by Amy Keeley
Ishia. He’d bet on it. He idly traced out the carving. The handwriting was Zhiv’s. Very different from the mistake-ridden boots he’d once made. Now, his inscriptions had acquired a confidence that reminded Razev of happier times. “Why give these to me?”
“We heard you’re part of a large net, getting ready to trap The Ornic.”
He didn’t do it, Ziria had said. “And?”
“Well...it’s Ornic, ain’t it?” She looked behind her for support from the townsfolk that had crowded around the small group.
“She cursed us, too!” an old man said. “But the Dog finished her before the spell could be cast.”
He felt eyes on him and looked down to see a young boy beaming up at him, as if Razev had been the one to destroy the evil Ornic.
Razev quickly focused on the boots. “Then, she’s gone?”
“Yes. We can’t let threats like that wander around.”
Razev nodded. “Of course not.” It wasn’t Ziria’s handwriting on the boots. It was Zhiv’s. His gift to her.
I’ll protect you, Razev had said. He hadn’t said it to Ziria, had made no promise. I could have traveled with her, he thought. I could have protected her, shown her how to hide without magic, how to evade the Dogs that trail...and then he remembered who had burned Ziria’s house down, and killed her husband. And that his own family was in Teranasin’s sights.
I will protect you. He remembered the fire that poured like water over Zhiv and the reach of his hand as he tried to divert it, to send it anywhere else but on Zhiv. He remembered the face of the Dog as he pulled the spell back, and he remembered how his own diversion had cut the fire instead, letting part of it remain in his little brother, with no way to get it back out. He felt insane laughter bubbling up, not that different from the kind he’d heard from Zhiv’s mouth during especially bad nights. It’s a dream, Zhiv had told him once. All of it. And that dream was his fault.
A smile cracked across his face, and he sniggered. That seemed to frighten the townsfolk more than word of an Ornic. “Sir?” he heard one of the Dogs behind him ask.
“I wish to congratulate the Dog who did this,” he said, smiling broadly now, holding up the boots. “Tell me, which Dog gave judgment?”
The old woman shook her head. “She obscured herself.”
“But not before. Not when she knew all of you wanted the Ornic dead.”
They hesitated.
“She had golden hair,” the boy said. “And she was pretty.”
“As if the other female Dogs aren’t,” he heard Mili say, but the words rolled over him in his grief.
Ishia had golden hair. And she served Lord Teranasin. But she wouldn’t dare track openly. No, Teranasin likely had given that job to someone else. “Tell me, did any strangers pass through here recently?”
And a stream of names of merchants, vagabonds, and minstrels were paraded as possible Ornic lords in disguise. “Take down their names,” he ordered, and the villagers did not hesitate. In fact, they rushed to do the task.
Who will protect us? Zhiv had asked. Yes, he thought. Be frightened, Razev. This is the world that you refused to see, people scrambling to point the finger so that no one looks at them and their secret deeds. Except, perhaps, the Disciples in confession. And then, he considered something else. “Did any Disciples travel through here recently?”
The old woman gasped. “No! You don’t mean—”
“I’m not implying anything,” he said to the crowd. “I wish to confer with those who know the Tothsin doctrines best, and I would rather speak with one who left Hurush recently.”
It puzzled them, but there were whispers and names debated. Finally, one man said, “There was a Disciple that came through. Very quiet. Didn’t stay long. We thought he might be a replacement for the one that left our village, but he denied it.”
“Did he spend anything?”
“He stayed a night at my inn,” an old man said.
“May I see the coins?”
“’Course he did something wrong,” Razev heard in the whispers around him. “Dog wouldn’t ask to see the coin unless he was set to track him.”
Razev fought against a smile.
It didn’t take long—following the transactions, going from place to place—until he found the coins used by the Disciple. They were like spots of darkness in the dim light of those who handled magic. Razev closed his eyes as he held the coins. It was faint. So very faint. And yet, there was magic there. Magic. In the hand of a Disciple. “Thank you,” he said, giving the coin back.
Teranasin had given the Disciple a means to find Zhiv, after all.
He didn’t speak again until they were away from the town. Far away.
Kneeling down, he begged the pack’s forgiveness. “I must leave you now,” he said. “Guard well, and I shall see you when I return to Hurush.” To Mili, he said, “Tell my wife the capital is not fit to be near during the investigation. Tell her I want her to take the children to her relatives in the country. And tell her not to delay. She always seems to find one more thing that needs to be done before she goes anywhere.” The chuckles told him they had taken this as a request from a loving husband, not a desperate plea. He only hoped that she would understand the seriousness. He never asked her to visit her relatives, though he certainly allowed it. He admitted now, he was terrified of what might happen if she left his sight.
He dismissed them. All, except Kirag.
“You helped the investigation of the Queen’s chambers?”
Kirag nodded.
“Tell me truly, do you belong to Teranasin?”
“The whelp who thinks the King has appointed him his heir? Never.”
Razev nodded. “Then whose magic was in the Queen’s chamber?”
Kirag’s cynical smile told Razev everything he needed to know. “Circle damned,” he whispered. He was a fool.
“Supposedly,” Kirag said, “the Ornic blasted the doors in and Teranasin happened to be there a little too late. But those doors were blasted outward, from inside the room. And the magic of the Ornic only resides in the staircase. If I didn’t know Ornic weren’t terribly evil, I’d say he was trying to help the Queen and her children, not kill them.”
Razev breathed deep, considering his options. “I’ll need your help on this one, Kirag.” Bracing himself for whatever he might discover about the older Dog, he said, “Teranasin is desperate to get the Ornic.”
“So I gathered. Wouldn’t have taken you aside if he wasn’t.”
“And he wouldn’t have sent a Disciple to do a Dog’s work.”
Kirag’s eyes narrowed. He was one of those who remembered when the order was sent to kill the minstrels in Okya Valley. He remembered the old spells, and was one of those who never saw the point in sharing them with the younger members of the pack. No one to use them against, he’d said. “Might be he already has someone close enough to betray our Ornic.”
“That would make sense.”
“Why send us then?”
“Cover all routes of escape.” He hesitated, briefly unsure of the Dog in front of him. “Inspire fear.”
Kirag nodded. “Use us. You remember when we stayed at Pyorin’s?”
“Yes.”
“One of the maids there said that Pyorin had been told to make a list of everyone who could possibly have used illegal magic.”
“I had heard rumors of the Disciples compiling a similar list in Hurush.” It also added greater depth to Lord Pyorin’s offer to round up his citizens.
Kirag raised an eyebrow. “You? All the time you spent outside the walls, I thought you never heard a thing.”
“I’m still a Dog, Kirag.” And he had contacts that Zhiv would have greatly envied. Though, knowing how resourceful his brother was, he wouldn’t be surprised if his brother had a few contacts in the Dogs himself.
But what worried him now was that Teranasin had Dogs who would execute a suspect right there, instead of taking her to Hurush or hold her until another showed u
p. No Dog was supposed to execute someone alone. They’d use the lack of a king as an excuse, or that the guilt was clear, or that she attacked and they had no choice. He felt a soft smile grow on his face. With Ziria, that was probably the truth.
Ziria was gone. Zhiv was still alive, for now. “We have to find this Disciple first. I don’t like having two plans that aren’t talking to each other.”
“Just talk then?”
Razev shrugged. “He’s Teranasin’s man now.”
“Dog,” Kirag corrected with a grin. “Never thought I’d say that about a Disciple,” he muttered.
Razev tried not to grin. “Let’s track.”
On foot. Better tracking that way, especially since both he and Kirag wore boots with the Ornic inscription he’d learned as a boy, the one that increased the speed of the wearer, and gave silence if needed. It was the only spell he’d shared with Kirag, in a vain attempt to get him to teach Razev some of the older spells. Now, he was glad he’d shared it. He sent the horses back with a note tucked into the saddlebag explaining they were still alive. “One more thing,” he said to Kirag.
“Dog sent after the Disciple to make sure things go according to plan?”
Razev smiled now, full and honest. “You read my mind.”
“Just know how politicians think. He’d have done better to let us all know from the beginning.” His face darkened as Razev cast the tracking spell. “Last thing we need is to worry about a split in the pack.”
“The pack doesn’t split,” Razev said, making the final gesture. Faint golden light trailed through the air, so faint it might have been a stray bit of dust blown up by the wind that occasionally kicked up.
“In the old days, the early days of the Tothsin rule, it did. Some got sick of the killing. Some developed a taste for it. Guess who had the edge.”
Razev began to feel a little sick himself. “Come on. Sooner we find the Disciple, sooner we’ll be able to get home. You can give your granddaughter that toy you’ve been working on.”
“And you’ll have a tale for your boys. One full of ashes and glory.”
Razev hoped Kirag was wrong.
***
The wind blew cold when Hyaji approached the busy inn. As a Disciple, he was allowed the chance to rest at whatever place he approached, whether he could pay or not. They could always turn him away. But they likely wouldn’t. That’s what he’d been told. Even in the remote villages near The Steps, where Disciples only ventured to preach Toth’s doctrine, he’d be given a room. Gratitude, he was told, for the doctrines had saved the kingdom.
He hoped it was true.
The moment he opened the door, he wondered if he’d made the right choice. The whole building smelt old, with several meals mixing at once in the fetid air, and he wondered if the owners did that on purpose. He hefted his shoulder bag so that it settled more firmly on his back. He’d never tried to get a room after the sun had set. The dining room had only a handful of people in it, quietly talking amongst themselves, barely giving Hyaji a glance before going back to their conversation. Hyaji looked for the innkeeper. How was this done? Should he call out? Or wait? Something to add to a Disciples instruction, he decided. If he went back. After almost three weeks on the road, he was starting to enjoy the traveling.
The innkeeper appeared, watching Hyaji as if he were a thief. Now and then Hyaji had heard snippets of rumors the past two days. Lord Teranasin, with a few other nobles, had produced evidence of an awful conspiracy between the Ornic and the King to open the rift and end all life in this world. They had formed a council, and soon other names began to appear in this conspiracy. Hyaji had tried very hard not to become cynical. He didn’t know politics. That the citizens pointed out many of Teranasin’s enemies had somehow been denounced was no concern of his.
But that all this was being done through the Disciples, who sat as arbiters of men’s hearts, did very much concern him. It also concerned the more powerful citizens who were now being questioned by the Dogs. Including innkeepers.
All this to say, he wasn’t surprised at the innkeeper’s reaction to his Disciple robes. Remaining polite, Hyaji bowed. “I humbly ask for a room.”
The innkeeper watched him. “Can you pay?”
“I’m afraid not.” Use Lord Teranasin’s offer, part of him begged. He’d run out of money yesterday and now would be as good a time as any, with so many speaking so highly of the Tothsin lord, who had called for moderation in any endeavor against those accused. And yet, part of him cringed at the thought. Better to learn self-control, he told himself.
The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed and he turned away. “’Fraid we’re all full. Sorry.”
It was against the teachings he’d been given to do anything more than bow and apologize for troubling the innkeeper. It was against the basic principles of his code. And yet, he was tired, and hungry. “Are you certain? I don’t mind sharing a room.”
The innkeeper stopped and glared at Hyaji. “I’m certain. Best keep walking. There’s another inn further down the road. Maybe that one’ll take you.”
“I’ll pay for him,” a voice announced from the corner by the front window. A tradesman sat there, black hair combed straight back and mostly hidden under a wide-brimmed, plain hat, brown vest visible under a thick, brown cloak. A black beard, just long enough to look shaggy, covered his cheeks and surrounded his mouth. Next to him sat a Disciple, eating a bowl of soup with a loaf of bread and some butter sitting between them. The tradesman wasn’t eating.
The innkeeper grunted. “Long as your coin is good.”
“It’s got the King’s face on it. That’ll do?”
The innkeeper laughed. “When it has Teranasin’s face on it, that’s when I’ll accept it without question.”
Hyaji shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if there were a different conversation taking place than the one he was hearing.
“Fair enough,” the tradesman said. “Test it however you like.”
“You’re lucky tonight, Disciple,” the innkeeper said, taking a small pile of coins from the tradesman and holding one up for inspection. “You’ll stay in the room with your benefactor.” And then the innkeeper was gone.
Hyaji walked to the tradesman and bowed. “Thank you. May I ask your name?”
“Why would you need it?” The tradesman’s blue eyes narrowed. Or were they green? Either way, they studied him in a concentrated way that felt familiar.
“To repay you.”
“No need. I do what I do for the blessings I may get from the Blessed Ones.”
He had always hated this aspect of being a Disciple: the notion that one was only meant to receive from the people in exchange for platitudes, blessings, and supposed wisdom. The wisdom of Toth, who saved us all, he chastised himself. Forcing a smile, he said, “May they bless you well, then.”
“Sit. I’ll get you some food.”
“No. Thank you.”
“You’re rooming with me. I’d rather not hear your stomach rumbling while we sleep.”
Hyaji hesitated. “Very well.”
Before long, he’d finished a large bowl of soup and a full loaf of bread. He paused before breaking it, thinking of his good luck, and the awful luck of the goodwife he was supposed to find. And the Ornic. He’d been sent to find him, and the dagger had worked up until today. Today, it wouldn’t turn. He’d set it on a rock numerous times, hoping it would point him somewhere, anywhere. Nothing. He’d moved on, hoping this town would put him in a direction that might prove fruitful.
Now, he was just glad to eat.
“So,” the other Disciple said, wiping his mouth carefully with the corner of a white handkerchief the tradesman had provided, “is this your first time traveling?”
And because it wasn’t a lie, Hyaji nodded. Then closed his eyes. “Forgive me. I didn’t introduce myself. I am Hon Hyaji.”
“Not to worry. Your journey appears to be consuming you.” Putting a hand on his chest, he said, “Hon Licentor, and our benefacto
r tonight is Hon Vialasin.”
The tradesman, Vialasin nodded his head, brief and to the point. His smile isn’t like that, Hyaji thought. It’s too friendly, too bright. As if you’d know what a tradesman’s smile is, part of him countered.
But I do know, he thought, and nodded back. The ones I knew were pleasant, but not like this man. Not open, but...he wanted to say dazzling or flamboyant, and yet there was nothing he could point to that was proof of it. “How are things in this district?” he asked Hon Licentor, trying to push thoughts of the tradesman’s inconsistencies away. After all, he decided, I’m tired.
“Oh, awful. I received a message from the Dogs, Hon Hyaji.”
His skin went cold. “What did they want?”
“The trials. They’re doing them all the way up here. It’s said that the Dogs only do it because of us.”
He thought of the books burning in the courtyard of the library. “I wouldn’t doubt that,” he muttered.
He looked up to see both Vialasin and Licentor watching him, though with different looks on their faces. “What have you heard?” Hon Licentor said, his face full of questions. “Have you been near the capital?”
And because Lord Teranasin hadn’t told him to lie, he said, “It’s where I came from.”
“And are the rumors true? Do our brothers in the capital feel the Ornic have begun to return?”
It took all Hyaji had to keep from snapping. “I left before it began. All I have are rumors as well.” And the sight of trials held in the open, he remembered, where neighbors could denounce neighbors, and he couldn’t help feeling this was done more to settle old scores than because any illegal magic had truly been done. Or perhaps I only want to think that. Perhaps the Disciples are right.
Hon Licentor’s questions folded back within him. “Oh. It’s so confusing. I had hoped you might have some answers. That’s why I’m going back.”
“To ask why?”
He nodded. “Personally, I feel this is nonsense. Most people are too afraid to even perform small magic in their own homes now, let alone the massive spells of the Ornic. If they hadn’t found that woman, Lord Teranasin wouldn’t have done any of this. He’s always felt it was just the work of the minstrel. He was Ornic, you know. One of the last. At least, folk thought he was the last before the woman was caught.”