Divine Born

by O. J. Lowe

  “I didn’t realise it at the time, but we had tripped an alarm and Lord Tarene came running. I don’t know how he arrived so quickly, but he did. I did wonder if he was a Farwalker, but…”

  “Idle speculation without foundation or purpose,” Vezikalrus said curtly. “Carry on.”

  The reaction was perhaps excessive, but she chose to ignore the tone in his rebuke and did as he ordered. “I don’t think he recognised me. He had a bloodlust going on, he didn’t want word of what was in that vault to reach the outside world. He attacked both of us, I declared a challenge and we fought.”

  She gave the room a crooked smile, held both her arms out at her sides as if to emphasise she had nothing to hide. None of the Cognivites had called her on what she had to say, that had to be a blessing. It wasn’t a lie. None of it was. The truth was mixed up in there just enough to muddy the issue. Cognivites could do many things where the human mind was concerned but they weren’t fool-proof. They were capable of error just as much as the next man or woman, perhaps even more so because they had an air of smug arrogance in their faith in their abilities. They were only human, despite what they professed otherwise, and they held most of the same faults.

  “Lord Tarene was the keeper of that vault,” Prince Samandir said. “I hope you didn’t allow the local police to get a look inside. Assuming you reported it at all.”

  “I know the law, your highness,” she said politely. “I moved the body far away and then called it in.” She held the bag up. “A few items for your consideration.” Inside the bag stank, she knew this was a stupid idea the moment she plucked Tarene’s rotting head out of its black depths and tossed it onto the table in front of the Dark King. All eyes went to it immediately, she saw them water and recoil at the smell emerging into the room. She had no problems with it. Unisco dealt with too many bodies for it to faze her beyond mild discomfort. “I have the autopsy report. I have his mask and his kjarnblade.”

  “Those latter two are more traditional, you do know that?” the Dark King said, baring his teeth behind the mouth hole in his mask. “Not that thing for starters.”

  “I apologise for entering the vault,” she said. “It was an honest mistake and I am aware ignorance doesn’t make it right. If you wish to punish me, I will accept it and hope only that you realise we are all fallible at the times, especially where our other lives are concerned.”

  “You did not answer my question, Blade Telles,” Prince Tabukah said. “What happened to your partner?”

  “He lives,” she said, letting the words slide slowly out of her mouth. In any other sort of meeting like this, there might have been sounds of outrage and disgust at her admission, here the silence was worse. She could hear the cogs turning in heads as they considered what she’d just said. Already they might be toying with punishment to make sure that nothing like this ever happened again. “I wasn’t the one who picked out the Cavanda vault. He did. He picked up on something inside and chose that we should enter.” She looked around the room, dared anyone to even suggest it was luck. She didn’t believe in luck, not entirely. She’d always thought that it was something you made yourself. “He has potential himself. Lots of it. Ruud Baxter has tried to convince him to join the Vedo and yet he declines.”

  The aura of the room turned ugly at the mention of the name of the oldest living Vedo, she couldn’t blame them. Ruud Baxter had survived where all the others had died, and that level of insult could not be permitted to go unavenged. He would get his one day, he and the rest of the weaklings he had trained would all be wiped from the face of the kingdoms. She’d met Baxter once or twice since he’d returned to Unisco, didn’t know how much longer it’d be before she went for him. His very presence tested every iota of her self-control, she desired to lash out and to hells with the consequences of that action.

  “You wish for him to be recruited?” Vezikalrus asked. “Intriguing.”

  “The Kjarn is strong in his family,” Pree said. “His cousin is what passes for a full Vedo these days. I ask to be granted the time to work at him, to see if I can convince him to join our cause. He and I are friends, at least he believes us to be. I believe that he would see my way of thinking within time.”

  “Our way of thinking, Blade Telles,” Prince Samandir said. “Always remember the motto of the Cavanda. All before self.”

  “I have never forgotten our mission,” she said. “I apologise for what happened to Tarene, but in the oldest of ways, I have proven he was weak and unfit for his role. I humbly ask that I be considered for elevation to his vacant position, as has been the tradition of elevation for centuries.”

  “Your skill is not up for dispute,” Vezikalrus said. “Your judgement however bears cause for worry. However, you are correct. We have a vacant position and as the cause of that vacancy, you have a case for filling it.” It was his turn to let his gaze drift idly around the room. “Because of your indiscretions of invasion, insubordination…” He gestured to the head on the table, clicked his fingers and it exploded into flames, foul-smelling smoke filling the room to mask the rot. “And your assumptions that you may decide on acts affecting the secrecy of us all, we will first vote on whether to enact punitive measures and the depths of those measures. Should you not be put to death…” He didn’t even sound like he was joking, and she didn’t believe he was for a second. Secrecy was their greatest asset, she’d thought more than once today already. “We will vote upon your ascendancy.”

  The Dark King clicked his fingers and the fired died away, leaving a fine carpet of ashes across the surface of the table. The first time she’d seen a trick like that employed in here, she’d been shocked. There was a reason they all met within this room, every Cavanda meeting for the last four hundred years had happened within these walls. Someone, nobody remembered who, had placed runes across the surface of every brick, ancient Kjarn runes never since replicated. They only had one purpose, to nullify Kjarn abilities within the room. Later she’d discovered the king and his princes were in possession of bracelets that let them activate their abilities despite it. Because of their rank, only those three figures were permitted to wear them, three out of hundreds, one story said there were only three such bracelets in existence, she wasn’t sure if she believed that or not.

  A vote though. This could get tricky. She’d seen Cavanda votes before and they were notoriously unpredictable. The lords would vote first, all seven of them silent throughout and she couldn’t see herself making too many friends there. Who’d vote for someone who’d just killed one of them to get away without punishment?

  Then again, Tarene had never been popular. If she became a lord, killing another lord for their position was no longer an option. Samandir and Tabukah might be called princes but neither of them was the child of Vezikalrus. The title was a rank of honour, not a hereditary one. Any lord could claim it the way a blade could claim the title of lord. Killing a prince was harder than killing a lord though. Samandir and Tabukah hadn’t lost the roles in nearly four decades, Vezikalrus had been on the throne even longer. With ascension came access to new knowledge, but always it was worth remembering those above you had knowledge you did not, that they’d seen the same information you’d had given to you and considerably more time to learn how to use it.

  Normally eight lords could lead to a tied vote. If the vote was tied after every lord voted, the votes would go to the princes and they’d be able to either continue the deadlock or break it at their will. Should they oppose each other and continue the stalemate, the Dark King had the final say. With seven, it would be over here and now unless one of them broke tradition and abstained. She glanced around the room, set her mouth into a grimace behind her mask and folded her arms.

  “If that is the will of my king,” she said. “Then I submit to the wise judgement of those I wish to join.” Pree bowed her head, didn’t wish to meet the eyes of anyone out of fear for what she might go on to see.

  “In accordance with our traditions, I will ask each lord
for their reasons and their decision, while Blade Telles gets right of reply. Decisions are hitherto optioned as life or death. Any who pick another of their own choosing shall be ignored. Should the verdict be death, then it will be administered immediately. Should the verdict be life, then I will decide her punishment myself. Are we clear?”

  Nobody in the room was going to argue with him, Pree thought. At least he’d laid it out. If he let everyone vote on their own unique punishment, she could be declared dead with two votes and that wouldn’t be good at all. “Lord Celej,” Vezikalrus said. “What do you feel?”

  Lord Celej was a Serranian, a short one but broadly built in his robes, filling them with impressive muscle. She could tell by the accent flowing from behind his mask, blue and white stripes with bull horns in silver. “My king,” he said. “I desire to see the harshest punishment possible imposed. I vote death.”

  Lovely. If they were all like this, then she was in for a world of trouble.

  “Blade Telles broke the rules, she endangered the secrecy for us all and when a Cavanda starts acting like this, it has to be snuffed out as quickly as possible. Should we turn a blind eye to this in hopes that she becomes a great lord? I think not.”

  “Blade Telles, do you wish to reply?” Vezikalrus asked and Pree shook her head. Questioning what Celej had done for the Cavanda in his time as a lord wouldn’t bring her much aid, as fun as it might be. “The vote stands at one for death. Lord Hoey?”

  Hoey was taller, his mask pink and green in a hideous blend, scar-like grooves cut across the eyes and the nose flat and pig-like. By his accent, she’d mark him as a man from Canterage, maybe Guypsia. Those people were everywhere, very distinctive. The hair she could see above the mask was coal black, flecked with shades of iron grey. “Hey, everyone makes mistakes and I’d rather have someone who makes a mistake trying to benefit the Cavanda than who doesn’t and sits on their arse doing nothing.”

  She fought the urge to smile. Typical of the travelling folk there. No fucking around with their words.

  “I’ve known Blade Telles a little, I’ve seen some of the reports she does from her work with Unisco. I think the Cavanda is better off with her in it than out of it. I vote life.”

  “Do you wish to reply?” Vezikalrus asked her and she shook her head again. Effusively thanking him for something that might not yet do her any good felt premature. If she got away with it, she’d thank those that had sided with her then. “Good. The vote stands at one to one. Lord Amalfus, if you please?”

  She caught her breath in her throat, watched the lithe man out the corner of her eye. Amalfus gave the impression of great grace as he rose, his mask orange and gold with protruding red eyebrows and viciously pointed teeth. Another Canterage man but from the south maybe, his words clipped and his accent almost posh she would have said.

  She knew something about Amalfus that he might not want repeated, might bring it up if he voted against her. It took her back to that day when Unisco had attacked the Coppinger airbase and how she’d gotten off that damn thing. He might not want to be so quick to condemn her when he heard about what his own damn apprentice had gotten up to up there. It’d wipe a smile off his face for sure. Maybe get his head removed from his shoulders if they were feeling as righteous with him as they were.

  “Secrecy is prime,” he said. “It is the only reason we have gotten away with what we have for as long as we have. No matter Blade Telles’ intentions, good or bad, beneficial or not, she did what she did. Every action has consequences. I vote death.”

  “The vote stands at two to one in favour of death,” the Dark King said. “Blade Telles, do you wish to respond to Lord Vezikalrus.”

  “Actually,” she said. “I wouldn’t mind that. Just wondered if he knew about what his apprentice was getting up to months ago if he’s that concerned about the veil of secrecy. Because I’ve never seen such a wildly public display of Kjarn abilities as I did from her then.” She was pleased to note Amalfus looked like he’d been slapped. Good.

  “If you have an accusation to make…”

  “I’ll save it for after,” she said. “Assuming that this ends well. If you send me to my death, just consider that one of your own will be as culpable for a much worse breach of secrecy.”

  She was considerably relieved Kjarn powers didn’t work in here, not without those bracelets. Amalfus would probably be moving out of his way to make her as dead as possible with it if he could. A risky stratagem around this many powerful Cavanda but decidedly less so than having her spill her guts.

  “Lord Barrass,” Vezikalrus said. “State your piece.”

  She was sure Barrass was a woman, couldn’t say for certain, for the voice was muffled around the mask, brown and grey with hundreds of pockmarks chipped into the surface of it. What impression she did get was she was Vazaran, her clothes leaving her shapeless in body, but dark skin could be seen at her wrists and neck.

  “I find it hard to fault Blade Telles for her actions,” she said. “As reckless as they might have been, she’s given good reasons for the way she acted every step of the way. She risked exposure, she did her best to push it all back into the bottle after. Given there are none at our door, I have faith she’ll learn from her mistake without consequences that will doom us all. I vote for her to live.”

  Yes! Over half the votes out of the way and there was still a chance. Two more in her favour and she’d be granted the reprieve she deserved.

  “Two to two,” Vezikalrus said, after offering her the right to reply which once more she chose to decline. Speaking her mind wouldn’t do her any good, as often as the offer was made. She’d already made herself look weak by casting aspersion on Amalfus, even if the seed needed to be planted. “Lord Jeziorek?”

  A Burykian like her, Jeziorek cleared his throat with a sound like paper being sanded off a wall. His mask had a brilliant golden beak, black and white patches across the face like a myriad gameboard. Like Celej, he was short, but his arms were thick and beefy. She wondered if national kinship would count for everything. Somehow, she doubted it. From an early age, all loyalty was twisted towards the Cavanda rather than family or friends or national identity. They didn’t want their apprentices to feel divided loyalty. If anything, it might reinforce Jeziorek against her to avoid the accusations of favouritism.

  “Secrecy is our oldest tenant,” he said. “I vote death. We don’t want our blades thinking it is optional rather than necessary. A sorry end here saves tears later. The next one might just think twice rather than doing something rash.”

  Huh, she thought. So much for the suggestion of kinship then. He’d thrown any hint of that straight out the window. She couldn’t blame him. Not really. In his shoes, she might have done the same thing. Sympathy was a hard broom to shake in the Cavanda and you avoided it by not having to do it in the first place. If you didn’t have to face the accusations, you didn’t have to deal with the fallout.

  She shook her head again, declined the right to comment as Vezikalrus announced the decision as three to two against her. Pree looked to the last two members, Necid and Fekir. Both were from Premesoir, she knew from experience, Necid the fat one with the rainbow coloured human hair billowing from his mask, Fekir the averagely built one with the half and half mask, half a normal face and the other half vivid reds and browns and purples like a burn victim. She didn’t trust Premesoirans entirely. The kingdom had a dubious record of people doing unnerving things when they achieved a little bit of power. They couldn’t be trusted. Some of the Premesoir presidents had been some of the worst people in history in the name of advancing their kingdoms, they’d started wars and done their best to finish them often, though the fallout left behind was often catastrophic. They’d never gone into a situation and made it better than when they arrived.

  And what did that mean for her in the here and now, she wondered.

  “Lord Necid,” the Dark King said. “Please render your verdict.”

  Necid was fat but his voice w
as deep and stern. He got the impression he was bald behind the mask, one of the rumours she’d heard was how his own hair had been used to make it. “I believe that Blade Telles showed remarkable behaviour all throughout this. She showed initiative in letting her partner live, because he has the gift. A potential asset that could be ours one day is always worth taking a risk for. She should be punished, but I believe after her initial slip, she did everything to rectify the situation, she moved the body, the vault wasn’t scrutinised, and nobody knows we were involved at any point. I don’t believe the nature of the situation warrants death. I vote to let her live.”

  She didn’t realise she’d been holding her breath until it all rushed out of her in one deep sigh of relief. Three to three as Vezikalrus quickly reminded them all, as if he needed to. One more vote and it could swing her either way. This was her moment of truth, perhaps the last few minutes she’d live unless things went her way. The Dark King would murder her on the spot if Fekir said to kill her. She was sweating now, it wasn’t warm in the chamber, but she could feel her heart hammering, her adrenaline levels spiking, her fists clenched.

  “I decline the right to comment,” she said, keeping her voice strong. “I just await the words of Lord Fekir.”

  Fekir chuckled, rose to his feet and cleared his throat. “Blade Telles,” he said. “I’ve heard what my fellow lords have said, and your future depends on your answer, for I wish to address you directly if it pleases his grace?” He looked to the Dark King who nodded briefly. She wondered what was coming. “Blade Telles, of your partner who knows a little of our ways now and you hope to convert. Give me one answer to my question and your fate shall be decided. I care not for your reasons, the depths of what you did or didn’t do. I just desire to know if your heart remains true to our cause. Should Wade Wallerington have sought to expose us, would you have removed him, your partner at Unisco and perhaps even your friend?”