The Bastard’s Pearl

by Connie Bailey

  “If this incident does not convince my fellow rulers that worship of the Demon God and the custom of daaksim should be done away with, then I do not know what will. This could have happened to any one of their sons.”

  “If you put it that way, they’ll demand you ban Taankh’s Servants,” Kholya predicted.

  “The first thing we need to do is find the high priest,” Sheyn said. “As long as he’s free, this dark faith will never die.”

  As though it were the most natural thing in the world to take advice from a daaksi, Djulyan gave his captain orders to perform a search for the high priest. “Though I hold out little hope of finding him. Who knows where the demon may have taken him? He might be in the next room or he might be in the Shadoworld.”

  “I still don’t understand this religion,” Sheyn said. “Why would anyone choose to worship a God whose greatest desire is their destruction? I could feel the minds of the demons. All their thoughts are of rending flesh and basking in misery.”

  “They do it to gain power,” Djulyan said. “If a man can coerce a demon to do his bidding, he can easily do away with his enemies.”

  “I don’t understand the kind of person that would court such an ally,” Sheyn said. “And I hope I never do.”

  “Well said, Pearl.” Djulyan smiled for the first time since entering the temple. “And now that’s settled, when will we have your trial for using witchcraft?”

  “Trial, Your Glory?” Sheyn said, looking up Djulyan with wide eyes.

  “I’m joking with you,” the high king said. “But that was a very winning look.” He chuckled. “Don’t be concerned. Though I saw you use magic, it wasn’t in service of evil.”

  “On my honor, sire,” Sheyn said. “I’m not a witch.” He looked up at Kashyan.

  “A witch he may be,” Kashyan said to Djulyan. “But there’s no evil in him. Spite he has in plenty and enough pride for a God, but no evil.”

  “Spite?” Sheyn repeated.

  “You do tend to hold a grudge.”

  “Still, I think you might have chosen another word.”

  “Sire,” Kholya spoke up. “When you have leisure, I’d like to speak with you about….” His gaze went to Luks.

  “You love him,” Djulyan said.

  “With all my heart, sire.”

  “I see.” Djulyan paused in thought, his eyes on Luks’s face. “I think my son will find happiness with you. And I know you’ll care for him as though he was porcelain from Weijan. But you must promise me one thing.”

  “Yes, sire?”

  “You must let me host a bond fire for you.”

  “I’d be honored.” Kholya bowed. “And if you did not already know it, you have my loyalty to my last breath.” He glanced at the prince who moved restlessly in his sleep. “I should go and let Prince Djenosh have peace and quiet.”

  Djenosh woke then and cried out. After a few minutes, he realized he was safe, and he calmed down. When he saw Sheyn in the crowd around his bed, he spoke. “I know you. You freed me.”

  “I helped,” Sheyn said, coming forward. He put a gentle hand on Djenosh’s forehead, and a frown creased his brow. “Kashyan,” he said softly, and Kashyan came to put a hand on his shoulder, lending his energy to Sheyn’s healing of Djenosh. Sheyn looked into Djenosh’s eyes for a long moment and then stepped back.

  Djenosh relaxed against the pillows and the haunted look left his eyes. “Thank you all for saving me,” he said. “Could someone send to Sumadin and tell the queen what has happened?”

  “I’ll send a scribe to you to take down your words,” Djulyan said. “And one of my couriers will carry your message.”

  “Where is Ognyan?” Djenosh asked. “What has become of him?”

  “Ognyan of Sumadin is under arrest and will be executed as soon as you give the word,” Djulyan said. “You are the heir to Sumadin’s throne, and as Ognyan is now your subject, it is your right to name the manner of execution and to conduct it if you wish.”

  “I wish he could be cast into Taankh’s realm to suffer endless torment,” Djenosh said fiercely, and then his eyes filled with tears. “Why did he do this to me?” he asked in a choked voice. “All my life I called him uncle, and he gave me to the priests as if he cared no more for me than a buzzing fly.”

  “I don’t know, but you’re safe now,” Djulyan said. “Rest if you can. Someone will be with you to tend your needs.”

  “Don’t leave me here,” Djenosh said. “Please take me out of this place.”

  “As you wish,” Djulyan said. “My royal guards will escort you to my camp. You’ll stay in my tent until you’re fully recovered.” He gestured to Kholya and Kashyan to accompany him and left the chamber.

  “I know it’s soon to think about it,” Kholya said. “But perhaps you could set one of your older sons to rule Sumadin for a time.”

  “There would be many among the Sumadi nobility who would oppose an outsider, but it would go a long way toward preventing a civil war.”

  “Especially since the Sumadinim would know that your regent would have the backing of your armies, sire,” Kashyan said.

  “I don’t like putting a nation under martial law,” Djulyan said.

  “Think of it as setting an example,” Sheyn said. “And as a deterrent to treachery.”

  Djulyan swiveled his head to look at Sheyn.

  Sheyn cleared his throat. “And of course, when you lift martial law, the people will hail you as a liberator, Your Glory.”

  “I hope Prince Kashyan takes no notion to rule Kandaar. With you at his side, I think he’d accomplish it.”

  “Prince Kashyan is loyal to you,” Sheyn said. “And he’d rather be flayed alive than rule a kingdom.”

  Djulyan chuckled. “You remind me a bit of my daaksi. Not that Djeyd has your sharpness of wit, but he’s very amusing when he wishes to be.”

  “When will we meet him?” Sheyn asked.

  “Djeyd comes and goes with the wind. Locking him in a room does no good, so I’ve stopped trying to keep him. He always returns and is never gone longer than two sunsets.” He paused. “And what did I say to earn that sweet smile?”

  “You’re not what I expected in a Kandaari high king. Since you know my reputation for a forward tongue, I’ll tell you that I expected you’d be the biggest brute of all. Yet you’re kind, and wise, and not at all barbaric.”

  “You cannot judge all of us by Ognyan,” Djulyan said.

  “Sadly, he was the first Kandaarim I met, unless you count Brother Yozif.”

  “Ognyan is worse than an animal,” Djulyan said. “No animal would behave so badly.” He paused as they reached the front of the palace. “I should send to King Preth. There’s no reason to delay Ognyan’s execution.” He looked at Kholya and Kashyan in turn. “I’d like you to attend, along with the council of kings. I want as many witnesses as possible, and I want the sight of Ognyan’s severed head to be a warning in case another ruler considers conspiring with Taankh’s Servants.”

  AT THE hour named by the high king, he and a number of nobles gathered in a small courtyard of the royal palace in Taar Muergan. True night had not yet fallen, and a soft twilight exalted the plain gray stone of the paving, the walls, and the block set in the center of the grass. Beside the block stood Preth of Long Isle with a broadsword in his hand. Prince Djenosh, having recovered with a daaksi’s swiftness, was at the side of the high king to see justice done.

  Servants came to light torches, and then the prisoner was brought forth. A wooden door opened in the west wall, and four royal guards marched in with Ognyan in chains between them. Ognyan was brought to the block and by the strength of all four guards was made to kneel. His head was forced down until it rested against the stone, and he was tied there to await the killing stroke. Preth looked to Djulyan, and the high king stepped forward.

  “Ognyan, late of Sumadin, you’ve been judged guilty of terrible crimes. Your life is forfeit and the sentence will be carried out now. If you wish to name othe
rs who took part in this crime, this will be your last chance to speak.”

  “So the sheep will kill the wolf,” Ognyan said. “That is how it is in Kandaar now. Everything is upside down and backward. I only wish I could live to see Chanesh take the crown from you. I’d like to see you grovel when—”

  Ognyan’s words were cut short when Preth brought his sword down. The sharp, heavy blade sliced cleanly through Ognyan’s neck and clanged on the stone. A blood-chilling shriek followed the decapitation, and a huge demon dropped from the sky onto Ognyan’s body.

  “Kill it,” Djulyan shouted, and the royal guards ran toward the monster.

  Before the soldiers reached the demon, the creature beheaded Preth with a swipe of a claw and sent the broadsword flying. Sinking its talons into Ognyan’s flesh, it bent to snuffle at the limp, headless body. With a scream of rage, it flung the corpse at the oncoming guards and extended its wings.

  “Stay,” Kashyan told Sheyn and followed Kholya across the courtyard.

  “Why doesn’t it fly away?” Sheyn muttered. He tightened his fingers around the hilt of his saber as he watched the battle. The demon was nearly twice the height of a man, with six long arms that ended in talons like daggers. Each sweep of its limbs dealt horrible wounds while the Kandaarim could not come within sword’s reach. Several throwing knives were embedded in the monster’s flesh, but it took no notice of them. Sheyn watched Kashyan duck under a black claw to slash at the demon’s legs. He cursed when one of the creature’s heel spurs caught Kashyan in the lower back and toppled him.

  “Sheyn!” Luks cried out as Sheyn left his side. “No!”

  Sheyn paid no attention to anyone’s orders for him to stop. He bounded past the guards, weaving through them as he dodged the demon’s claws with a daaksi’s phenomenal speed. Seeing Kashyan on his feet, Sheyn moved toward him.

  “Get back,” Kashyan shouted when he saw Sheyn. In the next instant, he parried a swooping claw and sheared the tip off. He reeled back from the force of the blow but kept his footing as the demon attacked again. In his peripheral vision, he saw Sheyn coming closer and his heart froze. “Get away,” he yelled.

  “I can help,” Sheyn said, wondering again why the beleaguered beast didn’t simply fly away. He assumed the high priest had sent the demon to rescue Ognyan but too late. With its mission failed, it only made sense that it return to its master. Or was the demon’s lust for blood and suffering stronger than Chanesh’s command of it?

  Abruptly, the demon’s head swung down, and the four gleaming eyes between its ram horns fastened on Sheyn. Its leathery nostril slits whistled as it leaned over him, sniffing loudly. The creature’s maw opened, exposing row after row of needle teeth, and it let out a great bellow of triumph. The basso roar ended in a shriek of agony as Kashyan’s sword severed one of its legs at the ankle joint.

  Sheyn closed his eyes and reached for the power that had come to him when he needed to save Luks’s life. He waited for the force to rise in him so he could blast the demon, but he felt nothing. Opening his eyes, he gripped his saber tightly and stabbed up at the monster.

  The demon flapped its wings to stay upright as viscous fluid poured from the stump of its right leg. It kept up a constant keening of pain as it hovered, avoiding the blades of Kashyan and the royal guards, as it grabbed at Sheyn. The creature suffered several stab wounds from Sheyn’s saber, but at last it snagged its claws in Sheyn’s long hair and bore him aloft.

  Sheyn cut at the demon’s limb, but it grasped the sword in its mouth and flung it away. Hauling Sheyn higher, it took hold of him with two more claws. The freezing cold of the demon’s knobbed hide quickly penetrated Sheyn’s clothing, chilling him to the bone. Staving off panic, he once again tried to summon the power to blast the demon. He didn’t care that he might fall to his death. Anything was preferable to being in the clutches of Taankh’s Servants.

  “Pearl!” Kashyan shouted.

  Sheyn looked down and saw Kashyan clutching the beast’s maimed lower limb.

  “Hold on. I’m coming for you.”

  Kashyan sheathed his sword and reached up. At the same moment, the demon kicked backward with its uninjured leg. A cloven hoof the size of an anvil struck Kashyan in the chest and sent him flying. Sheyn looked down and saw Kashyan land on a tower not too far below. He watched Kashyan get to his feet and saw his mouth moving. Though he was too high to hear Kashyan’s voice, he knew what his man was saying. Kashyan would come for him.

  KHOLYA MET Kashyan halfway up the tower stairs. “It’s all right, Kasha. We’re going to get Pearl back. And the council of kings has approved my proposal to burn down that filthy temple.”

  As they descended to ground level, Kashyan reached out to clasp Kholya’s forearm and give it a squeeze. “Good. I’m going to the Red Temple to fetch Pearl. If anyone tries to hinder me, he forfeits his life.”

  “I’ve sent a runner for the Black Hawks,” Kholya said as they left the tower.

  “Then they can meet me there.” Kashyan took off at a dead run.

  Kholya paused long enough to bow to Djulyan and give Luks a reassuring look before he followed Kashyan. It wasn’t far from the palace to the temple square, but the demon could get there a lot faster than a man running through the streets. And the high priest could cause a lot of grief in a few minutes.

  They heard the footsteps of a large group behind them and turned to see a company of Djulyan’s royal guards. The captain saluted and stayed on the Savaani princes’ heels as they raced to the square. When they poured into the plaza, they saw several ranks of Red Monks assembled to block entry to the temple.

  Chapter 25

  “NO!” SHEYN gasped as he regained awareness and felt the rough, cold stone under him. He hadn’t forgotten the gritty, greasy feel of the altar in the Gate Chamber. Fear flooded in, and he reached out with all his senses as he tried to gauge the immediate threat. The air was heavy with the smoke of the human lard candles, and overlaying that was the rotted-meat smell of a demon’s breath. He raised his head as the door opened, but the shackles made it impossible to move his arms or legs.

  “Quickly!” Chanesh said as he entered the chamber. “We haven’t much time.”

  Sheyn glanced behind the high priest and saw no one, though he could feel the presence of a demon. He followed Chanesh with his gaze as Taankh’s Chief Servant went around the room lighting more of the thick candles. Pushing aside the weight of dread that threatened to suffocate him, Sheyn spoke to the high priest.

  “You’re all alone now, aren’t you? Ognyan is dead. King Kezlath has renounced you, and the high king’s men are hunting you. But those are the least of your worries. The Bastard of Savaan is coming for me, and he won’t be gentle with you, if you’re still here when he arrives.” He took a shuddering breath. “You should leave here now. Run as fast as you can and go as far away as possible.”

  Chanesh gave no sign he’d heard Sheyn. His head was bent over an array of objects on a stone shelf. After choosing one, he went over to the altar.

  Sheyn’s eyes were irresistibly drawn to the gleaming metal of the small knife in the high priest’s hand. “Get away from me, monster,” he said.

  “You call me monster?” For the first time, Chanesh looked directly at Sheyn.

  “Because you are a monster. Who else but a monster would take up a knife and calmly cut another person over and over in the hope of raising a demon?”

  “Why do you fear the knife so? I’ve always wondered, but the ritual doesn’t allow for personal communication, so I’ve never asked.”

  “You are truly mad. I fear it because it hurts.”

  “But you heal right away. I’ve never seen a daaksi heal as quickly as you.”

  “It still hurts.” Sheyn steadied himself as the knife neared his thigh. “And besides the pain, the stench of evil in this chamber makes me ill.”

  “If you’re going to be sick, turn your head so you don’t choke on your spew. If you die, you’re of no use to me.”
>
  Sheyn shivered as the cold blade touched his skin. “Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Your evil has been exposed. What can you hope to gain by torturing me?”

  “Yozif tells me you’re much stronger now. I’m going to use you to bring Taankh across the Threshold into this world. When Taankh has come, He will destroy all who oppose me. Kezlath shall be high king and do my bidding.”

  “Isn’t it more likely that your God will pull your head off and drink your blood?”

  Chanesh raised a hand to stroke an amulet around his neck. “Taankh knows who his Servants are. He might devour you, though.”

  “Kasha will be here before then.”

  “The demon at the door will keep him busy for a while.” Chanesh pressed down with the blade and made the first cut. He chanted as he circled the altar, and the emanations of Sheyn’s pain and horror carried his message to the Shadoworld and the ears of the God of Death.

  Taankh raised his massive head, crowned with the horns of a bull, and savored the intoxicating draughts of distress. He stirred from his throne-nest of burning coals and followed the alluring scent. The coils of his tentacles carried him over the bone-strewn floor to a roofless section of the chamber. Taankh snatched up a scuttling imp with a whiplash of his tongue and ate the scavenging creature in two bites. His hunger assuaged, he prepared to endure the burning cold of the space between the worlds.

  THOUGH OUTNUMBERED, Kholya, Kashyan, and the royal guards kept the temple’s militia at bay until the Black Hawks arrived. The Savaani cavalry turned the tide, their battle-wise chargers bowling over the enemy as they rode through them. Kashyan grabbed on to a stirrup strap and ran beside the horse, slashing at the monks until they reached the steps of the temple. Kashyan patted the rider’s calf and dashed up the stairs and through the entrance, outstripping his allies. He could feel Sheyn’s agony, and it drew him unerringly to the Gate Chamber.

  The demon that guarded the door to the chamber roared when it saw Kashyan. The grating bellow echoed off the stone walls as the creature raised its forelegs and scissored its pincers.