The Gods of Vice (The Vengeance Trilogy Book 2)

by Devin Madson

  I was a man once.

  Nothing more was said until we reached an upper gallery. There, arrow slits let in shafts of light and thin partitions separated one alcove from the next, each containing a sleeping mat and nothing more. ‘Here is your room,’ Hope said, stopping at one of the openings. ‘In fact you could have any of these. Dead men need no beds.’

  He let out a strange little laugh and turned to leave, but I gripped his arm, my fingers closing around fabric. Although it wasn’t skin, Hope yanked his arm free. ‘Don’t touch me,’ he said.

  ‘They attacked us, Hope.’

  ‘And that is an excuse? What man deserves to die like that? Next time you want to kill, leave me out of it.’

  I let him go, watching him walk away along the narrow gallery until even his troubled thoughts disappeared from my mind. In my alcove, the sleeping mat called to me. I couldn’t remember when I had last slept. It felt like weeks.

  Sleep.

  And if the gods judged, I might never wake.

  * * *

  I woke. Something wasn’t right. A change in the air, a whisper in the warm afternoon and I sat up, suddenly alert. Hope was standing in the doorway. ‘The master wants you,’ he said, meeting my eyes.

  ‘Why does he always send you?’

  He stared so long at the opposite wall that I thought he wasn’t going to answer. ‘Because he’s a snob.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘My father was a duke, and I have a pretty face. Conceit’s father was a merchant. Ire’s, a blacksmith.’

  ‘And you’re useful.’

  Hope bowed ironically. ‘Yes. I heal the minds of new Vices, which is why the master takes me everywhere with him.’

  ‘You are your name – Hope, to be given and taken. That’s a formidable power.’

  ‘And the breath of a beetle compared to you.’

  ‘I don’t want to use it. He orders and I obey.’

  ‘Whatever you say, Your Majesty,’ he said with something like a sneer. ‘The master is waiting.’

  He went out on the words, leaving me to follow along the upper gallery. It continued around the building, at some places little more than a walkway looking down to a lower hall. Sometimes a few wooden boards were all that bridged a broken floor, and though Hope walked fearlessly across them, I found my steps slowing, shuffling as I tried not to look down. Through the echo of voices the Vice led the way, up narrow ladders and down twisting stairs, each more precarious than the last until I was gripping the wall, my toes pinched tight to keep hold of my sandals. Every passage looked familiar, the journey so long I began to wonder how big the castle really was.

  Whenever he had to stop and wait, Hope watched me, amused, but he said nothing until we once again passed the line of small alcove rooms where I had woken some minutes earlier. He turned then, a smile hovering on his lips as he glanced over his shoulder.

  ‘I thought you might be afraid of heights,’ he said. ‘The master doesn’t like them much either.’ Turning the corner he stopped outside a single heavy door we had already passed. ‘That’s why he prefers to sleep down here, instead of in the old lord’s chambers upstairs.’

  He stopped, his smile turning into a grin.

  ‘Well, thank you for the tour,’ I said. ‘Who’s going to clean my robe?’

  ‘You do that yourself.’

  ‘I hope you’re feeling better now.’

  ‘Much. I take my vengeance where I can.’ Hope tapped twice on the door and pushed it open. ‘Endymion is here, Master.’

  Across the room, Malice stood at a narrow window looking out over Kisia. With one hand resting lightly on the old stone, he stroked it with a single finger, thoughts far away.

  ‘Do come in, Endymion,’ he said, not looking around. ‘Sit down, yes?’

  It was a small room, airless and bright with lantern light. Outside the sun still reigned, but here, a multitude of lanterns staved off the castle’s artificial night.

  ‘If I’m a “Your Majesty” now,’ I said, halting at the edge of a tasselled carpet. ‘It should be me who asks you to sit down. You should be bowing, too.’

  ‘Ah, Hope.’ Malice turned, smiling at the Vice. ‘First you punish me with your long face, and now you spoil my fun. Consider yourself paid in full, yes? Go, before I think better of confiding in you.’

  ‘Yes, Master. Sorry, Master.’

  The boy bowed and quickly made good his escape.

  I met Malice’s stare. ‘So am I to be an emperor now?’

  ‘Do you wish to be one?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘You don’t think so?’ He came away from the window, the silvery threads of his robe shimmering with each step. ‘That is not a very definite answer, yes?’

  ‘Then no. No, I don’t want to be an emperor.’

  Malice closed his eyes in theatrical pain. ‘Then what agony it gives me to inform you that you are, in fact, already an emperor.’

  ‘I am Endymion.’

  ‘No, no, you are Takehiko Otako, a god in every sense of the word, and when Kisia learns of your return few will be able to deny your right to the throne, yes?’

  ‘I’m a bastard.’

  ‘Not officially.’

  ‘Officially?’

  Motioning for me to join him, Malice knelt at the low table. A number of scrolls sat in a jumble at one end, each with a crimson ribbon and the Otako crest, signed and dated. ‘I understand that your priest burned your papers to protect your identity, but there are other copies, yes? And this.’

  He held a scroll out to me, sharp eyes watching from beneath heavy lids. I took it, unrolling it upon the table. Inky pikes stared back, and below the Otako crest the heavily formed characters of a court official.

  In the eyes of the gods, I, Emperor Lan Otako, second of my name, Lord Protector of the Imperial Expanse of Kisia, hereby lay claim to the parentage of one Prince Takehiko Otako, my fourth son and heir, by the womb of my wife, Empress Li Otako. Any who speaks otherwise errs in the face of their God and Emperor and will henceforth be treated as traitors to Emperor, truth, and Empire.

  It was signed and dated with a heavy brush, the Imperial Seal unmistakable in glossy crimson.

  ‘When Emperor Lan signed that, he sealed your future, yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed, staring at the page.

  ‘You had three brothers–’

  ‘Yarri, Tanaka and Rikk. I remember.’

  Malice frowned. ‘You remember?’

  ‘Sometimes I see them in my dreams.’

  ‘Haunted by ghosts?’

  ‘By memories, I think. They ripped Rikk’s throat open.’

  ‘Whatever you are haunted by, your brothers are dead. You are Emperor Lan’s heir. Not Grace Tianto, not Katashi, not Kin. You.’

  It had never before been spelled out with such simplicity. That I had a claim I knew, but not that Emperor Lan had signed such a document, claiming my Laroth blood as his own.

  I let go of the scroll and it rolled up, once again hiding its words from the world. ‘Does Emperor Kin know about this?’

  ‘He would have been present when it was drawn up, yes? General Kin sat upon Emperor Lan’s Council.’

  ‘Then I am a dead man.’

  ‘In your delightful cousin’s hands, perhaps,’ he said, slowly re-rolling the scroll more neatly. ‘But I think you underestimate Emperor Kin’s honour. What is the Ts’ai motto?’

  ‘Honour is Wealth.’

  ‘Did you know he wrote that himself?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Common families have no mottos, but an Imperial family needs one, yes? Honour is Wealth. He swore an oath to Emperor Lan, your father, and he swore an oath to you. He cannot harm you. He will not, yes?’
/>   ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘You credit me with great powers of silent conversation,’ he said. ‘I have as yet suggested nothing at all.’

  ‘I’m not a fool.’

  ‘Aren’t you? How miraculous.’

  He just smiled, and hating that knowing look, I reached out my Empathy. No whispers came back, just the gentle susurrus of distant words. Malice’s smile broadened, showing his teeth. ‘I was wondering when you were going to try that,’ he said.

  ‘If you don’t want me to try then stop grinning at me and tell me what you’re planning to do with the mark you’ve so kindly gifted me. I am yours to command, Master.’

  ‘How I wish that were true. Now I think it is I who must remind you that I am no fool, yes?’

  ‘Why can I do things that you can’t?’ I asked.

  He blinked at the sudden change of subject. ‘Whisperers are different.’

  ‘Whisperers?’

  Malice made a face. ‘What boring conversations you force on me, yes? Another day, another day, when I am not so weary of your company that I can almost understand Darius’s desire to send you, branded, into Chiltae.’

  ‘He did that because he had to.’

  ‘And I do what I do because I must, we are all servants of necessity. Tomorrow you will be dressed as befits your station, and once preparations are complete, we will travel to Mei’lian, the official retainers of Emperor Takehiko, fourth of his name, Emperor of Kisia.’

  Though he was sitting at the table he made his bow, long hair falling to brush the smooth table top.

  ‘So I’m your puppet.’

  ‘A poor choice of word, Takehiko. I see no strings. I see no hand thrust inside you to turn your head and make you speak, yes?’

  ‘You made me kill those men.’

  ‘I told you to do it. That’s two different things.’

  Those soldiers had died in the dark, choked by the night that poured into their hearts. I had burned those holes, and worse than the pain, worse than the sound of slicing flesh, had been the silence – no cries, no keening agony. Those men had wanted to die so much they welcomed the opportunity to bleed out slowly, lying face down in the dirt.

  ‘You enjoyed it, yes?’

  ‘No.’

  He chuckled. ‘You can’t lie to me, brother. I know. And soon you won’t even lie to yourself.’

  You are a monster.

  The words were there, sounding in his silky whisper.

  Monster.

  People had said the same of Darius, but I knew better. He was the only person who could help me now. Eleven. Twenty-one. Sixty-two. And back down the hillside one hundred and fifty-one Pikes lying dead in their own blood, shreds of their souls left to float on the air like so much dust.

  ‘And if I don’t want to be your puppet?’ I said.

  ‘What choice do you have? Even if I had not marked you, you could not leave. You’re losing yourself, yes?’

  Seventy. Thirty-two. Six. One hundred and four.

  ‘You don’t need to answer,’ Malice said, taking my hand in his and beginning to trace the lines of the Empath Mark born onto my skin. ‘I told you about our father. Empathy has driven many men mad. You think you won’t go so far, yes? You think you aren’t naturally so cruel, yes? No.’ He dropped my hand. ‘You will need to be chained down before the end. If you want to take Kisia to the grave with you, then by all means walk away now.’

  His words were an echo of my dark thoughts, but he was enjoying my pain. I had no doubt he would chain me rather than help me, able only to see a future in which my body clad in crimson furthered his cause.

  ‘Thank you for your concern, Master,’ I said, keeping my anger close.

  ‘Such wounded dignity, child,’ he mocked. ‘I am your brother. Trust I know what is best for you better than you do, yes? You were born to look well in crimson. When Darius comes–’

  ‘He won’t.’

  Malice froze in the act of rising; the loose end of his bone ribbon tangled through his hair. ‘Say that again.’

  ‘He isn’t coming,’ I said, letting a cruel smile split my lips. ‘I can feel him. He left a piece of himself behind when we blasted the throne room at Koi.’

  ‘And what do you feel?’

  ‘That he is getting further away, not closer, brother. He isn’t coming.’ I laughed at the way his expression darkened, his whole body stiffening. ‘Satisfy yourself that he is alive, even if he wants nothing to do with you.’ I rose. ‘I would rather by far be his puppet than yours. Thank you, but I think I will remain Endymion, I’ve grown to like him.’

  Malice smiled with his lips alone. ‘Until tomorrow then, Takehiko. Trust me, brother, you will never escape what you are.’ He bowed. ‘Rest well.’

  No Vice waited for me in the narrow passage. Hope was somewhere high in the castle, the call of his soul as unmistakable as the mass of Vices gathered below. It must have been mealtime, for the hearty smell of food filled the air, turning my stomach.

  Nothing but a rumpled sleeping mat waited for me in the alcove. I had owned possessions once, a change of robe, a second sash and a book of prayers with which I had learned to read. And my bow. It had been nothing to Hatsukoi, but had cost Jian more than he could afford. Archery had come naturally to me as the other six arts had not, and everywhere we went Jian had scoured morning markets for old arrows and half-used blocks of wax, for worn leather gloves and spools of string. But those things had belonged to a different man. The branding had changed everything.

  Whisperer. Was I the only one who could hear the world? Hear its thoughts, its troubles, and its wrongs? Was that what Malice had meant?

  I looked toward the stairs, tapping one irresolute foot.

  You’re losing yourself, yes?

  Darius had called me a Whisperer, too. He knew. But he also knew how to bury it.

  Again I looked toward the stairs, letting my Empathy scan the castle. Malice had not left his room. Hope was with him now, while down below the other Vices had gathered for dinner.

  I went to the stairs. They creaked beneath my weight, but from the landing to the narrow passage I knew myself alone. In the main hall the sound of laughter wafted toward the open doors as I stood beneath the arch, the wind tugging my hair. Avarice was the only soul nearby. He was standing outside the stables, talking to the horses. He had thrown off his black cloak, but wore his sickle at his side, his broad shoulders squared like a stone statue.

  No horse then, but if I was quick, he might not see me leave.

  I strode swiftly out into the courtyard. Malice’s wagon sat beneath the oak tree, its windows staring upon me as I passed. Leaves rustled overhead. More danced across the pitted stones, but Avarice did not call to me, did not look around, too busy with the horses to care for men.

  A steep slope dropped from the edge of the courtyard, long shadows cutting the rocky scree. Here and there large boulders protruded from the ground at odd angles. Every face was covered in carvings. They might have been part of the castle once, but now they were just debris.

  I tried to measure the distance with my eyes. To take the road would lead me past Avarice, but if I braved the slope I could meet the road as it snaked into the trees. I glanced back. He hadn’t moved. Strains of song hung in the air.

  From the last buckled flagstone I stepped onto loose rocks and my foot slid. I ducked, catching at a tuft of feathery grass, heart hammering. No footsteps, no shouts, nothing but the clatter of sliding rocks and the call of cicadas. Peering up over the edge of the courtyard, I saw Avarice still stood sentinel.

  Letting go, I slid, stones cascading around me. They scraped my palms, sharp edges digging into my skin as I tried to steady myself, snatching at grass to slow my pace.

  When I finally reached the bottom, I st
umbled backward onto the track, sandals full of stones. I took a moment to shake them free while my Empathy flowed. At the top of the hill the castle looked shadowy in the half-light, owning no individuals, only a mass of souls.

  No one had followed.

  Dregs of sunlight clung to the trees, darkness dusting the track. The road would take me back the way we had come, past the small collection of towns and villages around Koi, then on to the Willow Road, but my destination was a person not a place. Darius was south, so south I would go.

  I walked quickly through the fading twilight. I had brought no lantern, but even as a child I had not been afraid of the dark. For as long as I could remember the constant bombardment of emotions had troubled my sleep, and although exhaustion always took me eventually, I had often preferred to roam while Jian slept. The night was benign. It was people I had feared.

  The breathy sound of my laugh joined the breeze. I had thought my Empathy strong then, those little dribbles into a closed mind.

  I kept walking, unseen creatures scurrying from my steps. It ought to have been peaceful with only the night birds for company, but my chest was already beginning to tighten. Every step became deliberate as the first slivers of pain edged into my awareness. I concentrated on the sound of my feet crunching on the stones, trying to set the pain aside, but it was insistent.

  My steps faltered, sound dying beneath the roar of my pulse.

  ‘No.’ I gritted my teeth as the forest spun around me, every tree clustering close. ‘You’re a Laroth. You’re better than this.’

  The mark throbbed, owning its own heartbeat. Malice, filling my chest, his smell clinging to me.

  I am the only one who can save you from yourself, yes?

  His words made me shiver. Another step and I hit the ground, pain shooting through my knees.

  You’re mine now, Endymion. Gods will rule this empire.