Light of the Outsider

by Matthew Wayne Selznick

  He noticed Rajen following his tale with particular intensity.

  "Onto his shoulder," she said.

  "I found him on his back in the trash, so… yes?" Dennick rubbed his chin and cheeks, thoughtful. "Things happened quick. I heard the baby crying even as I was running to check on the fallen magn. Kind of put it all together."

  Kug said, "Why didn't you go to the guard?"

  "I guess y'dunno why I left the guard in the first place," Dennick said. "Besides, like I said, I put it all together. You had Ranith. Those magn took him, and somebody got hurt—"

  "My heartdaughter," Kug said. "Her name was Lama. She's dead."

  Dennick slotted that piece onto the puzzle table in his mind while Hatul inclined his head. "Sorry. Even more so, I reckoned you’d find favor in me if I brought you one of the magn that made off with your prize and… did the rest."

  Kug shook his head. "I didn't steal Ranith. That was Lama's scheme, under the direction of the very ones who slaughtered rather than pay her for the deed."

  Dennick feigned confusion. "Then why..?"

  "Family," was the curt reply. "You said you wanted my favor. To what end, Hatul?"

  "I figured you'd want to get back at the ones who stole… what I thought you stole. I wanted in." He looked around and shrugged. "Now… maybe you want to get the ones who took from you. In the course of it, maybe we get the kit back. Your Lama was a cradlethief; but now it's these robes did the deed, inasmuch as anyone outside this room need know. Maybe we get the reward." He crossed his arms and puffed his chest. "I help you; we share the spoils."

  Kug looked at him as if the tavernkeeper sought to diagnose a fieldhopper's illness by inspecting its droppings. Dennick feared he'd misplayed the magn.

  "You? Help me?" Kug said. "A disgraced city guard. A drunkard. A stumbling opportunist. You indeed?"

  Rajen said, "How'd the dead magn get the bruises on his face?"

  Dennick watched Talen and Kug turn to her with confusion. He followed suit.

  "How," she continued levelly, "did you get that boot print on your shoulder?"

  Either she was exceptionally astute, or she was an authentic magicker herself, a true seer reading the interweaving probability between Dennick and the dead magn. He should have allowed for the possibility. Stupid.

  Dennick smiled. "All right. You're right." To Kug, he said, "The killer had some fight in him. He kicked me. I punched him; stunned him enough to drag here without a struggle."

  Kug studied him. "I don't trust you."

  He spread his arms. "Who can be trusted?"

  Talen said, "That's not all. I don't think he's the drunk he claims to be. He followed me home from the Capful last night. I saw him striding, straight and steady as any of us, right down the street, when not a mark before he’d played at barely being able to stand."

  Kug said, "I don't trust you either, sellsong." He shook his head. "Why are any of you still here? Everything is over."

  Talen seemed to weigh something, then said, "Is it, Kug? What about Ranith?"

  "They can eat him. I don't care. I'm dead regardless, and likely so are all of you."

  "What if… not?" Talen scowled at Dennick, then stepped before Kug. "Listen to me. I came here to rescue the heir of Aenik and claim the reward. I still aim to. Somehow. Hatul's a liar and a fraud, but he's right: if we save the kit from those who took him, it's their heads on sticks and our purses, heavy. More, your heartdaughter's… her sacrifice… won't be for nothing."

  Kug rolled his eyes and shook his head, then winced as if the effort caused him some discomfort. "Craft your songs for someone else. What chance have you? You're no good in a fight, as we've seen."

  Rajen said, "But you are, no?" Talen's face went hot when Rajen effectively agreed with Kug. "And this other one, whatever he is or isn't, had skill enough, apparently, or at least cunning, to overcome a magn who'd fallen off a building."

  Dennick had to laugh at the insult.

  Kug said to Rajen, "Who are you, again? Talen's second?"

  "No one's second," she said. "My name is Rajen."

  "What's all this to you, then?"

  "I don't know. Yet. I need to find out." She closed her eyes and shuddered, frowning. "We cannot stay here."

  Bewilderment crossed Kug's face at that, then he grimaced and sighed. "The guard. They're overdue."

  Dennick stood up. "Let's go where Ranith is, then."

  Talen said, "If we knew where."

  Dennick nudged the corpse with his boot. "This one's master likely does."

  Before Talen could voice the skepticism Dennick saw on his face, Rajen said tightly, "We have to go. Now."

  Talen's anxious expression paid credence to the seer's distress.

  More than good enough for Dennick.

  "Where?"

  "My hut, in the market square," Rajen said. "That's if we can get out of the Shadow District without being discovered."

  Kug sighed again, hefting his ax. "We can."

  He took a long, haunted look around the common room before moving for the rear exit.

  "Come on."

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Ulthus

  When they arrived at the manor, Ulthus left the two remaining thugs in the foyer, where his fellow acolytes would direct them to where they could all get cleaned up. For himself, he would endure the stink and stain of blood and offal until after he delivered the prize to his master.

  He found Taghesh in his study, rising to meet him as he came through the door.

  "I have him." Ulthus held out the bundled, sleeping Ranith.

  Taghesh reached out with both arms, the right only a little longer than Ranith's own, fingers grasping tentatively. Ulthus was taken aback by the near-reverence alight on his master's face.

  "You have him…" Taghesh withdrew his reach. Ulthus thought his reticence was due to the gory condition of his robe, but he voiced a different concern. "He is so quiet."

  "I used a stifling cloth," Ulthus said. "His cries would have brought all of Aenik down upon us."

  "But he is well?"

  Ulthus nodded. "He is well."

  "The others?"

  Ulthus recalled the slaughter in the little room and smiled broadly. "The mercenaries were effective."

  Taghesh tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "And yet?" Taghesh held up his left hand. "Wait. Let's get our gift settled and comfortable."

  Ulthus nodded and pulled a servant's signal rope hanging out of the wall. Harnor, a magicker Ulthus remembered needing so little coercion to be recruited it was almost disappointing, arrived immediately. He took Ranith from Ulthus with a nod, most of his attention on the child.

  Taghesh said, "Clean the kit, feed him if he wakes, and see if he can get some natural sleep. He should be," he smiled, "free of any influence when he meets Amang-huru."

  Harnor nodded and exited.

  "And so?" Taghesh prompted Ulthus.

  "We were pursued," Ulthus said. "I was burdened by the gift, and ahead of the rest, so I did not slow to see by whom. One of the mercenaries fell back to engage them. I only know he did not rejoin us."

  Taghesh seemed unconcerned. "You were not followed here?"

  Ulthus shook his head. "There's only so far anyone could get without being noticed."

  Taghesh appeared to consider that, then nodded, slowly. "Perhaps."

  There came a muffled crashing from the front of the manor.

  Taghesh raised an eyebrow.

  "Perhaps not."

  Ulthus was more irritated than alarmed. This turn of events did not reflect well on him. "You should get to safety. Perhaps downstairs."

  "The streams say… otherwise." Taghesh indicated the door with a nod of his head even as he checked the contraption he kept strapped to his left wrist. "Let's go greet our newest guest."

  Fagahg

  While Dennick took to the rooftops, Fagahg kept to the street. Between the clashing sound of a struggle, the slaps of heavy-footed sprinting, and the thin
wail of the child reverberating across the otherwise silent Shadow District, he had no trouble keeping track of their progress. By the time the child had been somehow calmed to silence, Fagahg had tracked them far enough to predict their destination.

  Enjoying the convenient obscurity of a magn no one seeks or expects, Fagahg watched as the kidnappers made their way to the docks, where their leader quickly conversed with a city guard who, whether swayed by tokens or magick, took no issue with their climbing into a boat and rowing out across the bay.

  Fagahg doffed his shoes and slid into the water. The physical control he'd mastered as a follower of Nzaav helped him ignore the brackish cold, and few could hold their breath as long as one who spent many marks deliberately just on the other side of death. He swam under the surface of the black bay in pursuit of the boat, and counted on the slap of oars to obscure any noise he might make in the infrequent moments when he came up for air.

  Soon Fagahg bobbed off the shore of a small wooded island while the kidnappers disembarked. Soft illumination filtered through the trees, their obvious destination.

  Fagahg waited until the last of the robed figures was out of sight before he waded out of the gentle surf. His soaked and clinging tunic threatened to overcome his practiced resistance to the cold night air, so he discarded it before following the long shadows of tree trunks to the large house he found about half a haspan inland.

  Fagahg had no idea who lived here, or what they wanted with Ranith. All that mattered was that he was here, and Dennick was not.

  It was Fagahg's task to see through.

  The delicious shiver that flowed up his spine had nothing to do with the chill night air.

  Nzaav would get his gift, by his hand, after all.

  The front of the house had one entrance and one guard, another of the robed magn. A curved bone knife hung from his sash.

  Fagahg was on him even as he fumbled for his weapon. A three-fingered jab above his collarbone collapsed the magn's windpipe before he could voice alarm. Fagahg held him close while he lost consciousness, then pushed the magn's own knife between his ribs, where the blade caught and snapped.

  Fagahg discarded the broken knife, opened the door, and strode into a small entryway. He heard voices on the other side of the opposite door. Three? Four?

  More gifts for Nzaav.

  Through that door and into a proper foyer. The voices proved to belong to four more robed magn.

  To their credit, they recovered from their surprise in just a blink.

  That was enough time for the farthest to draw his knife, and for the closest to take Fagahg's fist to her throat.

  She lived, but was functionally dispatched.

  The other two closest to Fagahg blocked the one with the knife. He worked to keep that advantage, moving so they continued to get in their own way as they grappled with him.

  It was quickly made clear they were not combatants. They hoped to overpower him by clinging to his arm and waist, like clumsy children wrestling in a play yard.

  Fagahg relaxed his stance and dropped to one knee, unbalancing the magn whose arms were wrapped around his torso and causing the other to lean forward. Fagahg sunk his teeth into that one's ear and jerked. The tearing of flesh was satisfying, but Fagahg didn't relish the taste of fresh blood. It was too warm; too full of the essence of life. He spat it into the face of the other grappler while the maimed one spun away in a howling panic.

  Blood in the eyes, especially someone else's blood, makes for a distraction few can ignore. The magn automatically flinched and released Fagahg to wipe a hand across his face. Fagahg took the opportunity to box the magn's ears, and he fell away.

  The fourth magn crouched between Fagahg and the door leading to the rest of the house. He slashed the air with his bone knife.

  He was trembling, but steadfast.

  Fagahg waited. Before long, the magn would make a clumsy attack, Fagahg would disarm him, kill him, and use his knife to send the other three to Nzaav.

  The door behind the magn flew open. Another robed figure, this one more physically impressive than what Fagahg had thus far faced, stepped in.

  "Stop!"

  The magn with the knife stepped to one side but kept his focus on Fagahg. Yet another magn—older, with calm, intelligent eyes and, interestingly, a diminutive yet perfectly formed right arm—entered, but kept just behind his larger companion.

  "Disengage yourselves," the older magn said. The three Fagahg had overcome crossed painfully to the far side of the room.

  The older magn addressed him with an almost bemused authority. "State your purpose."

  Fagahg chose to keep his silence and use the time to reassess his opponents, now reinforcements had arrived. Neither of the two new arrivals appeared to be armed, but both carried themselves with a confidence that didn't match a defenseless state.

  The older magn smiled thinly. "You're dripping. You… swam here." He nodded with a measure of respect. "That's a singular display of dedication. To what? Or whom?"

  The larger magn said, "He couldn't be alone. Let me—"

  The leader held up his child-arm. "No, I think he is."

  "Then he's abandoned his path."

  Fagahg decided he could kill his way through this room, but skill recognized skill. There was something dangerous about these two, and if he was mortally wounded before he found Ranith…

  "I am here for the infant."

  The older magn said, "Obviously."

  "I will kill everyone in this room," Fagahg asserted. "Everyone in this building, if need be."

  "I think you would try." The older magn stroked his tiny hand with its ordinary opposite, seemingly unconsciously. "For the Dark Twin. Isn't that right?"

  Fagahg said nothing. First, the large magn. Next, the old one. The others' dedication would be diminished by the leader's death. He'd take the one with the knife, and then the rest. Perhaps leave one alive to guide him to the child.

  The older magn with the child's arm shook his head. "Even now you choreograph your dance. But I need these people."

  Fagahg registered the slight dip of the older magn's head as a signal to the larger one.

  The big magn closed his eyes.

  There was no time to act.

  Fire tore through Fagahg's mind. Awful, searing, bright light. The unrelenting, inescapable, furious retribution of Azaav filled his skull, burned down his spine, and filled his flesh until his body surrendered to a most unwelcome variety of the oblivion he so often courted.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Talen

  Rajen's hut wasn't meant to hold more than a couple of magn at once, and she didn't seem about to reveal the cellar beneath, so Talen didn’t suggest it.

  She and Kug sat in the only two chairs, at her seer's table. Hatul leaned against the wall next to the door, half-dozing.

  Talen ached with fatigue, but he stayed on his feet. He feared he'd be asleep in a blink if he allowed himself to rest.

  It was tahwake. Light streamed through the window shutter slats, illuminating their tired, dirty faces.

  "It's morning," Kug said. "I've done the same thing every morning for twenty years. Strange to not."

  Talen felt a fresh pang of sympathy for him. "I doubt any of us expected a day in one another's company." Talen hadn’t imagined finally greeting the day with Rajen in quite this way. "It's how we end the day that will pave our paths for the next."

  Hatul stirred, if he'd been asleep at all. "An' what do you think this day holds for you, sellsong?"

  "My goal hasn't changed," Talen said, careful to keep his irritation with the magn from drifting into petulance, "even if circumstances have."

  Kug chuckled without humor. "You aim to rescue Ranith."

  "I do."

  "But what will a sellsong do if he no longer needs to sell his songs?" Hatul asked.

  "I'm after something more than tokens, you fraud. What of you? The only reason you've maneuvered your way into joining us is because you couldn't po
ssibly manage this alone. You're not even armed. What do you bring to this?"

  Hatul laughed and made a show of studying his fingernails.

  Talen noticed Rajen watched Hatul. It wasn't something to be jealous of, that gaze. What did she know? Or see?

  Kug leaned back in the creaking chair, shaking his head. "Fools."

  "Your help is welcome, Kug. With your share of the reward…"

  Talen realized he couldn't imagine what a magn like Kug might do if he were suddenly wealthy. Open a larger tavern?

  Hatul said, "That's not what he wants. Is it?"

  Kug said, "You think I want revenge."

  Hatul shrugged. "They killed your heartdaughter."

  Kug sneered, looking at nothing. "She killed herself."

  Talen said, "Then why are you here, Kug? Why run off with us?"

  "Because I have nothing left." His voice rose until he growled the last, then dropped back to a despondent muttering. "Lama broke her path the moment she plucked Ranith from his bed, but she didn't stop there. I'm dead, too. And all of you, most likely."

  The magn's pain was palpable. Talen studied him, waiting for more, but Kug was silent.

  "And so..?"

  Kug sighed and stood up. His face was red; his eyes, more so.

  "You all think to steal back the kit; claim a great reward. You can have it, if you think you can handle the likes of those who killed Lama and Sot; these magickers, and murderers. I just want to be there where you try.

  "I want to bury my ax in as many of them as I can before my path ends."

  Rajen said, "That sounds like revenge."

  Hatul said, "Close enough to not bother denying it. What about you, magicker?"

  Rajen looked at him curiously. "I'm no magicker. I play at it for tokens. I tell people what they don't know they want to hear. That's my only gift."

  "Sure." Hatul gestured for her to continue. "So..?"

  "I want my freedom."

  Talen said, "A chance to free Ulthus from his corpse would do it."