The Dead Falcon (The Eastern Slave Series Book 4)

by Victor Poole

  Ajalia and Delmar caught up to Hal, and approached the gate of the city. The gate had been unguarded when Ajalia had left the city the night before, and the gate appeared to be abandoned now. Ajalia, as they drew near the great white gate, reflected on the transformation that was rapidly overtaking her black horse. She had put the cords of magic into his legs, and now she thought that he really did seem to be growing larger. She told herself that it was impossible, and that adult horses did not suddenly expand, and grow taller and leggier. She told herself it was only her perception of the horse, or the reflected pieces of magic in her eyes. She was beginning to see magic when she was not looking for it. Before, she had needed to put her hands around the coils of light she imagined in the earth in order to see the lights in the earth and sky, or in people, but now she was beginning to see without looking. Delmar yet appeared to her as a riot of green and gold, but as she rode along just behind Hal, Ajalia looked at him, and saw a chaotic web of ocean blue and icy white within his body. She wondered at the change in Hal; when she had first seen him in the forest near the poison tree, she had thought Hal an assassin, an evil minion of the Thief Lord. Now she looked at him and saw an honorable man who worked in the dark. She looked forward to creating a phalanx of men around Delmar, composed of Rane, of Ocher, and of Hal. She wanted to see the way Delmar would react, when he realized that such men as these would follow him without question. She wanted to see the way Delmar's face would flush, first with embarrassment, and then with pleasure.

  Ajalia passed beneath the shadow of the great white gate, and Hal led them through the sunlit noon streets towards the Thief Lord's house. The streets were almost bare; not since the Feast of Beautiful Things had Ajalia seen such a dearth of bodies in the white roads. She kept her eyes fixed on Hal's back as he led them through the straight roads towards the narrow square that lay before the Thief Lord's white house. A cluster of bodies was thick before the door. When Hal rode into sight; some of these turned, and Ajalia saw men, and the women who dressed as men beside them. The people's faces were agitated, and pale in the strong sunlight.

  "Hal's come back, they're back," Ajalia heard several of the people shout into the house. Beryl appeared at the door, and the people clustered there parted to make way for her.

  A drop of dread came at once into Ajalia's heart; she saw that Beryl had a look of violence about her, and of vengeance. Beryl looked, to Ajalia, like a beast who feeds upon blood, and has been sated to her fill. She looked bloated with evil, and with power. Ajalia rode her black horse straight towards the woman from Talbos, the erstwhile wife of Ocher, and Ajalia gathered thick cords of gold from the earth. Ajalia's knife found its way into her hand, but she grimaced, and cast it aside. The knife clattered to the stones of the empty square, and made a shattering, bouncing noise as the hilt struck the rock. Beryl's eyes, which had been fixed on Delmar, and on Hal, turned now towards the sound. Beryl saw Ajalia, and Ajalia saw Beryl's lips curl with scorn. Ajalia reached into the sky with her mind; she imagined the roiling coils of blue that hung there, and she twisted the blue lights into the gold cords that she already held.

  The white, crackling lighting began to dance around Ajalia's hands, and it spun in arcs over her head. Several of the people who were huddled around the Thief Lord's door widened their eyes, and gasped loudly at the noise that Ajalia's magic made.

  It was clear that Beryl was not able to see or hear the crackling magic; Ajalia suspected that those people who reacted to the magic wore the white brand. Beryl grimaced with effort, and Ajalia watched as an accordion of faces and forms spun out behind Beryl's solid flesh. The old witch that Ajalia had killed in the tenement had worn seven lives behind her, but behind Beryl was a crowd of forms, old and young, male and female. The witch in the tenement had carried only female shadows, but behind Beryl was a long line of shadowed bodies of every shape and size. Ajalia thought she could see the tiny form of infants, and the wizened shoulders of old men. Young women were there in a mass, and far too many little boys, younger than Bain had been.

  A snarl of anger was in Ajalia's heart, and rage was in her eyes. She saw, as if through liquid, the way Beryl lifted her hands, and curled her fingers towards Ajalia's inner lights. Ajalia saw, as if in a dream, the black tendrils of hateful energy reach out from Beryl's fat fingers, and carve through the air towards her own golden light. Ajalia saw Beryl, and she saw, for the first time, what her father had done to her. Ajalia remembered, on purpose this time, what her father had done, and white-hot fury was in her heart as she laid the blistering cords of mixed sky and earth towards Beryl's neck.

  Ajalia severed Beryl through the neck, as she had cut through the sickly thick paste of Lilleth's soul, and then she sent the mixed white lightning, in a straight line, through the heart of Beryl, and then through the heart of every shadow that clustered in strong thickets around the evil woman.

  Ajalia no longer had any doubt about the existence of witches, or of magic. She saw herself now, and saw what her parents had done to her, and coaxed her brother to do, and she felt alone and separate from them. Ajalia told herself that she carried the white brand, and for the first time, the phrase meant something to her. She leapt from the black horse's back, and scooped up the knife she had thrown to the ground. She twisted a new cord of power from deep, deep within the earth around the hilt and blade of her knife, and she told herself that she was burning away any vestige of her father that yet clung to the blade. Ajalia tore down a great spool of blue magic from the sky, and twisted it sharply around the golden light that clung to the knife. The knife began to glow, and to crackle violently. Ajalia strode towards Beryl, who had, like Lilleth, gone limp, her eyes vague and docile, and she drove the knife, which snapped and roared with electric power, into Beryl's heart.

  Hot blood rushed from the place when Ajalia pulled free the knife, and stepped away from the body, which fell with a heavy slap to the white stone ground. Beryl died without a groan, her eyes strangely happy, and her lips curled in the shape of a pleasant smile.

  The people around the Thief Lord's house reacted in two ways; those whom Ajalia suspected wore the white brand stood silently, staring at the mess of blood that was spreading over the ground, and then looking with pale, tortured faces at Ajalia, who stood, her shoulders tensed, and her body heaving with stressed breath, a little back from the dead body.

  Those who did not wear the white brand had begun to cry out; some of them ran away through the streets, and others dashed into the house; Ajalia guessed that they meant to fetch Ocher, if he was within.

  Hal had dismounted his horse in the time that Ajalia had crossed to Beryl, and the dark-eyed man stood now at Ajalia's shoulder. He pushed aside those people, who, shouting of treason and murder, tried to grab at Ajalia.

  "Simon the slave-traitor is dead!" Hal shouted into the square, his voice echoing like thunder between the white stone houses. "The new Thief Lord is present. Let the old man Tree be brought to enact the succession." The unbranded people who remained in the square grew quiet at this, and then hurried away in a group. Many of the people with the white brand went with them, and Ajalia was sure they meant to control the narrative that the unbranded ones were likely to spin. She tried to tell herself that the unbranded people were justified in feeling afraid; she tried to tell herself that they had seen her stab Beryl, and that they had not seen the dark shadowed beings behind Beryl, or the brilliant light Ajalia had caught down from the sky. But Ajalia found that she no longer believed in the innocence of the unbranded. She found, as the familiar, justifying thoughts unraveled in her mind, that she counted the unbranded ones as enemies. She remembered what Delmar had told her, about the white brand being a mark of those with pure hearts, and she thought of how long she had spent, as a slave, telling herself that her father was not so bad. Not so bad, Ajalia told herself now in disgust, and she wrinkled her nose. She stepped away from Beryl; the blood was beginning to pool towards her feet, and she did not want her shoes to get dirty.


  The mixed magic in Ajalia's knife had performed some kind of shielding against the blood; Ajalia's creamy sleeves and robe were clean and dry. Not a speck of crimson blood had stained her clothes. Ajalia was thankful for this; she had begun to grow excessively weary of the constant changes in her costume, and she hated walking around with blood on her sleeves.

  Now that the intensity of the moment had passed, she walked around Beryl, to where the blood was not pooling, and cleaned the blade of her knife on the older woman's clothes. The hilt was clean and dry, like her clothes, but the blade of the knife was thick with Beryl's blood. Bain's mother, Ajalia remembered suddenly, had yet to be dealt with. She still did not know what the shadow children were, or what part Bain's mother had played in whatever mischief was afoot, but she knew now that the young boy's mother was her enemy.

  Ajalia went into the house, and Hal and Delmar followed her. Ajalia found that it was a great relief to have Delmar's mind emptied of his father's influence; she no longer found herself watching Delmar every moment, and checking to make sure that he had come along behind her. She realized that she had begun to be thoroughly weary of caring for him so much, and of explaining to him why she was right. She hoped, now that the electric light of the sky and earth magic had been so potently displayed before so many of the Slavithe, that Delmar would stop trying to find out if she was a dark temptress every five minutes.

  The Thief Lord's house was mostly empty, but Ajalia could hear muffled noises coming from the back rooms. The front rooms were deserted, and the rooms in the center of the house held a few frantic-looking servants huddled in talk together, who glanced at Ajalia as she passed, and then turned back towards each other. Ajalia remembered that Lilleth had never come home, and she wondered if the Thief Lord's wife was often absent from the house, or if the servants would be watching anxiously for her. Ajalia did not think that anyone in the city knew yet that both the Thief Lord and his wife were dead.

  In the back of the house was a hushed collection of men and women. A few of the wealthy men's wives were there, and several young men. The other bodies belonged to Ocher, and to several of his fellow officials. Ajalia had not yet had much to do with these people; she had seen them when she had met the former Thief Lord in the market, and she had seen a few of them at various times in the streets. She recognized many faces from the bargaining she had overseen in the market stall, when Lim had still been alive.

  Ocher, when he saw Ajalia, turned very still, and his eyes closed off inside. Ajalia saw that a few of the people from the street had gained this room, and they were talking loudly at Ocher, and at the others. Ajalia moved silently towards Ocher, and Ocher stepped away from her. Ajalia stopped walking, and took Hal by the arm.

  "Explain Bain to him," she said quietly to Hal, and Hal nodded, and slipped away towards the interim Thief Lord. Ajalia went to Delmar, and took him through the room to a far door. She opened this door, and looked into the room beyond.

  "Where did your father hold court?" she asked Delmar in a low voice. Delmar's eyes were bright and active; she saw that he was still with her, and fully listening.

  "There," Delmar said. He put a hand on Ajalia's elbow, and led her back through the room full of officials. Ajalia felt again the pressure of the people; the noise in this room was quite loud, as the Slavithe people babbled over each other, fighting for Ocher's attention. Ajalia glanced back at Ocher, and saw that Hal was close beside him, and murmuring swiftly in his ear. Ocher was staring hard at the ground. Ajalia waited until Ocher's face changed; Delmar had his hand on her arm, but she lifted her palm to tell Delmar to wait, and stayed where she was at the verge of the room. She saw Ocher's blood rush into his cheeks; she saw the bearded man lift his eyes, and look straight at her. Ajalia smiled to herself, and let Delmar lead her from the room.

  She found herself soon in a quiet, large hall that lay in the center of the house, and to one side. The house had a front area that was composed of a few small sitting rooms. Ajalia had met the Thief Lord, with Clare in tow, in one of these small rooms. The center of the house, on the left, was filled with this receiving hall. On the right of the house, from what Ajalia had been able to glimpse as she walked past the open doors, were dining and dancing rooms. She did not know if the rooms she saw were for dancing, but the spaces were open, and had glistening, painted floors. She did not know what else such spacious, ornate rooms would be for in a large house. In the back of the house were large offices, and a study. Ajalia knew from her visit before that the upper levels were where the family lived.

  People were filtering into the house steadily now; the hall and the front rooms were filling up with bodies. The lower floor of the house seemed almost to be a public place today; Ajalia had never seen so many people in the Thief Lord's house, or coming up and down the hall from out in the street. Many of them, Ajalia thought, were surely coming to stare, but the servants no longer manned the door. Ajalia thought of the abandoned gate at the edge of the city, where the wall was, and she wondered why the guards had all left their posts. She suspected that there was a connection between Simon's death and the abandoned gate, but in that case, she asked herself, how had the guards known that the Thief Lord was no longer alive?

  Delmar showed Ajalia the tall black chair at the end of the receiving hall.

  "He used to sit there," Delmar said, his voice low. This room was empty, but there were people behind them in the hall.

  "My horse," Ajalia said suddenly, and she turned towards the front of the house. Delmar caught her by the arm before she reached the door of the room.

  "I took care of the horses," Delmar told her. Ajalia looked closely at Delmar.

  "What do you mean?" she asked. She did not doubt that he thought he had taken care of the horses, but she did doubt very much his ability to do so.

  "I gave them to a friend," Delmar said. "They'll all be taken to Denai." Ajalia studied Delmar, as if she thought she could read his thoughts by looking in his eyes.

  "What kind of a friend?" she asked. Delmar grinned at her.

  "One of us," he said, and Ajalia told herself that he had seen everything she had done with the magic. She relaxed a little.

  "Thank you," she said. Ajalia thought of the first time that day that she had combined the lights from the sky and from beneath the earth, and how Delmar had not seen what she did then. "You couldn't see it before," Ajalia pointed out, "when I mixed the blue lights with the light of the earth." She did not ask him why this had been so; she wanted to see if he would explain without her asking.

  "My father was not pure," Delmar told her. A new hardness was around the sides of Delmar's mouth; Ajalia had never heard him speak less than well of his parents before. "My mother was a witch," Delmar said, "but she knew what it was to carry the white brand. She hid what she was, and Beryl learned from her. She must have," Delmar explained, "or we would have seen."

  "Who would have seen?" Ajalia asked. She was in the center of the room now, and watching the ugly black chair. She knew that the people in the hall could hear parts of what she said. She was waiting for Ocher to come to her. She thought that if Ocher turned on her now that she would have very little time to get out of Slavithe. Ajalia had no illusions about her position; she was gambling on the strong belief that men like Rane and Ocher clearly had in the future of Slavithe, and in the possibilities that Delmar presented. She had seen how Hal had turned, when confronted with the sign of the dead falcon, which reminded him of what he wanted, and of what he hoped for. Ajalia guessed that Ocher, if confronted with proof that his seeming-wife had been a witch, would side with Delmar, and with herself, but if she was wrong, she wanted to be ready to flee the city.

  Ajalia paced up to the end of the room, and turned to Delmar again. She repeated her question, and Delmar hesitated, glancing at the hall full of people.

  "Delmar," Ajalia said, "I just murdered an important political figure in the middle of the city square. Either they'll kill me, or they'll hold me up as a legend. There are
n't a lot of choices here. So I think it's okay if you tell me your secrets about magic. I know you have some society," she said, looking at the people in the hall, who looked hurriedly away, "and I know you're teaching each other magic. I know you all pretend not to believe in it, and not to have power, but clearly, some of you have power that others of you do not. The longer you hide this imbalance of power, the more power you give to people like Beryl." And, she added to herself, like your mother.

  "And like my mother," Delmar said. He did not look happy to say so, but he did say it out loud, and Ajalia looked up at him.

  "Do you mean that?" she asked. She wanted to believe that Delmar was on her side, and that he believed her, but she was tired of thinking he was with her, and then finding, a few minutes later, that he had reversed his position out of fear or habit.

  "I do," Delmar said in a clear voice. Ajalia could see his eyes moving, flickering in the direction of the crowd that was swiftly growing outside in the hall, but Delmar kept his chin lifted, and his jaw was firm. "My mother was a witch," Delmar said loudly, and the group of Slavithe people in the hall gasped, and murmured to each other. "She was," Delmar said, turning to the people. Some of the people in the hall edged into the room, and Ajalia saw that there was a greater gathering outside this room than she had previously suspected. The pressure of bodies in the hall threatened to press all the people into the room. Ajalia went to the place where the big black chair stood, and pushed it into a far corner.

  "Stand here," she murmured to Delmar, and she placed him where the black chair had been. More of the Slavithe people came into the room, and Ajalia took up her place behind Delmar. "Tell them about Bain," she whispered to Delmar. She knew the people would not hear what she said. Ocher had yet to appear. Ajalia thought again of Rane, and hoped that he was still alive, and in a position to be rescued.