“Natan and Ilvani,” Ashok said, understanding. “The third generation.”
“Raised by the mother in Ikemmu,” Cree said. “She saw them grown before she died on a raid to the Underdark side. They weren’t wild like their father and grandfather, but Ilvani obviously inherited some of their strangeness. Some say”—he hesitated—“you never know what to believe, but I suppose it’s possible that those who lived in Ikemmu before the shadar-kai may have shared their city with Natan and Ilvani’s grandparents. They may have witnessed whatever disaster befell the city.”
“How could they have survived, when so many others didn’t?” Ashok said.
“We don’t know that all or any perished,” Cree said. “If they were Tempus’s servants, he could have spirited them away and protected the shadar-kai who remained. Either way, Ikemmu looks on Natan and Ilvani with great pride. They believe the twins are favored children of Tempus.”
“Except Ilvani’s as unpredictable as a dust storm, and after what she’s been through it’ll probably be worse,” Skagi said.
Chanoch, who’d been listening quietly, said, “She’ll be fine once we get her back to Ikemmu. We’ll all be fine once we’re home. What say you, Ashok?”
Ashok nodded absently. “Yes, home.”
“Get some rest, all of you,” Vedoran said from across the camp. “I’ll take first watch and wake Skagi after.”
The conversation broke up, and Ashok went to Vedoran.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take first watch?” Ashok said. “You look like death.”
Vedoran shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Sleep while you can.” He glanced behind him to where the nightmare hovered at the edge of the camp. “Is the beast going to stay with us?”
“I don’t know,” Ashok said. “Right now, we’re not strong enough to deny him, if that’s what he wants.”
Vedoran grunted. “Sleep then. Let him help stand the watch.”
“Very well,” Ashok said, taking a dust-covered blanket out of his pack and spreading it on the ground.
When he slept, he dreamt of fire.
Neimal, the Sworn of the wall, saw them coming first. Her farsight stretched many miles across the plain, and she recognized the five, the nightmare, and the witch.
Gasping, Neimal sent her thoughts soaring across the city and up to the summit of Tower Athanon, where they connected one by one with the other Sworn. Thus linked, her voice touched them all, and wherever they were, whatever business they conducted, all paused to heed her mind voice.
Together, they touched Uwan, their leader, and pressed for the Watching Blade’s attention. After a breath, his answer came.
“What do you see?” he demanded of the witch on the wall.
“They’ve returned,” Neimal told him.
Uwan felt her agitated state through the link. “Did they bring back the missing?” he asked.
“One,” Neimal said. There was an ache in her mind voice of both pain and joy. “Ilvani comes home, but without her flock.”
In his chamber deep within Tower Athanon, Uwan closed his eyes, and with Neimal’s magic he reached for Natan.
“She’s alive,” he said.
Natan’s answer came not in words, but as a swell of joy he’d never felt from the cleric before.
“Praise Tempus,” Uwan said.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
THE PORTAL OPENED FOR THEM WHILE THEY WERE STILL A QUARTER mile out. At that point the nightmare broke away from the group and galloped off across the plain. Ashok was not surprised, nor did he expect that would be the last time he saw the beast. They were connected, as Vedoran had observed.
Blood attracts blood, Ashok thought. When he lost himself to rage, the nightmare would be there, if only in his thoughts and dreams.
A crowd of shadar-kai had gathered by the time they crossed into the city, and the air trembled with celebration as the warriors surged forward to greet them.
“Ashok! Praise Tempus!”
“The emissary has returned!”
The crowd converged on them and splintered the party. People plucked at Ashok’s clothing and hair and that of the others, slapping them on the back or simply chanting their names.
He heard his own loudest of all.
Stunned, Ashok let the crowd carry him along toward the towers. He sought Vedoran to ask if such a reception was normal for a victorious mission, but he could not find him in the crowd. The others were with him but scattered. Chanoch accepted the praise and greetings with pleasure, but Skagi and Cree looked as baffled as Ashok felt at the attention, and when he could get close enough to ask them about it, Cree shook his head.
“We celebrate at the return of a successful raiding party, but this”—he surveyed the wild crowd—“is something different.”
“They’re showering you with kisses though, aren’t they?” Skagi said, nudging Ashok with his shoulder.
Cree looked around. “Where’s Vedoran gone?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Ashok said. “I lost him in the crowd.” Ilvani was missing too. Ashok felt a surge of distress. He shoved through the crowd of men and women, but they only called his name louder. “We’re all separated,” he said.
“Ah well, enjoy it,” Skagi said, clapping him on the back. “We wouldn’t be here without you. Hail Ashok, warrior of Tempus!’ he cried, and the crowd took up the chant.
Ashok found himself swept along to the gates of Tower Athanon, where another crowd waited with Uwan at its head.
The Watching Blade beckoned the crowd to let Ashok, Chanoch, and the brothers through. Bodies parted, and suddenly the four of them were standing before Uwan. Ashok bowed his head with the others.
“Where is Vedoran?” Uwan asked.
“We were separated at the gates,” Ashok said, “from Ilvani as well, we—”
“She is being seen to by clerics of Tempus,” Uwan interrupted. “Don’t worry. You’ve brought her safely home. You could not have cared for her better, or pleased me more.”
Ashok looked to Chanoch and the brothers, but they nodded that he should speak, so Ashok raised his eyes to Uwan’s.
“The others in Ilvani’s party we found murdered by another shadar-kai enclave,” Ashok said. He told the story of their journey across the plain and the rescue. He left nothing out except Chanoch’s defiance and confrontation with Vedoran. They were all alive and had returned safely. There was no reason to emphasize that conflict.
When it came to explaining the harrowing battle, he told of the nightmare’s appearance and Ilvani’s subsequent defeat of the hag. Neither Chanoch nor the brothers contradicted his story.
As he finished, the crowd erupted in cheers. Uwan let them go on for a time, then he gestured for Ashok and the others to follow him inside the tower.
They entered an antechamber on the first level. Neimal stood watch outside the door, leaving Uwan alone with Ashok and his companions.
“I asked Natan to join us,” Uwan said, “but as you can imagine, he is quite anxious to look after his sister.”
Ashok nodded, distracted by the continuous cheers and sounds of celebration filtering through the stone walls.
“You’ve heard your city,” Uwan said to them all. “And Ikemmu has heard the tale of your mission. Natan’s vision—Tempus’s word—has been fulfilled.” He looked at Ashok. “Ikemmu rejoices.”
“You told the people about the vision?” Ashok said. He felt suddenly uncomfortable, caged, with the shouts beating against the walls.
“Yes,” Uwan said. “The people have seen that Tempus is at work in their lives. He reserves a place for everyone”—he put a hand on Ashok’s shoulder—“even those who believe they have none.”
Ashok said nothing. The shadar-kai cheered for him, accepted him. They thought he was an emissary of Tempus. Ashok could feel himself sweating beneath his armor. He glanced at the brothers and Chanoch, expecting to see resentment. They had had as much a part in the mission’s succe
ss as he. He would be dead without them. Why should the people not cheer them—the city’s true sons?
Yet they cheered Ashok, messenger of Tempus, slayer of his own people. He was a hero and a traitor.
Cree and Skagi came to him, but instead of resentment there were only hearty grins and slaps on the back. Chanoch’s reaction was the most disturbing of all. He stared at Ashok with an awe usually reserved for Uwan’s presence. That he directed the feeling at Ashok was more than he could bear.
Ashok stepped back and stammered, “Vedoran should give you his report. His leadership was crucial to our success. We would all be dead without his guidance.” He shot Chanoch a meaningful look meant to wipe the awestruck fervor off the young one’s face.
It worked. Chanoch ducked his head and nodded, acknowledging Vedoran’s contribution along with Skagi and Cree.
Uwan nodded. “Vedoran will be well rewarded for his service. In the meantime, I will let you all go for some much-needed rest. Visit Makthar and accept healing. We’ll speak again soon,” he said, looking at Ashok.
When Uwan had gone, Cree said, “That’s done it all, hasn’t it? You’ll be accepted into the city for good. All that’s left is for you to take Tempus’s oath.”
Ashok didn’t know how to respond. His head was full of the crowd’s noise. He couldn’t think beyond the cheers.
Chanoch said, “You are taking the oath, aren’t you?”
“Come on, Ashok, don’t make the little one cry,” Skagi said, and dodged a swipe from Chanoch. “Of course he will.”
They all looked at him expectantly. In Ashok’s mind, the images ran together: Ilvani’s skeletal form huddled beneath his cloak; Reltnar’s desperate, hungry gaze as he reached for her; the split-open bodies of the shadar-kai. And he heard the screams of his dying enclave as he trampled through the tunnels of his home carrying death’s flaming banner.
By the time Vedoran waded through the crowd of shadar-kai, he was at the point of collapse from his wounds and exhaustion. Finally he reached the trade district, and Traedis’s small temple to Beshaba loomed before him. The green door opened before he could knock.
“I saw you coming,” Traedis said. “The whole city is afire with talk of your mission.”
The cleric helped him to one of the cots and immediately began seeing to his wounds. Vedoran stared blankly at the altar to Beshaba while Traedis prayed over him.
“They chant his name,” he said when the cleric had finished. “I can still hear them. They chant Ashok’s name and Tempus’s.”
“Of course they do,” Traedis said. “I told you this would happen, Vedoran.” He took Vedoran by the shoulders, but the shadar-kai was lost in his own thoughts and didn’t immediately acknowledge the cleric.
When he did look up, he saw Traedis’s holy symbol wavering before his vision. The gods were everywhere, he thought. He couldn’t escape them.
“Why do they follow him, Traedis?” Vedoran said. “Why do they love him so much?”
“Not all of us love Uwan and Tempus,” Traedis said. “You are not alone, my friend. Come, unburden yourself. What happened on your mission?”
Lost in thought, Vedoran told the cleric everything. He left nothing out, including a suspicion he’d been nursing in his mind during their long journey back to the city. When he finished, Traedis’s eyes were lit with triumph.
“This is more than I could have hoped for,” he said. “Now we must plan.”
When they had recovered from their mission, Ashok and his companions took up their training again as if nothing had changed. But there were subtle differences Ashok could not ignore.
His Camborr training resumed, for one. Olra came to fetch him without ceremony one day from the training yard. She said only, “Come,” and jerked her head toward the forges and the pens.
There was no nightmare to train, and Ashok found himself missing the beast’s presence without meaning to. But Olra started him working with the hounds and shadow panthers, the stalking beasts of the Shadowfell. They were no replacement for the nightmare, but they were deadly enough to satisfy him, Olra said.
Ashok worked by lantern in the caves where the animal pens were kept. Most of the time, he had only the beasts for company. The forge smoke hung heavily in the air, stinging his eyes, and the flickering light made them water, but Ashok never complained. He kept his mind focused obsessively on his work so that the deep tunnels only occasionally transformed into the blood-soaked passages of his enclave. He banished those images as soon as they intruded on his thoughts and accepted them as the price of solitude.
Anything to be away from the rest of the shadar-kai.
Ikemmu regarded him as more than one of their own. Strangers greeted him on the tower steps with warmth and deference. Ashok heard them whispering when he was not quite out of earshot. He hurried his steps to get away from their words. He didn’t want to hear himself called Tempus’s emissary.
A tenday passed, and Ashok had not spoken to Uwan again, nor had he seen any sign of Vedoran either at training or in the trade district.
He was surprised then one day to be summoned to Uwan’s private chamber, where he found not only the shadar-kai leader but Vedoran as well.
Ashok glanced at Vedoran as he entered the room and saw that the warrior’s wounds had been healed, and there were no visible scars from the battle in the tunnels. Vedoran looked healthy and strong—a sharp contrast to the way he’d appeared outside Negala’s bog. He met Ashok’s gaze and nodded. Ashok returned the greeting, but there was no time to exchange words.
“Thank you for coming, Ashok,” Uwan said. The light in his eyes, the enthusiasm he’d expressed a tenday before was absent from his demeanor today. His face was subdued, his tone business-like as he came around the long table to face Ashok and Vedoran.
“Vedoran has made his report,” Uwan said, “and he’s brought a disturbing accusation to my attention. This concerns your escape from the shadar-kai enclave. Do you know what I’m referring to?”
Ashok glanced at Vedoran, but the warrior’s expression revealed nothing. He felt panic clawing the pit of his stomach. Did they know? Had Vedoran seen through Ashok’s pretense in the caves and realized he’d known them as his own home?
If so, he was lost. Ashok bowed his head, and was preparing to confess, when Uwan spoke again.
“In your report, you failed to mention Chanoch’s actions in the tunnels,” Uwan said. “Vedoran claims that he defied orders, and in doing so endangered Ilvani and the rest of the group. Is this true?”
Ashok felt a dizzying mixture of profound relief and trepidation. His shameful secret was safe, but Vedoran had not forgotten Chanoch’s insult.
He chose his words carefully. “It’s true that there was a confrontation,” he said. “Chanoch went back to retrieve an item that was obviously important to Ilvani. I do not believe he acted out of malice—”
Uwan held up a hand. “Did he or did he not disobey Vedoran’s orders?” he pressed.
Ashok felt the weight of the leader’s gaze. “There were many disagreements during the journey,” he said. “The storm, the bog, the illusions … All of it took a toll on us.”
“Answer yes or no,” Uwan said flatly. “If the next words from your lips are any other words, you’ll be disobeying my orders, and punishment will follow accordingly.”
He spoke calmly, but Ashok heard the threat underlying the words. It was a side to Uwan he’d never seen before—a coldness as forceful as his words in the training yard.
That was the ruler of Ikemmu speaking, Ashok thought. The Watching Blade who had executed countless warriors for disobeying orders and endangering shadar-kai lives.
Desperately, Ashok looked to Vedoran, but the shadar-kai’s face remained a neutral mask.
“Don’t do this,” he begged Vedoran.
“Damn you!” Uwan cried, slamming his fist down on the tabletop. He drew his greatsword and put the blade’s edge against Ashok’s throat. “Answer or die.”
; “No,” Ashok said. “Chanoch didn’t disobey any order.”
Uwan’s face went livid. The blade quivered at Ashok’s throat. “Are you calling Vedoran a liar? If you are, the punishment will be the same for him, for bearing false witness against Chanoch. Consider your answer carefully, Ashok.”
Ashok clenched his fists. He was trapped and damned, and Uwan knew it. He half-expected the leader to slit his throat, but he held the strike. Of course Ashok knew why. The chosen of Tempus, he thought bitterly. The gods preserve my life once again.
“Vedoran does not lie,” Ashok said through gritted teeth. “Chanoch disobeyed orders. But I beg Lord Uwan’s mercy. We would never have made it out of the caves without Chanoch’s blade. He is a true warrior of Ikemmu and a devoted servant of Tempus.”
Uwan lowered his sword and stepped back. “True words,” he said. “Do you think I don’t realize Chanoch’s worth?”
“Then spare him,” Ashok said. “Forgive him.”
Uwan shook his head. “Chanoch knew his responsibility to himself and to his comrades, and he chose to ignore it. My responsibility is to uphold the laws of this city.”
“By killing one of its protectors?” Ashok shouted. “Is that Tempus’s word or Uwan’s?”
Uwan’s jaw tightened. Ashok thought he would raise his blade, but he did not. Deliberately, he sheathed the weapon. “Wait outside, Vedoran,” he said.
Vedoran nodded and left the room. He did not look at Ashok.
When he’d gone, Uwan went to the table. He pulled out one of the large chairs. “Will you sit?” he asked Ashok.
Ashok shook his head. Uwan sighed and sank down in the chair himself. He let his elbows rest on his thighs and his shoulders hunch. It was the first time he’d ever shown a hint of weariness, but Ashok saw it, in the posture and in the dullness of his black eyes.
“Cree told me what you saw in the enclave’s dungeons,” Uwan said. “How you found Ilvani. That can’t have been an easy sight.”
“It wasn’t,” Ashok said tightly. He tried not to conjure the faces of the dead shadar-kai, but they came anyway, and he was conscious of the empty dagger sheath at his belt. His blade had been so much a part of him that he hadn’t yet removed it.
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