by Kel Kade
Having no patience for a discussion of his supposed powers, Rezkin said, “The illusion?”
“It is crude and unstable, a beginner’s attempt. That would account for the fact that we all see something different. It is well considered, though, since the sounds made by the respective animals are covering the sounds of the creature inside.”
Rezkin said, “It is alive, then? Whatever is inside?”
“Yes, that is why all the images we see are animals. It is more difficult to mask living things as non-living and vice versa. I would say, with something this crude, the spell is dependent on your unconscious mind for the image. Whatever you are seeing is a rough representation of how you would see the creature if it were another animal—like a metaphor.”
“You can break the illusion?”
Wesson nodded. “Oh, yes, easily. I wanted to make a thorough examination of the spell before I destroy it. Give me one second, and I will be able to see through … oh dear.”
The illusion snapped away, and Rezkin’s racing heart nearly stalled. He knew, in that instant, that he would have to kill Xa.
Rezkin reached a hand toward the quivering, petrified woman, and she squealed in terror. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to back further into the box. He stepped away and then rounded the trunk so that he stood out of her sight and between the Jeng’ri and the doorway. Before he killed the Jeng’ri, he needed questions answered, and his first was not the one Xa expected.
“To whom did you swear the mage oath?”
Xa looked over as the woman flung herself into Wesson’s arms while crying hysterically. With a nod, he said, “To her.”
“How did she convince you to swear a mage oath?”
“It was the only way she would get into the box.”
Rezkin glanced over to catch a glimpse of dark brown, watery eyes before they were once again hidden in Wesson’s robes. He felt a rising heat in his chest as he turned back to Xa. “So, you kidnapped Frisha by promising to keep her presence a secret from me?”
“That would be a strange kidnapping,” Xa mused. “I did not ask her to come. I merely assisted.”
“What was in it for you?”
Xa smiled graciously. “It was a request from the future queen.” Then, his smile turned to a smirk as he said, “I wanted to see what would happen.”
Rezkin’s chest burned hotter, and the stone hidden beneath his shirt began to heat as well. “The experience seems inadequate to have cost you your life.” Rezkin drew Bladesunder and advanced on the Jeng’ri just as the ship rocked, throwing both of them to the side. The assassin backpedaled over a pile of sacks and lashed out with a whip-like tendril of power. Rezkin grabbed the streaming tendril and yanked, causing Xa to stumble toward him, narrowly deflecting Rezkin’s slash with a dirk. The ship rocked in the other direction just as the steel clashed, and a screech broke through the heat that had filled Rezkin’s body and mind.
“Wait, Rezkin! Please! Don’t kill him. It was my fault! I asked him to help me.”
Unleashing a torrent of speed, he kicked the Jeng’ri hard enough to send him flying into the wall.
“Stay down,” he said, and then he rounded on Frisha.
Farson had moved to block the woman from flying weapons, and Wesson had raised a ward. Rezkin walked through the ward and then barked at Farson to keep an eye on the downed assassin. He towered over Frisha as she looked up at him with a fear-filled gaze. He huffed and then backed away a pace. He sheathed his sword and stood tense as he kept an eye on Farson and Xa in his peripheral vision.
“You permitted an assassin to lock you in a warded trunk hidden by an illusion. How could you possibly think it was a good idea to make yourself so vulnerable?”
“Well, I didn’t know he was an assassin—”
“No, you did not know. You did not know who he is, and you let him put you in a locked box!”
“I thought he was a royal guard—Princess Ilanet’s trusted, honorable guard! You told us so!”
“I never said he was honorable, and I certainly never said he was to be trusted.”
“No,” she screamed. “What would you know about trust and honor? You—you killed all those people. You put their bodies along the riverbanks.” Her chest rose and fell with every heaving gasp. “You are the monster Uncle Marcum was trying to keep away from us! All that time, we were with you! While we were sleeping and shopping and spending time together, you were out slaughtering dozens, maybe hundreds of people. And then—what?—you just return like nothing happened? Now that I know, will you kill me? By the Maker, you’re going to kill me!”
She pushed away from Wesson and continued until she hit the wall. The ship lurched, and she was tossed back into the mage. “Oh, did Wesson know? Wait, he didn’t know, did he? Now he’s going to die, too, and it’s my fault. No! It’s your fault. You’re the murderer! And him”—she motioned to Xa and then Farson—“and him! You’re all murderers, and now we’re going to die.”
Wesson glanced from Frisha to Rezkin. He scratched his head and said, “What exactly am I to die for knowing?”
Rezkin shook his head and held his hands in front of him in a manner he thought might be placating to the panicky woman. “I have no intention of killing either of you. He, however”—Rezkin nodded toward Xa—“is about to die.”
Frisha balled her fists and stepped forward. “Why? Because he exposed your secret?”
Rezkin was fascinated with her strange behavior. She clung crying to the mage or cowered in the corner when faced with her own death, but she stood strong whenever he threatened the assassin.
“Why do you stand for him?” he said. “You obviously heard our conversation. He is the Jeng’ri, the second highest assassin in the Order. It is the equivalent of Ashai’s Black Hall.”
“Which you took over!” The light of knowledge glinted in her eyes as new truths dawned. “You were taking over the Black Hall while I was begging my uncle to let me marry you! And Tam! Tam told me you killed a lot of people. Tam knows, too?”
“No,” Rezkin said firmly. “Tam does not know about this. You will not tell him. You will not tell anyone.” He paused to make sure the message had been received and then said, “You did not explain why you stand for Xa.”
“Because it wasn’t his fault.”
Rezkin was dumbfounded by her sincerity. The stone beneath his tunic warmed uncomfortably, and he realized the heat in his chest had dissipated. As he stared at Frisha, he felt a tug at the corner of his lips. Then, he chuckled, and the chuckle turned to laughter. Frisha and Wesson jumped, and Xa looked at him like he had lost his mind. Rezkin turned to Farson, who wore an inscrutable expression.
“She says the Jeng’ri is not responsible for his actions. The Jeng’ri, one of the most feared killers in Channería, is not to blame for locking her in a trunk or for putting her life in danger. He is not to blame for exposing the secret he was sworn to keep upon promise of pain and death. He is not responsible for his decision to defy me in undertaking actions he knew I would oppose. The Jeng’ri of the Order is not to blame for delivering the innocent woman widely rumored to be my future queen to the Adana’Ro.” His expression cooled to the icy gaze of the Raven, and he met Frisha’s startled stare. “This man knows exactly what he does, and I am sure it goes far beyond your innocent desires.”
Frisha glanced at Xa, who wore the same dark expression. He did look quite the assassin in that moment, and Frisha suddenly recalled the uncomfortable looks Ilanet had given him. The girl had been upset that Frisha had asked for his help, but she had thought Ilanet only concerned about going behind Rezkin’s back. She realized that Ilanet had known about Xa. Did she know about Rezkin, too?
Rezkin strode over to Xa. “Your life is forfeit.”
Xa said, again, “I did not know we were going to the Adana’Ro.”
“Ignorance is no excuse, especially in your case where it is unbelievable.”
“Then, let me help you. I will protect her.”
> “You were supposed to be protecting Ilanet. Where is she? Do you have her secreted in another trunk?”
“No, she is in Cael. She does not need my protection. This one does.”
The heat began to return, and Rezkin growled, “Only because you put her in danger!”
Xa said, “I am too useful for you to kill over this.”
“No one is too useful for me to kill.”
“I serve the Riel’gesh,” Xa said as Rezkin raised a dagger to his throat.
“You defy me,” said Rezkin.
“I declare do’riel’und!” Xa lifted his chin toward Frisha. “For her.”
Rezkin paused as a trickle of blood seeped down Xa’s neck. “You would declare do’riel’und for someone? You claim to serve the Riel’gesh, yet you do not declare it for me.”
Xa met his gaze and swallowed against the blade. “You would not accept it for yourself.”
“Swear it,” Rezkin said.
The Jeng’ri reached up to grasp the blade tight enough to draw blood. The buzz of vimara filled the air, and Xa said, “I declare do’riel’und Frisha Souvain-Marcum.”
Rezkin spun the bloodied dagger around so that Xa could grasp the handle, then straightened and backed away. He glanced toward Frisha and said, “Your belongings have been delivered to the women’s quarters.”
Her mouth hung open. “You knew I was here?”
His gaze danced across the ceiling as the ship creaked. The rocking had slowed, and he hoped that meant the storm had passed. “I knew you were somewhere aboard. I admit that I did not anticipate this scenario.”
“But, you were upset with him for bringing me because it wasn’t safe. Why didn’t you stop me if you knew?”
“I discovered that you were aboard a few hours after we embarked. You are ro—innocent, unknowledgeable of the night that opposes your day. So long as you were oblivious to my darker endeavors, you were safe from the Adana’Ro, protected even. By exposing you to my secret, he has put your life in danger. How they judge ro is difficult to predict.”
Frisha looked up at him through puffy eyes and damp lashes. “So you were not upset by my coming? Only that I know who you are?”
Rezkin’s expression cooled, and she thought that on anyone else, it would have indicated sadness. She was no longer sure he was capable of feeling anything—besides anger.
He said, “You will never know me, Frisha. I am not something you can understand.”
He glanced at Farson, and it seemed some message had been exchanged. He turned back to her. “I am not your keeper. If you had told me you wanted to come, I would have explained to you why you should not, just as I did with Tam. You are intelligent. I think you would have made the right decision. If, however, you insisted, then I would have brought you. While you have never expressed your feelings of mistrust toward me”—he motioned to the trunk—“your actions show that I had already lost that trust. I have always been honest with you. I told you that I was keeping secrets.”
Frisha fumed. “Dark Tidings, the True King, the Raven, the Riel’gesh—these are not secrets, Rezkin. These are completely different lives. Multiple lives!”
“Oh! You are the Raven?” Wesson said, finally grasping that last clue to the conversation. He nodded slowly, “Yes, that makes sense now.”
Frisha looked at him aghast. “This doesn’t bother you?”
Wesson shook his head. “No, not really.”
She crossed her arms. “Please, explain why this does not upset you.”
Wesson glanced at the others. They were all staring at Frisha. It seemed they were more concerned about her reaction than his, so he obliged. “Rezkin has always been more and less than he says he is. He is a master of half-truths. We all think we know him, and yet none of us know all of him. Some, like you, might say that we do not know his true self.” He nodded toward Farson. “I believe the striker would say that he does not have one—that he is empty. The Jeng’ri believes him to be a demigod, a being incomprehensible to us. You are disappointed because he is not the person you thought he was. I cannot be disappointed because I never presumed to know him.”
“You weren’t supposed to marry him,” Frisha huffed.
Wesson said, “Neither were you. Your guardian rejected him, and Rezkin did not press the issue. Now, perhaps you know why.”
Rezkin interrupted the pointless exchange. “That is no longer a concern. Speak of this to no one. Assume anyone not in this room does not know.”
He captured Frisha’s gaze and nodded toward the Jeng’ri. “He is Xa. His life was forfeit and was spared only because he has sworn do’riel’und for you by mage oath. This means that his life is your life. If you die, he must kill himself—with that dagger, if possible. He has an interest in keeping you alive, so he is now your protector for the rest of your life. You do not have a choice in this unless you want him dead. Keep in mind that he is the Jeng’ri; and, therefore, difficult to kill. Like all good things, this comes with a drawback. If anyone finds out about his oath, they will know that to kill him, they must only kill you.”
Frisha’s face was pale as she stared at the Channerían assassin. Rezkin glanced at Xa and said, “He has also sworn to serve the Riel’gesh, which he recognizes as me. This means the only person from whom he will not protect you is me. I am bound by the Rules, which mean I am to honor and protect you as my friend, so do not make of me an enemy. Do you understand?”
Frisha gaped at him, glanced at Xa, and then back to Rezkin. “I think—”
“Good,” he said. “Journeyman, please come with me.” He ducked through the doorway, and Wesson followed with an apologetic glance.
Farson turned to the Jeng’ri. “You know he played you.”
“How so?”
“If he had wanted you dead, he would not have stopped to chat. He was giving you an opportunity to make amends.”
“Yes,” said Xa, “but he would have killed me had I not.”
Farson nodded and then looked at Frisha who was wide-eyed and shaking. He said, “I have never seen him angry. At least, not since he was a child and learned better. Was it fear for your safety? Anger that you had placed yourself in danger? Feelings of betrayal that you trusted Xa over him?”
Frisha winced.
He smirked. “I might think him sincere,” he said as his gaze slid to Xa, “but it is more likely he wants us to believe he cares.”
Frisha flushed in anger and embarrassment. “So, does this mean that he and I …”
Farson gave her a dubious look. “You would still marry him?” Her gaze quaked with fear, and he shook his head. “I thought not.”
“You were trying to protect me. Before … in the courtyard … what you told me.”
“I said as much.”
She blinked away tears. “I didn’t believe you.”
“I know.”
Rezkin motioned for Wesson to construct a ward around them as they strode onto the deck. Although the rain was heavy, the ocean had relaxed to an easy roll. The water slid off Wesson’s shield in every direction, creating a glistening curtain between them and the outside world. Rezkin stopped when they were out of the way of the crew. He almost felt the need to brace himself. He felt drained of energy and famished. He put aside his discomfort to confront the battle mage.
“You do not have a problem with what you have learned?”
Wesson shook his head slowly. “No, I have many problems with it.”
“And?”
“It is as I told Frisha. I do not presume to know you. The fact remains that King Bordran, your father, had you trained to be this way for a reason.”
Wesson paused, resting his eyes on the cascading water. His gaze was distant as he continued. “My father worked at the palace before I was born. He was a minor noble—not important—at least, not in a political sense. He was an earth mage and an artist. I have seen some of his work. It is unusual for an earth mage to possess a delicate touch, but he created beautiful works of art. He was responsib
le for maintaining the carvings and sculptures on the palace grounds and for creating new ones. Sometimes he did work for the cities or nobles like Lord Tieran’s father. He died when I was eight, but before that, we spoke often about all nature of things—about serious matters people do not usually discuss with children. When I look back now, it seems as if he knew he would not live to see me grown.”
He met Rezkin’s intent gaze. “My father said that King Bordran was a stern man, not kind, but a good king who deserved our respect. I have watched you, and I think perhaps you are the same. My father believed in Bordran, and I believe in you.”
Rezkin did not thank Wesson for his faith. To do so would have been petty and self-aggrandizing. The mage’s faith, like that of his followers, was not a gift to be appreciated, but an assignment of duty to be fulfilled. Instead he said, “How did your father die?”
“When my mother was pregnant, he resigned from his job at the palace. He purchased a small estate in a rural village of western Ashai and took over as master of the local quarry. He later died in an accident, crushed under a pile of rock.”
Rezkin tilted his head. “An experienced earth mage was crushed in an accident at a quarry.”
Wesson looked at him with haunted eyes. “Yes.”
Chapter 8
The remainder of the trip to the Ferélli port city of Esk consisted of days upon days of rain, wind, and choppy seas. Frisha was frustrated with Xa’s insistence on following her around the entire time. After nearly getting washed overboard once, he restricted her to the cabin. His protectiveness was worse than Rezkin’s, and although Xa smiled more often, his humor was dark and his manners lacking. She missed the pleasant days when Rezkin strolled along the road beside her discussing the plants and animals. Then she remembered that those had been the quiet moments between storms. He had been out killing people and tasking thieves and assassins when she was not looking. Every once in a while, when she felt his gaze on her, she would glance up just as he looked away and wonder which of those people he was in that moment. Was he missing her, too, or was he thinking of ways to kill her? She then wondered what, exactly, she would have to do to lose his friendship.