in his mind, he had accepted Jojo’s offer. The mission required it, or he could just abduct the princess and ignore the Vashtans. As he mulled it over, he realized that a betrayal was just as distasteful. Did he hate the Vashtans? They seemed foreign and utterly alien, but did that mean the entire race was irredeemable? No, but those influencing the Emperor and the bureaucracy probably were.
He knew his decision was a rationalization, but he would eliminate the Vashtans from Bennin, one way or another, not to pay Jojo back, but because the Vashtan threat needed to be eliminated everywhere it popped up. In fact, the chances were probably very good that there were Vashtans now pulling strings in the capital of the Western Toryans.
“All right. I know how you two feel, and I will go along with fighting the Vashtans before we leave with the princess,” Trak said, looking directly at Tembul, who seemed to instantly relax. “That doesn’t mean I trust Jojo fully, but Vashtans are not an influence for good anywhere, as far as I can tell.”
“That is the proper decision, from my point of view,” Tembul said nodding, “and I can’t see you regretting it. Our path is filled with danger, no matter what we do.”
“I know that,” Trak said, gripping the scabbard. He lifted the sword horizontally towards Tembul. “We will fight with magic, swords, even our teeth if we need to. I suggest that we spend the rest of the night thinking about ways we can stop the Vashtans, other than cutting off their arms and legs, that is.” He stalked up the stairs.
The meeting with Jojo hadn’t gone as expected. If they had a true falling out with Jojo, Mori would have kicked them out of her house, and they would have been forced to obey. Trak didn’t think they would be able to survive for long on Beniko’s streets.
He laid the sword down and sat on the bed with this head in his hands. The adventure to Bennin hadn’t turned out the way he expected, and he expected that there were more disappointments to come. Lenis remained at large, causing mischief. Trak wondered if the Vashtans had worked their magic on him? The worry spell might come in handy; in fact, casting the worry spell on the Vashtans and their minions might be a first step. He went to his window and looked down at the stable yard and at Nashi’s still form. If Jojo could cast his former close associate aside, perhaps the man might provide them with badly-needed information.
Trak heard someone climbing the stairs and met Sirul in the hallway.
“I need you to help me move Nashi to the basement.”
Sirul furrowed his brow. “Why?”
“What do you do with captured prisoners?”
Sirul’s confused look brightened. “You question them. Good idea!”
They both descended. Mori had already retired, and Trak hoped that she wouldn’t notice them carrying Nashi down into the basement. Sirul tied the man up, propping him against the wall, and then Trak applied a gag. Trak checked his bonds and used a touch of his poseless magic to shrink the bonds slightly. The man seemed secure enough, so they returned all the way up to their rooms on the third floor.
Tembul stuck his head out of the door to the bedroom he shared with Sirul.
“Nashi’s status has changed,” Trak said. “He is our prisoner and we will interrogate him in the morning. Do you have any objections?”
Tembul smiled and shook his head. “My only objection is that you didn’t give me a chance to think of it.”
~
When Nashi woke up late the next morning, he flinched when he realized that Trak and the Toryans surrounded him on the dirt floor of Mori’s basement. “What are you doing?” he said. Sweat began to bead on his forehead.
“You are our prisoner,” Sirul said. He looked at Trak, who nodded his head. Sirul poured a bucket of water over Nashi’s head. “We have questions to ask.”
“You get Jojo. He will tell you what you want to know,” Nashi said with desperation coloring his voice.
Tembul formed a pose and said the power word that stopped Nashi’s outburst. He leaned over, hands on knees, peering at a dripping Nashi, sitting in a now-muddy corner of Mori’s basement. “You have information that we need to fulfill our mission.” Tembul had warned Trak not to say anything that he didn’t want Nashi to know. The man would remember everything he said while under the truth spell.
Trak sat on one of the rickety chairs that Mori had thrown in her basement. He leaned towards Nashi.
“Why did you give us the altered plans for the castle?”
Nashi’s eyes widened as he struggled against the spell. “I—I was told to give them to you.”
“Who told you?” Tembul asked.
“Lord Jomio told me.”
Sirul shot to his feet. “See? We should have never gotten involved with Jojo.”
Tembul pushed Sirul back down. “If we did that, we’d still have dirt under our fingernails while we pulled out iron ore for the prison camp.”
Trak chewed on his knuckle thinking of the next question. “Did he know the plans were changed?”
Nashi’s head trembled ju
st a bit. “No.”
Trak looked at Tembul who nodded back. “Who gave you the plans that came to us?”
“I already told you, Lord Manoka.”
“What was Jojo’s intent when he spoke to Lenis, the Toryan, and Paka, known to you as Hokomo?” Tembul asked.
“We wanted to know what you three meant to the Toryan Princess, so we could get you to kill the Vashtans.”
So far everything Nashi said backed up Jojo’s claims. Trak didn’t like the fact that Nashi knew how to fashion the truth under the compulsion spell, since he hadn’t actually lied, but they would have to be leery of any information Nashi gave them.
“Where are the Vashtans?”
“In the castle, under guard.”
How could that be? Tembul put his hand on Trak’s shoulder, silencing Trak’s next question. “Who has them under guard, Jojo’s enemies?”
Nashi nodded.
“Why?” Trak said.
“No one trusts the Vashtans. Rumors are that Vashtans have promised riches and power when their magician army arrives from Vashta. Vashtans advise the Bureaucracy still, but Vashtans are under guard.”
“Where is the Toryan princess?”
A ghost of a smile slid across Nashi’s face and disappeared. “There is a Toryan woman in the dungeons. She is treated well.”
So, now they knew the Toryan princess was a captive and not a servant or a mistress inside the castle. Trak could find the woman now. He wouldn’t even have to go to the top two floors.
“Where exactly are all of the Vashtans?”
Nashi shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“How are they guarded?”
“I don’t know.”
Trak couldn’t get anything more specific out of Nashi. “I guess we can let him go,” he said.
Tembul and Sirul agreed. Trak loosened Nashi’s bonds with magic. “Get out of here,” he said with as much menace as he could muster in his voice. The man ran up the stairs leaving muddy footprints. They could hear the front door slide shut with a bang.
“What did you do? My floors are a mess!” Mori said, calling down from the main floor.
“Sirul will clean it up,” Tembul said, making Trak laugh.
~
After buying one of the ubiquitous thin cloaks, this one in black, and a bolt of black cloth, Trak wandered around the market with his hood pulled down. Nashi and Jojo had been able to identify him, so he had bought some leather paste Mori had suggested that would darken his skin.
While he walked through the stalls of various goods, Trak still wondered how the Benninese had ‘caught’ the Vashtans. He didn’t really understand how the Vashtans could exercise influence while under guard or, indeed, how their Benninese captors could keep them from teleporting away. Trak looked around the market and noticed enough men trying not to be noticed as they mingled in the crowds that he guessed that Jojo could say the same thing about him. The definition of what guarded meant, might have been loosely interpreted by Nashi. In fact, he was nearly certain that Nashi had answered the questions skillfully enough to intentionally mislead them.
He’d have to wait for the middle of the night to get back in the palace. This time he’d have to subdue a guard to find out where the Vashtans really were. Trak doubted they would be in the dungeons if their captors sought to work with them in the future, but he needed to locate the princess, if he could.
No one accosted him while he threaded his way through Beniko. When he reached a deserted alley, he teleported to his bedroom in Mori’s house and reclined on his bed to get some sleep. Tembul and Sirul poked their heads in from time to time, eventually waking Trak from his fitful slumber. He rose for the evening meal and spent a few minutes checking on his knife and sword. He got out the black cloth and cut it into long strips, which he wound around the scabbards.
Tembul joined him with a pot of glue, and they brushed the glue over the black cloth. “You came up with a good idea. Not only will your scabbard be dark, but it won’t reflect any light like the metal sheathing would.”
Trak nodded. “Plus it will make less noise if it hits something.” Trak hoped he wouldn’t have to use his weapons. If he did that would indicate a kind of failure on his part. He set the weapons aside. The glue would dry thoroughly by the time he had to leave.
After more sporadic sleeping, he checked in with Tembul and teleported to the castle.
~~~
Chapter Twenty-Two
~
“I DON’T CARE IF YOU REMEMBER THIS OR NOT,” Kulara said as she slapped Rumanna.
The woman’s face snapped back. “How can you do this to me? I am the mother to Asem’s children.”
“The youngest of which is just old enough to bear children of her own,” Kulara said. Valanna nearly shrunk back from the ferocity in Kulara’s voice.
Rumanna’s face transformed from frightened to angry. “And what have you done other than lie with my husband? You are no better than a harlot!”
Kulara grabbed Rumanna’s hair as the pair of them began to curse each other and roll around the flyer, making it tilt this way and that until Valanna put them both to sleep.
“I didn’t know if one of these flyers can tip over, but those two gave it a good try. Now we’ll have to tie them both up,” Derit said.
“Kulara remains bound until she can control herself,” Valanna said. She had seen Kulara livid before, but never had the woman acted so violently. “It is no wonder that Kulara spends her time in Balbaam.”
Derit giggled. “It’s almost funny how angry they were at each other. It reminds me of fighting with my mother at home.”
A feeling of amazement overcame Valanna. People acted in much the same way all around the world, and yet some played their parts as utterly evil human beings.
“What is home like in Vashta?”
The Vashtan grinned and shrugged. She looked less imposing that way. “I suppose much the same as here in Warish. People have families, they work, they laugh, they cry, and some do things that aren’t as nice to their fellows as others. We gripe about the governments in Vashtan countries as well.”
“Vashtan countries?”
“There are four countries on the continent of Vashta. Each one has a concentration of a different tribe. I’m from Burami, the smallest. Most of us are members of the Blue Swan clan. Actually, now they are more like factions than clans. The Yellow Fox clan rules Zachma, the biggest country, but poorest. Their leaders are behind the bid to take over the world.”
Derit's description of her continent reminded Valanna that she had heard of the four Vashtan countries, Zachma, Ytibia, Vashta and Derit's home country, Burami, but that was all Valanna had ever learned from Misson Dalistro. Derit's eyes began to droop, and soon all of the women were asleep far above the ground.
Their slumber ended as Rumanna began to stir. “Take these ropes off me!”
Valanna threatened to pose and Rumanna’s complaints ceased, but the angry expression on her face didn’t, so Valanna threw a truth spell on the woman. “You will also answer the questions of Derit, this woman,” Valanna pointed to the Vashtan, “and Kulara when she wakes up.”
“I know about truth spells, you won’t get anything useful out of me.”
Valanna looked at Derit and shrugged her shoulders. “Have you used truth spells before?”
Derit nodded.
“I am better than either of you,” Kulara said, shaking her head. “Untie me. I promise I will behave.”
“If you don’t, either of us will put you to sleep. Did you even notice how the flyer wobbled while you two went at it?” Valanna said.
Kulara nodded. “You did the right thing. One of us would have killed the other.” She let out a deep sigh. “I’ve calmed down.”
“Stay cool, then.” Valanna bent over and untied Kulara’s bonds.
“What about me?” Rumanna said.
“Do you want them tighter?” Kulara snarled at Asem’s first wife.
“No,” Rum
anna said and then laughed. “I’m still under the truth spell.”
She continued to laugh until Kulara held Rumanna’s chin. “Are Vashtans visiting the village?”
Rumanna shook her head, but said, “Yes.”
“Are you planning anything?”
Rumanna smiled and looked confidently at Kulara. At least Valanna could easily tell when Rumanna felt in control. “Yes, I’m always planning something.”
“Do you love your husband?” Derit said.
The smile disappeared. “No.”
“Why?” Valanna said.
“Her.” She nodded her head towards Kulara. “She stole him from me.”
Kulara stood up and nudged Rumanna in the ribs with her foot. “She thinks I stole her, but she pushed Asem out. I know the truth of that.” She looked down at Rumanna. “Are you planning to have someone depose King Marom or kill him?”
Rumanna screwed up her face. She pursed her lips and closed her eyes.
“You must answer, you know that?”
“I do,” she said. Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. Rumanna’s fear meant they were getting close.
“Again, are you planning with others to have someone depose King Marom or kill him?”
“I am!” Rumanna shouted, her face distorted with anger.
“With my countrymen, other Vashtans?”
“Yes,” she hissed. Rumanna began to struggle and rolled, despite her bonds, to the edge of the flyer where none of the woman stood.
Derit rushed to stop her, but Rumanna managed to wiggle over the edge and fell off the flyer. All three women ran to the side and held onto the railing when the flyer began to wobble. Just as it stabilized, they looked over to see Rumanna’s body hit the ground far below.
Kulara wailed while Valanna and Derit stood in shock, unable to keep their eyes from the grisly scene.
Valanna blinked her eyes and still looked down in horror. She took the flyer down beside Rumanna’s body.
“She had no chance,” Valanna said.