Son of the Black Sword

by Larry Correia

  “My arms are bare.”

  “We live in the desert. It’s hot.”

  “You can see my knees.” Rada awkwardly bent over to try and pull the silks lower.

  That caused her sister to cluck disapprovingly, then reach over to untie one of the knots on Rada’s neck, further loosening a shirt which was already strategically loose in some places and tight in others. “You’ve got to give the boys a bit of a peek when you bend over.”

  Though they were the same size, Rada had never borrowed any of Daksha’s clothing before. This outfit bore no insignia for house or family, the rank was indeterminate but still suggested a great deal of wealth, and was designed for anonymity at the secret parties thrown by the bored young people of their caste. “Father allows you out of the estate dressed like this?”

  “Father pays about as much attention to the outside world as you do. I could paint myself purple and ride an elephant through the streets naked and I doubt our parents would notice.” Daksha was far more typical of a first-caste daughter than Rada was, since she was primarily interested in marrying well. “You’re not nearly as pretty as I am, but you’re passable. So tell me, Rada, who is this man you wish to impress?”

  She didn’t want to impress anyone. She wanted to prevent the systematic execution of millions of untouchables, stop a terrible breach of one of their oldest laws, and free herself from the guilt of fraud, but she needed to do it in a manner that would avoid the Inquisition’s notice. She didn’t know if they really were following her, but ever since her experience in the restricted collection, she’d been noticing more masks wherever she went. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Fine. Make me guess. I’m glad you like real boys and not just the imaginary ones in books. I was worried about you. Passing up marriage all these years to obligate yourself to a library always struck me as foolish. I figured you’d spend the rest of your life alone, reading books, until you shrivel into an old childless crone, and die between those shelves, and no one would ever notice until some junior librarian tripped over your mummified corpse.”

  That didn’t sound so bad.

  “It’s good to see you come outside and live life. I know our family status comes from father’s position, but you can’t live your life through someone else’s words. You need to do things that someone will want to write about!”

  Daksha shouldn’t insult books. This particular idea had come from a book. The central library held all manner of books, including foolish romances designed to titillate empty-headed girls like her sister, but it was one of many the catalog had suggested under clandestine meetings. She almost avoided it as trash, but the basic idea—disguising herself as a pleasure woman—seemed sound. Though Rada’s goal was far different than the woman in the romance, she also needed to meet with a certain man while avoiding detection.

  Rada covered her mouth and nose with the colorful scarf and tied it tight against her neck. Her sister had changed her hair and put paint around her eyes. In the mirror a stranger stared back at her.

  “Is he handsome?”

  “Yes,” Rada answered automatically, then cursed herself. “No.”

  Daksha laughed at her. “Well, he must be of lower status since you’re wearing a disguise. Forbidden love is exciting. Except father is so desperate to marry you off at this point that he’d accept lower status . . . Wait . . . Is he lower caste?” She began to giggle because the idea was so scandalous. “Is he a worker? A merchant, I’ll bet. But no, you’ve never cared about having nice things. I bet you’ve fallen for a warrior! Trust me, they may have muscles, and they’re fun to play with for a bit, but they’re all stupid, and you certainly can’t bring one home to meet Father! I can understand though, warrior boys are passionate— Wait . . . You know about . . . well . . . you know how everything works, right?”

  “Daksha, stop!” Rada exclaimed, embarrassed. “Of course I do.” She’d read several texts on the study of biology, so she was practically an expert. This was an important mission, so there wasn’t time for foolishness, but Rada twirled in front of the mirror a few times, and had to admit that she was a little impressed that she made a convincing woman of ill repute.

  “Not my best work, but you’ll do.”

  Daksha had been sneaking out for years and had never been caught by anyone other than Rada, and that was only because they used to share a room. “So what’s next?”

  “The trick is to crawl beneath the back fence without getting your dress dirty. Come on.”

  * * *

  When Rada had discreetly inquired about Lord Protector Devedas to some of her gossipy junior librarians, it turned out he had already developed quite a reputation around the Capitol. Most Protectors chose to live a rather ascetic lifestyle, but it was said Devedas loved the companionship of women. As long as the Protectors were obligated to their Order, marriage was forbidden, but spending time with designated pleasure women was legal. However, the junior librarians whispered that because of his legendary prowess, Devedas had no shortage of willing companions seeking him out, including many thrill-seeking—often already married—ladies of the first caste.

  She had never cared for social things, as society was just a complicated collection of individually annoying people, and she didn’t like most people to begin with, but as far as Rada understood it, consorting with the lower castes was a bit of a game to many women of her highborn status. There was a certain sport to seeking out handsome warriors. Unapproved relations between castes could result in severe punishment for the lower and public embarrassment for the higher. They might have all been sworn to uphold the Law, but technically speaking a dashing young warrior was committing no crime if he was unaware of his companion’s marriage status, and the Law was all about technicalities. Hence, the fashion of bored first-caste ladies disguising themselves as lowborn pleasure women, a situation which she’d been assured added to the excitement.

  It made Rada question how many of her peers had secretly been sired by warriors . . . Most of the tall, athletic, dumb ones probably.

  The plan was simple. She would pretend to be such a woman, thus avoiding the eyes of the Inquisition, and once she had the Lord Protector alone, she would tell him of the forced fraud. She would simply gloss over the part where she had disobeyed orders and broken into the restricted collection, and she would leave out the part where her father had knowingly signed off on an incomplete report as well. Then he’d do whatever unpleasant things it was Protectors did to lawbreakers.

  Confident that she hadn’t been spotted leaving her family’s estate, Rada made her way across the Capitol. There wasn’t a single Inquisitor spotted along the way, not that she would have known if one had been watching her because all they had to do to blend in was take off their frightening masks. Other than the fact that she didn’t normally attract the attention of leering men, she’d passed through the workers’ neighborhoods and into the markets without incident. A woman of her status wouldn’t normally enter the grand market after sunset. That’s what servants were for. Crowds made her uncomfortable and her mother had often warned her that there were rampaging gangs of rapists and murderers frequenting the lower districts after dark, but it seemed safe enough.

  Now all she needed to do was present herself to the Lord Protector. He would immediately be overcome with desire, and once he swept her into his compound, she could reveal the truth. Part of her was tempted to hold off on the truth-revealing part, but that was the same part of her that had secretly enjoyed the romance novel.

  Her simple plan fell apart as soon as she arrived at the Protectors’ compound and discovered it was walled and had guards posted at the gates, and of course those gates were closed. Rada cursed her foolishness. What had she been expecting? An entrance marked pleasure women deliveries? The romance she’d read was of no help. That man had been expecting their secret meeting, and if she started making bird whistles to draw his attention it would just cause the local merchants to look at her funny. She had to find another way i
n. While she thought through her predicament, Rada pretended to shop at one of the many stalls in front of the Protectors’ compound. One in particular was selling glass pens—a fantastic invention beloved by all librarians—which was when Rada made the enlightening discovery that the merchants’ prices went down when their potential customer was attractive and showing off some skin.

  There was a commotion and the crowd began parting. “Protector coming through, miss, best to get out of his way,” the pen merchant warned her. “Some don’t take kindly to being delayed.” She did as cautioned, temporarily getting her hopes up, until she saw that this wasn’t the Protector she was looking for. This one was a huge, ugly man, carrying a great big hammer over one silver-armored shoulder. Despite being big enough to shove anyone out of his way, he seemed remarkably polite in letting the lower-caste shoppers pass. The guards saw the Protector coming and opened the gate for him.

  This was her chance. It was like the crowd opened up for the Protector and then reformed in his wake, so she walked into that uncomfortable mass of annoying humanity and followed him all the way to the entrance. Over the last few yards the crowd thinned down to nothing, and then she was standing there before a couple of warriors and a really scary-looking man with a hammer designed for bashing people’s brains out.

  Somehow the Protector heard her over the noise, or maybe even smelled all that ridiculous perfume her sister had slathered her in, and he turned around to study her. He may have looked like an ox, but surprisingly he had quick, intelligent eyes that wouldn’t be so out of place on a librarian. He had a very deep voice. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Lord Protector Devedas,” Rada proclaimed.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  She hadn’t expected that. Rada had no idea what to say. Did pleasure women make appointments? “Yes?”

  The Protector glanced at the guards, one of whom shook his head in the negative. He turned back to her. “I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

  She damned near blurted out her real name, but choked it off just in time. Rada hadn’t thought of needing a fake name. Obviously all those married first-caste ladies carrying on their scandalous secret affairs with the Lord Protector had fake names. “Daksha.” It was the first thing that popped into her head.

  “I am Protector of the Law, fifteen-year senior, Karno Uttara.” He planted himself squarely in her path, like a massive, unyielding steel wall. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. What is your business with Lord Protector Devedas?”

  “A personal matter.” Rada realized that by lying to this man, he was legally justified in taking that hammer from his shoulder and whacking her with it, and that hammer was nearly as big as she was. All that would be left of her would be a red smear across the market. The merchants would have to discount their stained goods. So telling the truth was very tempting, but she couldn’t risk speaking freely yet. The walls have ears. “A very, very personal matter.”

  Karno didn’t seem convinced, neither did the two warriors behind him, who traded grins as they leaned on their spears. This wasn’t going well. What would Daksha do? She was a natural flirt, and Rada had observed her use her skills to manipulate men into doing whatever she wanted, so Rada tried to channel her sister and gave the Protector what she thought of as a saucy look and a wink.

  “Is there something wrong with your eye, miss?” he asked, expressionless.

  “What? No. I’m fine . . . You see, I’m a pleasure woman, come to . . . you know . . . for the Lord Protector.”

  Karno nodded slowly. “Of course. May I see your obligation documents and arbiter’s stamp?”

  Uh-oh. Rada didn’t even know they had such a thing, but everything else was regulated, so why not that as well? She’d begun sweating. “I left my papers in my other dress.”

  “Of course. I’ll take you to him. Follow me.” Karno turned and walked through the gate.

  Rada breathed a sigh of relief and followed. The guards got out of her way and closed the gate behind them. Inside the compound was a courtyard, but rather than manicured grass like would be found in a typical first-caste estate, this was nothing but packed dirt and gravel, and several young Protectors were currently practicing their swordplay across it. “Thank you, Protector Karno. I am—” and the next thing she knew she was falling. Rada landed hard on the ground.

  Karno was standing over her. Somehow he’d swept her legs out from under her and dropped her right into the dirt. Rada hadn’t even seen him move. She’d never thought something ox-sized could be that fast. “If you’re a pleasure woman, I’m the presiding judge.” Karno bent over and ran his rough hands through her clothing. For a moment she thought he was going to assault her, but he’d only been searching her, and removed her knife and the pouch that held her replacement glasses. While he inspected the items, he lowered his hammer and let it rest on her sternum. Even with most of the weight still being taken by his arm, it felt like it could crush her flat.

  “Ooof!”

  “Expensive knife, pretty but hardly optimized for killing.” He sniffed the blade. “Not poisoned. If you’re an assassin, you’re remarkably bad at it. Who are you really? And don’t waste my time lying. My arm is getting tired.” He let a little more of the hammer’s weight rest on her.

  She hurried and pulled down her scarf, revealing her whole face, not that it mattered since he didn’t strike her as a library regular. “Senior Archivist Radamantha Nems dar Harban of the Central Library.” Getting hit with a hammer was certainly not how the romance story had turned out. “I really do need to speak to Devedas. It’s a matter of life and death.”

  “That should be obvious.” The young Protectors had witnessed Karno toss her down had run over and formed a circle around them. Though they were only armed with practice swords, they all looked more than capable of beating her to death with them. “Fetch the Lord Protector,” Karno ordered one of them. That boy took off at a sprint.

  Karno looked into the pouch, saw the expensive spectacles inside, removed them and let the pouch fall. There was something else very valuable in that pouch, but Rada managed not to audibly gasp when it struck the dirt. Karno held the glasses up to his eyes.

  “Be careful with those. I need them to see!”

  “I know what they are.” Karno frowned as the world doubtlessly turned blurry for him. Then he looked down at her. “Soft. The ink-stained fingertips of a scribe, the skin of someone who never sees the light of day, and a mark on the bridge of your nose where you usually wear these things, more likely an archivist than an assassin, and certainly more firster than some low-status worker unlucky enough to be born too pretty. I believe you’re telling the truth this time.” Then he lifted the hammer off of her. Surprisingly, he extended one hand to help her up. She took his hand. It was hard enough to crush every delicate bone in her hand, but somehow remarkably gentle. He hoisted her right to her feet. “I don’t normally shove down government officials, but occasionally our Order receives unwanted guests, witches, blasphemous creations, demonic hybrids, that sort of thing. You have my sincere apologies, my lady.”

  Daksha’s expensive dress was torn. She’d never hear the end of it. “I can’t imagine any of Devedas’ many other secret female guests are greeted in such a terrible manner.”

  Curious, Karno tilted his head to the side. “What secret female guests?”

  “His affairs!”

  “What affairs?”

  And that’s what Rada got for listening to the gossip of junior librarians.

  * * *

  Now this was just embarrassing.

  “In a way, I’m flattered that you’d believe such rumors about me, but I’m not in the habit of doing things that could cause my Order to be blackmailed, especially in this hive of stinging insects. I swear all these fools do is try to blackmail each other. It’s like the favored sport in the Capitol.” Lord Protector Devedas sat across the table from Rada in the small study. Servants had brought in refreshments and then
left the two alone so they could speak privately. “No offense intended if there are any politicians you’re overly fond of.”

  The list of people Rada actually liked was a very short one. “No offense has been given.” It felt odd to give such a formal answer.

  “Other than that, and the part where you tried to lie to Blunt Karno, a man who can sense lies like a soaring eagle can spot rabbits, your plan showed initiative. Well done, Senior Archivist Radamantha.”

  “Thank you.” He was only humoring her, but she’d take the compliment. Even though she’d seen him outraged in the Chamber of Argument, and he’d been furious enough to duel then and perfectly polite now, Rada couldn’t help but be intimidated by this man. There was just something about him that told her this was the most dangerous individual she’d ever met, and that included the Inquisition wizard who’d threatened her. That danger made him a lot more interesting than the scribes she normally associated with. “Please, call me Rada.”

  “Wine?” He poured her a glass. Up close, he was older than she’d expected, probably ten years her senior. Devedas had a kind smile, but it was offset by the massive scar that crossed his face. He caught her looking and touched the white line with his fingers. “This? I received it in a duel. Needless to say, I lost.”

  “I didn’t mean to stare.”

  “It is kind of hard to miss. This is my little reminder that one shouldn’t try to take something that isn’t his, but that was a long time ago.”

  There was no way this man could have ever stolen anything. “I’m sure you’ve won many duels since,” Rada said, and then realized how stupid that sounded.

  “A few, but as a swordsman gets older he understands there are some fights he’s not meant to win . . . Now, your identity is safe and your visit is only known to people who I trust. Not even the strongest wizards can spy within these walls. You can speak freely here.”

  Earlier it had been easy to think about lying to the Protectors about her own crimes, but with those piercing eyes looking through her, such an omission had suddenly become very difficult. “I recently provided a report to the judges concerning the legal history of the untouchables.”