“Don’t worry. There is already a prophecy about that. When we truly go to war I know that the Forgotten will provide the weapons necessary for us to prevail.”
“So your god is going to just give us weapons?”
“He gave us you, did he not? Have some faith, Ashok!”
He could not say it aloud because of his vow of secrecy, but Ashok’s thought was Grand Inquisitor Omand and a group of vengeful judges assigned me to you, not your god. “Send them over, Keta. Let’s get this over with.”
So on the afternoon of the second day, Ashok tried to teach the workers. It went far worse for them than the Somsak. They at least knew how to hold a sword. But the workers were tough and could deal with more pain and discomfort than expected, he’d give them that. They’d all been miners, and swinging a pick all day had given them strong arms, but they had a long way to go before they would ever be anything beyond an embarrassment on the battlefield.
Though deep down, Ashok had to admit that if given time they did not have, then there was potential. Realistically, he was not the man to teach them how to be soldiers, because Ashok was not himself a soldier. Protectors were an elite group of specialists, not the rank and file spearmen who took and held ground. The Order did not have its own army. It did not know how to build or maintain one. When a Protector arrived somewhere they simply commanded the local warriors to obey, and they did, or they’d face the full wrath of the Law. Nobody could outfight a Protector, but there was far more to soldiering than being good with a sword. It was about discipline, responsibility, and accountability. These men would be far better off with someone like Jagdish to guide them, not that he thought Jagdish would dishonor himself by giving warrior secrets to a lower caste.
On the third day, Ashok continued working with his army.
He made them fight so he could observe. The warriors embarrassed the workers, easily defeating them, but then Ashok in turn embarrassed the warriors. As his own sword masters had taught, humility was vital. A student was more likely to listen when they knew their teacher could destroy them with ease. And Ratul had beaten Ashok, many, many times.
One part of him wanted these men to fail because they were enemies of the Law. Only in the moment, when sticks crossed, and the combatants were struggling for breath, muscles aching, being thrown down over and over, he didn’t think about such high-minded things. There was just the repetition, the violence, and hopefully, improvement.
For the first time, Ashok bothered to learn all of their names.
Though, he still did not want to hear their stories. For whatever reason whenever there was a lull, one of them would always feel compelled to try and explain why they had chosen to join the Sons of the Black Sword. Something about how they truly believed in the Forgotten, or they had somehow been wronged by the Law, or whatever their justification was. The miners talked about being down in the dark, with tons of rock creaking over their heads, and praying to gods begging not to be crushed. They didn’t know these gods, but the Capitol couldn’t save them down in their holes. Only gods could keep them from being buried. So gods had to be real, because the miners needed them to be real.
Whenever they started talking like that, Ashok took that as a sign that they’d caught their breath, and then put them back to practicing their forms again. The only way they would receive his approval today was through their efforts. No matter how much they implored their gods for mercy, Ashok would give them none during training.
As the sun went down, they gathered for the dinner that Keta had prepared—venison again—and ate in exhausted silence. Ashok was thankful for that. It reminded him a bit of his time as an acolyte, when they’d been pushed so hard all day that there was no conversation over meals, just tired children inhaling their rations as quickly as possible, afraid that the masters would decide to interrupt their meal time in order to send them back out. Only the winter was far milder here in the east than in the high mountains of Devakula.
The Keeper was smart enough to spare them a sermon that night. If he had tried, Ashok would have made sure Keta participated in training the next day. They’d see how much energy he had to preach then. Ashok decided he might just do that anyway, the Keeper might as well learn how to use that meat cleaver he always kept hidden in his coat.
Dinner was interrupted by the return of their lookout. He heard the scuff of boots on rocks, and the creak of a crossbow on its sling, long before the returning Somsak reached the shack. It was Shekar’s turn on watch, but he should have waited out there for his relief. He had been stationed where he had a good view of the main road. Something must have happened.
Ashok stood and opened the door, filling the shack with freezing wind. Everyone else quit eating to see what was happening. “What is it, Shekar?”
He was the oldest of the Somsak, but that wasn’t saying much. The mountain raiders tended to die young. “A rider carrying a lantern passed on the road. He barely slowed as he reached our trail, but it was obvious he was looking for the sign for this old mine. He paused just long enough to drop this in the middle of the road where it would be seen.” The warrior handed over a wooden tube. “I didn’t want to abandon my post, but I figured you would want to see it right away, General.”
Ashok took it and removed the cap. There was a sheet of paper rolled up inside. “It’s almost time for change of watch anyway. Get some food and warm yourself by the fire. Who is next?”
“I am, General,” said a worker named Gupta.
“Then go before we are overrun with Inquisitors.”
The men laughed. Ashok’s scowl told them he wasn’t joking. Gupta picked up his gloves, wool hat, and still-unfamiliar spear and hurried into the dark. “Try to at least scream a warning as you are murdered!” one of his friends shouted after him. In answer, Gupta waved his hand as if it were a swimming fish, an extremely rude gesture among the lower castes.
Ashok removed the letter and silently read it by the light of their fire. The men went back to their exhausted chewing, but they were curious.
“What is it?” Keta asked.
“A message from Gutch…”
“Is all well?”
To answer truthfully would demoralize the men. “Let us speak outside, Keeper.”
It is with great sadness that I write this letter, for I, your loyal servant Gutch, am in need of assistance. Upon arrival it was discovered that my former associates have had a falling out and are engaged in a gang war of the utmost brutality. I have been captured and am being held for ransom.
The bodyguard you so thoughtfully provided kept me safe for a few days, until this morning, when we were inadvertently separated. I do not know his location or condition. However, I was unable to escape.
My capturers originally intended to execute me as punishment for some perceived wrongs made against them many years ago. However, once I explained that you, my noble employer, were a rich and powerful high-status arbiter come all the way from the Capitol seeking the discreet purchase of certain items, they changed their minds and have decided to ransom me back to you for the paltry sum of five hundred notes. This is a truly humble amount considering the value I bring to your estate.
My capturers are watching as I write this, and helpfully suggested that I should include the fact that if you do not pay this ransom, I shall be killed in an extremely gruesome manner, which they are now describing to me with great zeal in excessive bloody detail.
Please bring the ransom to an establishment called the Face of the East, in the pleasure district of Neeramphorn, by midnight tomorrow, or I shall die. They now add that it only takes one servant to make a delivery, and if more are seen, I shall die. It seems that the longer I write the more caveats they are adding, all of which result in my death, so I shall cease now.
Sincerely your ever faithful servant Gutch
A hasty post script! Because I know my master values his privacy, he should be aware that some of his old friends from the Capitol are here in the city, and it would be bes
t if he avoided them.
* * *
Keta finished reading the letter. “He’s a long-winded sort.”
That comment showed a remarkable lack of self-awareness. “Without the smuggler, our only path to find Thera is closed.”
“But, Ashok, what if he’s turned on us? This could be a trick, luring us out to be captured.”
“A possibility, though by the mention of old friends, I believe Gutch speaks of Protectors in Neeramphorn.” Very few people could ever be accused of being Ashok’s friends. “If it was a trap, why warn me of their presence?”
“I don’t know. He’s an untrustworthy worker. They lie and cheat each other constantly!”
“Only yesterday you were lecturing me about how the castes were a fabrication.”
“That was before I was worried about the possibility of walking into a trap! We’re criminals because we’re standing up against an oppressive regime. Gutch is a criminal because he’s greedy…But we have to find Thera. Ah!” Keta threw up his arms in frustration. “I don’t know what to do.”
That was because Keta was more of a talker and a thinker than a man of action. Ashok didn’t have that problem. While Keta had been reading the note, Ashok had begun strapping on weapons and gathering supplies from the packs outside. Their tiny building was too small to hold them and their equipment. “Do you have five hundred notes left?”
“Not even close at this point.”
“Then a trade is not an option. I shall go into the city to find Gutch and Jagdish. They gave us until tomorrow, so they will not expect me tonight. If it is a trap, I will kill everyone involved. Then I will find the illegal magic–smuggling gang, on my own if necessary, and make them talk.”
“That’s madness with Protectors there.”
“I will find a way. However, regardless of what happens in Neeramphorn, you must take these men and go south. It is time for you to return to your rebellion.”
“What? No. Not as long as Thera—”
Ashok held up one hand. “Do you trust me, Keeper?”
Keta hesitated a bit too long. “Yes…Mostly.”
“Then understand, if the Protectors discover I am here, escape will become very difficult. The rest of you are not fast enough. They will find you and kill you.”
“She’s the prophet, Ashok. I can’t just abandon her.”
“You’re not. I will find her. The rest of you will only slow me down.”
Keta was obviously torn. He suspected that the little man cared for Thera as a woman, and not just as his prophet, but Ashok also knew that he had been agonizing over being away from his rebellion for so long. He babbled perpetually about how good life was in their hideout. Keta had been sending them secret messages through a network of casteless insurgents, but coded notes were not the same as real leadership. He had inspired them, guided them, and kept them alive despite being hunted by the forces of the Law, and now he was worried they were falling apart without him.
“Promise me, Ashok, that you won’t give up on her.”
“Do you question the word I have already given?” Now that was insulting, but Ashok kept his anger in check. For a fanatical criminal, Keta meant well. “I have already given an oath more powerful than anything you will ever understand. I have sworn to protect her, so it will be done.”
“Poisoned, half drowned, and delirious you mentioned this oath. I know you made one to somebody, but I don’t know to who or why. You’ve never spoken more of it.”
“And I never will. Now I must go. In the morning, ride south. I’d suggest avoiding the city. It may be in turmoil.”
The Keeper of Names paced back and forth as he ran his hands through his wispy hair. “Fine! The Sons of the Black Sword will ride for Akershan. After you find Thera, please, you must bring her back to our hidden fortress.”
It was hidden well enough that even the Protectors had not found it despite searching for a couple of years. Thera knew the way. Ashok did not. They had wisely kept that secret from him. “And if she is already dead?”
Keta cringed. He’d been avoiding thinking about that all-too-likely possibility. “Then you can still join us. The Forgotten chose you. The rebellion still needs you. I will tell you how to find the secret entrance.”
Ashok shook his head. “No need. If the prophet is gone, then my duty is finished. Principle demands I avenge her and punish all responsible, but then I will gladly walk into the sea and trouble this world no more. Farewell, Keeper.” He started toward the road.
Keta called after him. “I know she lives! The prophecies are not yet fulfilled. We will meet again in Akershan, because the gods are not done with you yet!”
Ashok did not give a damn about gods’ opinions on the matter.
Chapter 12
He ran all the way to Neeramphorn. Using the Heart of the Mountain he could see in the dark better than a horse and was nearly as fast. The air was thin and foul, and his exertions required him to breathe more of it. When he saw the lantern light of a gatehouse, Ashok slowed to a walk and then moved off the road and crouched behind a tree.
Counting the guards, even if there were double their number inside the gatehouse, he could kill them all without too much trouble, but hoped that would be unnecessary. Ashok preferred being direct rather than subtle, but he could not afford to attract the attention of the Protectors. And truthfully, he found himself troubled by killing outside the justification of the Law.
Luckily this time there was another way. There were many stalls and wagons to provide cover, and since the gates were closed for the night, the proprietors were gathered around their own fires, eating, talking, or in some cases, already snoring. There were a few lanterns hanging around the gate itself, but the edges were cloaked in shadow. The stonework was rough, and that meant there would be hand holds. It looked like it might be a difficult climb…but not for one who had touched the Heart of the Mountain.
Calling upon its magic to make his senses sharp, Ashok snuck to the wall, darting from shadow to shadow. He was in a long dark coat and hood, with his weapons secured beneath so they wouldn’t rattle. He breathed through his scarf so they wouldn’t spot the rising breath. Some of the merchants were keeping an eye out for trouble, but they were concentrating on protecting their goods from robbers. Luckily there were no dogs to start barking at him.
A few times he made a small bit of noise, but the encampment here more than covered it. Not to mention the guards weren’t paying that much attention, and the city on the other side of the gate was exceedingly loud. Then someone began plucking the strings on a veena, and a woman began singing a song. Another merchant joined in with a drum. No one would hear him over that racket.
Reaching the wall, Ashok scanned for solid holds, then shifted the power of the Heart to strengthen his limbs. He jumped and caught a ledge ten feet up. Dangling there, fingers locked like a vise, he waited to see if the guards had heard, but they were still continuing their conversations. So he began to climb, shifting the Heart’s magic from his limbs to his eyes whenever he needed to spy a new hold, and then turning back to make leaps that would leave a normal man broken on the rocks below.
Sensing no guard posted at the top, Ashok made it through the battlements. Below him stretched the smoky chaos of Neeramphorn. The other side of the wall was better lit, but nobody was looking up, so Ashok leapt down and landed crouched, absorbing an impact which would snap a regular man’s legs.
Ashok hadn’t seen the soldier because he was lying in a pile of straw, nearly empty bottle of wine in hand. The warrior’s eyes widened when he saw the man in black fall from the sky. Before he could shout, Ashok was leaning over him, hand crushed over his mouth, eye to hooded eye.
“This is only a bad dream,” Ashok whispered. “Go back to sleep. You would not want to meet me in the waking world.”
The warrior nodded vigorously. When released the man didn’t cry out. In fact he made a great show of crunching his eyes tight shut and curling into a ball on the straw. So
me of the warrior caste were certainly braver than others.
Ashok was so quick that he was two streets away before the frightened warrior opened his eyes, realized he was alone, and tried to raise the alarm. Hopefully enough wine was gone from that bottle that when his fellows heard the report of threatening figures materializing from the night sky, they’d dismiss it as drunken nightmares.
It had been many years since he’d last been to Neeramphorn, but the city had experienced such rapid growth that this area had not even been inside the walls then. It was so industrious that even after dark in the winter, the streets remained busy. Once he was certain he was away from suspicion, Ashok got out of the shadows and onto the boardwalk. His coat was long enough to hide his sword. With his hood up and scarf pulled over his face, he didn’t look too different from the locals. Since these were by nature a busy people, even his quick, determined walk was not out of place.
The crowd surged around him as shifts changed, tired workers going home and fresh workers going in. When he began spotting familiar landmarks, Ashok set his course toward the pleasure district. Industry gave way to the businesses that served them. There were a multitude of food stands, and a great many workers were on their dinner break. The coal smoke was replaced with smells of frying dumplings and curries, far more appetizing than yet another serving of Keta’s gamey deer.
Ashok himself did not understand commerce. It had always been beneath his station. When a Protector needed something, he simply requisitioned it in the name of the Law. Now he found himself wishing that he’d taken some of Keta’s banknotes in order to buy a decent meal. But that was just weakness speaking, because a criminal did not deserve a good meal, so Ashok ignored the delicious smells and refocused on his mission.
He began seeing red lanterns. The pleasure district was on the border between the Thao neighborhoods and those controlled by Kharsawan and Akershan. This was where most of the legal casinos, fighting arenas, brothels, and opium dens were located. It was open to everyone but the non-people. There would even be members of the first caste here, though they would more than likely be in disguise.
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