Divine Born

by O. J. Lowe

  She was glad she could hide her surprise behind her mask. That was unexpected, she thought, wondered how Fekir knew of her professional relationship with Wade. Perhaps he too worked for Unisco, though she had no idea who he might be. Perhaps he was a skilled Cognivite and the Kjarn had told him. Either way, he knew too much and that unsettled her, not least for the way he’d just blurted it out in front of the rest of the Royal Council.

  Regardless, there was only one answer she could give, and she was surprised as to how quickly she’d come to it as it arrived on her lips. She’d shield Wade the best she could but if he wasn’t compliant, it wouldn’t even be a choice. “A potential asset he might be,” she said. “But should that asset not be worth the fruit it might bear, then it should be removed. If he had sought to expose us, he would no longer be with us. I would not hesitate to remove him. My loyalty has been to the Cavanda. It always will be. It is because of the Cavanda that I am where I am. Make no mistake of that.”

  “And why should we kill such a loyalty?” Fekir asked. “Mistakes are there to be learned from, especially when the fallout is nowhere near as bad as it might have been. We have avoided a minor catastrophe. I vote for her to live. I doubt she’ll make such an error of judgement again.”

  “Four to three,” Vezikalrus said. “In the absentia of Lord Tarene, the vote is decisive and Blade Telles, you are to be punished at a pre-determined date in the future rather than executed. Consider yourself lucky.” The Dark King cleared his throat. “Now, with that out the way, it is time for another vote. With Lord Tarene’s seat emptied, we will all vote by show of hands whether to permit Blade Telles to fulfil his position and his duties. By right of law, she has a claim to it, it is the duty of you all to honour that claim.” He looked at the nine men and women underneath him, the seven lords and the two princes. “Failing that, we will meet again in the future to discuss future candidates. The Eight need to remain whole, to leave an imbalance will have disastrous consequences. All in favour of elevating Blade Telles to the rank of Lord of the Cavanda, raise your hands now.”

  She didn’t know what to expect. Just because something was her right didn’t mean said right would be honoured when it came to pass the motion through. What was right and what would eventually be done were two entirely different things. She’d need six out of nine available votes to be ascended Maybe the Dark King had even avoided punishing her yet to see the outcome of the vote. A punishment for a lord carried a different measure as a punishment for a blade. Lords weren’t usually put to death for breaking secrecy, although the cynic in her felt the need to point out that they usually had more sense than to do so by the time they got the opportunity to ascend.

  Yet, she was surprised, felt the tingling sensation flood through her as hands raised to approve of her, both the princes, well over half the lords. Only Jeziorek and Amalfus didn’t raise their hands. Given they’d both voted to have her put to death, she wasn’t entirely surprised. Amalfus had to know that halting her ascension wouldn’t get him out of the shit his apprentice had gotten him into. Although, now she thought about it, the word of a lord would be taken more seriously than that of a blade. It was perhaps the only reason she’d sat on it until now. That and she hadn’t been here for a while. Cover. Maintaining the secrecy, they were so proud of. Those were her reasons and she’d stick to them.

  Jeziorek though, appeared to have no reason not to vote against her unless there was something going on she was unaware of. Maybe he and Amalfus had compact, perhaps he wanted to be the sole Burykian on the council. It didn’t matter. Those two had failed in their bid to halt her. “That concludes the vote,” Vezikalrus said. “And with a majority vote of seven for and two against, rise to your feet Lord Telles and look your fellow councillors in the eye for the first time.”

  Lord Telles. That had a nice ring inside her head, she thought. She could get used to that title and maybe more. Prince Telles sounded even better.

  She chided herself for the thoughts before they exited the conception stage. Best not to be greedy right now. The nature of a Cavanda was to covet power, it was instilled in them from their first days. She’d been a lord for all of ten seconds. There were others on the Royal Council with decades of experience with power she could only now start to discover for herself. It was a long game, to be sure, and she’d need to play smart rather than fast.

  Pree rose to her feet, tried not to react as she found the Dark King in her face, he’d made it from his throne to next to her in the time it had taken her to raise her head. Not a great distance, maybe ten feet at most but still a great distance to cover in a fraction of a second. He gripped her arm and a curious sensation whipped through her, one not unfamiliar in its feeling but strange in its execution. Early in her Unisco days, she’d tried to cram herself through a pipe just a fraction too small, had spent several agonising minutes attempting to force herself through the gap.

  It reminded her of that, the room around her suddenly gone and cold whipped at her face, bitter winds making her grit her teeth. She doubted they were even in Zalchak anymore, it didn’t look like any part of Serran she’d seen before. Mountainous and cold, perhaps up north. Or maybe elsewhere. The peaks she could see didn’t look familiar.

  Vezikalrus in typical fashion didn’t appear perturbed by the cold, fixed her with a stare, eyes unblinking behind his mask, even in the gale. Her robes weren’t the warmest, she wrapped her arms around her and felt her teeth threaten to chatter before she realised that she was no longer under Kjarn restrictions. It was like a light had been switched on inside her, she felt the fires rise, she fanned them mentally with the buffering winds that crashed into her, used that energy to make them rise, let the heat seep through her entire body. It took a few seconds, but she was soon able to straighten and compose herself with dignity as she looked at the Dark King.

  “You wish to know where we are,” he said. “Or how we got here. Both questions are an irrelevance in the scheme of things. Always we have places we need to be and how we get there is a matter only for the minor details.”

  “You’re a Farwalker,” she said. “I’ve never travelled like that before.” She knew how rare Farwalkers were and it worried her the most powerful Kjarn-wielder in the kingdoms was one. Farwalkers made for deadly enemies, no door could keep them out, no lock could deny them. If they wanted you dead, they could get to anyone from anywhere.

  “Few have,” he said. “I don’t take passengers often. Only at times when speed and privacy is a must.”

  “You wanted to talk to me in private?” She glanced around, realised that she couldn’t imagine a much more private place than this. Realisation flickered through her. “You don’t trust your own underlings not to have you bugged, do you?”

  “This is easier,” Vezikalrus said. “To spy on someone, it always helps to know where they are. You work for Unisco, you should understand this. It’s difficult to do to a Farwalker, I assure you.”

  She could believe it. Following someone who could vanish from right in front of you and relocate to anywhere in the known kingdoms they could think of, in the time it took you to put one foot in front of the other was a thankless task.

  “If where and how are pointless questions,” she said. “Then I can assume that the best one to ask is why?”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “I brought you here to swear your oath to me and to the Cavanda. I brought you here to inform you of your duties as a lord and your punishment for your previous transgressions. More than that, I want to hear what you have on Lord Amalfus. I wish to hear it before the rest of them do.”

  “Your highness,” she said. “It will be done. All of it.”

  “Repeat after me,” the Dark King said. “I, Lord Telles…”

  “I, Lord Telles,” she said. That prefix of lord still felt new and exciting in her mouth. More than that, it felt damn good to be able to use it.

  “Hereby proclaim in front of the eyes of my one true king…”

  “Hereby proclaim i
n front of the eyes of my one true king…”

  “… To uphold the traditions and the laws of the Cavanda as laid down by those that have gone before…”

  “… To uphold the traditions and the laws of the Cavanda as laid down by those that have gone before...”

  “… To seek out knowledge that will benefit our kind and destroy our enemies…”

  “… To seek out knowledge that will benefit our kind and destroy our enemies…”

  “… Proclaim only to think of the whole rather than the individual…”

  “… Proclaim only to think of the whole rather than the individual…”

  “… To take triumph over glory…”

  “… To take triumph over glory…”

  “… To accept supremacy over acclaim…”

  “… To accept supremacy over acclaim…”

  He paused, looked her up and down. “Those who have gone before observe your oath, every blade and lord, prince and king. Do you make it in their eyes, always to honour the lessons of the past and use them to shape the future for our own ends?”

  “I do honour them.”

  “Do you pledge to use the new power and knowledge available to you to benefit only the Cavanda, seek only to make us stronger in our unity, rather than weaker in our squabble for power.”

  “I do make that pledge.”

  “Do you vow to forsake all others but your brethren and your kin from this point on? Blood is blood, but we are united in spirit and that trumps all. Should you be ordered to exterminate your family and your friends, what would your answer be?”

  “It would be done,” she said. “Always the Cavanda. Never anyone else.”

  “On your knees,” he said and there was a flash of metal in his hand. She stiffened up, knew what was going to happen but she let herself drop regardless, the snow at her feet rising up her thighs as she sank into a kneeling position. Above the wind, she couldn’t hear the Dark King’s kjarnblade activating.

  “When your shoulders are touched with my blade, your confirmation will be complete, you will be born anew as Lord Telles of the Cavanda. Your past sins will be forgiven if not forgotten. Together, we will forge a path that will set the future aflame with its fallout.”

  She nodded, mentally trying to gather herself. She wasn’t sure that she was ready to be touched with a kjarnblade like that. Best not to wriggle. She’d seen what they could do to limbs, even the faintest of touch would leave grooves that would never fade, he’d be scarring her for the rest of her life. Still, if it needed to be done and it was the price that had to be paid then so be it. There were worse things in life than a little pain and permanent damage. A lot worse.

  “Your life as a Unisco agent has left you with many desirable qualities I would look for in one of my lords,” Vezikalrus said. “I demand ferocity and tenacity, I always look for the ability to follow orders and the competence to carry out what is demanded of them. I follow your career with interest, Agent Khan. I would like one of your first duties to be a complete review of Cavanda security, as well as quiet investigations into some of your fellow lords. I have faith none of them are plotting against me, but faith will only take you so far. Trust but verify.”

  “How can you be sure?” she asked. “You never know what goes on in the heads of those that covet power.”

  “Very true, Lord Telles. I like to feel I have the measure of my… What did you call them? My underlings? I know what sort of people they are and given a choice I’d like to replace them all. Amalfus is competent but I worry about his ambition. He recently acquired quite a big job in his other life without the approval of the Royal Council and I worry it might affect his duties as a lord. Should a vacancy appear amongst my princes, I fear he might be the one to make the claim and fill the void left behind. Others have too little ambition, they grow sated and stale where they are, strong enough to maintain their position against any challenge that comes their way but never powerful enough to rise against those above them.”

  “You sound like you want it,” she said. “You want them to challenge you?”

  “I want them to remember they are Cavanda. It is in their tradition to rise, rather than grow complacent. Perhaps one of them will surprise me one day.” She could have sworn he had smiled at her then. “And this is your punishment, Lord Telles. You’ve been given an opportunity that could easily have gone the other way for you. Had you not been so fortunate, you would be dead by now. Take that fortune and use it to build it all. I expect you to be more than an acceptable lord, I expect you to be magnificent. I hold you to the highest of standards and I demand you fulfil them. It will not be an easy life, but I believe you can do it. Nothing worse than wasted potential.”

  She considered his words, wondered what sort of punishment he’d just inflicted on her. Nothing she wouldn’t do anyway, perhaps. Except, was that true? She’d never turned anything down from those above her, either in Unisco or the Cavanda. Always there’d be a first time. Demanding the very constant best from someone didn’t sound like a traditional way of punishment. Pree knew she had to consider the fact that Vezikalrus had been alive a very long time, he knew more psychological tricks than a team of torturers and how to apply them with infinitely more skill. If he was challenging her, did he truly believe that she would succeed? Or that failure was a case of when, rather than if.

  That thought killed the good feeling inside her. Constant questioning of herself, unhealthy paranoia over her own ability? The urge to have her worth proved greater than her judgement? Was this what her life was to be like now? She didn’t know, but the title suddenly didn’t feel so grand and good any more.

  “Now,” he said. “Before we get out of this cold, tell me more about what you said earlier. Amalfus and his apprentice. Gideon Cobb?”

  “Kyra Sinclair,” Pree said. “And several months back, I had an encounter with her while I was part of a Unisco operation…”

  Chapter Nineteen. First Shots.

  “Pull out every stop, every dirty trick. I don’t like the way Jacobs and Jameson sullied the good name of this academy, if they’re going to pass, they can do it the damned hardest way possible. They want their sins cleaned, they’re going to work for it like no cadet ever worked before.”

  Nandahar Konda regarding the upcoming trial for academy graduates.

  It felt like they’d come full circle. When first they’d approached the Unisco academy, they’d been thrown from an aeroship with nothing but an airloop for company, forced to sink or swim from the first whistle. Pete hadn’t appreciated it at the time, he’d never used one before, wasn’t something that had ever come up in his days of being a spirit caller. And yet, he’d managed. He’d swam rather than sank, the relief as he’d touched the ground nothing short of bliss. Had he realised at the time what would follow, he would have questioned the feeling. It might have been an accomplishment at the time, not dying, but he’d quickly come to realise if he wanted to survive his time as an agent of Unisco, it’d have to become a regular thing, the norm rather than an isolated experience.

  Maybe, anyway. If he survived this final test, then it was to the inquisitors with him. He’d been told that chance of an early death in the inquisitors was unlikely, that there were more chances of being injured by your own side than an enemy. He’d already been hit with a bowl by Theo, it had to get better than that. The reality was it probably wouldn’t. He’d had the talk with another inquisitor they’d sent over at Konda’s request, Inquisitor Sweeney who’d been charming enough, had that lilt that came to those hailing from the west of Canterage, the emerald islands and all that. Guypsia. Sweeney had told him it all, made it sound like it was the best option. Of course, every recruiter did that. They wanted recruits. Konda had done it all, but he’d told him to get a second opinion. It’s only professional, he’d added. Never take someone at their first word.

  Privately, he’d doubted how much Konda knew about it, overseeing the academy. It wasn’t the same. It was like hearing from some
one who used to be a spirit caller talk about the latest techniques without them having any recent experience.

  “Because, my lad,” Inquisitor Sweeney had said. “The inquisitors are the last bastion of morality within Unisco. If Unisco are the secret police of the five kingdoms, then we are the ones who police the police. We keep agents in line as best we can.”

  “Doesn’t it make it harder for them to do the job?” Pete had asked. “According to what people have said?”

  “These people, they cling to the old ways. Maybe back in the day, you could smash an answer out of a suspect. Now though, it’s a different world. It was, anyway. Now it doesn’t even closely resemble the same. People have rights, or at least they think that they do. What they don’t realise is it don’t make a damn bit of difference what some bill says if nobody can see it get broken. We make sure it doesn’t get out of hand. Can’t get them all, that’s for sure, but we get enough when we have to.”

  Pete had said nothing, just considered the words. “I imagine it’s a lonely job.”

  “Hey, nobody joins Unisco to make friends, my lad. It’s a tough life. Most other Unisco agents hate you. Inquisitors make up the highest percentage of disliked groups amongst the organisation. Others include snipers and pilots. Nobody likes them either.”

  “Pilots?”

  “They do a lot of training and they get to fly around in state-of-the-art machinery looking glamorous,” Sweeney said. “It inspires jealousy amongst some. Don’t matter that they’ll occasionally crash and ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a serious crash is fatal. It’s about what happens before the fire. And of course, nobody likes snipers.” He got that. They’d all had a few rounds of sniper training in the second month here, getting a practice rifle and shooting at a watermelon sat a thousand feet away, a crude face drawn on it with its tongue stuck out at them. Someone setting up the course had a weird sense of humour, he’d thought at the time.