by Toby Bennett
A chill went through Yilt, even the stink of the refuse so close to his face seemed sweet enough to want to hold onto.
“No, wait, wait. Please, I have money. Why do you think I was in the Rose? I’ve been selling soul stones. I even have a bit of dust.”
Dust was a surprise. The best crystals developed over untold ages but centuries ago, craftsmen had discovered that lesser or more impure crystals could be cut to improve their potency. As any initiate knew, trapping a dream was all about light and colour and only certain stones could hold certain dreams. The stone shapers had also inadvertently discovered that the powdered off cuts of the shaping process, when ingested, could induce a powerful semi trance, which allowed the subject to see through the veil while waking. The experience was far more intense than a moonhorn dream or even Niskaan’s sacred smoke, the problem was that the effects were irreversible, once the powdered crystal was in the blood, it began a strange bonding with the body. Rumours said that one of the original crystal cutters had been transformed into a living sculpture and was still held in the collection of Cardinal Paldar. The prospect of going mad and being frozen into a crystallised version of yourself, seemed to be little deterrent to Niskaan’s faithful and some even argued that the crystallisation would preserve the body forever, while the body’s spirit was free to explore new realms behind the veil. The sheer cost of the dust made it rare for anyone to get enough of the substance to undergo a complete metamorphosis but there were a fair number of cripples in the Asylum; some of these unfortunates had given up the wealth of small kingdoms to gain their connection with Niskaan’s realm, the loss of an arm or a foot seemed a small thing. Dust was one of the few substances that were prohibited in the Asylum, if Yilt had been foolish enough to start selling it, he might well have enough money to buy his life from any ordinary assassin, but Akna was no ordinary assassin.
“I have no need for money, Yilt. What would a dead man buy?”
Yilt tensed at the confirmation that there was something personal between him and the man on his back. Akna could almost feel him straining to guess at who might want him dead but would also need the information he had just asked for.
“Too many old scores to choose from?” Akna asked. “Does it matter who I am or what I am planning to do? I assure you that this is not personal but I cannot let you go. After all I am living proof that it can be costly to leave a victim behind in a gutter.”
Yilt’s eyes widened in the darkness.
“Akn…”
The blade punched through the cartilage in the back of Yilt’s neck and up into his brain before he could finish saying the name. It was a quick kill virtually painless, delivered with all the skill of an assassin trained by Asemutt and tested by three years of surviving in the vicious underbelly of the City of Night. Whatever satisfaction Akna felt in the kill came from its perfection… A brother deserved no less.
Chapter 13:
“Let he who hunts through shadow not put trust in his sight,
For many truths are hidden by the brightness of the light”
Pilgrims flocked to the altar of Krex, few remembered that she was one of the first priestesses lost in the conflict with Niskar’s long dead kings, fewer still cared. The benedictions of the church were the same at one shrine or another. Peace or joy was the promise of the song and smoke and there were wonders enough for all who came to witness the miracles stolen from their own minds. There was no door on the chamber that housed the shrine and Akna could see unearthly creatures dancing at the altar. Women, not quite human in their perfection, writhed in the haze and ran hands over the sick and the saved alike, as the priestesses bargained for coin or visions in the thick vapours that curled up from the many braziers, lining the large room. Bat-winged men, the embodiment of long gone incubi, made flesh by the priestess' will, despoiled willing supplicants, on the low, flat stone table that made up the bulk of the shrine. Akna did not wait too long, just long enough to mark the dark haired priestess, who led the revels and took the offerings to Niskaan; Viesta was easy to pick out since her robe bore the golden traceries of a high priestess.
The worshippers, lining the broad corridor outside the shrine, paid Akna little heed as he pushed through them and he quickly came to the grubby fountain, which had been erected to provide water to the inhabitants of that corner of the south wheel. The priestess' dwelling was just a few low buildings over from the fountain, a simple affair but strongly made from old wood and even some bricks, pillaged from unused parts of the Asylum. Akna walked past the building once to make sure that it was currently uninhabited. When he was sure that there was no one home and that he was not being watched, he entered the structure through a narrow window on the side of the building.
As was the case with most architecture built by the inhabitants of the Asylum, the shelter was small compared to the houses to be found in the city. The purpose of homes in the Asylum was privacy and to a lesser extent security. The roof of the single storey structure was a slipshod affair, relying on the Asylum’s roof to provide protection from the elements. The sophisticated plumbing in one room belied the humble outside of the house and told Akna that he was indeed in the right place, since only the priests would have been able to afford such luxuries. With only three rooms to choose from, there were few places to hide, Akna chose the bedroom, rather than the kitchen or the Jakes. He secreted himself in the closet that ran the length of one wall and waited. The ceremony at the shrine had been close to its climax when he had passed, so Akna did not imagine he would have to wait more than an hour or two, if Daven and Viesta were going to meet that cycle. Akna knew his time was limited and the possibility that someone would notice that Yilt was missing, grew with every passing hour, still it could not be helped, not to have killed Yilt, would have alerted Asemutt to his presence. If he were lucky, Daven would arrive soon, if he were very lucky, he might even get there before Viesta.
Akna’s eyes snapped open in the darkness at the sound of the door into the kitchen opening. He had allowed himself to doze through the uncounted hours of his wait but this had not dulled his senses to the point where he couldn’t tell something was wrong. There were a lot people in the house, stealthy enough to make it hard to determine their numbers but too many to hide the fact that they were filling the small front room. A wooden chair scraped the kitchen floor, as it was gingerly moved aside. It would be a matter of moments before Akna found himself with nowhere left to run. Whether the intruders were thieves or actually looking for him didn’t matter to Akna, he only knew he didn’t want to be trapped. The men in the adjacent room cried out and surged forward as Akna burst from his hiding place, he ignored the calls to stop and leapt towards the window. The shutters, which he had carefully relocked when he entered the house, burst open and splintered under the force of his charge. Akna was almost through the window before a kosh hit him in the nape of the neck and he went sprawling.
“Wake, Akna, we don’t have much time.”
Akna’s vision swam, as he opened his eyes, the torchlight stabbed into his skull and triggered a dull throb that mimicked the pounding of his heart.
“Gilash.” The Patriarch looked little changed since Akna had last seen him but what perturbed Akna more was why he was alive to see his old master.
“Don’t tell me you are still simple,” Gilash said after a brief silence, “I’d assumed that you were at least somewhat recovered since I last saw you.”
“What would you have me say?”
“An apology might be in order. I don’t usually forgive those who murder my men, but since he is only dead because he failed to do as I commanded, I might make an exception… we could call it a fitting punishment.”
“I needed to find someone.”
“No more explanation than that? No begging or pleading to live?”
“You trained me, do you expect me to waste energy begging for mercy?”
“I trained you to be part of the Order, to put the needs of your brothers ahead of your own. W
hen a man has no higher cause, he is more likely to plead his own interests.” The Patriarch leaned closer to Akna and spoke in a tone that was little above a whisper,
“But you don’t really care do you? You don’t beg because there is not enough of you to feel the fear that you rightly should, there’s simply not enough of you left. You are still broken.”
Akna saw something flicker over Gilash’s face as he made the statement but the Patriarch was too restrained for him to tell the difference between anger, disappointment, perhaps regret?
“I do not beg because you have either decided to kill me personally or you want something.”
“Nothing wrong with your mind, but did it ever occur to you that a father might hesitate to kill his own son.”
“You didn’t hesitate before, why now?”
“If they had found you and tied you to me or the Order the consequences would have been unthinkable. Do not think it was easy for me to do what I did? I only did what I trained you to do, put the Order first.”
“And now what has changed? You must need me for something, the Order needs me for something, or I would already be dead.”
Gilash’s hand lashed out, delivering a resounding blow that left Akna’s already strained body reeling.
“Need you? Need?” The Patriarch yelled. “Do not presume anything! You live or die at my whim and I do not need anyone; you would do well to remember that.”
“Need or want, the word is not important.” Akna replied impassively. “You hope I will have some value for you or you would have never allowed me to wake.”
Gilash chuckled and nodded his head.
“I could say that I wanted to see you suffer but you know me too well for such a bluff. There is little point in denying the truth, I suppose. I might have a use for you, but tell me Akna, before we go any further, do you feel hate?”
“I’m not sure I understand the question.”
“It’s simple. I need to know what drives you now. You have not come back for me. I think, you no longer have a concept of any greater good, nor, it seems, any fear for yourself. You are right when you say that I want something from you but what I need to decide, and soon, is whether you can give it.”
“You know my skills, they have only become sharper.”
“Skill isn’t all I need. I need to understand why you are here, how to relate to you. I cannot rely on altruism or self interest so tell me how can I trust you? Is it hate that brings you back? Do you hope to revenge yourself on the Cardinal? What motivates you?”
“I could try to give you an answer you would believe, one that would comfort you but the truth is that I came here because I was told to and because I still hope that I might be whole again.”
“Someone told you to come? I did not think there was anyone beyond these walls brazen enough to interfere with the Asylum. I should have this fool's name from you.”
“I would not give it.” Akna said quietly.
Gilash studied him and then nodded.
“Leaving names aside for the moment, I would hazard you did not come simply on the strength of another man’s command. How can you hope to be whole again.”
“I will regain what the Cardinal took.”
“Again not entirely forthcoming, you could have returned to try this at any time; why now?”
Akna shrugged. “Why not now?”
“So you would have me believe you have come for Lothar, after all this time? You think that you can undo what was done after all this time? I must ask again, why now?”
“I can’t go on as I am. It is the only hope I have left.”
“Except you already said you were told to come. Did your resolve to risk everything simply coincide with this order?” Gilash forestalled Akna’s answer with a dismissive gesture, “I grow tired of chasing around the houses with you. How about I let you keep the name of your master and you simply answer this question; why would someone in the city care about the Cardinal?”
“Rather it is the other way round, recently the guild I work for found Takiaza’s tomb.”
Gilash snorted.
“A legend, I can barely credit it,” the Patriarch sobered, “but if you say it is so and Lothar took an interest, I cannot afford to dismiss it. So what did the Cardinal do to bring you here?”
“When I was in the tomb I found my way to the Hierophant’s resting place.”
“You know well enough that the Hierophant was never interred.”
“That is not entirely true…”
Akna told his old master of the ghost trapped within the tomb and the events that followed his encounter with Ilsar, although he was careful not to mention the strange effect that the female assassin seemed to have had on him, it was easier to simply explain away his coming to the Asylum as Zenker’s concern and part of his hope to undo the damage done by Lothar. Gilash listened to everything he had to say, without comment and waited until he was sure he was finished before responding.
“If even half of what you have told me is correct, I think my instinct not to simply have you killed is vindicated. The question is: do you want to keep living?”
“I was no use to Asemutt three years ago why do you need me now?”
“When I last saw you, there was barely enough left of you to qualify as human. You were an empty shell and a very real danger to your brothers but time it seems has improved matters.”
“You think I will just come back to your service?” Akna was surprised to find that the thought of Gilash’s betrayal invoked something that bordered on anger. He knew in that instant that his oldest loyalties could never be renewed.
“Serve me? No that is precisely what I do not want. Your value to me now is that you have come into the Asylum from the outside. The balance of power teeters on a knife edge, neither I nor Lothar can remove the other without weakening ourselves to the extent that we are easy prey for other players waiting for just such an opportunity. I must seem to have accepted the stalemate.”
“But if an outsider were to do Lothar harm, that would suit your purposes.”
“Indeed, particularly if what you have told me is true, as you say there is no way to be sure if this Varkuz exists or was simply a lie to pacify the Hierophant’s ghost. It is vital for me to know if there is a daemon, even a minor one, in Lothar’s service. It would certainly explain many things if there were; the Cardinal summons servants from beyond the veil with abandon, few practitioners could conjure so many phantoms or keep so much energy in check for long, even with the most potent crystals; it would all be a different story, if he has had the aid of a true denizen of Niskaan’s realm.”
“If the daemon is a lie, then the knowledge that the Hierophant could offer to someone of such power would be dangerous enough in itself.”
“Indeed, anyone who could project a world such as you describe beyond the veil and sustain himself for so long beyond death, could easily have secrets that would tip the balance.”
“Your position is easy enough to understand, the real question is what do you expect from me?”
“Little, but I do not think that any agent could penetrate the Cardinal’s fortress and discover either a daemon or where he is hiding the Hierophant’s stone. Simply do what you came to do, it is unlikely that you will survive but if you do, I warn you not to try to leave the Asylum without making a report and if you should get your hands on the stone or find yourself able to put an end to that bloated bastard forever, then I can offer a better reward than anyone in the city.”
Gilash offered Akna a hand and drew him up from the table where he had been lying, “I know that you have no interest in wealth but consider this, can the amateurs you have been working for offer you any real hope of repairing yourself? If you steal back what he took from you, you will still need someone with the skill to restore you.”
“If you could make me whole again, why were you so quick to condemn me before?”
“Your stone is not all I require to undertake the work of repairing the damage
Lothar did, I have already told you what I want.”
“And once you have it, what is to stop you disposing of me? For all I know this sudden revelation that you can help me, might only be a lie designed to gain you the Hierophant’s stone.”
“All true, but I could have you killed now, therefore a rational person might reason that it would be better to simply agree and gain their freedom.”
“I’m rational enough to know you, Gilash, you aren’t going to kill me because I doubt you.”
“No, your doubt is reassuring. In fact, it tells me that you are seriously considering my offer. Although, I doubt you will do more than get yourself killed at the Cardinal's hands. All I am asking you, is to do what you came here to do anyway and in the unlikely event that you should succeed, I ask you to consider who might be more likely to be able to interpret the Hierophant’s secrets, myself or some alley fixer who couldn’t possibly have the talent to utilize even a fraction of the ancient wisdom?”
Gilash forestalled Akna’s response with a wave of his hand, “It is not something you need to decide on now, only bear what I have said in mind.”
“You forget that, even if I trusted you, Zenker is the one who holds what little of my old self I managed to save.”
“Is that really the excuse you have used for your loyalties all these years? A tiny fragment of you know not what? The truth is simpler than that I think; you were trained to be part of something and Zenker and his kind offered you that. You needed somewhere to heal, something you understood; you managed to save one crystal of the many that Lothar stole from you, find those rather than the one that this fool Zenker holds, failing that steal the stone back from him. I care not what you do but he cannot offer you as much as I can.”
“Only one of you has tried to kill me.”
“Only one of us can truly offer you the chance to live again. Think on it.” Gilash turned to leave.
“Wait.”