“And how is that?”
Aihara Na continued staring for a brief moment in silence, then turned and walked away. Only then did Sora realize the mystic's steps made no sound. “Enjoy a meal,” she said. “You begin training in the morning.”
XXI
THE DESERTER
Valin opened the door back into The Vineyard's downstairs hallway, inviting Rand to follow. He barred the opening with his cane when Sigrid tried to do the same.
“Where we’re going is no place for a lady such as yourself,” Valin said.
“Ye don’t know nothing about me,” she bristled.
He sighed. “A young girl from Dockside with parents who loved her. She didn’t like that her brother got all the attention, taught to fight and drink like a man of Dockside should, so she tagged along and learned some herself. Her parents died young, as they often do here, and she and her brother were left alone for years. He looked out for her when lechers like Trapp would have sold her skin until he left her for greener pastures. So, she learned to look out for herself, and then when he came crawling back and needed her, she started to learn how strong she truly was...”
“Enough,” Sigrid said, refusing to look at him.
“I’ve seen every story Dockside has to offer one hundred times over, girl. Neither of you is special. Understand that. My only care is to make sure those stories don’t end before they’re meant to.”
“Ain’t ye such a hero?”
“This isn’t a place for heroes. But even a lawless land needs someone to keep the order. We’re animals deep down, and without them we’d rip each other to shreds the first chance we got.”
“Says only those who turn their back on Iam,” Rand said.
“And how has that faith worked out for the King’s Shield, good knight?”
Rand bit his lip. He regretted thinking Valin was a worthwhile ally with a sincere heart for Dockside. Perhaps his grim vision of the world was the necessary evil Dockside needed to survive, or maybe it was men like him keeping the district from bathing in the light of Iam like the rest of the capital. For now, he was a tool only to help reach Torsten.
“We’ve wasted enough time,” Rand said. “You said we could make a deal, so let’s make one.”
Valin laughed. “There he is! Not a meek little deserter hiding from the wicked Queen anymore, are you? Still, I must insist that your sister stay behind for now.”
Rand was about to protest when Sigrid took his hand. “It’s fine, Rand,” she said. “I need a break from this bastard anyway.”
“Excellent,” Valin said. “You’ll be well guarded here.” He turned to one of his thugs. “Fetch her a drink and some hog’s head broth. Best in Dockside.”
Sigrid grunted a response, then returned to Valin’s office.
“Codar, bring the bounty and meet us,” Valin ordered. His Breklian aid bowed, then hurried off. Turning, Valin led Rand down the hall toward the curtain, flanked by a few cronies—most of whom were missing teeth. Rand tried not to stare, despite the fact they didn’t return the favor. He imagined how ridiculous he must’ve looked, donned head to toe in Shieldsman armor in a place where Iam’s Eye wouldn't dare glimpse.
“Your sister will be fine,” Codar said. “Bloodsport has a way of... riling men. It’s no place for women.”
“Bloodsport?”
Valin grinned in response. It was then that Rand noticed the discolored stone of the walls as they went deeper into the passage. Red in places, bleached in others from trying to wipe the red away. And with every step, cheering grew louder. Dust poured down from the ceiling now as feet slammed in thunderous unison.
Valin pushed the curtain aside with his cane, and Rand saw the source of the tumult. An arena was sunken into the earth, surrounded by rows of wooden stands. Every inch was filled with patrons, screaming and spilling their drinks—hundreds of them. Rand had never seen an arena like it in all his life. Supposedly, there was a great coliseum built onto an island off the coast of Latiapur in which the Shesaitju warlords proved their mettle, but he’d never traveled so far. Yet this was right in his hometown.
On the sands of the arena, a man lay against some rocks, his weapon lying out of reach. A shaggy-bearded giant screamed to the crowd, the single eye in the center of his flat forehead open wide. Rand had seen giants before, mostly on construction crews in Old Yarrington. They were tall as most homes after all, with biceps the size of barrels.
The giant squeezed his massive fist, then drove it down into the combatant’s arm with the force of a battering ram. The bone snapped like a twig, and the man rolled off the rocks, howling in agony. Rand had to turn from the carnage, but the drunken crowd went crazy. Autlas were passed around in bets, Valin’s cronies collecting around the top of the arena. Rand couldn't imagine anyone would bet against the giant.
Two men entered the arena from a metal portcullis to drag the loser out.
“If the Shield knew about this...” Rand said as he followed Valin around the concourse.
“Do you imagine the former Master of Coin didn’t take his cut?” Valin said.
“The traitor, Darkings, you mean?”
“From the mouth of a traitor? I assure you, Mister Langley, not a soul enters that arena who doesn’t know the cost. And nobody gets killed… mostly.”
A narrow stairwell led up to a private promontory looking out over the arena. Valin collapsed onto a plush couch that was severely out of place around so much stone. He winced in pain as he stretched his leg out beside a platter of luxuriant fruits from all over, places where it didn't winter.
From their vantage point, they could see everything within the arena, but nobody could see them unless they craned their necks. Rand moved to the edge and looked over. An announcer called out the giant’s next opponent, and more bets flew around the crowd. A warrior entered the arena, hoisting a battle-axe into the air and roaring. His pale skin, painted face, and many piercings made it easy to tell he was Drav Cra, but as tremendous and musclebound as the Northman was, the giant was as tall as two of him.
“I thought you said the Drav Cra cost you money?” Rand said, realizing just how much coin was being tossed around.
“People pay to watch the savages die for now,” Valin replied. “It won’t last long. My champion, Uhlvark, never loses anyway.”
“How is it fair to pit that against a man?”
“It isn’t. But a desperate man will try anything, and get a few drinks into a Drav Cra, they’ll claim they can slay anything. Unless you have an issue with thinning their herd?”
“I—”
Valin waved his hand in dismissal. “Spare me the sermon, please. The people want what they want. I am here only to appease them.”
“And what? You want me to fight down there, is that what this is? A Shieldsman in your arena?”
He scratched his chin. “You know, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I won’t spill blood for you.”
“You will do whatever I ask if you want to see Unger freed.”
The crowd roared. The next fight started, and the Drav Cra warrior circled Uhlvark, axe in hand. The giant spun in place, grunting indecipherable words. Their ilk were considered simpletons, and his battle-stance proved it. He had none. Without his size, the Drav Cra warrior, trained from birth for battle, would have cut him to pieces. Still, the warrior was playing it smart, keeping his distance and slashing at the giant’s hand’s every time he tried to grasp him.
“So, what do you want?” Rand asked.
Just then Rand heard chains rattling behind him. He turned to see Codar returning, and he wasn’t alone. He had a bald man in tow, wearing naught but a loincloth, with chains around his wrists and ankles. His gray skin screamed Shesaitju.
“Valin, how long are you planning to delay this?” asked another man who entered behind the Black Sandsman, going silent when he noticed Rand. He had a thin mustache and large belly that his delicate, satin tunic couldn’t hide. He looked like a noble and held hi
mself like one too. Rand was sure he’d seen him before, though couldn’t place where.
Codar sent the Shesaitju man to his knees, earning a few curses in Saitjuese.
“Who is this?” Rand questioned.
“The most important man in Yarrington,” Valin said. “Until Redstar took over, that is.”
“We had a deal, Valin,” the nobleman said. “You dare hand us over to the Shield?”
“Relax, young Darkings. This is no mere Shieldsman. He’s the deserter who sent your father fleeing for his life.”
“The Mad Queen's Hangman?”
“The very same.”
The nobleman grinned, teeth yellow and rotten despite how wealthy he appeared. That was when Rand put things together. He had seen that smile before, only on a grayer head belonging to the man’s father. This was Bartholomew Darkings, son of the former Master of Coin, Yuri Darkings, who had fled the capital during Oleander’s rage, then returned only to betray the Crown and conspire to aid the Shesaitju rebellion.
That means… “Is that?”
“Caleef Sidar Rakun, the embodiment of God of Sand and Sea, and the root of the war in the South,” Valin pronounced. “There’s that Shieldsman intuition I’ve become accustomed to. The mind works better minus the drink, doesn’t it, Sir Langley?”
“How did you find him?”
“I didn’t. A peculiar mercenary company led by a dwarf happened upon him on the road. Wouldn’t you know it, that one of them knew I’d pay better than the Crown. I thought about selling him back to young King Pi, and then Yuri Darkings offered so much more.”
“And the rest comes when you get him back to Latiapur, Valin,” Bartholomew Darkings said. “Remember that.”
Valin rolled his eyes. “Like you’d ever let me forget.”
“This man started a war,” Rand said, a harsh edge to his tone.
“Your King started it,” Caleef Rakun snapped. “I came in peace, offered my help in what ways I could. He locked me in a room and expected my afhems to sit on their thumbs?”
“Quiet.” Codar yanked on his chains so hard the Caleef fell forward onto his face.
“It does not matter to me who caused it,” Valin said. “The Caleef is mine now, and he will be sent to the party which has shown they desire him more. War has already started.” Valin grabbed a bellot from a platter set before his couch and took a bite. Juice from the yellow melon grown only in southern Panping ran down his chin. He offered the fruit to Rand, then continued with a mouthful.
“Tell me, Rand, what good is having him here as prisoner inspiring more to Muskigo’s ranks?” Valin said. “More fighting so that more fine people of Dockside can be conscripted to march off to their deaths.”
“That is the King’s decision,” Rand said, stewing.
Valin threw his hands up in frustration. “You Shieldsman astound me. You want help removing Redstar, yet you would judge me for this?”
“It’s not the same. Redstar is—”
“The King’s uncle and Prime Minister of all the Glass,” Valin finished. “Ridiculous as that may be. And you would be remiss to know that Torsten Unger, the very accused traitor you wish to save, advised against imprisoning the Caleef in the first place.”
Rand looked to the gray-skinned Caleef, stripped and disgraced. He was usually painted entirely black from head to toe, and now only a few smudges remained behind his ears. His sad eyes told the truth in what Valin had said, leaving Rand without a response.
“So, Rand Langley, this is what I need from you.” Valin stood and limped around Rand’s back. He tossed the bellot pit into the sands below where the Drav Cra was still taunting the big giant. “In two days time, the Dawning will be upon us, and the King’s Shield in the Glass Castle will be lax. We have always respected the Dawning as a solemn day of reflection, but foreigners are amongst us. We can’t play by the rules either.”
“The Dawning,” Rand mouthed to himself. He hadn’t even realized it was coming up. For Iam’s followers, there was no day more sacred. It was at the heart of winter, the tenth day of Freefrost, when Pantego’s two moons passed across the sun at dusk, forcing an early, fleeting night. Celeste, matching its path across the sky, kept the world in twilight until it fell behind the horizon for the night. A time without Iam’s light, when his flock was forced to look within for it.
Rand was surprised Valin Tehr, and his underworld would respect such a day. He also knew, from experience, that he was right, the guard would be light. Most people didn’t work on the Dawning. They spent the day in sermons and amongst family, then the night in prayer and fasting, waiting awake to see the first dawn of the new year. Even children endured the long, quiet night. Most of the Shieldsmen and castle guard would be given the day off, with a skeleton crew left behind of the greenest among them—those who hadn’t yet earned respite.
All gates and entries to the Glass Castle would be sealed off as the Royal Council observed the holy day. Then, the King and Wren the Holy—If Wren was even still alive—would walk outside the next morning, side by side, and declare the new year.
“Even if there are few Glassmen, the castle will be swarming with heathens,” Rand said. Even if the worst Glassmen, like Valin, recognized the Dawning as a day of peace, Redstar wouldn’t.
“More of their herd to thin then,” Valin said. “I cannot promise Unger’s freedom without spilling a bit of blood, but at least on that day, it will be savage blood alone.”
“The castle will be sealed off.”
“Dwarves don’t celebrate the Dawning. The hairy bastards always live in darkness.” He laughed, drawing a smirk from Codar and Bartholomew. “You and my men will enter the dungeons through the damaged Royal Crypt. The ceiling is nearly rebuilt, but there remains one opening.”
“They’ll keep heavy guard there to keep the pilgrims and crazies out,” Rand said. “Especially during the Dawning, people will crowd Mount Lister for sermons.”
“This is the man you claim will help us?” Bartholomew said. “He questions everything.”
“You are in no position to be picky, Bartholomew,” Valin replied. He turned back to Rand. “Yuri Darkings knows the dwarven foreman performing repairs, and he’ll let us through.”
Rand regarded the revolting son of the traitorous Master of Coin. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving this in the hands of a Darkings. They’re traitors. What would stop them from having us gutted the moment we get in?”
“You would be wise to look at the company you keep, knight,” Bartholomew snapped.
“Even I have my limits.” Rand took a hard step toward him.
“Enough!” Valin barked. He distracted half the crowd downstairs from the fight, and the warriors as well. The Drav Cra man glimpsed up toward Valin’s private viewing chamber, and at that moment the giant got his hands around his waist. The savage hacked at Uhlvark’s enormous forearm, but the giant raised him above his head and pulled with both hands. The crunch as the Drav Cra warrior was torn in two made Rand’s stomach turn over. The crowd went into a frenzy.
Uhlvark tilted his head back, letting the savage’s blood pour into his mouth. The giant spit the blood in a spray above his head, and the mist carried into the crowd. It only made them cheer louder.
“He put up a good fight,” Valin remarked, as if he’d been somehow keeping an eye on the battle the entire time, then he returned his attention to Rand. “Yuri Darkings speaks only one language.” Valin rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “The dwarf will be paid amply to get us through.”
“No small price, indeed,” Bartholomew said. “Greedy buggers, as if our coins aren't made of the very rock they sleep on.”
Rand breathed in through his teeth. Knowing the people he was plotting with was more sickening than watching a man torn in two, but he had to trust in the path Iam placed him on. “So, we get into the crypt, then what?”
“The rest is up to you. You’ll sneak or fight your way through the catacombs to the castle’s lowest dungeon. Codar
and a few of my most trusted men will accompany you in case it comes to fighting.”
“No killing Glassmen,” Rand said.
“We will try our best. I may not look it, Rand, but I am a pious man. You think I want my hands stained with the blood of our people on the Dawning?”
“You’re right,” Rand said, finally picking up a bellot and taking a bite. “You don’t look it.”
Valin grinned. “And that’s it. We will free Unger, and then you’ll have your chance to repay me.”
“How?”
“The distraction Torsten causes along with the Dawning will be the perfect cover for the Caleef to be escorted out of the city that very night. You will lead a company of men along with Bartholomew, and deliver him back to his people as promised.”
Rand was mid-bite, and the bellot nearly slipped through his fingers. “You want me to guard a rebel king?”
“Look at him,” Valin pointed to the Caleef. The man had a soft body and his old, gray eyes brimmed with fear. His were a race of renowned warriors, but it was clear the same could not be said for their ruler. “Who better to guard the god-king of the Shesaitju than a Shieldsman of the Glass? In your armor, no one will question you at the gates on the Dawning. And bandits or worse will be less apt to attack.”
“And what of Redstar?” Rand questioned. “Even if I agree to that. I can’t promise that Torsten and I will be able to handle him by the end of the night.”
“Who said anything about Redstar? We arrange to free Torsten Unger so that he may handle the imposter. That is what you agreed to in exchange for my help.”
“So, what? I open Torsten’s cage and then leave him in a castle full of enemies to fend for himself?”
“In simpler terms,” Valin agreed.
“So that I can help you commit high treason alongside a family that has already done so? I heard men say that Yuri Darkings killed Sir Wardric Jolly. He was a good man who helped train me. Loyal to the Crown and Iam.”
“Is that the name of the Shieldsman who tried to stop us?” Bartholomew said. “Squealed like a pig when I sliced his gut open.”
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