by Dan Decker
Daen headed through the shop to the rear, wondering if the tanner had a family. At least the death had been fast.
He went through a door and found the living quarters. A woman called out from a bedroom as Daen opened the back door and slipped out. Once Linel had followed him, he quietly eased it shut, not wanting to give the woman something else to investigate. He felt sorry for what the woman would find on her doorstep but hoped the assassin would be gone when she got there.
Daen moved down the alley until it connected with a street. He moved right up against the nearest building and poked his head around the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of their would-be assassin.
Other doors had opened, and several other people had shuffled into the night. More lights came on as he watched. Daen welcomed the activity. The assassin couldn’t kill them all and would be forced to flee.
Linel came up beside him but kept behind the profile of the building. That was one of the things he liked about her. She kept a level head in stressful situations. If the Hunwei had actually returned, Linel was who he wanted beside him.
It wasn’t long before the tanner’s body was discovered. Daen heard a scream he attributed to the tanner’s wife.
Thinking it was past time for them to get moving, Daen took a step into the street, using the new angle to see if he could spot the archer.
His breath caught in his chest when he saw a man standing on the roof of a building across the way, bow in hand. Daen moved back into the shadows. The assassin was six stories up, higher than Daen had guessed.
The man didn’t appear to have noticed him. When Linel moved to take a step out into the street, Daen put up his hand and shook his head, stopping her in her tracks.
She didn’t speak, but he could tell she wanted to.
The assassin approached the edge of the building, looking towards the dead tanner, his bow no longer visible.
After the man turned to leave, Daen slowly sheathed his sword, motioning for Linel to do the same. If they hurried, they could catch the man as he left the apartment building.
“Come on,” he said to Linel. She followed him out after putting away her sword. When Daen made as if to head towards the assassin’s location, Linel took his arm.
“Where are you going?”
“We can catch him.”
She shook her head and leaned in. “It’s not safe. The dead man over there? Remember? What if somebody saw us go into his house?”
Daen hadn’t thought of that. But the assassin was close. Daen was confident that between him and Linel, they could take him.
“We need to go somewhere safe,” she said.
Daen shook his head.
The man would know useful things. When he heard another shriek from the newly widowed woman, he pushed away his desire.
“I know a place,” he said. With a final look at where the assassin had been, he went the other direction.
Chapter 8
As Jorad entered the great meeting hall and wiped the rainwater from his face, he suppressed his desire to stare at everything he saw. From the second balcony to the domed glass ceiling, it was undoubtedly the most impressive room he’d ever seen, not to mention impossibly large. Part of him kept expecting the suspended glass ceiling to crack and fall of its own weight, but it had been there for over a thousand years, and it wasn’t going to break today. He hadn’t been nervous before entering the hall, but now the sheer size of the room pressed down onto him like a great weight.
Karn had mentioned as they entered that Jorad’s grandfather Abel would be in attendance even though this was a meeting of the Rarbon Council. It was apparently customary for the Rahar to attend and even participate in their deliberations.
Will he be as bad as Adar says? Jorad wondered while trying to take everything about the hall in with one glance, though it was impossible.
Adar had made it sound as if Abel would probably appear supportive but work to undercut Jorad from the shadows. Xarda spoke of Abel with a degree of respect, even while acknowledging the conflict between Abel and Adar had not been of Adar’s own making. Jorad was willing to believe Abel was jealous of Adar; it was harder to accept that Abel had tried to kill Adar.
Adar hadn’t ever said as much, but he’d also alluded to a belief that Abel—in conjunction with Tere—had a hand in Nelion’s murder.
Jorad clasped his hand into a fist and covered it with the other. It had been fifteen years since Adar had seen Abel, perhaps the man had changed. At the very least, Jorad should give his grandfather a chance to show his true colors before thinking of him as an enemy.
Adar would chastise me, but he’s not here. With the coming of the Hunwei, petty grudges and fights needed to be set aside so all could focus on the task at hand.
Surviving.
Jorad couldn’t remember a thing about Abel and hated he could only go off what Adar and others had told him. It wasn’t surprising there had been so much conflict between Adar and Abel. Jorad knew how difficult Adar could be.
Karn had told stories about Abel that tended to support Adar’s claims, but Jorad was determined to learn the truth for himself. As Jorad followed Karn down the aisle to the end of the benches, he strengthened his resolve to be his own man, even if that meant he got burned.
They passed row upon row of benches, each a little lower than the one previous, giving the spectators a clear view of the arena below. A platform had been set up in the middle of the arena floor, with a podium at the front and rows of chairs behind, presumably for the Rarbon Council. Seven people sat in front of the platform, five men and two women. All wore the Radim uniforms and had sun insignias on their right shoulders. There were two empty chairs.
The Radim generals? Jorad wondered. There are supposed to be nine. Where are the other two? After a moment’s thought, he remembered one was dead. So, only one was missing.
It wasn’t until Karn and Jorad had entered the arena that he realized there was another smaller platform set up in front of the platform upon which the Rarbon Council sat. It held a table and two chairs.
Karn led him up the stairs of the smaller platform but didn’t sit in a chair.
Jorad took off his blaster and sword, unslung his pack and placed it on the table in front of him. He replaced his blaster and sword on his back after he was done.
His hand brushed against the wrapped Hunwei head he had tied to his pack. It was distasteful to him that it had been his constant companion since Zecarani and he would be glad to be rid of it. He hoped it improved his chances of convincing the Council of the urgency of the situation.
Most were dubious anytime he’d shown the head. It didn’t help that it was decomposing and smelly, but still, the very fact there was small horn like spikes on the top of the large unfamiliar head should have been enough to convince anybody it had come from a Hunwei.
Perhaps, the people he’d already tried to show it too hadn’t known what the Hunwei looked like. The Rarbon Council should be different, they were in the very heart of the Radim armies, which had been formed for the specific purpose of protecting Rarbon from the Hunwei.
Jorad had liked it far better when Adar had been the one carrying the bag. Adar had given it to Jorad shortly before leaving to go after Derren’s tablet.
Even with the death order on Adar’s head, Jorad still wished that Adar had accompanied him to Rarbon. It sounded like the people were split about him, which meant Adar might have been able to rally people to the cause quicker than Jorad would get through the trials.
Jorad scanned the platform across from him, looking for Tere, who he hadn’t seen since he’d disappeared at the Napael Army’s gate.
He has the tablet, Jorad thought, remembering Xarda’s reproving look after having dragged her into confronting Tere and finding nothing. Tere had stared at his niece with cold eyes but hadn’t bothered to hide his satisfaction from Jorad. I should have taken Tarner to task as well. He’d been so certain Tere had it, he hadn’t considered any contingency plans.
There was a touch on his arm, and Jorad turned to Karn.
“The Rahar just entered,” Karn said, looking in a direction without moving his head. “He—” Karn stopped mid-sentence and stared as most of the Rarbon Council members stood. “They’ve never done that before,” he muttered. “It’s customary they only show deference to a Ghar. It has been too long since I last attended a council meeting.” Karn bit his lip. “It is going to be much harder for you than we thought.”
Jorad growled softly. “Who ever said it was going to be easy?”
“This is bad, Jorad. Abel and the Council have been at odds for years. I’d heard rumors Abel had been making progress. Those stories appear to be true.”
“Not everybody stood.”
“Yes, but far more than the majority Abel needs to get things passed by the Council.”
Abel Rahid had entered through a door that opened into the arena. He was attended to by no fewer than ten people; it was hard to know for sure because before Jorad thought to count, they connected with another group who appeared to have been waiting for Abel to make his appearance.
Several of the people in the group approached Abel, looking for a private conversation. They were disappointed because the Rahar didn’t stop to speak with them; instead, he headed towards Jorad, barely stopping to say a word to anybody.
He’s an older version of Adar, Jorad thought as he watched the man approach. There were some differences, but Adar looked like Abel, more than Jorad looked like Adar.
Abel was a tall man and about the same height as Adar. His hair was gray with a few flecks of brown hair intermingled. The shirt he wore was embroidered with gold and silver. He had the same square jaw as Adar, but his eyes were gray, rather than Adar’s piercing blue.
As Abel approached, Jorad was uncertain about how to receive his grandfather. Seeing the man in person didn’t pry loose any repressed memories that would help him deal with the man on a personal level.
He’ll appear a friend, Adar had warned, but don’t believe it.
Jorad stepped forward and waited. Abel came up the stairs of the platform and threw his arms around Jorad, who uncertainly returned the embrace.
An authentic display of emotion or a show for the spectators who had come to witness the Rarbon Council meeting?
The animosity that had existed between Adar and Abel could have subsided in the last fifteen years. Abel might have softened after forcing his son into a life of exile.
“You look like your mother.” It was barely perceptible, but Jorad picked up a hint of condescension. Abel shifted his face to a wide-toothed smile, making it appear to those who were watching that he was indeed happy to see Jorad. It was almost convincing. “If it weren’t for the set of your Rahid jaw, I’d accuse Karn of trying to put something over on me. Lucky for him, I’ve already spoken with Tere.”
It is thinly veiled, Jorad thought, but the disdain and contempt are real.
“It’s good to see you, grandfather.” Jorad put emphasis on the last word, hoping to remind him of his patriarchal duties.
“There is much I would know.” Abel gave Jorad a searching look. “How is my son?” Jorad covered his shock, he had expected Adar to be a taboo topic. “You seem surprised I ask. I wish he’d stayed. We could have beat the charges.”
“He’s alive, but last I knew he was in a city swarming with Hunwei.”
“So Tere claimed. He said you have proof. All this time, I thought Adar was just paranoid.”
Jorad worked his mouth, uncertain what to say. He’d been expecting doubt or an argument about the Hunwei. He’d thought Abel would be more gracious, all the while preparing to knife him in the back, but his grandfather wasn’t as unreasonable as Jorad had been expecting. Nor was he holding back his thoughts.
Perhaps he really was looking for me because he felt I was needed here at Rarbon.
“You don’t need to tell me about Adar’s paranoia.” Jorad patted the sack with the Hunwei head. “Here’s the proof Tere mentioned. They have already destroyed two cities. The men were slaughtered, and the women and children were taken into ships that disappeared into the sky. Call them what you want, but they’re here, and they intend to destroy all they can. I wish it were not so.”
Abel frowned. “Show me the head.”
Jorad unhooked the sack from his pack and opened it so Abel could see inside. He stared at it with an unreadable look on his face, his eyes deep in thought.
“Horns on the top of the head,” Abel murmured, “just as it’s depicted in the pictures. Even the size looks right.” He looked at Jorad. “Where did you come by this?”
“Adar killed it, we cut off its head.”
“He wasn’t paranoid after all, though it kills me to admit it.”
“You and me both. I never had any intention of making a claim before they attacked us in Neberan.”
“Neberan.” It wasn’t a question, Abel said the word as if it were a confirmation of something he’d suspected, a look of satisfaction flitting across his face. “Well, this changes things, doesn’t it? Tere told me of the Arches—I always suspected Adar had found them—so this head is a week old, if that?”
Jorad nodded. “The Hunwei have ships. They have weapons, the like of which you wouldn’t believe. Our weapons are useless against them. The Portal is our only hope.”
“And yet the traditions of our society stand in the way,” Abel said as if reading Jorad’s thoughts. “If only we could convince the council to let you enter, but it will not be that easy, even with my considerable influence. Adar should never have fled. At the least, he should have left you behind. That way you wouldn’t be coming to us in the final hour, ignorant and unprepared.”
Jorad clasped his hands to hide his irritation. “I’m not as naive as you might think, but I recognize I need further instruction. Adar did not have all the books and scrolls used during his formal education, but he taught me much.”
“I’m sure he did what he could with the resources he had. I’ll even say he did far better than most would have done in his situation, but there are some things you can only learn here. I just hope you’ll grasp them quick enough.” He furrowed his brow. “I will help if you let me.”
One of the men who had accompanied Abel moved up several stairs as he finished speaking, he waved the man back.
“That would be good,” Jorad said through clenched teeth. If Abel noticed, he pretended not to see.
“You may look more like your mother, but I see a lot of Adar in you. Despite what he may think of me, I don’t see that as a bad thing. You’re not spineless. Perhaps you will help show Cor the way forward when it is time for him to make his own claim.”
Jorad wasn’t sure how to take the statement. Was Abel assuming Jorad would fail? Since nobody had ever succeeded, it was a safe assumption. He decided to not take offense since he wasn’t sure if any was intended.
“I don’t care about attaining the Rarbon Council’s ranks or passing their tests. I’m here for one reason alone. To save us from the Hunwei. If there were some way to get you another chance, I’d do it because it would be faster for you.”
His words caught Abel off guard, and the man frowned while staring at Jorad.
“I believe you.” A moment of surprise had flitted across Abel’s face, but it was gone. “I hope Adar hasn’t convinced you the Rarbon Portal is the only way to fight the Hunwei. If that’s why you’re here my boy, your efforts may be vain. The only thing likely to be earned walking through that door is the title you’ll need to be there in the first place. There might have been weapons at one time, but it’s been more than a thousand years since the Hunwei last visited. They can’t have survived.” Abel’s face seemed to show genuine concern. “The technology of our fathers needed maintenance. If you’re hoping to walk into the Po
rtal and find an army of metalmen ready to fight the Hunwei, you’re in for a disappointment.”
“I’d be lying if I said the same thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” The sentiment was close to what his own had been when Adar had insisted Jorad make a claim. Doubt fluttered in his chest, but he pushed it away. It was way too late for that now.
Forward, always forward.
“Remember my warning.” The man on the bottom step made another waving motion, but Abel ignored him, even as he moved towards the stairs. “Come tomorrow at noon. We’ll talk more then.” He went down the stairs as if he weren’t in any hurry, despite the urgent look on the face of his man. They crossed to the other platform where Abel alone went up the stairs and took a seat that had been set to the side of the Council members. No sooner than Abel sat, a man from the front row approached the podium. He tried to move as if he weren’t in a hurry, or bothered that he had to wait for Abel, but the annoyance was written plainly on his face.
He placed his hands on the podium. “Citizens of Rarbon, we are summoned because one who says he’s Jorad Rahid has come to make a claim.” He looked right at Jorad. “What do you say for yourself? What proof do you have?”
Jorad took a deep breath. He’d been planning to wait until further into the meeting, but he supposed now was as good a time as any. He didn’t appreciate the man’s open skepticism of his parentage. He started pulling the head from the bag, hoping the council would know enough to recognize what the small horns atop the head meant.
“I am Jorad Rahid, son of Adar Rahid. I return in our most dire hour. As to proof of my parentage, I can bring forth witnesses that will attest I am Adar’s trueborn son. I was with him up until a week ago, and those who escorted me back—”
“We’ll need more proof than words, boy,” the man at the podium said, not appearing to care that he was cutting off Jorad. “Adar is a proven liar, and his word is not to be trusted.”