by Lee Carlon
Valan waited, experience telling him it was better to be silent.
“You are of no use to me. I have to unravel the mess you’ve made. I think Warwick has betrayed me. I think he is working with Lord Obdurin and Lord Marlan and the other Lords of Damar to replace me. If it were not so, the attack on Peak City would be over by now, but all my bondsan can tell me is that they are getting closer. I think I was tricked into attacking Obdurin so that I would be left vulnerable. Whose idea was it to attack Peak City?”
Valan remembered trying to talk Rarick out of the attack on Lord Obdurin’s capital, but he didn’t say anything. He hadn’t tried very hard and what little he’d said had been designed to provoke Lord Rarick into more drastic action than he’d originally planned. Hearing an echo of Amir’s fantasies in Rarick’s words, Valan said, “Lord Obdurin was prepared to accept your offer. He agreed that peace could only be achieved if like-minded men hold the hearts of Turin, Rhysin, and Maiten. He believed with such an alliance in place the rest of Newterra would have no choice but to join.”
“So what happened? Why doesn’t my dead brother sit on a throne in Peak City?” Rarick stressed the word dead as though he still didn’t believe it was true.
He’s completely mad, Valan thought.
Valan forced a tremor into his response to reassure Rarick that he understood the danger. “One of Obdurin’s men interfered. It was he who killed your brother and the chance of an alliance between Rhyne and Damar.”
“You killed this man of course?” Rarick asked.
“I did not,” Valan admitted. “With the chance of peace snatched away, Lord Obdurin became difficult.”
“Then Obdurin plans to send this man to me?” Rarick asked.
“I do not believe so, Lord.” Valan bowed his head.
Rarick paced around his throne. His steps slow and thoughtful. When he strolled close by the children, three of them whimpered, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Why are you distracting me with talk of Obdurin and Marlan when the real threat is here in my hall?”
“Lord?”
“As my security advisor, why is it that you’ve never expressed concerns about my cadres to me?” Rarick asked.
“Lord, I believe your cadres are absolutely loyal to you,” Valan said.
“I heard what you asked the prisoner,” Rarick said. “You asked him which of my cadres he was working with. Why would you ask that if you believe my cadres are loyal?”
“I was trying to throw him off balance, Lord. By asking questions he didn’t expect, I hoped it would make it easier to get the truth out of him.”
“Well, it didn’t did it?” Rarick said.
“No, Lord.”
“Perhaps, they are not loyal. Perhaps, you are working with them, and that is why you say they are loyal.”
Valan knew better than to reply, so he waited.
“A demonstration of their loyalty is in order,” Rarick said.
Bondsan shifted in their positions around the hall and Valan realized why so many of the bondsan had bruises, He’s been making them beat each other.
“Tar, Sollen,” Rarick said.
A man and a woman stepped forward into the light. Neither looked injured, but both tried to hide troubled expressions.
“Call forward somebody from your cadres. Make it the least useful member,” Rarick said.
Both hesitated.
Another woman stepped into the light and from the expression that flitted across Sollen’s face, Valan surmised this woman hadn’t been called, but she was offering herself in place of her cadre-mates to save her first-sworn from the decision.
Valan’s cheeks tingled at the sacrifice.
Tar stepped forward, and said, “It’s me. I am the most useless member of my cadre.”
“Be careful, Tar,” Rarick screeched. “I suspect you the most.”
Tar refused to meet his bond-lord’s eyes.
“Fine, just call one of them, anyone, I don’t care who.”
A man with a badly bruised face stepped into the light.
“Right. Tar, have you betrayed me?” Rarick demanded.
“No, Lord. Never,” Tar said.
This is insanity, Valan thought.
Sollen stepped forward, fists with badly scraped knuckles raised toward Tar’s bondsan.
“No, Sollen,” Rarick said.
The first-sworn hesitated and looked at her bond-lord. Slowly she lowered her hands to her side.
Valan wondered what had passed between her and Rarick.
She turned to look at Tar with tears in her eyes.
“Now, Sollen. Be quick,” Rarick said.
Sollen drew her sword and lunged forward. Tar’s bondsan didn’t have time to react as the sword pierced his chest. Sollen heaved forward, and the sword protruded through the bondsan’s back. She leaned into him and pushed with her left shoulder and arm to pull her sword from the man she’d just murdered.
The body slumped to the ground already dead.
Sollen didn’t look at Tar. Instead, she stared off into space as she took her place.
This is insane. Valan was stunned. He said, “Lord, I believe—“
“Silence!” Rarick screamed. “If you speak again when I haven’t asked you a question, I’ll bring my torturer in here and make you watch him dismember you and feed you your entrails.”
Valan lowered his eyes.
“Sollen, was it you who betrayed me?” Rarick demanded.
“No.” There was no emotion in the word, and Sollen continued staring into space.
“Tar!” Rarick instructed.
Tar showed none of Sollen’s hesitation. When it was done and Sollen’s bondsan was dead on the floor, Tar stared at Sollen, but her expression didn’t change, and she didn’t acknowledge him.
“Do either of you wish to confess anything?” Rarick asked. “Remember, Maiten judges all of us,” Rarick indicated the statue behind his throne.
Sollen said, “No.”
Tar said, “No, Lord.”
The first-sworn started to retreat into the darkness, but Rarick’s voice stopped them. “Wait. We’re far from done. Bring another bondsan forward each.”
Two more bondsan stepped into the light.
“Now for the demonstration that you remain loyal to me. Kill your bondsan,” Rarick said.
Sollen didn’t hesitate. Her sword came up as she turned. She decapitated her sworn bondsan and returned to staring into space as if nothing had happened. Valan suspected Sollen had known it would come to this when Rarick told her to murder Tar’s bondsan. He was disgusted that her response was to lock down her thoughts and become an automaton to be directed by Rarick’s will.
Tar stared at his counterpart in horror.
Rarick’s voice was soft and cajoling. “It’s a simple command, Tar Chi’Rarick Bondsan.”
Both Tar and his bondsan turned to look at their bond-lord.
“Valan believes you are loyal. He thinks he understands how bonds work, but he lacks imagination. Think about it. How is it possible that any Chosen, surrounded by dimin and cadres of bondsan, could ever be assassinated? It shouldn’t be possible, but it happens. I think that’s only possible because bondsan turn on their bond-lord. Tar, you can prove your loyalty by killing that bondsan. If you are unable to do it, I’ll have him kill you.”
Valan watched and thought. They could kill Rarick, Sollen is too far gone to stop them. Either Tar or his bondsan could murder Rarick before anybody could stop them.
He knew they wouldn’t. He didn’t understand it, but neither Tar nor any member of his cadre could raise a hand against Rarick. Their bond and their conditioning went too deep. Even now, if Valan attempted to murder Rarick, Tar and his cadre would stop him.
Tar and the man standing next to him drew knives from their belts at the same time. The sound echoed around the hall, and Valan realized it wasn’t an echo, but the sound of Tar’s other bondsan drawing their knives.
Am I wrong, can they kill him? Valan wo
ndered. He prayed, Omar, do not let me forget this if they do.
In unison, Tar and his bondsan, and presumably his entire cadre, raised their knives and cut their own throats.
They fell to the floor and died.
Valan quashed his disappointment and watched Lord Rarick. He thought, He senses it coming. Maiten is turning away from him, and this is how he reacts.
I could succeed. A pleased expression almost showed itself on Valan’s face, but he caught it and willed himself to stillness.
Rarick caught something of it and snapped, “Did you do this?”
Valan shook his head slowly. “No, Lord. How could I?”
Rarick studied Valan. He returned to his throne and asked, “If I demand a show of loyalty from you, how far will you go?”
Valan still knelt. He got to his feet, keeping his eyes on Rarick, aware of Lilly and the children and the potential of Rarick’s question. “I would do as you command, Lord.”
“If I commanded you to kill your son?” Rarick asked.
Valan froze. He’d never considered Rarick to be intelligent, but he could be sly. It was possible that Warwick had messaged his brother with news of Valan and Obdurin’s connection and that Obdurin was the son Rarick referred to. It was also possible that Rarick knew Lomar was his son and that he would ask him to murder him. Valan thought frantically to weigh the options, Rarick could know both of those things or neither of those things. In answering, Valan could expose himself to a danger that hadn’t been present.
Lilly gasped, and Rarick glanced her way, smiling slyly.
“I would have killed him when the chance presented itself in Turintar earlier today if you had commanded it, Lord,” Valan answered to draw the attention back to himself.
“What are you talking about?” Rarick demanded.
He doesn’t know. Valan felt relief. He said, “I have a son in Turintar.”
Rarick waved this away and pointed at Lomar. “What about this boy?”
“He’s not my son, Lord,” Valan kept the emotion from his voice.
“I’m not my idiot sister, Wolf. Boy, go stand with your father,” Rarick commanded.
Rarick must die. Omar’s voice sounded clearly in Valan’s mind.
Lilly screamed and tried to hold onto the boy, but a bondsan from a third cadre stepped out of the shadows and pulled her hands off him.
“Go on, boy,” Rarick said. “Hurry, or my pale angels will take you for a ride.”
Caught between two horrors, the boy went to stand in front of Valan and looked hard into his father’s eyes. Looking the boy in the face, Valan couldn’t deny the similarities.
“Kill the boy,” Rarick ordered and took two steps toward Valan and the boy.
“Yes, Lord.” Valan drew his dagger and placed a hand on Lomar’s shoulder. Without looking at Rarick, he thought, Come a little closer.
This was the most vulnerable Rarick had ever been when Valan was in his presence. Tar and his cadre were dead. Sollen was practically comatose. There was at least one other cadre in the darkness, but none of them stood between Valan and Rarick, and Valan was armed. Valan judged the distance to Rarick. He almost let the knife fall from his hand and stepped forward mentally preparing himself to shift and attack.
In the silence, shoes struck the stone floor several times in the darkness to the right of the throne.
Valan reached for his collar, ready to pull the shirt out of his way so he could shift unencumbered, but Rarick stepped away from the sound and demanded, “Who’s that?”
Not his bondsan, Valan realized and lowered his hands to his side and waited.
Rarick demanded. “Warwick! Warwick, is that you?”
A torch beam lanced through the darkness toward Rarick. At its source, Councilor Walden looked back at them. His expression startled and turning angry.
Valan thought, Amir.
He crouched to Lomar and whispered, “Go back to your mother.”
Obdurin’s advisor held a laser-cutter out in front of himself and strode forward. He aimed at Rarick and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. He looked behind himself once, then dropped the laser-cutter. He tried to draw his sword, but he winced against some unseen blow and dropped to one knee. He briefly touched his right temple, then forced himself to his feet and drew his sword.
“Seize him!” Rarick bellowed.
Two cadres emerged from the shadows. Walden swung his sword at the first person he saw, but he was unskilled, and the bondsan turned his sword and disarmed him. Another bondsan grabbed Walden from behind and held him.
“Who are you?” Rarick demanded as Walden was dragged to him. When Walden clenched his jaw, Rarick screamed spraying spit into the intruder’s face. “Did Warwick send you?”
“Maiten called me,” Walden spoke slowly, his voice thick as though he were drunk or high.
“Remove his shirt,” Rarick ordered the bondsan holding Walden.
“He’s Councilor Walden,” Valan said.
“Councilor Walden of Rhyne?” Rarick asked.
“Yes,” Valan said.
Walden looked at Valan, but no sign of recognition showed on his face. He looked back at Lord Rarick. “Maiten speaks to me.”
Rarick took a knife from a bondsan’s belt and placed the edge against Walden’s chest and pressed. Walden screamed against the pain. When Rarick took the knife away, Walden repeated, “Maiten speaks to me.”
Rarick reapplied the knife’s edge, pushing deeper.
This time when Walden screamed the hall shook and something rumbled in the distance.
“What was that?” Rarick demanded and looked around frantically.
Walden laughed as the sound came again.
Valan knew. It was the sound of buildings coming down.
“Tralit d’Arathan.” Walden laughed.
“What?” Rarick demanded and sliced Walden’s chest again, quick and deep.
Walden screamed, then laughed. “Tralit d’Arathan.”
Rarick sliced him again.
Valan stepped back from the two men locked in their insane exchange, thinking with disgust, Gods.
Omar bellowed in Valan’s mind, Rarick must die.
He will, Valan replied silently. To himself, he added, But not yet.
The two new cadres would prevent Valan from getting close. He needed a distraction. Tralit might be enough, but Valan wanted to be certain. When he was out of sight in the darkness, he closed his eyes to open a portal.
18
The Code
Vincent shone his torch along the tunnel he and Pete followed. He asked again, “Where are we going?”
“To find Stan,” Pete finally answered.
“Yes, but where? Never mind. We should be following Walden. He went the other way with Amir. Why did I let you talk me into this?” Vincent asked, annoyed at himself. He could have left, he was done, Walden had made his choice, and there was no reason for Vincent to stay any longer, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.
“How the fuck would I know?” Pete asked. “You’re the one inside your own head.”
“We could wander around down here for weeks and never find a thing,” Vincent said.
“Nah, Stan sent me a secret message, didn’t he,” Pete said.
“Isn’t that against protocol?” Vincent asked, but immediately regretted the question. He’d be surprised if there were protocol Pete hadn’t broken.
“That’s why it was a secret message. Gods, you’re dense,” Pete said. “Take the next right.”
“What did the message say?” Vincent asked.
“It was a list,” Pete said. “A loaf of bread, three bottles of Balimaran ale, two decks of cards, a lump of goat’s cheese,” Pete laughed at that one, “another two decks of cards—”
“Why didn’t he just ask for four decks?” Vincent asked.
“Because he wants me to find him. He’s reliable, but not that fucking creative.” Pete returned to the list, “As many cigars as I can find but at least
two.”
“Let me guess; you’re delivering his shopping before you head back to Rhyne?”
The new tunnel looked exactly like the last one. Vincent thought he saw something move up ahead.
“Of course not,” Pete said. “Ain’t you listening?”
Vincent held his tongue. Even if they found Stan, Vincent doubted he’d be alive.
“I don’t know how you rich folk do it, born to rule as you are, but those of us who are born in the trenches have a code,” Pete said.
“Leave no man behind. We’re not so different,” Vincent said.
“What? No, fuck that. I’ve left plenty of men behind, and women too. It all depends on how useful they are, or how fucking dire the situation is, don’t it? No, we have an actual code, one that helps us find each other. This list is directions from the rendezvous to the hideout. Having this means no matter how seriously you and your kind fuck things up, we can always get each other out. We’ll find Stan then head back to the storeroom and let Mattatan know we’re ready to leave.” Pete took a right turn. “You can go wherever it is you’re in such a hurry to get to, and Obdurin can send me wherever in the Abyss it is he needs me next.”
Vincent noticed Pete didn’t say that Obdurin could send him and Stan. He knows.
“What about Walden?”
“You heard him, he’s here at Obdurin’s request, but Obdurin don’t command him anymore.”
“So?” Vincent asked, already knowing what Pete would say.
“So, Walden is acting like he’s already the Lord of Damar, and I don’t work for the Lord of Damar.”
“He might be acting like it, but he isn’t a lord yet,” Vincent said.
“He thinks he can get the better of that weasel who tried to incinerate us in that storeroom,” Pete said. “He promised to leave Damar and not return until the ashes of Amir’s rule have cooled. He’s a pompous prick, but he wanted to let us know that he plans to let Tralit take care of Rarick and Amir both. Don’t you ever listen?”