The Bastard’s Pearl

by Connie Bailey

  Sheyn exchanged a glance with Kashyan and then spoke. “I can’t bear to hear more of this. You’ll have me weeping like a jilted bride, and we have to meet the high king at the city gates.”

  “You’re going into Taar Muergan?” Luks said in surprise as he wiped his eyes.

  “I want to see the high king pass judgment on the high priest. I know I’m a petty person, but I’ll take pleasure in watching Chanesh humbled.”

  “Djulyan is skilled at humbling,” Kholya said. He held out a hand to Luks. “Will you come with me?”

  “You are my lord. I go where you go,” Luks said, the words taking on a formal cadence. He took Kholya’s hand and rose to his feet.

  Kashyan watched Sheyn buckle on his sword belt. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  Sheyn put his cloak around his shoulders, hiding his saber. “Yes, my lord. Now go, so I can go with you.”

  “What’s it like kissing someone with a tongue that sharp?” Kholya asked his brother as they left the tent.

  “I like the taste of blood,” Kashyan said.

  Kholya smiled as he greeted the royal guards who were waiting to escort them. They mounted their horses and rode to the gates of Taar Muergan. Djulyan was waiting with Kezlath and a troop of royal guards, but the other kings were not present.

  “The council voted to abide by my judgment in this matter,” Djulyan said when Kholya asked about the others. “I think they’re unwilling to go any closer to the Red Temple.”

  “It has a fearsome reputation,” Kezlath said. “But so do some of us.”

  “If you’re speaking of me, my bloodthirsty reputation is true,” Kashyan said.

  “You follow the old ways in Savaan,” Kezlath said easily. “It was all right in my father’s day to ride out to war, but I’m content to let my officers lead my army.”

  “You sound very civilized,” Sheyn said, and everyone turned to look at him. “My lord,” he added.

  Kezlath regarded Sheyn steadily for several moments. “So you’re Pearl,” he said. “You live up to the stories about you.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult, my lord,” Sheyn said. “I never listen to gossip.”

  “Very amusing,” Kezlath said. “Are you looking forward to seeing Taar Muergan?”

  “I can’t in honesty say yes. I’ve been inside your Red Temple, and I didn’t find it agreeable.”

  “He’s absolutely unique,” Kezlath told Kashyan. “What’s it like to top him, though?”

  “You’ll never know,” Kashyan said as he stepped in front of Sheyn.

  Kezlath chuckled as though Kashyan had made a jest, but Djulyan’s frown was like a thundercloud.

  “Pearl,” the high king said. “I’ve read the reports of your ordeal in the Red Temple, but soon I’ll ask to hear an account from your own lips. Are you prepared to speak of what occurred there?”

  Sheyn called on the manners learned while attending his mother’s council meetings. “If Your Glory commands it of me, I will accomplish it,” he said with a graceful bow.

  Djulyan smiled warmly. “Are you a swan or a falcon? I’m damned if I can tell.”

  “Somewhat of both, sire,” Kashyan said.

  Djulyan chuckled and then turned to Kezlath. “I’d be pleased to see your city now.”

  Kezlath gestured to the high king to precede him, and they went through the gates down a street cleared of people. The citizens of Taar Muergan lined both sides of the road and stared curiously at the nobles who rode by. A few cheers were raised for King Kezlath, but the people were for the most part silent.

  At the center of the city, the party rode into the vast square that surrounded the Red Temple. They drew rein before the clusters of stepped pyramids around the lumpy cone of the central building. The yellow bricks of the original temple were rounded with age, and some were missing, but no birds built nests in the handy niches.

  “Gods of my fathers, what a sad pile of rocks,” Djulyan said under his breath.

  “Shall I send a runner to the high priest and let him know of your visit, sire?” Kezlath asked.

  “No. If he hasn’t already been warned, I’d like to take him by surprise.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise, sire?” Kezlath raised an eyebrow. “If what you suspect is true, surprising him might have disastrous results.”

  “If what I suspect is true, the results will be disastrous for Chanesh whatever befalls,” Djulyan said. “Any person who deliberately summons a demon forfeits his life.”

  With an escort of eight royal guards, the high king entered the Red Temple. In front of him were four guards. To his left was Kezlath. On his right was Kholya. Behind Kholya walked Kashyan, Sheyn, and Luks, and behind them, four more guards. A Red Monk approached to guide them, and Luks took Sheyn’s hand.

  “It was foolish to come here,” Luks said softly as they followed the monk. “I can feel this place wanting to swallow me whole.”

  “You’re not making it better,” Sheyn whispered. “Think about how easily demons die when you cut them with steel.”

  “Aren’t you frightened?”

  “I’m so scared I can barely speak.” Sheyn took a shaky breath. “But I’m not going to let my fear rule me. This is an evil place and I’ll do what I can to see it destroyed.” As he said the words, he felt the truth of them, and he knew this was his purpose. He was here in Kandaar to rid this realm of Taankh’s pollution. He’d never had a cause before, other than satisfying his own wants and needs, and it was a marvel to him how much he’d changed in such a short time. With a sense of renewed purpose, he lengthened his stride until Luks’s tug on his hand reminded him of his place. Once he would have chafed at the reminder, but now he merely slowed his steps and twined his fingers with Luks’s.

  Luks squeezed Sheyn’s hand in gratitude for the comforting touch. The sense of something huge looming overhead waiting to crush them grew stronger with each step until Luks could barely hold his head up.

  “Wait,” Kashyan said when the Red Monk turned left at a junction in the arched passageway. “We want to go right.”

  “That is First Temple. Only Taankh’s Servants may enter there,” the monk said.

  “I give my leave as King of Muergath,” Kezlath said when Djulyan looked at him.

  “As you will, sire.” The monk bowed before leading them down the right-hand corridor. He saw no point in arguing with the king. If the visitors saw anything they shouldn’t, this part of the Temple had ways of protecting itself. It was here long before Muergath had a king, and it would be here when this city was dust. The monk didn’t fear a human king whose life was just a firefly flash in the great night of the world.

  “STOP! PLEASE!” Prince Djenosh wailed as the high priest made another precise cut on the young man’s abdomen.

  “Shut up!” Ognyan ordered. “A Sumadi warrior doesn’t howl like an infant who misses his mother’s teat.”

  “Please, make it stop,” Djenosh begged, as he had begged many times since he woke shackled to this altar. He couldn’t understand why Ognyan stood by while the high priest hurt him. No matter how Djenosh pleaded, his stepfather answered with a growled command to be quiet. Nor did he understand what had happened to him, but he knew he was somehow different. The first cuts Chanesh had made were already healed, and he’d swear he could hear the high priest’s thoughts. Abruptly, he received a very clear vision of what Chanesh hoped to achieve, and he began to scream and pull at his manacles again.

  SHEYN LET go of Luks’s hand and began walking faster. He passed Kashyan, Kholya, and Djulyan as he broke into a trot.

  “Pearl!” Kashyan shouted.

  “This way,” Sheyn called back as he passed the Red Monk. Following the emanations of extreme distress, he found the repaired door of the Gate Chamber. “In here!”

  Kashyan reacted to the urgency in his daaksi’s voice. Drawing his sword, he pushed past the royal guards and grabbed the door handle. “Kholya!” he shouted when the door didn’t budge
.

  Kholya put his shoulder against the door, and two royal guards jumped to help. The four men crashed into the door.

  “Merciful Mother!” Djulyan exclaimed when he could see into the chamber. “Guards! Stop this evil.”

  Ognyan stood before the altar with his sword in his hand as Chanesh continued chanting. Djenosh’s scream cut through the turmoil, and everyone looked up when the demon materialized near the ceiling.

  “Kill that thing,” Djulyan roared.

  Kholya and the eight guardsmen rushed across the room, and Chanesh saw his dearly held plans crashing around him. Pulling an amulet from under his robes, he incanted a spell. The demon swept the high priest up in one of its six limbs and disappeared with a sound like a cork being pulled from a bottle.

  “Ognyan, put down your sword,” Djulyan called out as Sheyn brushed past him.

  “I’ve waited too long for this, Bastard,” Ognyan said. “Now we fight man to man as it was meant to be.”

  “You are no true man.” Kashyan made the first move, leaping high and angling to the right as he slashed downward at Ognyan.

  The king of Sumadin dodged aside and parried Kashyan’s strike. As Kashyan landed behind Ognyan, Ognyan whirled with a speed that belied his bulk. Kashyan bent his knees and threw himself sideways to avoid the blow that would’ve decapitated him. As momentum pulled Ognyan around in a half circle, Kashyan rose from his crouch. Ognyan flung himself forward, and Kashyan’s potentially crippling blow at Ognyan’s legs was foiled. Kashyan’s blade slid across the back of Ognyan’s left knee, slicing into one hamstring but leaving him upright and mobile. Furious that Kashyan had drawn first blood, Ognyan released a bellow of pure rage and swung his blade harder and faster, raining blows on Kashyan. Kashyan gave ground under the barrage until he was at the altar. As he parried another hammering strike, his heel came down in a pool of Djenosh’s blood. Kashyan’s foot went out from under him, and Ognyan’s next swing passed harmlessly over his head.

  Sheyn saw Kashyan slip, and he saw Ognyan prepare to take advantage of his downed foe. He ceased trying to free the boy on the altar and drew his saber. Leaping down to the floor, he deflected Ognyan’s whistling strike at Kashyan’s neck.

  “Poisonous witch!” Ognyan said from between clenched teeth. “I’ll gut you like a sackfish!”

  Djulyan had kept his men from the fight out of respect for a duel of honor, but now that Sheyn had joined the fray, it was a different matter. “Arrest Ognyan of Sumadin,” Djulyan ordered the captain of his honor guard.

  Kashyan scrambled to his feet as the royal guards gathered in a circle around the combatants. For a moment, Kashyan watched in fascination as Sheyn slid fluidly away from Ognyan’s thrusts. And then one of the Sumadinim’s blows grazed Sheyn’s forearm, and a line of red appeared on Sheyn’s pale skin. A rush of intense emotions blasted through Kashyan like a furnace wind and propelled him forward.

  “Stay back,” Kashyan ordered the royal guards as he pulled Sheyn behind him.

  Kashyan said not a word as he engaged Ognyan again. He fought without hesitation, as a man certain of the outcome. He felt stronger than he ever had in his life, and each move he made felt preordained, as though he’d practiced this dance many times. Methodically, he broke through each of Ognyan attempts to counter his strikes or go on the offensive. He saw Ognyan’s eyes change as the possibility of defeat entered his thoughts, and he pressed the attack, driving Ognyan backward, step-by-step, until his back was against the altar. Kashyan raised his sword high and swung with all his might at Ognyan’s neck. Ognyan brought his blade up to block the slashing strike and watched in horror as his broadsword was cut in two. The blow struck Ognyan with diminished strength, and he kept his head but suffered a terrible cut to the side of his face. Dazed, Ognyan dropped to his knees.

  “Take him!” Djulyan shouted at the guards. “Kashyan of Savaan! Put down your sword!”

  Kashyan stood over Ognyan, breathing hard, trembling with the effort of standing still. The one who had hurt his love was a breath away from the point of his sword. A single thrust between the ribs, hardly any effort at all, and a stain would be scrubbed from the world.

  “Bastard.” Sheyn’s voice pierced the red mist that surrounded Kashyan.

  Kashyan looked up at the touch of a hand on his arm.

  Sheyn smiled at his lover. “If anyone’s going to kill this beast, it will be me. Let the high king have him.”

  The royal guards swarmed over Ognyan and bound his hands behind him. Through a mask of blood, Ognyan glared balefully at anyone who glanced at him.

  The high king ignored Ognyan and gave another order. “Free him,” he commanded, pointing at the altar.

  “You’ll need the key,” Kashyan said after inspecting the shackles.

  “The key probably disappeared with Chanesh,” Kholya said. “Call for a stonemason with his mallet and chisel.”

  “I don’t believe it!” Djulyan said as he came closer. “I met this boy yesterday. This is Djenosh, the crown prince of Sumadin.” He gave Ognyan a disbelieving look. “When your fellow kings hear of this, they’ll demand I take your crown.”

  “None of you are fit to judge me,” Ognyan answered. “Look at you, you bunch of women.”

  “Take him out of here and send for a mason,” Djulyan told the guards. “Kezlath, go with them to your palace and prepare a chamber for a court of judgment. Send for the council of kings. I want to pass sentence swiftly.”

  “What of me, sire?” Kezlath asked.

  “I have no proof you condoned your high priest’s actions. Until I have such evidence, you retain your rights as a sovereign lord. However, keep in mind that a good king would have known what was happening here.”

  “Yes, sire.” Kezlath bowed and accompanied the guards and their prisoner out of the temple.

  Sheyn bent over the unconscious young man on the altar, and the sight of the marred flesh reignited his fury at Taankh’s Servants. “Help me,” he said as he reached for Kashyan’s hand.

  Kashyan took Sheyn’s hand in his. “Tell me what to do.”

  Sheyn made a frustrated noise. “I need your strength.”

  Kashyan squeezed Sheyn’s hand. “What I have is yours.”

  Grasping one of the chains in his fist, Sheyn channeled his rage into a pure beam of energy. The metal flew apart, sending shards flying and freeing one of the sacrifice’s hands. Sheyn concentrated, and the shackles around Djenosh’s ankles and his other wrist disintegrated into powder. “Someone take him out of here,” he said wearily.

  Kashyan lifted Djenosh down and put him in Djulyan’s arms. When Sheyn swayed on his feet, Kashyan swept him up with an arm around his back and one under his knees. With the high king in the lead, they let the royal guard clear a path to the palace. Along the way, the people stared at Djenosh’s injuries and muttered among themselves.

  Chapter 24

  OGNYAN STOOD in the center of the chamber, unrepentant in his chains. He sneered openly at the monarchs gathered to pass judgment on him.

  “Majesties all,” Djulyan said as he entered the chamber. “I regret that I had to call you together again so soon, but this is matter so grave, I am not willing to take it on myself.”

  “We are here to aid you in way we can,” said Lukha, King of the Sea of Grass.

  Preth of Long Isle and Agneth-Khol nodded their agreement.

  “Ognyan of Sumadin,” Djulyan said sternly. “I charge you with conspiring to raise demons. I charge you with the attempted murder of the crown prince of Sumadin. I charge you—” He broke off as the other kings began speaking at once.

  “What’s this about the crown prince?” Preth asked. “Djenosh is my queen’s nephew.”

  “Ognyan turned him over to the Red Temple for use in the ritual of summoning,” Djulyan said. “I saw this with my own eyes.”

  Preth focused his gaze on Ognyan. “You filthy—” he shouted before outrage choked his voice.

  “Can this be true?” Lukha asked.r />
  “I can bring the lad in and let him tell it in his own words,” the high king said.

  “Sire,” Preth called out. “Allow me the honor of cutting Ognyan’s head off.”

  “None of you dare touch me,” Ognyan shouted. “I don’t recognize your authority over me.”

  “Yet you will answer for these crimes,” Djulyan told him. “I strip you of your crown, your title, and all rights that go with them. As soon as a suitable spot is found, your head will come off. Does anyone have anything to add?”

  “I volunteer for the job of headsman,” Preth said immediately.

  “Granted.” Djulyan looked around the room. “I find I cannot condemn Kezlath of Muergath without more evidence. Are you content with this?”

  “Aye,” the council answered in unison.

  “If I may, sire,” Kezlath said. “It would please me greatly if you would all be my guests at a banquet tonight.”

  After everyone accepted the invitation, Kezlath hurried away to arrange a sumptuous feast to begin buying his way back into favor. Djulyan dismissed all but the Savaani princes and their daaksim. Together, the five retired to a bedchamber where Djenosh was being cared for.

  “Poor lad,” Djulyan said. “He’ll have nightmares all his life.”

  “And what sort of life will it be now that he’s a daaksi?” Sheyn asked.

  Djulyan cursed as the reality of Djenosh’s situation came home to him. “Beheading is too good for Ognyan.”

  “This raises interesting questions,” Kholya said. “Djenosh is the crown prince of Sumadin, Yevdjen’s only male child. But the other kings won’t accept a daaksi on the throne.”

  “Then let there be an end to the worship of Taankh and the practice of creating daaksim!” Djulyan’s voice filled the chamber, and silence reigned for several moments after he finished speaking.

  “Are you banning them completely?” Kholya asked. “If so, you have my wholehearted support. Though I pity the kings who won’t know what it is to be owned by a daaksi.”