“But what if a single life can change the fates of many?” Natan said, and Ashok saw some of the fire rekindled in his gaze. “Wouldn’t that be worth a god’s attention?”
“I don’t have that in me,” Ashok said. “You think too highly of me. Uwan thinks too highly of me.”
“Perhaps,” Natan said. “But you changed my sister’s fate. That’s enough to place you in my highest esteem, for the rest of my life.” He smiled faintly. “And now I’m here, asking you to help me again.”
“What do you want me to do?” Ashok said wearily.
“Speak to Ilvani for me,” Natan said.
Ashok sighed. “I don’t believe she would welcome that,” he said.
“I think you’re wrong,” Natan said. “You’ve made me see that she is in a terrible, dark place, a place where she doesn’t recognize herself, let alone the ones who care about her. Knowing that, I think of all the beings in the world, the only one she will speak to is the one who knows what it feels like in the dark. You are that person.”
“If she says no,” Ashok warned, “that’ll be the end of it. I won’t press her.”
“I understand,” Natan said. “Will you go to her now?”
Ashok shook his head. “No,” he said. “There’s something I need to do first.”
Natan started to argue but seemed to think better of it. “Chanoch,” he said.
Ashok nodded. He started to turn away, then abruptly he said, “Do you believe in forgiveness?” He kept the bitterness from his voice, but it was a struggle.
Natan smiled sadly, as if he saw every bit of Ashok’s internal struggle. “I do,” he said. “But the rule of this city is not mine. We put our lives in Uwan’s hands and must trust his judgment.”
“And Tempus’s?” Ashok asked.
“Yes,” said Natan.
“Because Tempus would never choose someone unworthy to serve Ikemmu,” Ashok said.
“Never,” Natan said. His faith restored, he put his hand on his chest and bowed his head to the sword on the wall.
When he raised his head a breath later, Ashok was on his way to the door.
“I’ll speak to Ilvani soon,” Ashok promised, and left before Natan could say anything more.
The walk from Tower Makthar to the forges and pens was not a long one, but as Ashok entered the caves the Tet bell tolled. He’d been out of Athanon during his rest time and beyond. Olra would be missing him for his Camborr training.
Strange how in the short amount of time he’d spent in Ikemmu, he’d come to think of the day to day activities as routine, as if they and his companionship with Skagi, Cree, and the others had always been a part of his life.
He would miss them when he left.
He walked past the pens with their howling beasts and the cawing crows and ravens, and headed up the passage to the dungeons. The deeper he went into the caves, the more sound became muffled, until the animal cries died completely, and he could no longer smell the forge smoke.
His breath fogged the air, and the torches along the walls became sparse. Ashok was about to turn around, thinking he’d gone the wrong way, when he saw a pair of guards up ahead of him in the passage. They flanked a wooden door with bars at head level.
Ashok nodded to both of them. “I’ve come to see Chanoch,” he said.
The guards exchanged a glance. “No one’s to see prisoners sentenced to solitary,” one said.
Ashok remembered when he’d stood on the edge of the Span with Vedoran, how he’d been able to get the guard to leave because the man was unsure of his place in the hierarchy.
“Do you know who I am?” he said imperiously.
The guard on his left murmured, “The emissary of Tempus.”
Ashok suppressed a shudder at the reverence in his voice. “Uwan has given me leave to speak with the prisoner, who is still a warrior of Ikemmu and a devoted servant of Tempus,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Let me pass.”
The guards exchanged another uncertain glance, but then they stepped aside, and one of them unlocked the door and gestured Ashok through.
A single candle burned in the small room, which was taken up by three smaller cells-glorified boxes, Ashok thought. Chanoch was in the farthest cell, chained to the wall. His face was covered with a black hood so he couldn’t see to teleport. The other cells were empty.
Chanoch raised his head at Ashok’s approach and tried to shift against the chains. “Since when do you speak in Tempus’s name?” he asked. Ashok heard the wry amusement in the young one’s voice.
“Are you offended?” he asked, with a good humor he didn’t feel.
“No, but Tempus will be,” Chanoch said. “I’ll speak to Him on your behalf. We’ll preserve your soul, whether you like it or not.”
“It’s your soul I’m worried about right now,” Ashok said quietly. He pressed his back against the cage bars and slid to the floor, unwilling to speak to the black hood. He could feel the shadows already waiting in the dark. “It’s so quiet,” he said. “There’s nothing to hear in this place but echoes.”
“Time enough to listen to your own thoughts,” Chanoch said. He sounded tired. “You shouldn’t be afraid for me.”
“It isn’t fair,” Ashok said.
“I brought this fate on myself,” Chanoch argued. “Lord Uwan, he knows-”
“Don’t … speak to me of Uwan,” Ashok said. The anger rose in him, threatening to become something ugly. “The leader you idolized sentenced you to die alone in the dark.”
“Not alone,” Chanoch said. “Uwan came here twice in the last day to sit with me, so that I wouldn’t be afraid.”
“Gods,” Ashok exclaimed, putting his head in his hands. “It’s a waste, all of it. It should be me.”
“No,” Chanoch said firmly. “You’re going to serve Ikemmu.”
“I’m not staying, Chanoch. As soon as”-As soon as you die-“when I can, I’m leaving the city.”
That stopped him. Ashok could imagine the look of horror on Chanoch’s face. “Where will you go?” the young shadar-kai asked, shaken.
“Does it matter? There will be another emissary, another servant of Tempus. Have faith,” Ashok said blithely.
“We’re not speaking of Tempus,” Chanoch said. “I thought … you’d found a place here. I hoped you’d found companions.”
“I did,” Ashok said. “But that’s over now. You’re here, I don’t know where Skagi and Cree are, and Vedoran …”
That was over too. Vedoran knew, or at least suspected, Ashok’s involvement with the enemy enclave. Whether he would reveal what he knew remained to be seen, but it was yet one more reason for Ashok to leave. He did not fear Ikemmu’s punishment so much as he feared seeing the faces of his companions when he was exposed as a betrayer and a murderer of his own people. To have their faith in him disappointed was more than Ashok could bear.
And Ilvani …
For her to know his part in her capture … No, let him leave having done one good thing for Ikemmu and its shadar-kai. Though he despised what was happening to Chanoch, he would not trade his short time in Ikemmu for the life he’d been living.
“Chanoch,” he said.
Silence.
“Chanoch,” Ashok said urgently.
“I’m here,” Chanoch said. His voice was faint. He coughed and said again, his voice stronger, “I’m here. It’s just I’m so tired, Ashok. I’ve never felt so weary before.”
Ashok swallowed. “It’s all right,” he said. “You don’t have to talk. I’ll come back to see you again tomorrow, if you want. So you won’t be alone.”
“I’d like that,” Chanoch said sleepily.
Ashok pressed his forehead against the bars, letting the cold metal numb him. They didn’t speak anymore, and eventually, for the first time in days, Ashok slept.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
He returned the following day after his training session with Olra, who didn’t question his absence the day before. Ashok thought word must have
reached Uwan of his visit to Chanoch as the guards didn’t question him again. And so every day after his training, he went into the caves and back to the cell where Chanoch waited. The young one was strong, but every day he grew a little weaker.
They talked of many things during those visits. Ashok asked about Ikemmu and Chanoch’s journey to the city. Like Ashok, he’d been born on the Shadowfell plain, the child of a small enclave. His mother had been killed by a childless woman who’d tried to take Chanoch as her own, but Chanoch had run away rather than be claimed as another’s son.
A patrol found him wandering the plain, half-starved, bleeding, and feral. They brought him to Ikemmu and tried to foster him with several shadar-kai, but he’d attacked them all. In the end a cleric at Makthar had taken him in, and that’s when he had found Tempus. The cleric arranged for him to join the military and swear the oath to Tempus.
“You were going to become a cleric yourself?” Ashok asked.
“I think so, yes. It wasn’t an easy decision. I love the fighting. There are times I can’t sit still. But my mentor said that my prayers in battle would level the enemy. He knew that I would fight for my city and my god.”
“What happened to him?” Ashok asked. “Your mentor?”
“I’ll see him soon,” Chanoch said.
Days passed, and on the tenth, Chanoch barely greeted him. Ashok sat in his customary spot with his back to the bars and listened to Chanoch’s faint breathing.
“I’m going to see Ilvani today,” he said. “Natan asked me to speak to her. He’s worried that she’s not recovering from her ordeal.”
He got no reply from the cell. Ashok turned to look at the hooded figure.
“Chanoch,” he said, but his voice came out in a haggard whisper. “Chanoch,” he said, louder.
Chanoch’s head came up a fraction. Shadows seemed to bleed from his skin. The heralds of death and decay, Ashok thought. He’d heard the humans speak of their bodies feeding the earth when they died. Chanoch’s flesh would feed the Shadowfell.
Ashok reached through the bars and through the shadows to remove Chanoch’s hood.
Blinking in the sudden light, Chanoch looked at him through half-closed eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a hiss of air escaped. Chanoch’s lips moved, but his words were gone. He had no voice.
Ashok gripped the bars helplessly. “I don’t … Say it again, Chanoch,” he said roughly. “I can’t hear you.”
Chanoch stopped speaking. He nodded, smiled at Ashok, then turned his head to the side. He was looking at something in the corner of the cell. Ashok followed his gaze, but he saw nothing, only the shadows.
“Chanoch, look at me,” he said desperately. “You’re still here. You’re alive. Don’t give in, Chanoch.” He yanked the bars, rattling them. The sound echoed in the dark, but Chanoch’s attention remained on the nothingness in the corner.
Panting, Ashok reached through the bars again, trying to grasp Chanoch’s arm. He felt the warrior’s cold skin and recoiled. “No!” he cried.
But his pleas meant nothing. Chanoch couldn’t hear them. The light had gone out of his eyes. He was dead.
Ashok sank to his knees before the cage, shivering in a sudden chill. The only sound was his own harsh breathing.
He’d never seen it happen before. Members of his enclave had succumbed to the shadow often, especially in recent years, when the darkness of the caves clung to them like wraiths. But they’d always been alone. Ashok had never seen the quiet death, but that’s exactly what it was. Chanoch had faded away without fanfare or pain. Peaceful, yet horrifying.
Ashok got to his feet and stumbled from the room. He tried to say something to the guards, but he couldn’t stop and found himself running through the caves. He pelted through the dark until he broke free and smelled the forge smoke. Gasping, Ashok breathed in the hot scent, but his heart wouldn’t stop racing. He couldn’t stop. If he stopped, he would think, and the shadows would be waiting.
He crossed the trade district and climbed the steps of Tower Pyton. He came out on the lower Span. The wind roared, tossing his cloak and hair. The canyon wall hovered darkly over his left shoulder.
Ashok walked across the bridge with his eyes on the ground below. Other shadar-kai walked in front and back of him. Below, the outdoor markets bustled with activity. The moving lights and color mesmerized him.
Ashok stopped in the middle of the bridge and stood at its edge. He swayed from side to side. His heart felt as if it would explode in his chest. His breath came ragged, and his eyes watered in the wind.
Behind him, a voice said, “Are you all right?”
Ashok looked up and was surprised to see a human staring at him. He didn’t recognize the man, but he was looking at Ashok in concern.
“I thought … only shadar-kai walked here,” he said to the man.
The man shook his head. “I walk the Span every day,” he said.
“Aren’t you afraid?” asked Ashok.
“Of course,” the man replied. “That’s why I do it-gives me a little bit of a thrill. Are you crossing?” the man asked.
Slowly, Ashok nodded. His trance broken, he found the spell of panic and terror had passed. Feeling weak, he turned and walked toward Hevalor with the human trailing behind him.
He went down the stairs and headed for Tower Athanon. Within, he asked one of the guards where Ilvani’s quarters were.
He climbed the stairs nearly to the top of the tower and knocked on the second door to his left. There was no response.
Ashok raised his hand to knock again, but he stopped with his knuckles brushing the wood. He sat down in front of Ilvani’s door and stretched his legs out in front of him. His boots were scuffed and stained with mud and old blood. He leaned against the door and waited.
Outside, the Pendron bell sounded. Ashok closed his eyes and immediately an image of Chanoch’s chained body came into his mind. He opened his eyes and stared straight ahead until his breathing quieted.
After a while, his back started to ache, and his legs cramped from sitting. Ashok stood and walked back and forth around the tower. He considered going outside to one of the archways but dismissed it. The hypnotic effect of the height was not what he needed. What he needed was calm. What he wanted was to jump off the tower and let the wind rush past him. He didn’t care where he landed.
Behind him, he heard a door open. Ashok turned and saw Ilvani looking at him. She stepped back into her room and left the door standing wide. On the strength of that invitation, Ashok followed her inside.
Her room was torn apart. Trunks containing clothing, books, and parchment writings were upended and scattered all over the floor. Her bed was covered with twisted blankets, their edges torn and flecked with blood. A ladder leaning against the far wall led up to a small sitting ledge.
Ilvani perched on the ledge, her legs swinging free above the ladder. Behind her, a crescent-shaped window looked out over the city.
Ashok picked a careful path across the room and stopped in front of the ladder. He climbed up slowly, waiting for her to tell him no, but she only watched him. When he reached the top, she scooted as far back against the wall as she could.
Ilvani wore a dress of crimson velvet. Its collar came up almost to her chin and pressed flush against her skin, emphasizing her unhealthy slenderness. She spread her skirt over her knees to make a lap and brought her green bag from a corner near the window.
Ashok settled himself opposite her and looked out the window. The view was breathtaking. He could see the training yard, the towers, and the rest of the city spread below them like a dark storm.
“You have the entire city here,” Ashok said. “You can almost touch it.” He looked at Ilvani, but she was absorbed in arranging the bag. “Did you paint the picture of Ikemmu that hangs in Uwan’s chamber?”
“Yes,” she said. Her voice sounded like she’d been sleeping. “He took it before I had them all in.”
“Who took it? Uwan?” Ashok said.
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She nodded. “He’s always taking things before they’re ready,” she said. Her thin fingers worked the string on the bag. She tossed the cord aside and without warning turned the bag upside down, dumping its contents all over the ledge between them.
Her glass orb, the one with the red silk, rolled across the ledge along with others like it, clear and bottle green and flat black. Ashok put out a hand so they wouldn’t roll away. There were other things too-all containers, Ashok noticed. Miniature chests with tiny locks and gold catches; plain wooden boxes, their warped lids tied with string; layers of cloth wrapped tightly and knotted.
“What is all this?” Ashok asked.
Ilvani counted each of the containers out loud. “One impressive feast,” she said, pointing to a coin-sized silver box. “Two shiny baubles in my ears; three swords blocking the way.” She touched a fragile bit of parchment folded to look like a box. “Four interlocking braids; five shadow hounds.” And on and on-twenty boxes of nonsense that she counted as if her life depended upon finding them all.
“What does it mean?” Ashok said when she’d finished.
“They’re all trapped in here,” she said. “Every wind, every soul. I keep them here. Whether they like it or not.”
Ashok picked up one of the strange boxes. The wooden lid came loose. He looked inside.
“Empty,” he said. He picked up a clear glass sphere. “They’re all empty.”
“Of course,” Ilvani said. She held up the wooden box. “Uwan,” she said.
“Uwan gave that to you?”
“It is Uwan,” Ilvani said. She stuck a finger beneath the lid. “The first time he showed me this room. Said it was all mine.” Her clean hair was pale red in color, but she’d made no attempt to even out the chopped strands.
Ashok held up the clear glass sphere. “Are they your memories, Ilvani?” he asked.
“Every wind, every soul,” she said, and laughed. “A lot to take in-I have to put them somewhere. Out of sight, so they don’t crowd everything.” She pressed the heel of her hand against her temple. “Not enough room.”
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