by C S Marks
To my horror, the King reached up with long, ragged fingernails and raked his own flesh with them, bringing a trickle of red. “With my blood, I vanquish that of my enemies, and all who would oppose us!” As the guards cheered, the one named Brodda stepped forward and lifted the lid of the casket. Darius reached inside with his now-bloody right hand and extracted a lump of dark red meat, still dripping.
“It’s cold,” whined the King. “You know how much I like to feel the heat of my foes, Brodda!” His lips drew back in a snarl, exposing a blackened mouth with several missing teeth. A coated, pale tongue darted quickly through the gaps, reminding me of a lizard.
Brodda took a step back, holding both hands up in submission. “My King, you were resting, and left orders that we should not disturb you. Please forgive my incompetence. I will know better the next time.”
“Yes, you will, I’m sure,” said the King through his unspeakable mouth. “You will if you wish to keep on receiving the honors and accolades I give.”
And if he wants to go on breathing, I thought.
“Heaven pound those damnable sparrows!” Darius jerked his head sideways and squeezed his eyes shut as though protecting them from imaginary birds whizzing about. A moment later he peered at the lump of meat like a bird of prey trying to decide which bits to tear into first. Then he brought the whole thing to his mouth and bit, ripping off nearly half of it before swallowing it whole. He licked the blood from the remainder before allowing it to fall from his fingers, staining his lap. Then he placed each gnarled finger in his mouth and sucked on it with a dreamy expression.
“The birds…the demon-birds are going…they’re finally…quiet. Ahhhhhh. The pain…it’s going away now. The pain is dying with the traitor’s heart.” He looked around at the guards, all of whom stared back at him in silence. “You have done well, and you will be rewarded…all of you.” With that, he sank back, head lolling over, eyes still open but peaceful, as his bloody mouth kept whispering words I could not hear.
I had seen more than enough. This creature was Darius the Just? This was the man whose bidding I had followed, whose orders I had carried out? For how long had he been a madman? How many of those people were innocent? This is the Moon Man, only much worse, I thought. This is the Moon Man with power—with an army of creatures who don’t care what he asks of them as long as they are rewarded. Kind of like me.
My revulsion and horror gave way to indignation. How could this have gone on so long? Could I kill the wretch? He had to have been noble once. I know he had been. It’s wrong to leave him alive to suffer the ravages of his body and mind…
At that moment, I felt a wrathful hand on my shoulder, and I knew I would have troubles of my own to worry about. I turned my head, despite the hard, cold bite of the blade that was now held against my throat, and looked into the eyes of Corvyn, my Master.
***
Corvyn had done me the courtesy of escorting me back to my chambers. Now, surely, he would cut my throat. As usual, he came straight to the point. “Well, now you’ve done it. And you had such promise, too.” He sighed. “At this rate, I’ll never be able to retire.”
“What in all the seven hells was that?” I said. “How can you serve that…that diseased, half-rotten carcass with the mind of a demon? He’s not even human anymore.”
“Oh, yes, he is,” said Corvyn. “And he has his moments. You saw him on an average day…neither good nor bad. He still has better days.”
I wondered what a bad day was like. “What was that thing he ate? He said it was like the traitor’s heart. What was it?”
Corvyn sighed, and he spoke to me in a tone I hadn’t heard since I was a young apprentice. “It was Martell’s heart, or part of it, anyway. What did you think it was?”
“But…why?” I asked, trying hard to imagine what would drive a man to literally eat another man’s heart.
“He’s mad, you idiot. It does no good to ask why. He thinks it gives him power, and he knows it takes his pain away. Think about it—Martell’s blood would have been full of moon-flower. Just enough to send Darius into whatever pleasant imaginings he still holds dear.”
“And you…you serve him willingly? How can you?” I asked.
“Because I like life, and I want to keep living it,” said Corvyn. “If I didn’t kill the King’s enemies, someone else would, believe me. And, when Darius falls, we’ll most likely both be out of work. I’m too good at what I do. Besides, I’m too old to start over in a different trade.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“That’s true, Beltran, you’re not. But there is no leaving our profession any way other than feet first. I’m sure you know that. You’re a shadow-man—the King’s man—until he says you’re not. Then you’re no one’s man at all.”
“I didn’t sign on for this,” I said, the blood rising in my face. “How many of those people—the ones we were sent to kill—were innocent?”
Corvyn shrugged, examining the nails of his right hand. I knew he would kill me in a heartbeat if I made any sort of hostile move. “I’ve no idea, but I would say none of them were innocent. They threatened the King, and we took care of business. That’s all I need to know.” He looked up at me then, his eyes glittering with cold humor. “You knew this job was dangerous when you took it. You agreed not to make judgments, but to do what you were told, and your life has been easy and pleasurable. Up to now, you’ve done very well.” He sighed. “I’m sorry you ran into your friend at Martell’s. I’m disappointed you left him alive. Now I’m afraid I have few choices with respect to you.”
My hands were shaking, for I knew I had come to the end of my life. Corvyn was still twice the assassin I was, and he was fully armed. I, of course, was not. “Well, at least tell me this—how long has Darius been mad? He wasn’t always that way, was he?”
“I’ve always tried to be honest with you, at least as far as my position would allow,” said Corvyn. “If it makes you feel any better, Darius used to be a great man. He ruled this City wisely and well for a long time, but he was always reclusive. Therefore, when he got the Sickness, no one knew about it other than his personal physician and his most trusted ministers. He recovered, but the plague left its mark on him. I see in your eyes that you understand.”
“Still, I have seen many who were marked by the Sickness, but almost never this bad, and they didn’t live long. There has to be something else at work.”
“They probably didn’t have personal physicians or a whole arsenal of medicinals to aid them,” said Corvyn. “Still, you’re right. There is something else. Darius found himself in bed with the wrong consort. I will say no more.”
I knew there were blights that passed from person to person in the bed-chamber, and I had taken careful steps to avoid them, but apparently Darius had not been careful enough. “That explains some of it,” I said. “But, if he was a noble man, and you cared for him, how can you let him suffer as he is? He was your King, and yet you all leave him to linger in pain and depravity?”
Corvyn, to my disappointment, rolled his eyes heavenward. “Did I ever say I cared for him? I’m not as sentimental as you are. His troubles are of his own making, and his ministers have been managing the City’s affairs for years, anyway. If he had taken better care, he would have been fine. Besides, I’m just a lowly minion. A shadow-man doesn’t ask questions, remember? You might care for him, but the person you should be most concerned about, in this moment, is yourself.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to let my terror be heard. “Will you at least grant me a painless end, then?”
Corvyn’s eyes flashed. “You would give up so easily? Let me truly answer your question with another question. Why did you not kill Darius yourself?”
“I…I didn’t have time. I was actually thinking about it when you grabbed my shoulder.”
“You had plenty of time. If I turned you loose right now, would you just go and kill him, then?”
“I…I don’t know…”
“N
o, you wouldn’t, because it would mean your certain death, and you know it. You’re not ready to die, and neither am I. Neither of us has the fortitude to put Darius out of his misery—we’re still enjoying life too much. Isn’t that so?”
“I hate you, did you know it? I really hate you,” I said.
“You hate me because I’m always right. Still, I’m not going to kill you. Not today.”
I stood in silence for a moment.
“What, nothing to say? I should have thought some thanks would be in order. Or don’t you trust me to keep my word?”
“No…I do trust you where your word is concerned. You might have kept the truth from me, but you never actually lied to me. Not when you made a point of having given your word.”
He smiled a little. “Well, then, let me tell you how it’s going to be. I was ordered to kill you already, and I will if I catch you again. As I said, you should not have left your friend alive.”
“How did you know about that?”
“Don’t interrupt! I’ll give you a seven-hour head start. Pack your gear and leave the City. You should go north and west, into the desert.”
“The desert? Alone? But that’s madness! Besides, you’ll be looking for me!”
“Not there, I won’t, and no one will blame me. A man would have to be a lot stupider than you are to flee into that wasteland, right?” He paused for a moment, as though lost in a memory. “You came from desert lands, didn’t you?”
“As a boy. We lived at the edge of the Stone Desert,” I said. “But it’s been years since…”
“Well, you’d better pack plenty of water then, hadn’t you? And you’ll need to remember every bit of desert lore you might once have been gifted with. No one will follow you there, because they know you’re smarter than that, but that’s the way you’ll have to go. I’ll still be looking for you, and if you choose not to take my advice, and go along the civilized trade routes through gentler lands, I’ll find you. If I do, Darius will eat your heart.”
He looked hard at me for another long moment. “I’m giving you a chance, though even I don’t really understand why. I guess I just hate to see all my hard efforts utterly wasted.”
I closed my eyes and bowed my head. “Thank you, Master.”
When I looked up again, he placed a clever hand on my shoulder. “You have seven hours from this moment. If it is meant that you should live, you will.”
***
I packed as much water as I could carry, along with my weapons, food, and other necessities. I included two phials of Moon-flower, on Corvyn’s advice. “Dying of thirst is terrible,” he said. “You will face many terrible deaths where you’re going. This will give you the release you need, should fortune abandon you.”
I left the tools of the assassin’s trade behind—wires, cord, elixirs, mask—as I expected my days of murdering people by stealth and poison were now behind me. Then, at the last moment, I retrieved the mask I had used to smother my victims, and examined the underside of it closely. Here, etched in the soft leather, were the stains of sweat, saliva, and tears from people who, I now knew, probably had not deserved to die. I could smell the faint aroma of their last moments. Here was a small spot of dried blood. Here was a bite-mark from a man who had struggled a little too hard. The stains looked up at me, accusing me, and I knew I would have to keep the wretched thing with me as a reminder of what I had done. My hands trembled as I tucked it away in my pack.
Seven hours.
I wished I had the time to find my sister and say goodbye, but I didn’t even know where she was. As a favored King’s Man I had been given a fine horse, but he was recovering from a foreleg strain and I knew he wouldn’t get far. I thought about stealing a horse, but there would be little to feed or water it with once I gained the desert. Besides that, Corvyn had given me seven hours of grace, but the owner of the stolen horse might not. It’s easier to track a horse than a man.
It was still daylight when I left Orovar, heading out to the north and west, toward the desert. As I passed unseen beyond the City walls, I heard a flock of sparrows chattering and fussing in a thorn-thicket. Their chittering, strident calls were actually quite irritating. So, this is what he hears all day and night, I thought, and shook my head in sympathy.
I remember relatively little of the desert crossing, at least after about the first fortnight. I did all right by myself for a while, rationing food and water carefully, relying on the signs to find what little water could be had. I was amazed at how much of it I remembered. But the farther I drew from Orovar, the more difficult things became. I walked all night and rested all day in whatever shade I could manage, grateful that I had not been sent out in midsummer.
Regrettably, I drank some bad water I had found, and it sickened me. I knew better, but I was just so thirsty, and for a while it seemed I would suffer little in the way of consequences. But then came the griping of the bowels and the cramping in my stomach. I lost all the water I had consumed, plus a whole lot more. I lay in the shade of stones, moaning and weeping, shivering as if with cold, knowing I would soon die. Still, I could not bring myself to take the moon-flower…not yet.
I remember lying on my back, looking up at the stars. No other sky can rival the velvety black of a desert night, spangled with so many brilliant gems that, even after all this time, it takes my breath away. I was so thirsty, and my insides were burning, and I was dying. I should take the moon-flower, I thought. Yes, just take it and drift away among those innumerable stars. Trembling, I reached for my pack. As my hand closed around it, I jerked back, startled by the pair of booted feet that had appeared only inches away. It was Asher, though my vision was so uncertain that I couldn’t see him clearly.
“How…how did you find me?” I croaked, for I had not used my voice, except to weep and moan, for many days. “Do you have water?”
Asher’s normally stoic face broke into a warm smile. “No, I’m afraid I don’t have any water. Finding you wasn’t difficult. You left plenty of tracks. Now, let’s get on your feet. You don’t yet know it, but there’s a tavern not far away on the other side of these rocks.”
“A tavern? Out here? You’re mad,” I muttered.
“Am I? Get up and see for yourself.”
I struggled to my feet and staggered around the pile of stones, following behind Asher, who was full of energy and nearly left me behind.
“Wait!” I cried, nearly falling to my knees again.
“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you. Just look there!” He pointed to what could only be a tavern, and I wanted to weep at the sight of it. The legend on the sign was written in a tongue I did not understand, but the old, weathered wood bore the image of a seven-pointed star. Thank the powers of heaven, for they are sure to have water, I thought, but Asher stopped me at the door.
“People may come here, and people may go. You should not speak to anyone who does not speak to you first, understand?”
“Fine,” I said. “Just get me inside so I can have a little water, and I’ll do whatever you ask.”
When I first entered the tavern, I saw only a few people inside. I couldn’t see any of their faces, as they wore their hoods drawn over them, but that wasn’t unusual in a place like this. Asher led me to a scarred wooden table, and I sat down heavily in one of the chairs. “Someone bring me some water, please,” I muttered. It had taken most of my strength to make the trek, and I could feel an ominous cramping in my nether regions again. “Water will make everything right, won’t it, Asher?” I looked at his face in the candle-light. “You look really pale, my friend. I’m thinking you could use a good, long drink yourself.”
“Water won’t help me,” said Asher. “But don’t worry…you’ll find it soon. First, we must talk.” He reached up and unwrapped the dusty brown scarf from around his neck, revealing the gaping red wound in his throat. I could hear air whistling through it whenever he spoke. I was rendered speechless for a moment, trying to fathom what had happened, when he saved me the trouble.
“Corvyn, your Master, came to see me after you left Martell,” he said simply. “I’ll have to admit, the man is good. I never heard him coming, and I only saw his face because he allowed me to. Apparently, you should have killed me. He was just finishing your job for you.” He wrapped the scarf back around his neck, hiding the wound, to my relief. “You should know that everyone is accusing you of two murders now.”
“Then…you’re dead,” I said dully.
Asher laughed, and the scarf couldn’t mask the wheezing coming from his slashed throat. “Your ability to solve mysteries has improved, Beltran. But since you spared my life, I am pleased to return the favor. You will not die this night. First, you must face your guilt.”
The tavern was now filled with people, and I could hear them muttering. Some of those mutterings were none too friendly. “Who are they?” I asked, shrinking back in my chair a little.
“You’re an intelligent man. You’ll figure it out,” said Asher, and for the first time I didn’t care for the smile he wore. “Remember to speak only when you are spoken to.”
Several men were seated at one large table near the wall, and they lowered their hoods, turning to face me. I didn’t recognize any of them…not at first. They scowled at me.
“He doesn’t even know who we are—any of us,” said one.
“Give him a moment,” said the man on his left. “He’ll remember.” He held up his right hand, showing a golden ring with a great, red stone that glittered even in the dim light.
I remembered him now. He was one of the first men I killed.
A light kindled in his eyes. “Ah. You see? I knew he wouldn’t forget my ring, anyway. Well, Shadow-man, do you recall our faces now?”
“He spoke to me, right? I can answer him, can’t I?” I whispered to Asher, who smiled and nodded. “Yes, I remember you,” I said. “Although…I cannot seem to place the man sitting nearest the wall.” The man I referred to looked at me with pure, unabashed hatred. For the life of me, I could not recall him.