The top level of the tower had only one room off it, and the door was unguarded.
Skagi knocked twice upon it, then went back to where Cree waited on the stairs. “We’ll be waiting below,” he told Ashok.
“You’re not coming with me?” Ashok asked, surprised again. “No guards?”
“That’s the way Uwan wants things,” Skagi said. “Get on with it.”
When they’d gone, Ashok stood before the door. He considered taking out his chain but decided against it. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of shadar-kai stood between him and anything he could do to Uwan with the weapon.
Ashok pushed open the door and entered a lamp-lit chamber. A long, rectangular oak table surrounded by ten chairs dominated the room, and on the wall behind hung a framed portrait of a vast landscape.
As he walked to the table, Ashok’s eyes were drawn to the painting’s details. He’d never seen anything so lifelike in a picture. The inky shadows peeled back to reveal an overhead view of Ikemmu, its four towers prominent against the lighter canyon wall. The waterfall was there, and Ashok saw that the two towers in the middle, Pyton and Hevalor, were connected by stone bridges with curved tusks instead of rails at the edges. He’d not noticed the bridges on the real towers, they blended so well with the surrounding landscape.
“Do you like it?” said a voice.
Ashok hadn’t heard the door open at the far side of the room. He tensed, but it was Uwan who came through, followed by the cleric, Natan. Uwan was again adorned in his cloak and armor. His greatsword lay on the table before a high-backed chair of polished wood. He looked over Ashok’s shoulder at the painting, seemingly unconcerned that Ashok stood between him and his weapon.
“It was a gift,” Uwan said, when Ashok didn’t reply to his question.
Still Ashok remained silent. He wasn’t sure what Uwan expected him to say.
Natan stood to one side of the room. He did not acknowledge Ashok’s presence. His gaze was drawn to the painting too. His thin shoulders were stooped, and he seemed very weary, almost on the verge of collapse. Ashok was surprised. The cleric had shown no such weakness in the sickroom.
“I apologize for not welcoming you properly in the training yard,” Uwan said. “But Skagi and Cree tell me you’re not interested in seeing our city.”
“Your city is a cage,” Ashok said flatly.
Uwan shook his head. “You are not a prisoner, Ashok. You can come and go as you like.”
“But I can’t leave the city.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Uwan seemed amused, though his expression did not change. Ashok sighed. He was tired of such games. “What do you want from me?” he asked.
“A few answers,” Uwan said. He glanced at Natan. Something passed between the leader and the cleric. Ashok had no idea what it was, but the cleric did not look happy. Uwan frowned and turned his attention back to Ashok. “Where do you come from, Ashok?” he asked. “You were far from any enclave when my patrol found you, but you seem too undisciplined to be fleeing the empire. You’re a skilled warrior-that much was clear from the shadow hound corpses. Neimal, however much she wants your head, respects what you did at the wall today. You weren’t afraid to take on her entire force. For whom do you fight, Ashok?”
“For myself,” Ashok said. Let Uwan think he was a wanderer, with no enclave.
“No one holds your loyalty?” Uwan asked. “What of Tempus?”
Ashok saw Natan tense when Uwan mentioned the god’s name. “My Lord, is this wise?” the cleric asked. “He is not-”
“Natan,” Uwan said quietly, and the cleric immediately fell silent. “Well, Ashok?”
“Tempus?” Ashok replied. He thought the question was strange, but it was one he could answer honestly, giving nothing of himself away. “I’m not Tempus’s servant,” he said, meeting Uwan’s gaze levelly.
Slowly, Uwan nodded. “I see. Well, if you won’t tell me where you come from or anything else about yourself, I see little reason to trust you with my own motives for bringing you here. So, at this impasse, here are the facts. I’ve saved your life. I expect repayment for my trouble.”
“In what form?” Ashok asked. He nodded to the portrait. “I have no coin to offer a city like this.”
“I don’t need your coin,” Uwan said. “All I ask is that you remain in the city for a time.”
“Forgive me, my Lord,” Natan said as he took a step forward. “Please consider what you’re saying. He can’t be trusted to roam free.”
Uwan didn’t answer the cleric. “I could lock you in a cell, it’s true, but that would be a gross waste of talent,” he said. “Train with us, Ashok. You are skilled, but there are many things you could yet learn from us.”
“Learn from you?” Ashok said, laughing. “Listen to your friend. I’m not of this city, and that makes me your enemy. Why would you want to make your enemy stronger?”
“We’re not enemies, Ashok. That is the first thing I hope you’ll learn during your time among us,” Uwan said. “In any case, you could not join the ranked soldiers, not without first swearing fealty to Tempus.” Uwan lifted his sword from the table. “None may rise in the military ranks without giving that oath. But you may dwell among us, as my guest.”
“For how long?” Ashok asked.
Uwan offered an enigmatic smile. “Until I have a sign as to your worth,” he said. “What is your choice, warrior? Dwell in a prison cell until your soul drifts away, or live among us and learn all you can?”
“There is no choice,” Ashok said, “as you know. I accept.”
“We are agreed, then,” Uwan said as he held out his hand.
Ashok did not take it.
After, Uwan gave instructions to Skagi and Cree about where Ashok was to stay, then he left the three of them and went back inside his chamber to Natan. “You continue to question my judgment,” he said when he was alone with the cleric.
Natan bowed his head. “Forgive me, my Lord,” he said again. “But you heard him yourself. He does not come to us at Tempus’s behest. If that is so, my vision says he brings danger.”
“Or it could mean that Tempus works unseen in him,” Uwan said.
“My Lord, it is very easy to see things as we wish them to be, rather than as they truly are,” Natan said.
“You’re right,” Uwan replied. His gaze strayed to the portrait, its unrelenting detail of the city, every shadow, every flaw. “We rarely see things as they truly are. Absent is our reminder of this.”
“But not lost,” Natan said.
“Did I choose the right course,” Uwan said, succumbing to the uncertainty, “keeping him here? Perhaps I should have told him about your vision.”
“He is not …” the cleric faltered. “I can’t find the words. He is not whole. The times I’ve seen him, he seems always on the verge of fading. Even if he is not an enemy, he can’t help us in his current state.”
Uwan laughed softly. “So I’m to remake him?” he asked.
“Or send him away,” Natan said. “Perhaps he cannot be saved.”
“He has no regard for Tempus. I saw it in his eyes,” Uwan said. “I could have cut him down for it.”
“But you didn’t,” Natan said.
“No,” Uwan replied. “I believe it is Tempus’s will that he remain here. So I will do what I can.”
Skagi and Cree led Ashok down the tower steps to the barracks levels. Smells of leather, steel, sweat, and smoke filled the air, reminding Ashok briefly of home.
They’ve given me up for dead by now, he thought.
Skagi stopped before a door on the second level. “This is home,” he said.
Inside, a pair of lanterns had been turned down low. Six bunks were chained and bolted atop each other against two walls. Two of these bunks were occupied by shadar-kai men.
Ashok recognized one of them: the scarred man from the training yard.
“What have you brought us, Skagi?” the other man said. “Something to amuse, I hope.”
He was tall when he stood, but slender, and he moved with slow grace. Black hair fell in a tightly bound horsetail down his back. He came to stand before Ashok, his gaze speculative.
“He’s our guest,” Skagi said dryly. “Ashok, this is Chanoch”-he pointed to the scarred man-“and Vedoran. You’ll share space with all of us while you’re here.”
Ashok nodded to them both. Chanoch, the scarred one, had dark, unruly spikes of hair jutting out all over his head. Up close, Ashok could see his cheeks had been scored as if by claw marks. Ashok guessed by the size and the spacing that the wounds had been self-inflicted when he was a child. The scars and mass of hair gave the young man a chaotic, unfettered appearance. When he came across the room to greet Ashok he moved in jerky strides, like a young animal just learning to walk.
“Are you all in training?” Ashok said.
“All but Vedoran,” Skagi said. “He’s a sellsword. He’s only squatting with us.”
Cree chuckled. Vedoran made a rude gesture in Skagi’s direction. “Officially, I belong to a trading consortium from Pyton,” Vedoran said. He had a deep, rhythmic voice. “But I train within the military ranks in order to”-his lips curled in a mixture of amusement and disdain-“improve myself.”
“Arrogant bastard already knows he can best any of us in this room,” Skagi said.
Vedoran glanced at Ashok. “Perhaps not anymore,” he replied.
Ashok said nothing. He went to one of the bunks and sat on the edge with his back to the wall.
After a breath of uncomfortable silence, Skagi spoke. “You wanted amusement, Vedoran,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”
Vedoran was still watching Ashok curiously. He shrugged and turned his attention to Skagi. “I have business in Pyton at the next bell,” he replied. “Time enough for a drink after. What say you?”
“Not without me,” Cree said, and Chanoch was quick to agree.
All eyes turned to Ashok. Vedoran raised a brow, his eyes lit with challenge. “Coming, stranger?” he asked.
Ashok stayed where he was. His pale brow furrowed in consternation. “There are four of you,” he said.
“Well, he can count,” Chanoch said, and the others laughed.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ashok heard his brothers’ voices.
Come with us, Ashok.
Yes, come. We’re tossing the dice. We’ll show you how to play, little one.
Ashok remembered smiles, outstretched hands like bait. Young as he was, he had known better than to bite. His brothers never sought amusements together, never made themselves vulnerable to one another, lest someone take the opportunity to rise in the ranks with their father.
“Let him be,” Skagi said, when Ashok only stared at them. “There’s no forcing him.”
“Look at him. He looks like a lost pup,” Chanoch whispered to Cree, as they turned away. Only Vedoran didn’t move.
“We could show him the Span,” Vedoran said. “He’s new to the city. I’m sure he’d find it interesting.”
“Speak, silent one,” Skagi said. “Are you afraid of a challenge?”
“Am I afraid?” Ashok echoed the words, and the memories flew apart, his brothers’ voices faded. Skagi, the arrogant man singling him out-that he understood. They were challenging him, looking for weaknesses. He was back in familiar territory. “No, I’m not afraid,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Rhudk stood with his shadar-kai brothers on the dusty Shadowfell plain, watching the horizon for signs of life. Behind him lay a steep, rock-filled valley, which protected the caves of his enclave.
His black shirt was soaked in blood. With his right hand Rhudk clutched a gut wound that was slowly eating away at him. He had only a little time left.
It didn’t matter. The wind was on his face, the battle was won, and even dying, Rhudk had never felt so alive.
When he was satisfied that no other enemies approached the caves, he turned his attention to the body at his feet.
His father’s corpse was stretched out on the ground, burned almost beyond recognition. Exposed skull bones and teeth, and a few wisps of hair were all that remained of the face of one of the great leaders of their enclave.
Other corpses lay strewn about the plain, dead where they had fallen. Magic had killed them all. The witch had struck from afar, before their superior numbers could overwhelm the patrol. They had lost more warriors than they should have, but at least they had prisoners to show for it. His brothers would begin interrogating them as soon as they tied up all the loose ends out on the plain.
“Has there been word from our brother Ashok?” Rhudk asked his brothers.
They answered that there had not been. Ashok, his father’s favorite, was either dead or fled from the enclave. One of the others would take their father’s place. Had Rhudk not been dying, it would have been him. He was the strongest. Had he not been injured, he could have taken on any challenger. They all knew it.
They circled like ravens, waiting for him to die. There was no need for them to take action to help the process along. Killing him in his weakened state would not stimulate them, would not set their hearts racing or bring the fevered light to their eyes. If killing him would not bring them those sensations, it was not worth the effort.
Rhudk smiled and tasted blood in his mouth. His own heart was racing, and the surge in his blood was beyond pleasure. It was almost worth it, trading power for his slow death, a suffering that kept his soul so tightly anchored to his body that he felt immortal.
Their enclave had been too long sequestered in the caves. The longer they stayed in the dark, the faster they were fading. Fighting amongst themselves no longer brought enough pleasure to sustain them. Battles such as this were what they craved. They’d traded their souls for a defensible home.
But there was nothing Rhudk could do about that.
“The patrol,” he said. It was growing difficult to speak. Rhudk breathed through blood. “Find out where they came from. Start with the witch.”
His brothers said they would. Rhudk sent them away to tend to the enclave and lay down on the ground amid the corpses. Staring up at the gray sky, he wondered which one of his brothers would emerge the strongest. He had always thought it would be Ashok. Ashok was the most intelligent and cunning among them. Rhudk was disappointed that the hounds had taken him; he hoped Ashok had given them a good chase. He wished his brother a good death, and closed his eyes to let the wind caress his face.
CHAPTER SIX
Ashok thought he had seen wondrous sights enough in Ikemmu, but when they approached Tower Pyton, he had new cause to gape at his surroundings. The scent got him first.
“Brace yourself,” Skagi said, laughing when he saw Ashok’s wide-eyed countenance. “It’s a drug the first time.”
And it was. Pyton, Hevalor, and everything on the ground between the towers made up the trading district, and it was a teeming mass of many races, more than Ashok had seen near the wall. His curiosity overcame him, and he pointed and asked Cree to tell him their names. The group laughed at his ignorance, but Ashok didn’t care. He wanted names to put to all the strange faces, and he remembered each one as Cree spoke.
At the base of the towers, an open-air market had been set up among the stone buildings. Wagons loaded down with every imaginable good were parked in front of the buildings, and human, halfling, and dwarven merchants hawked food: carts full of strange fruit, the colors so vivid they hurt Ashok’s eyes. He’d never seen colors like that. Steaming meat on spits whirled past him clutched in dwarven fists. The stout men and women pushed the savories at the group. Skagi tossed them coin, and the group each took a haunch of boar.
Ashok bit into the meat and felt the juices slide down his chin. He was used to meat that had been long preserved in stores, hard biscuits, and water from a silt stream deep in the underground. The flavors of the hot, spiced boar assaulted his tongue and made him light-headed. He was shocked to feel his heartbeat speed up slightly. The intense spic
es stimulated not just his tongue, but his whole body, the way a wound sharpened him. He could hardly believe what he was feeling.
And it wasn’t just the food. There were wagons filled with tools for building, fire-making, and weapon repair. Finely tailored clothing hung from iron bars suspended between the shops, breezes making crimson skirts billow like enflamed clouds. Ashok reached out in wonder to touch the fabric.
“Wipe the grease off before you touch!” a voice said as a hand slapped his hand away.
Ashok looked up at a tawny-skinned human man with flushed cheeks and thick brown sideburns. His eyes-brown and white and black-were hypnotic to Ashok with their circles of color.
“Eh, what are you lookin’ at?” the merchant demanded.
“Your eyes,” Ashok said.
“My eyes?” the merchant repeated, looking Ashok over curiously. “Haven’t seen you before. What’s your rank?”
“I don’t have one,” Ashok said.
“Nice armor you got though,” the merchant said, passing his hand over the bone scales, poking and prodding. Ashok resisted the urge to snap the human’s wrist. “Good color, the charcoal and white,” the merchant continued. “Not white, though, more tooth-shaded. Bit muddled crimson too-I got a good eye for color. ‘S not one of mine. Where’d you buy it?”
“I made it,” Ashok said.
“Made it!” the merchant said, laughing loudly. His breath reeked of strong herbs and liquor. “A fine jester you are too. No, truly, where’d you get it?”
Ashok didn’t reply. He started to turn away.
The merchant clamped a hand on his shoulder.
Ashok dropped his meat, pivoted, and batted the merchant’s hand aside. He drew his dagger with his left hand, brandishing the weapon between his body and the human’s.
“Ashok,” Skagi said, appearing suddenly beside them. “Gaina, what’s going on here?”
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