“Charmed I’m sure,” said Akosh. The itch between her shoulders was getting worse. She needed to leave the city tonight. “I take it by now you’re aware what’s happened?”
“You killed Habreel and now you’re taking over,” said Pavel.
“Not quite,” said Akosh, refreshed by his direct approach. “He’s still alive, for the time being at least.”
“Ah, I assumed that was him,” he said gesturing at the congealing blood on the floor.
“No, that was one of your old Guardian colleagues. Negotiations broke down.”
“Is the same going to happen to me if I refuse to serve?” asked Pavel.
“That depends on what you want.”
“Myself and the others chose to leave the Guardians because the Queen had been led astray by foreign leaders and their wizards,” declared Pavel. Akosh knew they’d been dismissed for a range of crimes, but she let it pass. “We believe in this cause and I would rather die than let it be corrupted.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” said Akosh rolling her eyes. “I don’t want you to change what you’re doing. I still want you to get rid of all magic. It’s evil. It’s bad,” she said, waving her hands about. “The reason I took over is because Habreel lost his nerve.”
“Is this true?” said Pavel, directing his question at Dannel.
Akosh knew they’d previously worked together when Dannel had been a novice Guardian under the tutelage of Habreel.
“He knew sacrifices would be required, but he couldn’t stomach what needed to be done,” said Dannel, not exactly lying. It was also a polite way of saying they had to kill several hundred children. At least his faith had never wavered, unlike Rohita’s which was still bothering her.
“Do I have to decide now?” asked Pavel.
“I haven’t travelled all this way to sit around while you make up your mind,” snapped Akosh.
“May I at least have a moment to consider? Perhaps a drink?”
“That sounds like a good idea,” said Akosh, gesturing for Dannel to fetch them both a drink. She’d resisted so far because the thought of all these tedious meetings would’ve meant she’d be drunk before the first had finished. At least after this she could relax, perhaps get drunk in a carriage as she headed north.
Pavel took a moment to consider his options while Dannel poured them both wine into crystal glasses that sparkled in the light. While Akosh slurped down her first glass in a few mouthfuls, Pavel merely sipped his pensively.
“What do you want to ask?” said Akosh.
“I don’t wish to cause offence,” he said, nodding towards Dannel who was standing between them, wine bottle at the ready.
“Right now, I’d rather be offended than bored.”
“Would I be expected to convert to your . . . faith?” he asked, choosing his words with care. She had the distinct impression he’d been about to say cult.
Pavel was more astute than the others. Perhaps he would prove to be useful in the future after all. She also noticed him fiddling with something under his shirt. A religious icon perhaps.
“No. You don’t need to convert.”
“That’s a relief. I’ve seen how they all look at you. It’s grotesque,” he said. Dannel bristled at the insult and put a hand on his dagger but Akosh found herself smiling at his nerve.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“What would happen if I decided not to work for you?”
“An excellent question,” she said, sitting forward and finally just pulling the bit of scalp off the bottom of her boot. “You have a wife and two sons, I believe.”
For the first time since entering the room Pavel looked uncomfortable. “Yes, but I don’t see them often.”
“You left them behind when you set off to pursue your noble cause a few years ago. I’m sure they appreciate the brave sacrifice you made.”
“I thought it best not to get them involved,” he said.
“Here’s the problem,” said Akosh, drawing out her words. “You’re asking others to sacrifice their children, and yet you’ve not given up anything for the cause. You’ve not suffered as they have. That hardly seems fair.”
The colour had steadily drained from Pavel’s face and now the glass in his hand was shaking, spilling red wine on his white shirt. “What have you done?”
“Me?” said Akosh, pretending to be aghast. “Nothing at all.”
He gulped down his wine, then finally managed to ask, “Are they dead?”
“That’s the wrong question,” said Akosh. “The right question is, are you willing to give up those you love for this cause? I don’t need you to believe in me, but do you really believe in it?”
The former Guardian drained his glass and angrily pressed it against Dannel’s chest. Juggling it and the half-empty bottle he nearly dropped them both but managed to right himself. While he was doing that, Pavel grabbed the dagger at his belt and pressed it against Dannel’s throat. A trickle of blood ran down his neck and he hissed in pain.
“Sacrifice,” said Pavel with a wry smile. His whole demeanour shifted and suddenly he wasn’t cowering any more. “It’s an interesting point. How much are you willing to give up?”
Fearing he was one of her peculiar brethren in disguise Akosh focused on the man but he was merely human. “Who are you really?” she asked with a growing sense of unease.
“Oh, I’m actually Pavel, but, like so many of your followers, I’ve always been something else as well,” he said with a smirk.
“Who do you serve?”
“I’m not allowed to say.”
“I could make you,” promised Akosh, reaching for one of her many daggers.
“Perhaps, but that won’t save him,” he said, shifting the dagger against Dannel’s throat. “I’m merely here to deliver a message.”
Akosh considered her options. She could kill him or make him tell her everything, but whoever he worked for would know that. Whoever it was they’d not come in person, so Pavel probably knew little, only what he had been told ahead of this meeting. It was how she worked with her people to minimise risk.
“Speak,” she said.
“My Master knows you don’t really care about eliminating magic, merely the opportunities it creates for your people. However, he doubts your commitment. He thinks you’ve become too sentimental and attached to them,” said Pavel, adjusting his dagger and drawing fresh blood from Dannel’s neck. “He’s asked for a display of your commitment.”
Akosh really wanted to stab him in the face. She hated not knowing who he served and hated being manipulated even worse. “What kind of display?”
“Kill this one,” he said, nodding towards Dannel.
“I’d gladly give my life for you, Mother.”
“No,” said Pavel, releasing Dannel and stepping back. “We both know they’re stupid enough to kill themselves for you on a whim. You have to do it.”
“And what do I get in return?” she asked, stalling for time. Perhaps if she tortured him for long enough he might remember something he’d been made to forget.
“I’ve been told someone has been sent to find out who is responsible for the war on magic. My Master will keep watch and warn you if they’re getting close.”
Akosh shook her head. “That’s not enough.”
“He will also watch the others at the next ‘grand meeting’,” said Pavel, stressing the last two words, but it was clear from his expression he didn’t know what it meant. No human had ever set foot in the banquet hall. “Going forward my Master will discreetly ally himself with you. Experience has taught him that this situation will grow worse before it gets better. He believes you will need each other in the future in order to survive.”
“An alliance,” pondered Akosh. Such things must have happened in the past but she’d not been aware of any in recent times. Their kind was too selfish, often at odds with each other, and so they focused only on their own survival. In the past Akosh had considered reaching out to others who were
worse off than her, but none of them existed any longer. Whoever Pavel served had been at this for a long time. There would be much she could learn from them.
Their one rule, passed down from the Maker, stated that they couldn’t interfere with the affairs of mortals and direct events. She’d already broken the rule and besides it didn’t mention anything about working together.
“I’m sorry,” she said and Pavel misinterpreted her regret. Akosh found herself hesitating as she drew a dagger and realised that he was right. As much as she needed her followers and they sustained her, she’d grown too familiar with several of them. She had feelings of affection for a few. She’d even mourned the loss of two of her children who had killed themselves while disguised as Seekers.
She’d thought of herself as human from time to time and had even considered notions of pretending to be one for a while for the experience. In order to survive she had adapted from her original mould, transforming herself in the process, but now had swung too far in the other direction. They were tools, nothing more, to be used and cast aside.
She wasn’t human and needed to stop thinking as one.
The betrayal in Dannel’s eyes as she stabbed him in the chest made her stab him another six times. With her hands covered in gore she stepped back and let him drop, adding fresh blood to the old on the floor.
“Is that enough or do you want me to kill some more of my followers?” she asked, feeling lighter than she had in years.
“That is sufficient. I will be in touch,” said Pavel, backing out of the room, suddenly in a hurry.
Akosh stared down at the dying form of Dannel and was pleased to note that she didn’t really care about him or what she’d done. There was a small nugget of emotion buried somewhere deep inside, but it would fade in time. Perhaps if she killed a few more it would disappear altogether.
CHAPTER 36
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” asked Kovac.
Part of Tammy wished he hadn’t even come this far, but he’d proven to be unusually stubborn of late. “No. It’s too risky.”
He said nothing but she could tell he was disappointed by her answer. The risk was minimal to him. As a mercenary he could leave the city and never come back. Move to another country or live out the remainder of his days in the desert kingdoms, free from persecution. The long arm of the law would not stretch that far for what they were about to do. Besides, she doubted if the crime would even be reported.
The risk to her was much greater. It had been a long time since she’d been here, but it was possible there were still a few familiar faces. She might be recognised and the repercussions could end both her career and her freedom. She had no illusions about being invulnerable. As a Guardian of the Peace she wouldn’t survive long behind bars with so many criminals. The alternative was to run, to live free and be with him, travelling the world together. He didn’t want her to be forced to live on the run, but she could see Kovac yearned for her to join him in a life, far away from this city. Instead of acknowledging his pain and desire, she turned away, hardening her heart and burying all her wants.
The leather gloves were old and worn but still fitted her comfortably. They looked ordinary but the steel weights made them dangerous, even lethal if enough force was applied. After tying a scarf across the bottom half of her face Tammy pulled up the hood of her cloak. All her clothes were old, worn and faded. She carried no weapons and the only discernible feature that would make her stand out in someone’s mind was her height. There was nothing she could do about that but she was not the only one in the city with Seve blood in her heritage. It wouldn’t be much for any witnesses to help identify her.
Beside her Kovac was dressed in a similar fashion. He covered his face as well and pulled up his hood but she could still see his haunted eyes.
“Ready?”
“I’m with you,” he said.
She moved out of the alley and walked straight towards the three-storey building at the end of the road. At this hour of the night all the shops on the street were closed and in darkness. The exception was the building she was marching towards which had a light in every window of the first two floors. Two large, armed figures were standing guard outside the front door. She knew they were Wooden jackals, foot soldiers for the owner. They were talking in quiet voices but cut off suddenly as she and Kovac approached. Neither of them drew a weapon but they were alert and both rested a hand on the swords at their waist.
Kovac moved to her right just as they had rehearsed until they each stood face to face with one of the doormen. As one of them opened his mouth to ask their business Tammy hit him in the jaw with a left hook. There was a dull cracking sound as the steel-weighted glove connected and the big man dropped to the ground without a sound. Kovac was having slightly more difficulty with his opponent. The jackal was trying to shout for help while Kovac kept one hand over his mouth and punched him repeatedly in the stomach. Eventually he hit the jackal in the right place and he dropped to his knees, gasping for air. Tammy clubbed him on the side of the head and the man flopped onto his face.
Grabbing one of the men by his ankles she dragged him into the mouth of a nearby alley. Kovac dumped his and then took up their post outside the front door, pulling off his hood and scarf. He stood out in the open, a hand resting on his sword as if expecting and tempting someone to cause trouble. She wanted to say something. To tell him how much he meant to her and how much she appreciated him doing this. Swallowing the lump in her throat she took a deep breath and pushed open the front door.
The interior was more or less as she remembered it. An organised hallway with weapons placed just inside the front door. To her right a winding set of stairs led up to the next floor. To her left were several rooms where the Don’s jackals slept, and at the back a small kitchen where they prepared their meals. He liked to have them close and looked after their basic needs, but he didn’t want them in his way.
The door was slightly ajar and peering through a narrow gap into the dormitory she saw several men and women asleep. To make sure no one surprised her later, Tammy closed the door and wedged it shut with two heavy barrels. It wouldn’t stop them if they were really determined to get through, but it would slow them down for a while.
Creeping up the stairs she paused halfway, listening for more jackals on the floor above. There was a low rumble of conversation and someone laughed in response, but otherwise all was quiet. The next floor contained offices where clerks spent their days sorting debts and making meticulous notes in ledgers. Any money was kept inside a steel cage, inside an impregnable safe that was guarded by two jackals at all times. They were sitting playing dice when Tammy walked up to them, making no attempt to disguise her approach. Expecting someone else, one of the jackals looked up in time for Tammy’s fist to collide with her nose. She cried out in pain and fell back, a hand pressed to her face. The other woman started to draw a dagger from her belt but Tammy was quicker, hammering the jackal in the centre of her chest. A right cross sent her spinning off her stool while the woman with the broken nose went for her sword. Tammy’s boot caught her on the jaw, snapping her neck to one side, and she slumped to the floor. Both were still breathing but beyond that she didn’t know how badly they were injured. It didn’t matter. Her luck was holding for now but she knew it couldn’t last and that time was against her.
At the top of the next set of stairs was a sturdy door that was always locked. Tammy didn’t even try to turn the handle. Instead she pulled a narrow curved piece of metal from her pocket and slowly eased it into the lock. Bracing herself against the door she took a deep breath and then twisted her right hand. The lock crunched, breaking beyond repair, but it sprang open.
Tammy shoved the door wide, grabbed the short sword kept beside it and raced down the corridor to the bedroom at the far end. The rooms on either side were empty and unimportant. Her target would be in bed at this hour.
As she kicked open the bedroom door she expected a crossbow bol
t to come flying towards her, but the figure in bed was barely stirring. Checking the room for other people she moved towards the bed and pressed the tip of the sword against Don Lowell’s chest.
Seeing him again after so long caused the rage that she’d been holding in check to surge to the surface. All the anguish, all the tears and frustration at not finding her husband’s killer over the years flooded her body. Her arms shook from the effort of not pressing the sword down into Don Lowell’s body. The Old Man was right. She had been carrying this around for too long. It had been weighing her down for more than a dozen years.
Don Lowell had always played the role of the elder statesman. The old, kindly uncle who cared for his people, but now the façade had become reality. The skin on his face was tight and thin. His hair was all but a memory and it took him a while to wake up and focus on the immediate danger. One of his hands flopped feebly towards the loaded crossbow he kept beside his bed but she idly batted it away.
Slowly his eyes focused on her face and the question formed on his lips. Keeping the sword pressed against his sternum with one hand, Tammy pulled off her hood and scarf.
“Ah” was all he said as recognition dawned in his eyes. She saw some of the familiar intelligence and cunning behind his eyes, but also what she’d been blind to for many years. A total lack of empathy. There was no genuine warmth in his gaze, not even a drop of human kindness. His talk of family and caring for his people was all part of an elaborate act.
“I know everything,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I want to hear you admit what you’ve done.”
Don Lowell pursed his lips. “That might take a while.”
Tammy leaned against the sword until the point touched his skin and drew blood. Don Lowell hissed in pain and she relented. “Do not play word games with me. For perhaps the only time in your life, I want you to speak plainly and tell the truth.”
The wry smile vanished and all of the lies were peeled away until she was looking into the face of a remorseless killer. “Yes, I did it. I gave Dońa Jarrow permission to kill your husband. Were you expecting an apology? Perhaps you want me to cry a little? Maybe we should hug and cry together?”
Mageborn Page 33