“I took nothing. The sword picked me. And I didn’t rule anything. I served. I had a place in the Law, just like every man should.” That place was gone now. Now he was nothing. Just like the casteless.
“That’s not how they see it. If you could rise up and do so much, why not them too? Why should they have nothing, just because of the status of their birth? You have demonstrated that they can achieve greatness, that they can be whole men too. Together, you, me, and the prophet, we will restore all that has been forgotten. We’ve been waiting a long time for you.”
“Oceans, Keeper. Will you listen to yourself? That’s nonsense. I’m the unfortunate byproduct of a lie, nothing more. Nobody’s been waiting for me.”
“The Forgotten spoke through our prophet and said that a great general would rise, strong as Ramrowan of old, to save our people from evil, build an army, and lead us to reclaim our birthright. He would be descended from the Sons and wielding a sword of black steel. That’s why I sought you out in prison. I had to see for myself.”
“You traveled a long way for nothing.”
“No!” Keta shook his head vigorously. “The Voice of the Forgotten told me how I would know when I’d found the right man. When the rest of the vision is fulfilled, I’ll know for certain, and then I can take you to the prophet.”
The foolish priest just wanted someone with an ancestor blade to join their rebellion. Ashok was certain any bearer would have done. “So what else must I do in order to satisfy this vision? I’d prefer to just get it over with.”
“Well, keep in mind the Voice can be a bit cryptic, because the visions only come when the prophet has fallen into a dream state, a trance if you will, where the gods take hold and speak through what the prophet experiences. So sometimes the prophecies may sound strange, but they always work out somehow. On this particular revelation . . .” Keta looked at his sandals, awkwardly trying to phrase it. “Well . . .”
“Spit it out.”
The Keeper of Names sighed, obviously aware that Ashok wouldn’t believe him. “We will know for certain who the Forgotten’s chosen general is when the prophet and I witness him willingly sacrifice his life to protect the innocent, while fighting a mighty battle against a demon in the body of a man atop a bridge made of crystal.”
Ashok laughed. “Let me amend my earlier statement. No one sane has been waiting for me.”
Keta grew red in the face. “Ratul was.”
That took him off guard. “What do you know about Ratul?”
It seemed Keta regretted saying that name. “I meant to tell you eventually. He was my teacher, the first who exposed me to the truth. It wasn’t until later on that I learned what a great man he was. I know the Protectors like to pretend Ratul never existed.”
How had Keta met him? Ratul was one of those who had a powerful gift for magic, but eventually it had driven him mad. He’d turned against all that was right and good and actively fought against the Law. Ratul had abandoned his obligation and fled, ranting about gods. The Capitol had simply been told that he’d gone missing and was assumed to be dead. It was a common enough fate for Protectors, and it had spared them the public embarrassment of having one of their leaders turn fanatic. “We don’t like to speak about Lord Protector Ratul.”
“I’ve been told that internally your Order called him the Traitor. I wonder if you’ve since claimed that title from him?”
Now the Keeper was just being spiteful. Ashok took a deep breath and held it until the urge to backhand Keta in the face passed. “Ratul was a coward and a liar.”
“No, Ashok, I’d say it was exactly the opposite. He discovered the truth and had the courage to do something about it. Ratul was a wise man. When he learned that he’d been on the wrong side, he did what wise men do and tried to make things right. He sought out the records of our forefathers and helped keep the new prophet safe. He taught me about the Forgotten and showed me what to do. If it wasn’t for him—”
“I would still have a place!” Ashok roared. Several casteless looked in their direction. The few who seemed to suspect who he was looked away fearfully, while the ignorant seemed distressed that one of their own would raise his voice in public. “Don’t speak to me as if Ratul is some kind of hero. He could have ended my fraud when he first learned of it, but his greed allowed the lie to continue so that I could destroy the Order’s enemies for him.”
“If he’d exposed you, you would have been killed.”
“Better to die like that than live like this!” Ashok gestured around the dock and its filthy denizens. Temper flaring, Ashok lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper. “How dare Ratul think he’s better than the Law? Yes. I’m certain I’ve claimed his title. Through no fault of my own I became a traitor, but Ratul betrayed us willingly. He abandoned the Order in exchange for you delusional fools!”
“He turned to the Forgotten because of you.”
Ashok was so furious, that took a moment to sink in. “Explain yourself.”
“Your Lord Protector studied the old ways, not as a believer at first, but so as to better understand his enemies. They were nothing but myths to him, until the day he found out an ancestor blade had picked an untouchable child to be its bearer. Then Ratul realized the old prophecies were being fulfilled. It told him that great and terrible events were upon us. You are the reason he left your Order. Your calling by Angruvadal is the reason he abandoned your precious Law.”
Ashok’s anger was growing hotter. “No more of your lies. Ratul lost his mind and disappeared. He fell in with delusional fools babbling about false gods. Mindarin tried to reason with him, but he left and we never saw him again. Apparently he found some dumb enough to listen. Ratul was once the best of us, but now I hope he’s living in some casteless shack, shoveling shit to earn his fish. Let him preach his nonsense for the rest of his pathetic life.”
Keta gave him an incredulous look. “I can’t believe this. You really don’t know? The Protectors tracked Ratul down years ago.”
“Impossible.” Something like that would have been recorded and reported.
“Ratul died in Uttara at the hands of one called Devedas.”
Angruvadal felt his rage, and was quick to respond. The sword called to him from the other side of the flimsy wooden box, eager to dispense justice. “Silence.” Ashok lurched to his feet and took a few steps away, just far enough that the sword wouldn’t tempt him. Devedas had never told him any such thing. If he’d found their old master, he never would have hidden it from the Order. “I’m done listening to your lies. Don’t speak of this further.”
Keta nodded slowly. Even the seemingly oblivious Keeper seemed to understand that he’d gone too far this time. Yet he finished what he had to say. “Believe what you want, but I was there.”
At that moment, it was either walk away or kill Keta, and he still had orders to follow, so Ashok walked away. He went down to the lake and stood by the shore, close enough that he could retrieve his sword, but not so close that it tempted him to spill blood. At times it was as if the sword sensed his emotions and magnified them. Sometimes he didn’t just have to deal with his own wrath, but also that of fifty generations of its bearers as well. He could feel the weight of their gaze upon him.
Why did you choose me? You foolish sword, why me?
The casteless moved their boxes, sang their work songs, and caught their dinner with hooks and strings. Ashok watched them, and hated them for his being one of them. They might be his people now, but that didn’t mean that he had to like them.
Chapter 33
The three of them rode through the forested hills south of Red Lake. The only sound was the slow clomp of their oxen’s hooves and the creak of wagon wheels along the rocky trail. The ponderous animals were annoyingly slow to a man who could outrun a horse over short distances. But merchants without merchandise were suspicious, so they had purchased the wagon in Apura.
Keta had not shown Ashok where he kept the notes hidden, but it was obvious he had a lar
ge supply of money. When asked, the Keeper had cryptically told him that the rebellion had many wealthy backers, even some in the Capitol. Ashok assumed that was an aggrandizing lie, and the money was actually the reward from some horrible criminal endeavor.
Keta was driving the team. Ashok sat on the bench next to him, and Thera was behind them, nervously watching the other travelers through slits in the canvas.
“They’re crowding up ahead. This must be the checkpoint,” Keta said. They couldn’t see around the curve of the rocks until it was too late, and then they were stuck in a line of travelers waiting to have their papers stamped. This was an excellent spot to catch tax evaders, as there was no way to backtrack without being seen. With rocky hillsides and thick forest on both sides, it would take too long to turn a wagon around to flee, and there would certainly be at least one warrior somewhere nearby with a good vantage point watching for suspicious activity.
Ashok may have looked like a merchant, but he certainly didn’t feel like one. Here he was, sitting instead of marching or riding, dressed in a warm coat instead of cold armor, bathed and groomed, yet he was far more uncomfortable than at any point of his training. He’d rather be a tired, freezing, starving, exhausted acolyte than a comfortable liar.
The checkpoint came into view. It was more of a shack really, with some simple wooden barricades that could be dragged across the road. Normally this out-of-the-way trail would only have a handful of low-status warriors garrisoned here, but several large tents had been set up in a field beyond the shack. At least a paltan of troops were encamped here. Their flags bore the symbol of a yellow sun rising over a red mountain.
“These soldiers are from Thao,” Ashok mused. “This pass used to belong to Vadal. My old house must be even more vulnerable than I thought if they’re losing ground to them.”
“Yeah, you pretty much screwed up everything,” Thera said.
He felt bad about that. Their leaders had committed fraud, not the people. Harta—the silver-tongued bastard who he’d once thought of as a cousin—would find some way to return Vadal to its prior glory . . . unless, of course, Ashok had the opportunity to take his life before then.
“Don’t worry. These traveling papers are perfect. We’ll be fine,” Thera assured them.
“It’s taking too long,” Keta said.
Ashok called upon the Heart of the Mountain, this time concentrating on his sight. Distant objects came into clearer focus. Far ahead, the guards weren’t just checking papers, they were also searching each wagon. Warriors were even crawling between the wheels and thumping the sides with a mallet, looking for hollowed-out smuggling compartments. As he watched with the eyes of an eagle, a man was led off to the side. That one was dressed in the cheap armor of a caravan guard and had a sword sheathed at his side. While several warriors watched, the sword was drawn and shown to an inspector. Satisfied that it was only steel, the guard put it away and was escorted back to his wagon.
Of course, very few people would recognize Ashok on sight, but there was no way to disguise a terrifying black steel blade. He let go of the Heart and his eyesight returned to normal. “They’re looking for Angruvadal.”
“So now the other houses know you escaped,” Thera muttered. “This complicates things.”
There was no way Harta would have asked their neighbors for help, but if word of his escape had gotten out . . . Ashok couldn’t guess at how huge a ransom could be demanded for the return of an ancestor blade. Worse, they could try to keep Angruvadal for themselves. Would it pick a worthy bearer from another house? Who knew? The inscrutable sword had picked a casteless last time.
Search complete, that caravan passed through the checkpoint. The line advanced. Their oxen had done this sort of thing so many times they didn’t even need to be motivated to obediently trudge forward.
There was no place to turn the wagon without raising an alarm. Keta and Ashok had already been seen on the bench. If they got out and ran, they’d be spotted. Keta shot him a nervous glance. “What are we going to do?”
He saw no other options. They were trapped. The soldiers were going to have to die. He’d been doing his best to avoid killing, but he was incapable of not fulfilling his orders. He couldn’t let these warriors stop him. More law-abiding men were going to perish because of Ashok’s existence. Anger flashed, but it was aimed entirely at himself.
He put one hand on Angruvadal’s hilt. Flickering images and bits of other men’s memories filled his mind, as the sword analyzed the terrain and decided on the most efficient way to kill everyone. He counted the visible soldiers, but then he found his mind wandering, using that number to guess at how many widows he was about to create, and how many children would never know their fathers. What great deeds would these men have accomplished if they’d not had the misfortune of straying into his path?
“I’ll take care of them,” he whispered as he shook his head. It was not like him to lose focus. Ashok cursed himself for the momentary lapse, and refocused on the impending mass murder he was about to commit. The hard part would be killing all of them before they could send for help. They wouldn’t have a runner that could escape him, but if their risaldar was smart, he’d have multiple messengers ready to go in different directions. Even as fast as Ashok was, he could only be in one place at a time. “I only see a few horses. If anyone goes for those, try to slow them. We can’t let them get away or we’ll have a whole legion descending on this pass.”
“So much for your trying not to kill anybody,” Keta said.
“Thank your false gods I have orders, because these soldiers’ lives are worth far more than ours,” Ashok snarled.
“Orders?” Keta asked.
The momentary distraction had made him slip. He’d said too much.
“Wait!” Thera had begun searching through one of their cargo crates. “I’ve got an idea. Stick with the plan. Try to act normal. Don’t attack unless you have to.”
The sword could find no memory where hesitation was the best option.
“Please.” She sounded desperate as she pulled two large clay jugs from a crate. “Trust me. I can get us through.”
Ashok let go of his sword.
“Thera, where are you going? Wait,” Keta demanded, but she’d already slipped off the back of the wagon. She landed on her knees, and quickly rolled into a ditch. Thera scrambled forward, pushing the jugs ahead of her, and crawled into the brush. Her movements had been so smooth it was doubtful that she’d been seen. She was dressed in earth tones, and even the false merchant’s insignia was dark, so she blended in with the fall foliage.
“She’s quick,” Ashok admitted.
“I just hope she doesn’t get hurt.” Keta sounded very concerned, and Ashok suspected it wasn’t for himself. “We’ll do as she said and wait.”
Angruvadal didn’t like it. The sword wanted to kill everyone now.
Several tense minutes passed as more wagons were searched and more armed workers were examined. There were several casteless walking behind one wagon, probably being transferred to a different house, and one of them must have done or said something that angered a soldier, because the non-person was dragged from the line by his long dirty hair and thrown down. The warrior gave him a savage beating with a stick he’d picked up from the side of the road until his arm got tired, and then he went back to his search, laughing.
“You see that, Ashok? That’s your ‘law.’ That’s what you’ve been defending.”
“There’s more to it than that.”
“Not really.”
“Shut your self-righteous fish hole. I’m trying to concentrate.” Since he couldn’t see Thera through the densely packed trees, Ashok had sharpened his hearing. Farther up the hill there was the scramble of boots finding purchase on loose rocks, scratching, and then a thump of something being put down. He had no idea what Thera was up to. There was the whisper like a knife leaving a sheath. Even with the Heart of the Mountain helping him, the next part was hard to discern, but there
was a scraping noise—a firestarter—then a tiny crackle. Something was burning.
Another wagon passed through, and their obedient oxen lumbered forward. A female casteless and two small children had gone to the barely conscious untouchable lying in the weeds and dragged him back onto the road so they wouldn’t lose their place in line. The current wagon was filled with non-people clad in rags, so it was easy to search. It didn’t take too long before it was their turn.
A Thao soldier approached their wagon with a spear over one shoulder and a bored expression on his face. “Travelling papers?”
“Of course, noble warrior,” Keta proclaimed as he produced the forged documents from inside his merchant’s coat.
The warrior took the papers and scanned over the stamps. Wearing the insignia of a lowly junior nayak, he couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. The Thao tradition was to grow out long mustaches, but he barely had fuzzy hairs on his lip. Ashok knew that he would have to kill this one first. The warrior noticed Ashok’s sheathed sword. “Step down from there and come with me.”
Ashok didn’t move.
“Forgive him, noble warrior, he means no offense. My bodyguard’s not very bright and doesn’t listen well. What do you need him for?” Keta asked innocently.
“A special inspection that’s of no concern to you, merchant. Come on, dummy. Let’s go.”
There was a clatter of rocks as Thera slid down the hill. Now she was heading straight for their camp. He didn’t need the Heart to help him hear what came next, because Thera began screaming at the top of her lungs. “Raiders! Vadal raiders are coming!”
The camp erupted. Warriors sprang from their tents and ran toward the commotion. A risaldar at the checkpoint began shouting orders.
Thera stumbled out of the woods, screaming. “Vadal raiders coming down the hill! Hundreds of them! Hundreds!”
The young warrior turned to see. Ashok thought about kicking a dent into his helmet, but he waited as he’d been told. There had to be more to Thera’s plan than this. The soldiers weren’t stupid. It would quickly become obvious that there were no raiders and then—
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