“If I had seen that …” Uwan said. He cleared his throat. “A room like that would have driven me mad.”
“So I was,” Ashok said. And he’d reveled in the madness.
“That place where you found Ilvani—those were shadar-kai, but they were not our people,” Uwan said. “They’d lost themselves, driven mad by the lurking shadows.”
“Such a thing,” Ashok said slowly, “would never happen in Ikemmu.”
“Not while I live,” Uwan agreed fervently. “But you must understand … The line we walk … That thread is so delicate as to be terrifying, Ashok. We could become them so easily—without order, without discipline to govern our passions.”
Ashok rubbed his bare wrist. “We cut ourselves, and when it’s not enough we cut each other,” he said.
“Yes,” Uwan said. “Without laws to govern us, we would slay our rivals, then our allies. We would do unspeakable things, just to grab whatever bit of life we could. Our city, our community would destroy itself, just as the shadar-kai in the caves did.”
“They could have allowed themselves to fade,” Ashok said. “I would welcome my soul’s flight before I became master of that slaughter room.”
“Perhaps you would,” Uwan said. “You’re strong. But to give yourself up to nothingness—the shadar-kai are made to resist that fate with everything inside us. It’s not so easy to give up your existence.”
“No,” Ashok said, remembering the misery, the near hysteria in Reltnar when he’d realized Ashok intended to take Ilvani—his lifeline—away. “But Chanoch is different. He made a mistake.”
“He crossed that line,” Uwan said. “We can’t afford to forgive, Ashok. Our nature doesn’t allow it.”
“So that’s it, then,” Ashok said bitterly. “Tempus or the shadows? We’re damned?”
“No. We are shadar-kai,” Uwan said.
Vedoran was leaning against the wall when Ashok stepped outside Uwan’s chamber. They looked at each other across the small span. Ashok tried to control his rage, his desire to hurl himself across the space and take Vedoran by the throat.
“None of the others spoke against Chanoch,” Ashok said.
“I didn’t expect they would,” Vedoran replied. “Tempus’s flock spoke as one.”
“Uwan says you’re to be rewarded handsomely for your service to the city,” Ashok said. “Does it make you happy?”
“Do you know what the ‘reward’ for a sellsword’s service is worth?” Vedoran said.
Ashok shook his head. “I don’t care,” he said, starting for the stairs.
Vedoran’s voice carried after him. “Uwan instructed my master to fatten my purse for a month, to show his appreciation,” he said. “That’s what Vedoran’s honor is worth: a handful of coin.” His voice rose. “What else should a godless sellsword want in life but more coin to please him? He can never be Tempus’s emissary.”
“Cease!” Ashok cried. “That is nothing to me, and you know it. Will Chanoch’s death satisfy your honor?”
“Chanoch is nothing to me,” Vedoran said, mimicking Ashok with a sneer. “Do you think I give a thought as to how that dog sees me? No, this was for Uwan and his god. You and I are Blites, the other races are coin slaves, and Tempus’s followers sit above us all in judgment and contempt. Fine, then. Let them look down from their high places. But by the gods, let Uwan be bound by the same laws that damn me. Let him see how his own faith will be the downfall of his city.”
“What are you talking about?” Ashok said.
Vedoran laughed. “You’ve not lived in this city long enough, Ashok. Do you think there aren’t others who feel as I do? Did you imagine Tempus was the only god in Ikemmu? There are others, and we’re tired of being silenced.”
“You once told me you didn’t want to be controlled by the gods,” Ashok said. “Forgive me, but this newfound empathy is unconvincing.”
“Maybe,” Vedoran said. “But you should think of your own position in this city and where your loyalties lie.”
“I’ve sworn no oaths,” Ashok said. “Nor will I swear any—to Tempus, or to the other gods.”
“Then what will you do, Ashok? Return home?” Vedoran said. His shrewd gaze made Ashok go cold inside. “Do you have a home to go back to anymore?”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
VEDORAN LEFT TOWER ATHANON AND WEAVED SLOWLY THROUGH the trade district. He picked a random path and checked often to see if he was being followed. Not that he expected Ashok to try to come after him. He’d been too shocked when Vedoran had left him.
Smiling to himself, Vedoran cut across the stone remains of a cluster of dwellings and ducked inside a two-story building marked as a warehouse belonging to his master’s trade consortium. It was not a warehouse, but his master often used the building in discreet business transactions and encouraged those closest to him to do the same.
Inside on the upper story, there was a room with no windows. A candle burned in a copper dish on the mantle of a boarded-up fireplace, and several chairs were arranged around the fireplace as if it were still a source of heat.
Traedis sat in one of the chairs. He looked up when Vedoran entered the room.
“You’re late,” he said.
“Forgive me,” Vedoran said. “I was meeting with Uwan and Ashok.”
Traedis’s eyes narrowed. “And is it certain?”
“Yes,” Vedoran said. “I confirmed it just now.” The look in Ashok’s eyes had told him all he needed to know. “Ashok’s was the enclave that slaughtered Ilvani’s scouting party. He knew the trail and those tunnels far too well for it to have been otherwise.”
“Amazing,” the cleric said, shaking his head. “Why did no one else have your insight? There were others with you in the caves.”
“All of whom believed they were following a vision sent by Tempus,” Vedoran said. “But if you take the god out of the mission, it was easy to see who was truly leading us.”
“Yet he helped you,” Traedis said. “Ashok betrayed his own people. Why?”
“Because he wanted a better life,” Vedoran said quietly, “an existence that wasn’t shameful to him. I could have given that life to him. But he chose Uwan instead.”
That part burned inside Vedoran almost more than anything else. He’d asked Ashok to consider his loyalties, but in his heart he knew Ashok had already chosen.
“Your life has been touched by many misfortunes,” Traedis said, drawing Vedoran out of his memories. “But this will be a new beginning for Ikemmu and for Vedoran.”
Vedoran nodded. “There is still an obstacle,” he said.
“Natan,” the cleric said. “Yes, I’d thought of that.”
“His visions are disturbingly accurate,” Vedoran said. “He could uncover our plans before we carry them out.”
“If that’s true, have you considered that Natan may already know Ashok’s true identity?” Traedis said.
“If he did, he would have told Uwan long before now,” Vedoran said.
“Not necessarily,” the cleric said. “Not if it meant he could have his sister returned to him safely. We can’t know what knowledge he has of Ashok.”
“I’ll speak to him,” Vedoran said, “find out what visions he’s received. Then I’ll decide how to proceed.”
“Wait,” Traedis said when Vedoran moved to the stairs. “I will not see you again until the thing has been set in motion. You must swear the oath before you go, and accept protection.”
Vedoran felt a wave of involuntary disgust. “You want me to swear faith to Beshaba. I’ve told you—”
The cleric laughed. “I don’t need your faith, Vedoran, for what we intend,” he said. “Only the appearance of it. When Tempus’s false emissary is exposed, the shadar-kai will need a rallying point. You will play that role.”
“In Beshaba’s name,” Vedoran said.
“Yes.” Traedis shrugged. “Power shifts, and you will have the recognition you want. Things will be different. We will not abuse
the city in Beshaba’s name, as Uwan has done with the warrior god.”
The cleric smiled. Inwardly, Vedoran laughed at the futility of it all. First it was Tempus, then Beshaba, and in the future whatever god won out in the struggle for Ikemmu. Whatever happened, the gods would always have a collar around the shadar-kai.
But at least there, at that moment, Vedoran would choose the god.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
ALL THE WARRIORS OF IKEMMU GATHERED AT THE BASE OF TOWER Makthar to watch Chanoch receive his sentence.
Ashok stood with Skagi and Cree at the front of the crowd. They gazed up at the tower summit, where four obsidian spikes rose like a crown. Purple lightning played between the spikes and arced up to scatter the shadows of the cavern ceiling.
Four figures stood at the top of the tower among the stone spikes and arcane light. Uwan led the way, with Chanoch standing behind him flanked by two guards. Chanoch had been stripped to the waist. His hair blew wildly in the wind, but Ashok could see nothing of his face.
“Why are they having this ceremony?” Ashok said. “We already know the outcome.”
“Tower Makthar is also the tower of Judgment,” Cree said, his manner subdued. There were deep shadows under his eyes. As far as Ashok knew, he hadn’t slept in days. Cree had known Chanoch best and would feel the loss more than any of them.
“Twenty years ago, when the second ruler of Ikemmu died, Uwan stood up there and accepted the trial to take his place,” Skagi said. “You stand among the spikes, and if the lightning doesn’t strike you dead, you’re deemed worthy to rule. Clean. Simple.”
“But who makes the judgments?” Ashok asked.
“The gods,” Skagi said, but he sounded uncertain. “According to the first shadar-kai who came to the city, the tower was used for that purpose by those who held the city last.”
“Tempus’s angels,” Ashok said, remembering the carvings on the tower, the single eye gazing down from Tower Athanon that saw all of Ikemmu. “Or something else.”
“Uwan’s preparing to speak,” Cree said, looking up at the tower.
“Will the lightning kill Chanoch?” Ashok asked.
Skagi shook his head and spat. “No, he’ll be banished to the caves, to the chambers above where they keep the animals,” he said. “They’ll chain him to a wall in the dark and wait for him to fade.”
“What?” Ashok said, recoiling. “He’ll go mad.”
Cree shook his head. “They call it a quiet death. It’s not painful,” he said faintly, “or so I’ve heard.”
“Send him to the shadows,” Ashok said, horrified. “What of his soul?”
Skagi shot Ashok a warning look as Cree flinched. “He’s a strong one, and his faith in Tempus has never wavered,” Skagi said. He put a hand on Cree’s shoulder and shook him. “The warrior god will take him home, eh brother?”
“That He will,” Cree said, but Ashok heard no conviction in the words.
“Godsdamn Vedoran for his vile tongue,” Skagi murmured. His expression was grave as he watched the proceedings at the top of the tower.
Uwan was addressing the crowd, but Ashok didn’t want to listen to the words. He didn’t want to hear Tempus’s name shouted above the wind. He turned and left the yard, heading for Tower Pyton and Hevalor. He needed to be away, and there was only one person’s company he thought he could stand.
It was late when Ashok arrived at Darnae’s shop. He half-expected her to be gone to her rest. He knew the humans and other races kept a different routine from the rest of the city. It seemed they required more rest than two shadar-kai put together, and they savored the tranquility that came with sleep in a way Ashok could not comprehend.
The other races did not bear the burden of rest and calm potentially turning into a battle against the shadows, Ashok thought. He knew that, yet he felt a powerful, gnawing envy when he considered Darnae in that light, and he thought he understood a little better the enmity the shadar-kai bore for the other races.
The candles were lit as usual when he entered, but Ashok was surprised to find that Darnae was not alone in the shop. A human man sat at her counter with a glass of wine in one hand and a quill tucked in the other. The quill he held over a sheet of parchment while Darnae looked on from the other side of the counter. Neither of them noticed his entrance.
“That’s an interesting list you’ve got this time, Tatigan,” Darnae said.
The name rang familiar to Ashok. Then he remembered. Skagi and Cree had mentioned the exotic goods merchant, the one responsible for bringing the Cormyrian wine to Ikemmu. Tatigan, the merchant who wore spectacles with green lenses. Ashok saw them, glinting darkly in the candlelight. They obscured the human’s eyes.
Tatigan had a finely trimmed black beard with streaks of gray running through it. His hands as they moved over the parchment were graceful, steady.
“You have company, Darnae,” Tatigan said without glancing up from his writing. He spoke in a clipped, lightly accented voice. “You should pay better attention.”
Darnae looked up, and her eyes lit up with pleasure. “Well, and you’re right, Tatigan, I’ve no manners at all. Come, look up from your list and meet my friend Ashok.”
“Ashok?” Tatigan said. He raised his quill and looked at Ashok with interest. “I’m hearing that name spoken all over the city. Does it belong to you?”
Uncomfortable, Ashok nodded. He hadn’t wanted such attention. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said to Darnae. “I’ll come back another time.”
“Nonsense,” Darnae said. She came forward and reached for his arm. He put his hands at his sides so she could grasp one and pull him over to the counter. “I haven’t seen you since you returned from your journey,” she said. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” he replied. He hoped she wouldn’t ask him for stories about where he’d gone or what he’d done on that journey. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he could never tell her about riding the nightmare down the tunnel, about the trampled bodies in his wake. He could never tell her any of that. “Are you well, Darnae?” he said.
“Oh, yes,” she replied. “Tatigan, Ashok is the one I was telling you about—that night at Hevalor. You remember?”
“Hmm,” Tatigan said, seeming to want to go back to his list. “I do remember. You and the rest of Ikemmu are all in an uproar over this one. Uproar, especially when it involves a war god, is rarely a good thing for business.”
“Tatigan,” Darnae said. “Be polite.”
“Very well,” Tatigan said. “Darnae called you a hero, Ashok. Now the city calls you Tempus’s emissary.” He lowered his spectacles so he could look at Ashok over the gold rims. “Tell me, which is it?”
“Neither,” Ashok said.
“Then be welcome,” Tatigan replied. “Darnae, get him a drink while I finish this list. Then we’ll talk.”
Darnae poured them wine in small cups and seated Ashok next to Tatigan at the counter. She closed up the shop, lit a few more candles, and rejoined them.
The light made it warm inside the shop, and the wine felt good going down Ashok’s throat. He allowed himself to relax a little in Darnae’s and Tatigan’s company. He even told them, haltingly, about Chanoch and his sentencing. He hadn’t intended to, but once the wine was inside him he couldn’t stop himself from telling the story.
Darnae patted his arm. “I’m sorry for your friend,” she said. “Many shadar-kai revere Uwan like a father, and he has always dealt fairly with the other races. But his law is rigid.”
“It wasn’t always like that,” Tatigan said. “Uwan’s predecessor—”
“Oh, speak not of him, Tatigan,” Darnae said scoldingly. “He was as inflexible in his rule as Uwan, and he had far less compassion.”
“Kelreck is whom we speak of,” Tatigan said for Ashok’s benefit. “Second ruler of Ikemmu. He was assassinated by a mad cleric of Shar, the night goddess. It was believed he acted on his own, but there were rumors that Netheril was trying to plant
agents in the city and had planned the assassination for years.”
“Why?” Ashok asked.
Tatigan sipped his wine. “The city had begun to grow,” he said. “Survival in shadar-kai enclaves is one thing; prosperity is quite another. Other races were building a presence in the city. Nothing like it is today, but enough for Netheril to grow concerned. I suspect we haven’t seen the last of their concern either.”
“The stronger Ikemmu gets,” Darnae said, “the more likely it is that more of Netheril’s shadar-kai might wish to defect to the city, start their own lives in service to no master.”
“No master except Tempus,” Tatigan said. “Kelreck’s assassination had more effect than anyone wants to admit.”
“After Kelreck died and Uwan ascended to ruler, things began to change,” Darnae explained. “It started subtly enough—tattoos and carvings on the walls. But then, as Ikemmu swelled in population and grew stronger, Uwan declared it was a sign that the city was favored by the warrior god and marked for greatness. He decreed that only Tempus’s followers could serve in Ikemmu’s military. There was no room for Shar or any other god but the warrior god.”
“The assassination—is that why Uwan is so intent on Tempus being the only religion?” Ashok said. “Because he wants to keep Shar out of Ikemmu?”
“If it were only that, I’d wish him well,” Tatigan said. “Uwan is a shadar-kai of deep faith. But the day he met the cleric, Natan, was not a good day for Ikemmu.”
“The cleric’s visions have given Uwan what he believes are clear directives,” Darnae said. “As long as he has Natan by his side, he believes he’s being guided directly by Tempus.”
“Perhaps he is,” Tatigan said, “but unrest is growing among the other religions. Uwan doesn’t see this.”
“And I’m making it worse,” Ashok said. Vedoran’s bitterness, the people’s fervor … Everything was building to a fever pitch, and Ashok feared something was about to snap. “I should leave the city.”
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