Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

Evren grinned and nodded. “Good. You’ll find the Ybrazhe thugs holed up in a two-story building on the Cultivator’s Tier, three streets from the Path of Sepulture, second alley from Commoner’s Row.” He gave a quick description of the building. “It’s next door to what looks like a house of disease,” he finished. “Look for the people with those weird blue blisters.”

  “The Azure Rot?” Killian grimaced. “Damn, I didn’t know it had reached the Cultivator’s Tier.” A snap of his fingers brought one of the Mumblers closer, and Killian gave him directions on how to reach the house Evren had indicated. With a nod, the Mumbler ran off, a second young boy on his heels.

  “Thank you,” he said to Evren, and his voice held genuine warmth. “I’ll admit that the Black Widow’s death has me on edge.”

  “Oh, she’s not dead.” Again, Evren found himself grinning. “The woman the thugs killed was just a decoy.”

  “What?” Killian’s eyes narrowed. “How is that possible?”

  “Lady Briana’s bodyguard figured it out,” Evren replied. “He said that the person we met with today was different from the one he met when he first arrived in Shalandra. The Syndicate killed the wrong woman!”

  Killian whistled. “You think the Ybrazhe knows?”

  “Maybe.” Evren shrugged. “But I didn’t exactly get a chance to ask them. A bit busy running for my life from a dozen armed thugs.”

  “You kept your head long enough to follow them,” Killian said. “That’s more sensible than most people would manage in that situation.”

  Evren smiled and said nothing. Killian didn’t need to know that Kodyn had been the one to come up with that particular idea.

  “Now that we’re sharing, has your search for the Gatherers turned up anything?” he asked.

  Killian scowled. “Sadly, I’ve come up empty-handed thus far. And, if I have to deal with this Ybrazhe mess, it’s going to take more of my Mumblers off their tracks.”

  “Did you ever consider that the Ybrazhe might be working with the Gatherers?”

  “No, I hadn’t.” A frown darkened the blacksmith’s face. “But, damn, I should have!” He banged his hammer onto the anvil, striking sparks. “It makes perfect sense, once you think about it. The Ybrazhe thrive on chaos and unrest, and they’d see the Gatherers as a useful tool to destabilize the city.”

  Evren nodded. “I heard Annat tell Snarth that they’d use the chaos of the Pharus’ death to claim the Artisan’s Tier. If the Syndicate wanted to take over, it would be much easier if all eyes were focused on the Pharus’ death.”

  “So they helped the Gatherers plan this assassination attempt, knowing the succession would be a messy battle.” Killian’s expression grew musing, and Evren could almost see the gears turning and clicking in place in the man’s mind. “Without a clear hair to the throne, the Pharus would be chosen by the Keeper’s Council and the Elders of the Blade. The Necroseti would want to put some puppet Pharus in place, while the Lady of Blades would insist on their own Pharus.”

  Relinquishing his grip on his hammer, Killian set to pacing—limping, really, his leg brace clicking with every step—as he thought aloud.

  “With the city consumed by the struggle for succession, the Ybrazhe could quietly move into the Artisan’s Tier and claim it. By the time things calmed down, they would have too strong a stranglehold on the tier for the Indomitables to do anything about it, just like with the Slave’s and Cultivator’s Tiers.” He whistled. “That’s brazen as all hell. Worse, it shows a degree of forethought and cunning that the Ybrazhe hasn’t managed to date.”

  “The Gatherers are a cult that split from the Necroseti, right?” Evren asked. “The same Keeper’s Priests that control everything in this city.”

  “Damn, you’re right.” Killian’s face darkened. “I’ve heard whispers that a few high-ranking Necroseti abandoned the priesthood to join the Gatherers. That sort of long-sightedness is exactly what has kept the Keeper’s Council in power for millennia here in Shalandra.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” Evren had known many priests during his years in the Master’s Temple. While the lower-ranked priests focused on the day-to-day labors, the Grand Lectern and his High Lecterns spent much of their time strategizing on how to consolidate their power in the city.

  Killian stumped about a few seconds longer, silent, his expression pensive. Finally, he turned to Evren. “You’re right, this is useful. This information could be very powerful in the right hands. And, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure it gets in those hands.” He gave Evren a nod. “You can see yourself out, partner.”

  With those words hanging in the air, he turned and hurried out of the smithy as fast as his leg permitted.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Briana’s face was a mask of calm composure as she strode out of the Temple District, but Aisha caught the glimmer of triumph sparkling in her eyes. They had just won a victory in the Temple of Whispers, albeit a small one.

  Thanks to the Secret Keepers, they knew that the Gatherers were likely Earaqi, possibly in service to one or more high-ranked Necroseti that had learned the secrets of the Serenii tunnels beneath Shalandra—the same tunnels outlined in the map Ennolar had given Kodyn. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start.

  And Aisha had also won a victory of sorts. She’d found Thimara—or who Thimara had been before her death. The spark within her had glowed white-hot at the sound of Guardian Uryan’s name, and Aisha had seen genuine sorrow in the Secret Keeper’s eyes as she spoke. Thimara mattered to someone in death as well as in life. She wouldn’t be forgotten, as the spirit had feared. Uryan would carry Thimara’s name etched into her mind and heart.

  Which left her wondering why Thimara’s spirit cried for vengeance. The woman had died from the Azure Rot, despite all the Secret Keepers’ attempts to stop the plague. Did she want vengeance for someone that had failed in her treatment? No, that didn’t feel right. A patient couldn’t seek out revenge against a physicker if the medicine didn’t cure them. Some illnesses were simply beyond human means to treat.

  So what does she want vengeance for? And against whom? The discovery of Thimara’s identity only added to the questions swirling in her mind.

  The buzzing in her mind grew nearly intolerable as they passed the Sanctuary. The final effects of the Whispering Lily had faded, so the voices of the dead no longer brought on such potent waves of nausea or set her head pounding. She still had to grit her teeth to cope with the pain and pressure building within her skull. Aisha nearly wept with relief as they left the Temple District behind.

  Noon lay an hour off by the time they reached Briana’s house. Curiosity burned within Aisha as she caught sight of a familiar figure standing guard outside Briana’s house. Issa, the powerfully-built Keeper’s Blade, stood towering over Rothin. Her black armor contrasted sharply with his gilded breastplate, her huge flame-shaped blade nearly twice the size of his short sword.

  Issa straightened and saluted at their approach. “Archateros.”

  Hykos returned the salute. “Prototopoi.”

  The word meant nothing to Aisha—it likely denoted Issa’s rank in the Blades. The respect in her voice as she addressed Hykos made it clear which of the two was the superior.

  Yet when Issa motioned for Hykos to accompany her, the older Blade followed a few steps away. Their hushed conversation lasted for nearly a minute before Hykos nodded.

  The Archateros turned to Briana. “Lady Briana, it has been my honor.” He saluted, stiff-backed, face solemn. “I leave you in the capable hands of my trainee.”

  Trainee? Aisha struggled to conceal her surprise. The Pharus sent a trainee to guard us? Either the Pharus insulted Briana or served as an indication of Issa’s skill. Judging by their conversation in the palace the previous day, Aisha leaned more toward the latter.

  “The honor is mine, brave Blade.” Briana inclined her head.

  “I will return to relieve Issa later tonight. Until then, may t
he Three Faces of Justice, Mercy, and Joy smile on you.” He turned smartly on his heel and marched off down the street toward the Artificer’s Courseway.

  Aisha cast a curious glance at Issa. She suddenly saw the young woman in a whole new light.

  In her own way, she’s an apprentice, just like Kodyn and me. She and Kodyn wouldn’t be full Journeymen until they completed their Undertaking. Though she didn’t know what Issa would have to do to become a full Keeper’s Blade, she had little doubt that much would be required of her.

  Which makes her presence here all the more curious. Is this part of her training…or something else?

  Issa had said the Pharus insisted on sending her to protect Briana, a way to pay the debt owed for Suroth’s sacrifice. If Issa was just a raw recruit, untrained and untested, she might be next to useless with that huge sword on her back. Yet the fact that Issa had killed—as evidenced by the Kish’aa that clung to her blade—marked her as competent.

  So what’s really going on here?

  The thought followed her inside the house after Briana. Curiously enough, so did Issa. The Keeper’s Blade squeezed through the doorway behind them without hesitation.

  Briana noticed as well. She turned and gave Issa a gracious smile. “Noble Blade, I am grateful for your protection, and I trust that your presence at my door will ensure my safety within my own house.”

  Aisha couldn’t help marveling at Briana’s words. She’d just complimented the Blade and given a clear dismissal in the same polite breath.

  Issa hesitated. “My lady, you will want to hear what I have to say.” She glanced around as the sound of Leya’s cooking echoed from the kitchen and Nessa bustled around the sparse room. “In private.”

  Aisha’s eyebrows rose. Things had just taken a turn for the interesting. Perhaps they’d get answers to their questions about Issa sooner than expected.

  “I see.” Briana’s smile never wavered, but Aisha caught the hint of suspicion in her eyes. “Come, then.” She turned and marched up the stairs, spine stiff, shoulders tense beneath the brown leather straps of her sheath dress. The sound of Issa’s boots thumping on the stairs filled Aisha with a similar tension as she climbed in Briana’s wake, the Blade on her heels.

  Through the open door to the bedroom, Aisha caught a glimpse of Hailen hunched over Suroth’s leather-bound journal. The Serenii artifacts lay strewn on the bed, a dagger beside them. A worried frown furrowed the boy’s brow as his eyes fell on the black-armored Blade.

  To her relief, Briana led Aisha into the upper floor’s second room, which Nessa had converted into a sort of half-dining, half-living room. They couldn’t have the Blade uncovering anything of true significance—at least not where it involved the Serenii artifacts and Suroth’s studies.

  Issa closed the door behind her and turned to face Briana. “Lady Briana, I have been—”

  “Please,” Briana said with a shake of her head. “I am no longer Dhukari, as you can plainly see by our humble surroundings.” She gestured to the simple strip of white leather around her forehead. “You do me honor with your words, but I am simply Briana of the Zadii.”

  Issa’s jaw muscles worked, but she nodded. “Briana.” She drew in a breath. “I have been instructed by my Lady of Blades to offer my help in your efforts to bring justice to your father’s killers.”

  Briana’s expression froze into a polite mask that revealed nothing of her inner thoughts. “I see.”

  Aisha marveled at Briana’s polished façade. That veil of feigned affability could conceal all manner of secrets—Briana had clearly spent enough time among the Dhukari to master the charade.

  “And what, pray tell, does Callista Vinaus believe I intend to do?” Briana asked. “After all, I am told that your Blades already dealt with the assassins that attacked the palace. And, given my current capabilities—” She motioned with a slim hand, a gesture that encompassed the sparse furnishings. “—I have little influence or wealth to use in any such efforts.”

  Issa seemed to hesitate, her face a stern, expressionless mask of a soldier. Long seconds passed before she finally spoke. “Let’s cut the horse-shite, Lady…er, Briana.”

  Aisha struggled to mask her surprise.

  “Before I was accepted into the Keeper’s Blades, I was Earaqi,” Issa said. “I’m not Dhukari, and I don’t care about all the clever words and witty jabs. But I do care about following my commander’s orders. When she tells me that I’m to help you hunt down the bastards that killed your father and attacked the palace—not just the ones we killed that night, but all of them still alive in Shalandra—that’s exactly what I’m going do.”

  Surprise cracked Briana’s aristocratic veneer. Her smile wavered and an eyebrow began to work its way upward.

  “If I was a Dhukari,” Issa said, distaste twisting her mouth into a grimace, “I might resort to deceit and manipulation in this situation. Let’s be clear: I have been sent to keep an eye on you. Yet I am no spy. I am a Keeper’s Blade, a warrior chosen by the Long Keeper himself. My lady has instructed me to fight beside you. So tell me what battle we face, and my sword is yours to command.” She held up a gauntleted finger. “With the understanding that my first loyalty is to the Keeper’s Blades and my commander, yet knowing that I will fight until my last breath to protect you, as I have been ordered.”

  Briana’s eyebrow had risen slowly throughout the young Blade’s speech, but Aisha caught a hint of a smile on the Shalandran girl’s lips. “I see,” she said again. This time, it wasn’t a polite verbal parry, but she seemed at a genuine loss for words.

  “Damn!” Laughter bubbled up from Aisha’s chest. “I’m not going to lie, that was the last thing I expected to hear.”

  Issa’s eyes darkened, a scowl deepening her face.

  “You mistake me.” Aisha held up a placating hand. “I’m not mocking you. It’s just rare to hear someone being that honest.” She shot Briana a wry grin. “No offense to you, Briana, but she’s right when she says that the Dhukari are as deceitful as serpents convincing a mouse to join them for dinner.”

  Briana nodded. “It was always my least favorite aspect of my father’s position.” The wary tension around her eyes softened and a small smile broadened her lips. “I appreciate your forthrightness, Issa of the Keeper’s Blades.”

  “Just Issa’s fine,” the Blade replied.

  “Issa, then.” Briana held out a hand. “I am honored that the Lady of Blades deems us worthy of your help.”

  Issa gripped her hand, hard enough to make Briana wince a little. “She believes that, like your father, you are clever enough to uncover secrets.” Her expression grew grim, determined. “Secrets that she intends to use against the Necroseti and the Keeper’s Council.”

  Briana’s eyebrows shot up. “Truly?”

  Issa nodded. “Her investigation into the events of that night have uncovered the places where the Gatherers entered the palace. Through a secret door that led into the Terrestra, and into a storeroom near the kitchens.” Anger darkened her face. “Lady Callista believes that they could only have done that with help from someone within the Keeper’s Council and their retinue.”

  A thought struck Aisha and she sucked in a breath. “What if not all of the Gatherers have split off from the Necroseti?”

  Two pairs of eyes turned questioning glances on her.

  “Think about it.” The inkling turned into a fully formed idea as she spoke. “The Gatherers are only going to accomplish so much from wherever they’re hiding. But, if some of their number remained in the Hall of the Beyond in the guise of loyal Necroseti, they could be in the perfect place to pass along secrets and information from within the Keeper’s Temple.”

  “Or do things no one would suspect them of!” Briana’s eyebrows shot up, and her head whipped around toward Issa. “Like opening a secret gate into the Terrestra or helping assassins sneak through the palace.”

  Issa’s frown grew contemplative. “That would be clever, and it could explain how the
Gatherers had help from within the palace on the night of the assassination. The priests of the Keeper’s Council had their entire retinue in attendance. Any one of them could be guilty. That confirms what Lady Callista suspects, though it doesn’t identify the culprit.”

  A pensive silence fell between the three of them. Aisha replayed their conversations with the Secret Keepers, mining her memories for anything else that could help them.

  “Issa,” she said, excitement setting her heart pounding, “you said you were Earaqi before being accepted into the Blades, yes?”

  Issa nodded, her expression tight. “Why?”

  Aisha exchanged a glance with Briana. “We just returned from speaking with the Secret Keepers loyal to Briana’s father, and they said that the Gatherers were Earaqi. Do you know of anywhere the Gatherers could be hiding?”

  Issa’s face went hard, anger blazing in her eyes. “Of course the blame would be laid at the feet of the lower castes! As if they don’t already have problems enough, now they are accused of being Gatherers and—”

  “No, it’s not like that!” Briana’s voice cracked like a whip. “Secret Keepers don’t care about caste or rank. My father only accepted becoming Dhukari because it accompanied his position on the Keeper’s Council. He learned to use it, but it was never his priority.” She fixed Issa with a hard stare. “And the same for the rest in the Temple of Whispers. If they say the slain Gatherers were Earaqi, they came to that conclusion only after thorough examination. An unbiased conclusion, like all of their research.”

  Issa seemed to struggle with these words. Aisha felt a sudden surge of empathy for the Blade. In a way, she, too, had experienced a similar form of bias—not because of her caste, but because of her situation. She and all the others rescued from the Bloody Hand had been pitied by all in the Night Guild. Journeymen and apprentices had treated them like glass flowers, so delicate they’d shatter at the slightest pressure. Only after the formation of House Phoenix and its successful annexation of Praamis’ brothels had those looks changed from commiseration to respect.