earthdawn Anarya's Secret

by Tim Jones

As always, patience was the key to success. There were four of them, and his target was on the far side from him. Keeping within the trees of the little wood, which took up the west side of the garden, he moved parallel to the chattering group, hoping that Kendik would turn to face him. It would only take one good shot. He was never without a weapon, and at the moment he was carrying those that could most easily be concealed—knives, and a blowpipe. His favorite poison coated both the knives and the darts.

  Halfway down the main path, a side track turned off to a small gazebo which stood just outside the wood. As he was raising the blowpipe to his mouth, the assassin heard the older woman say "That must be lovely when the flowers are in bloom," and the four of them turned towards him. For a moment—but the moment was gone. The path to the gazebo was narrow, and they walked down it in single file, Kendik again at the rear. Once they were in the gazebo, though, they would be almost in touching distance. He waited calmly.

  The gazebo had wooden pillars supporting a peaked roof. The footsteps of his adversaries echoed as they walked onto the raised floor. They were so close now. Even better, Kendik had walked off from the others, a little to the left. The throat was the best place. He raised the blowpipe to his lips and blew.

  Later, when he had ample time to reflect, the assassin concluded that Kendik must have had protection on the astral plane, for his dart hit a bat that chose that moment to flit in front of Kendik's face. Many of its brethren were already clustered together in their caves, but this solitary predator of the night's insects was still out hunting. It fell, convulsing, to the ground, its dim consciousness obliterated by pain. The assassin was so floored by amazement that he committed the unforgivable professional sin of cursing aloud.

  "Run!" called Kendik, then "Guards!" Though only Kendik and Anarya realized what had happened, neither Praemuria nor Atlan stopped to argue. They ran, out of the gazebo, back to the main path, and across the grass on the far side. Another dart flew harmlessly by.

  Balancing the wood to the west, the east side of the garden was occupied by a pond. Surrounded by a thick hedge, it was a place where lovers and fishers could pursue their respective passions in comparative seclusion. There were two entrances, one closer to the south end of the garden, the other in a narrow gap between the hedge and the northern wall. With no better plan in mind than concealment, Kendik made for the northern gap. He could hear running feet behind him, and further off, shouts of alarm and command. The guards would be here soon. They just had to survive until then.

  The gap in the hedge was two steps away when, from behind him, came a cry of pain. He half-turned, and saw his mother falling to the ground. Anarya, nearest, turned back to help her. Kendik seized Anarya's arm and dragged her towards safety. Another dart fizzed by his head—the assassin cursed, to himself this time, wishing the savages' weapon wasn't so hard to aim while running.

  Kendik and Anarya ducked behind the hedge, then Kendik, greatly daring, turned his head to peer through the gap. Atlan was grappling with a shorter, cloaked man. The assassin was trying to force his dagger downwards against the pressure of Atlan's left hand. Despite Atlan's strength, he was succeeding. Atlan's right hand clutched at his chest. He called out. Blue light welled through his fingers, and, almost in the face of the oncoming guards, a void, dark against the night, opened up. Something reached out: a nightmare vision of tentacles born on some darker and more desolate plane. The tentacles grasped both men and pulled them through. The void closed with a slap of returning air.

  Kendik, Anarya, and the guards reached the prone figure on the ground at almost the same time.

  "Is she—?" asked Kendik.

  Chapter 25

  "No," replied Devlit, who had arrived with the guards. "Not quite."

  In the hours that followed, Kendik did not leave his mother's side. Her neck had been grazed by a thrown dagger—at least, they found a scratch on her neck, and a dagger was lying nearby. It looked as though she had deliberately placed herself between the assassin and Kendik.

  She must have received a tiny fraction of the poison that had killed the unfortunate guard in the central square during the first assassination attempt. It was enough to fell her, but not to kill her. She had always had a strong constitution, and it saved her now. Slowly, slowly, Devlit and the healers of the Houses of Garlen drew her back. It took three days before she opened her eyes, and another two before she could speak again.

  Once he felt he could leave her side, Kendik began to set other matters in order. Before the t'skrang delegation had left Borzim, T'shifa had given him an address. "The Name-giver at that address represents the interests of the House of the Wheel. He will carry your messages to us, should you wish it," T'shifa had said.

  "So this is Akil's replacement, the new chief of your spies in Borzim?"

  T'shifa's snout lifted. "Even if we were to concede that we had spies in Borzim, we would not tell the ruler of the town their Names. No, this person is our public representative."

  It was no one Kendik knew: a dwarf merchant in a modest side-street whose house was, perhaps, a little more grand than might be expected from the profits of his advertised trade in beets and turnips. But Kitzil the merchant showed no surprise at being summoned to the palace, and displayed a calm assurance that Kendik's message would reach Vulumensthetika. "I will send my best rider," he said.

  It took time. Twice Kendik demanded answers from Kitzil, and twice he was told that these things could not be rushed. It was ten days before Kitzil brought Kendik the letters and seals which would give him and Anarya safe passage to a small village on the southern shore of Lake Vors. From there, they would sail to Axalekso.

  Although the delay weighed on Kendik's nerves, it did let him set his house in order before departure. The first priority was to repair his relationship with Anarya. That took a lot less effort than he expected. As soon as she heard that he had resolved to take up Hathilt's offer and tackle Dinazhe once and for all, she was back in his arms and in his bed. "You have done as I desired," she said, "and now other desires can be fulfilled."

  The ruler who intends to vacate his throne for an indefinite period is wise to give careful thought to whom he appoints as his regent. Kendik trusted his informal council of advisers, but could he take the risk of elevating any of them to rule in his stead? Uthaia was the most obvious candidate, but he hesitated to put someone who had such a long history with Tesek in charge of the town. Qualia and Ormanaria were both highly competent women, but each was still getting used to her new status. Lethik and Sakara were outsiders. That left Vyaka as the best candidate, but the idea appeared to offend her, and she muttered darkly about her honor until he took the hint and apologized for whatever insult he had caused her.

  So he abandoned the idea of appointing one regent, and appointed a collective leadership instead, consisting of Uthaia, Or-manaria, Qualia and her boss Zirok, Lethik, Vyaka, and Kullik. He called them together to tell them that they must consult on all matters of significance, and that each of them would have an equal vote in matters on which they could not all agree. "If Fekor was here, he would be delighted," Kendik told them.

  Their reactions ranged from ambivalent to highly skeptical, but none of them refused the challenge.

  And, even if they had not agreed, he would have gone anyway. His mother had almost been taken from him. Two others with a claim on his loyalty had been snatched to an unknown fate. He could not, would not, allow Dinazhe to torment him and those he loved any longer. The morning after Kitzil brought their safe-conduct passes, Anarya and Kendik set off for Lake Vors.

  In other circumstances, he might have enjoyed the journey to Axalekso. Now, his only wish was that it be over quickly, so that his assault on Dinazhe could begin. They rode out of the North Gate with as little fuss as possible, and thereafter avoided the human villages and camped on the plain. They reported to the first t'skrang village they came to, and from there, were escorted across the monotonous but fertile floodplain south of Lake Vors to a village
on its marshy southern shores. There was little to do but walk by the waterfront, stare across the lapping waters of the lake, and wonder when their riverboat would arrive.

  After a day's frustrating delay, their riverboat, carved and curli-cued, sailed out of the morning mist. Its t'skrang crew gave them many a curious look, but none ventured to ask what their business was in Axalekso.

  They sailed for most of the day in fog, then emerged into sunlight to see the high northern bluffs towering overhead, their mass of varicolored rock, red and brown and gray and white, catching the afternoon light. Soon after, they pulled up at a stone pier, and then climbed a pathway that switchbacked its way up the cliff.

  They toiled their way skyward among porters and pilgrims until they reached the summit and saw the t'skrang town directly in front of them.

  Before they could catch their breath, a t'skrang bearing the obsidian dagger of the Ishkarat led them to a guesthouse hard by the cliff top, where T'shifa was waiting. She welcomed them, showed them to their room—circular, richly tapestried and carpeted, and supplied with far too many windows for Kendik's liking—gave them food and showed them where to get more, and promised that she would be back the following day. Though they slept well and woke late, the day passed slowly, and T'shifa did not come. Another night slid by. They ate a cheerless breakfast. Where was T'shifa? What had happened to her?

  Anarya, never more impatient than when confined, announced after breakfast that she couldn't take being cooped up like this any more, and was going out to stretch her legs. Kendik tried but failed to dissuade her, and had to settle for pleading with her to be careful, and to make sure that she had her safe-conduct pass with her. He had no choice but to stay behind in case T'shifa returned.

  There was nothing to do but worry. Though he told himself that he had coped perfectly well in Borzim when Anarya was gone for hours or days at a time, he could not escape the feeling of imminent calamity. He prowled around the room, examining the tapestries, peering at the richly woven rugs on the floor, admiring the stonework, and keeping well away from the windows.

  Anarya returned what felt an eternity later, though it must have been little more than an hour.

  "Waste of time," she said. "There's nothing to see but a bunch of houses and streets, no one is prepared to talk, and I was stopped twice by t'skrang guards. Everyone here seems so isolated. I've never seen a less animated bunch of t'skrang in my life, and as for the humans, they all go around casting nervous glances at each other from the corners of their eyes. What do you think they're afraid of?"

  Kendik jerked his hand towards the window. "Maybe the shiva-lahala lives a bit too close for comfort," he said.

  Anarya crossed to the window and looked out. "Is that where she lives?"

  "On the island."

  "Come and show me."

  Kendik did not move.

  Anarya smiled. "You're scared of heights, aren't you? Come on, it's only five steps. Can the man who brought the fierce warrior-woman Anarya to his bed be scared of five steps?"

  "Oh, all right!" said Kendik. The tower they were staying in stood right atop the bluffs that loomed over the northern shore of Lake Vors, and from the window, every direction was down. They were five hard steps to take.

  "One more step ..."

  Kendik forced himself those final few inches, so that he was actually leaning out of the round window. For a moment, he thought he would fall. He swayed dangerously, and Anarya, giggling, held him by the waist. Far, far below, the waters of Lake Vors sparkled in the noon sunlight. He could see t'skrang vessels plying the waters; even the dreadnoughts of the t'skrang fleet looked like floating chips of wood from this height. All of them, he noticed, kept well away from the fortified island that dominated this western end of the lake: the fortress of Maratha, where, rumor had it, the shivalahala of the Ishkarat held sway over her domain. Beyond the fortress, the lake disappeared into haze. It was a wonderful and terrifying view.

  He turned round to face Anarya, kissed her, and stepped back into the room. "I think you can let go now," he told Anarya.

  "But what if I don't want to?" she replied, moving her left hand a little lower.

  It was one way of passing the time. They had just made themselves respectable again when T'shifa returned. Her tail was swishing busily, and she was in no mood to linger. "Come!" she said. "Bring your weapons, but keep them hidden!"

  T'shifa hurried them down the circular stairway and out onto the street. They went north, deeper into the town. Kendik could not help contrasting what he saw with Borzim and wishing that his town shared some of Axalekso's virtues. Everything here was new, clean, and—to a t'skrang mind at least—well-ordered, though the t'skrang idea of order involved more circles, clumps, and clusters than Kendik was used to.

  On the other hand, the place was lifeless. A few citizens hurried home through the nearly deserted streets. There were taverns, but the patrons drank alone and in silence, or clustered together in small groups, whispering. The wind from the northern plateau eddied around corners and cut into his bones. He drew his short cloak closer around him. Anarya was cloaked from head to foot, which was just as well, for underneath her cloak she was wearing armor.

  A town as new as Axalekso—New Elekso—had not accumulated alleys, but Kendik noticed that T'shifa was taking care to lead them down smaller and less conspicuous streets wherever possible. At last she stopped at an anonymous door in a stone wall, opened it, and motioned them aside. They went down a flight of steps and found themselves in a cellar full of barrels. Light quartzes lit a table at one end. Vulumensthetika was sitting there, writing. Behind her, almost out of the light, stood Hathilt.

  Vulumensthetika looked up. "You're here," she said. "Good. Tell us all about this assassin."

  So they sat on barrels and told her. "The same man as in Pust?" she said. "Are you sure?"

  Kendik nodded. "Natrass was sure," he said, "and I trust him."

  "A Gold, no doubt," said T'shifa. "But not actually a member of the Denairastas clan, or I doubt Kendik would be breathing now."

  "A Gold?"

  "An agent from Iopos," explained Anarya. "The Golds are that city's guild of spies and assassins. One of the higher levels of their intelligence apparatus, whom they call the Holders of Trust."

  "Why would an assassin from Iopos have attacked me in Pust, when I was nothing and nobody?"

  "You were somebody to him. You were a Duke of Borzim, and getting you killed, then having the villagers of Pust blamed for it, would be a typical Denairastas maneuver," said T'shifa.

  "Whereas killing me in my sleep is a typical t'skrang maneuver?"

  "S'thanakara was still working for the shivalahala then," said Vulumensthetika.

  "Think what you are saying!" said T'shifa. Kendik had forgotten that this was not her real Name.

  Vulumensthetika swished her tail. "We have gone too far now to hide the truth—of our Names, or of our allegiances—from those who have shown themselves our friends. Come with us, you two, and I will enlighten you as we walk." She rose, pushed aside two barrels, and opened another door that led to a dank descending staircase. Light quartzes in hand, they went down, deep into the earth. Kendik divided his attention between the uneven surface of the rough stone stairs and the priceless information Vulumen-sthetika was imparting.

  Vulumensthetika explained that House Ishkarat had long been allied with the Denairastas clan that ruled the city of Iopos, many miles upriver. The Denairastas sought to extend their influence and their power throughout Barsaive. "This is meant to be an alliance between two equal parties, yet now, the shivalahala sits in Maratha and listens to the whisperings of the Iopos clan rather than the voices of her own people. We call ourselves a free house, beholden to no one, but we have become the servants of Iopos, flattered when we please them, chastised when we do not. I am not the only one who thinks that the House of the Wheel would be better off if we purged ourselves of the Iopos taint, but to speak such things—as I am speaking now—is
treason. Still, we are not without allies. Earthroot has no love for Iopos, and so he is prepared to send his servants, such as Hathilt here, to aid those who work against them. They know strange magic there, deep beneath the mountains the dwarfs call home."

  It was true, then, thought Kendik. He had heard rumors that the Great Dragon Earthroot was the King of the Pale Ones.

  "Is Dinazhe also working for the Denairastas?" he asked. "Was it the Denairastas who had Tesek killed? And why?"

  "As for your Dinazhe," replied Vulumensthetika, "I do not know. We paid him less attention than was wise, and it is clear that we realized neither his power nor his cunning. Nor do I know who hired the crystal raiders to kill Tesek. I do not believe even the shivala-hala would stoop so low as to deal with them, but the Denairastas do not tell her everything they have in mind. Yet they would have good reason to kill Tesek, for they brook no opposition in the lands which they consider theirs—and neither, in truth, do we."

  "Borzim is a long way from Iopos," said Kendik.

  "But not so far from Lake Vors. Should you defeat Dinazhe and return to your town, you must tread a careful path between subservience and independence. The defeat of Tesek bought your town some time, but, even if we succeed in freeing the Ishkarat from the clutches of the Denairastas, there will still be many on Maratha who believe that it would be negligent not to eliminate whatever threat Borzim poses."

  "There may be a little more to Dinazhe than you think," added T'shifa. "Hathilt suspects that he is in thrall to a Horror, and does its bidding in the visible world."

  "A Horror!"

  Kendik turned to the pale, silent Illusionist. "What do you know of its nature?"

  "Nothing," said Hathilt. "And I fear to know more."

  "If nothing else, that thing which reached out to seize the assassin and your friend Atlan was surely a Horror," said Vulumen-sthetika. "There are few indeed who can make a Horror do their bidding without becoming tainted. Vestrivan cannot free himself from that Horror known as the Despoiler of the Land. Do you think Dinazhe is stronger than a Great Dragon?"