The warrior sprang back up, attacking with his fists. Karno seemed almost bored as he blocked the shots with his forearms, and then he took hold of a handful of black robe and was choking the warrior with his own clothing.
“Calm down, Zarger. I have questions.” But the warrior tried to hook his thumb into Karno’s eye. He was having none of that, so he spun the warrior around fast, and caught him by the throat with one big hand.
Since his arms were so much longer, the warrior could no longer claw at his face. He kicked Karno in the leg, but all the Protector did was turn his hip into it, and the soft leather boot bounced right off that wall of meat. Karno squeezed hard, cutting off the warrior’s air. He made a panicked squeaking noise, and that seemed to take the fight out of him.
“Who sent you?” Karno relaxed his grip enough so the warrior could speak.
He gasped. “Inquisitors.”
“I take it this was an unofficial obligation.”
“Yeah. Lots of folks who get in trouble in the Capitol think they can hide in Zarger lands. Official criminals get posted, but sometimes the Inquisition wants to be discreet, like for high-status people who’ve not been charged with any crimes yet. If we find them, we collect them, quiet, and hand them over. We get paid. Nobody ever knows it’s the Inquisition who got them.”
“Interesting. My Order is more direct in our approach.”
“I swear I didn’t know you were a Protector!”
“Of course. Continue.”
“They’re usually rare, but we got two unofficial bounties this month to watch for. Then some farm wife started complaining about this one here, and she matched the description.” He twisted his head a bit to look at Rada. Karno had knocked off his turban and scarf, so she could see his face. Thin and sharp featured, he was much younger than she’d expected. “Sorry. Nothing personal, miss.”
“Indeed. This is nothing personal.” Karno cocked back his other huge arm to deliver a mighty blow. The warrior cringed and closed his eyes tight.
“Wait!” Rada cried. The warrior had at least tried to be courteous in the collection of his bounty. She didn’t want Karno to execute him on her behalf. “Please don’t kill him.”
“I didn’t intend to. He’s broken no Law.”
The warrior opened his eyes hopefully. “That’s true! I’m very fond of the Law.”
Then the Protector crashed his meaty fist into the warrior’s cranium, and dropped him in an unmoving heap. “But I don’t want him following us either.”
“I asked you not to kill him!”
“He’ll wake up with a headache is all. In my experience a warrior can be knocked out like that several times before they begin to forget their letters and colors.” Karno began walking away. “Let’s go.”
Rada picked up her pack and knife, then stepped over the unconscious warrior. She almost felt sorry for the fellow. “Where are we going?”
“I’ve got to find someplace safe for you. I have a few ideas.” Then Karno paused. “Hmmm…Wait.” He returned to the warrior and crouched next to him. For the briefest moment, she thought that he might have changed his mind, and he’d gone back to finish off the poor man, but then Karno began searching through his robes instead.
“It hardly seems fair to rob him. These warriors wouldn’t be collecting secret bounties if they weren’t so poor to begin with.”
“That is kind, but no. He mentioned two of you.” Karno pulled out a scrap of paper, unfolded it, and began to read. Rada couldn’t make out the words without her glasses on, but it had been mass printed. She’d not known the Inquisition had its own pressing machine. It seemed everyone was copying her order now. “They provided a very thorough description of you.”
“Oh?” Rada was curious. “Did it say I was pretty?”
Karno gave her an incredulous look. “No.” Then he went back to reading. “Curious. They’re looking for another member of your caste as well, Vikram Akershan, Senior Historian.”
“Really?” Rada hadn’t heard that name in a long time. “I know him.”
“You are both to be taken alive. I wonder if he’s another witness to this conspiracy.”
“I doubt it. Vikram’s something of a hermit. My father consulted with him once, library business. I was very young, but he dragged me along to his estate…Well, I wouldn’t call it an estate. More like a fort in the middle of nowhere.”
“Interesting…Do you recall the location?”
“I’m a Senior Archivist. Our minds are honed through rigorous training. Of course I remember. It was on the north slope of Mount Metoro, near where the Astronomer’s Order built their observatory.” Rada pointed toward what she thought was east.
“You mean that way?” Karno nodded in a different direction.
“I was close.”
Chapter 22
Five years ago
There was a glow on the horizon.
They were miles away, but the great funeral pyre still lit the night. It was just as the Voice had prophesied. The house war had ended with the Protectors burning the bodies of the multitude they had slain. Only Andaman Vane’s uprising had failed. His promise to her had been broken.
The Makao warriors watched that distant orange light in silence, as it consumed the bodies of their brothers and friends. The ones who could stand, did. Every one of them was covered in dirt and dried blood, many were wrapped in bandages stained red. Several of the soldiers couldn’t stand at all. Their injuries were too great. All they could do was lie there and moan about their broken or missing limbs. Thera could tell some of them wouldn’t live through the night.
She knew she probably wouldn’t either, but she’d be damned if she went out without a fight. Thera had been thrown on the ground with her hands tied behind her back, but she’d found a rock or shell with her fingers. Whatever it was, it had a rough edge, so she’d been trying to use it to saw through her ropes. Only it was taking forever. The muscles of her hands ached and cramped as she worked, continuing to gnaw away at the rope. It was difficult with her hands trapped beneath her, but she didn’t dare roll over, because Dhaval had left a guard to watch over the traitor. It was dark, and the warrior was too exhausted from the day’s fighting to pay much attention to her, but he was sure to notice if she moved around too much.
The camp was too far away to hear the crackling flames or smell the smoke of the great corpse fire, but they could hear something far worse, and smell something far worse. There was the sound of crashing waves and the stink of salted rotten hell. Not only had they been defeated, but they’d been hounded so hard that they’d fled until they’d reached the seashore. There was truly no dignity in defeat.
Thera heard the sound of a horse galloping up. Whoever it was, the arrival caused a great deal of commotion in the camp.
“A Protector!”
There was the rattle of metal and creak of leather as soldiers took up arms.
“Lower your spears. If one of you fools breaks the truce, I’ll kill you myself!”
Thera recognized her husband’s voice. She’d not seen him for hours, since his men had found her, and she’d been dragged from her hiding place by her hair and mercilessly beaten. He’d been too busy fleeing the Protectors and the army of Harban to deal with her since, but she knew Dhaval. Simply killing her would be too easy. He’d want to humiliate her first. It took a special kind of man to remain so petty and petulant, even while in the process of losing a war.
She couldn’t see the Protector from her position on the ground, but she heard his voice, clear and strong. “Your Thakoor has already given me his surrender. I am here to accept yours.” Someone must have done something threatening, because the Protector drew his sword. “Pride makes you stupid, warrior. I may look like a tired old man, but I killed ten of you in this morning’s battle. The hour’s late, but I’ve got the energy to do a few more.”
“Stand down!” Dhaval barked. “Bow your head!”
Of course, the one time Dhaval actually managed to
sound like a leader was while surrendering…Oh, Thera, you married so well.
“Welcome to our humble camp, Lord Protector. I am Roik Dhaval Makao. This is all that remains of the Kanok Fourth Garrison. The Law has our full obedience. We lay our weapons at your feet and plead for the Capitol’s mercy.”
A horse whinnied. The Protector’s sword was sheathed. There was the creak of a saddle as he dismounted. “Dhaval, eh? Your name isn’t on my list. You must not be important enough.”
“List, Lord Protector?”
“The stooges your house is pinning the blame for this war on. The judges have to hold someone responsible. I’ve been executing men all afternoon.”
Thera glanced over at the guard. He was distracted by the Protector, so she rolled over to get a better angle, and worked furiously at the ropes. She wouldn’t have a better chance to escape than this. Her father’s forces were still out there somewhere. If she could find them, she might still have a chance.
The Protector obviously didn’t approve of their location by the seashore. “Demons might be attracted by the smell of blood or the cries of your wounded. What imbecile decided this was the best place to make camp?”
Dhaval muttered something in response.
“Of course. I should’ve known. Look at you. Twenty weary men here, sullied by battle, and yet you’re the only one with a perfectly spotless uniform. That tells me everything I need to know about you.” The Protector so thoroughly insulting her worthless husband’s honor made Thera want to cheer. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does my observation offend you, Roik? Just say the word.”
Duel him! Duel him! Thera thought to herself.
There was a long silence. “No, Lord Protector.”
“I thought so.” It sounded like he was getting closer to where they’d left her, so Thera had no choice but to roll back onto her hands to hide her frayed ropes. “What’s this over here?”
“Merely a prisoner, Lord Protector.”
“If that prisoner is from Harban, then the truce requires you to let him free.”
“No, sir. Harban has no claim. She is one of ours, of Great House Makao. Or, should I say, was one of us.”
They had nearly reached her. The ropes were frayed and close to breaking, but Thera had no choice but to stop moving. She tried to look harmless and pathetic. Since her fine clothes had been ripped and dragged through the dirt, and she was covered in bruises and welts, looking pathetic was easy.
The Protector stopped next to the guard and glanced down at her. His hair was long and white, his skin as weathered as a saddle bag, and despite his impressive armor, it was obvious that beneath all that steel and leather he was very thin. The leering face of the Law was on his chest. That symbol meant he possessed the authority to kill them all on a whim.
“Who is this? Bring over that torch so I may better examine her.”
“She’s a traitor,” Dhaval spat.
“I’m no traitor! I’m his wife!”
The old Protector looked at her, then looked at Dhaval, then back at her, perplexed, then he gave a cruel bark of a laugh. “What?”
“She betrayed House Makao. She was caught sending messages about our war plans to one of our vassal houses. They intended to rebel while we were busy fighting Harban.”
“That’s not true, Protector. It’s just an excuse to murder me, like he did with his last wife!”
The Protector sighed. “As amusing as this is, I’ve no time for family drama. I’ve still got officers to track down and execute. Either way, traitor or spousal murder, this is an internal matter, best for a judge of your house to decide. I’m leaving.” He began walking away.
“Protector, please. He’ll kill me before I ever see a judge.”
“Shut your lying mouth!” Dhaval shouted.
“Please. My father is a respected man, formerly the phontho of Vane garrison. At least send him word that they’re holding me prisoner, I beg you. His name is Andaman Vane.”
“Ah…” The Protector paused. “Unfortunately that name was on my list.”
Thera’s world flew into pieces. “No! No! It can’t be!”
The Protector was obviously a harsh man, but he delivered his next words with great sincerity. “If it means anything, Andaman Vane was a man of honor, and met his punishment with a courage and dignity that I have seldom seen. I do not know how he lived, but he died a credit to his caste.”
Her father was gone. Her hope was extinguished. “Wait! He’ll kill me! I’ll never have the chance to plead before a judge. Dhaval is cruel and cowardly. He’ll slit my throat as soon as you le—”
Dhaval brutally kicked her in the head.
It was an explosion of pain. Lights flashed behind her eyes.
“What is wrong with you?” the Protector demanded.
Only Thera could barely make out his words. She could hardly hear anything over the ringing in her ears. The blow had driven her face into the sand. There was blood in her mouth. The pain was unbearable.
But worse, a strange fire was building beneath her scar.
It had awoken the Voice.
She never heard it. When it came upon her, it was as if her consciousness was roughly shoved to the side. The last thing she saw was a pale light filling the camp, illuminating Dhaval as his expression turned from sneering hate to fear, until the light consumed everything and Thera could sense no more.
The pain came rushing back.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she had been pulled roughly to her feet. Dhaval had her by the arms and was violently dragging her toward the edge of the cliff. He was shouting in her face, but she couldn’t make out the words through the ringing. She struggled against him, but he was a stout man, and she was too dazed from the blow to the head to do much.
Looking back over her shoulder, Thera begged the Protector for mercy, but the man seemed to be stunned, his mouth hanging open, eyes staring right through her. The soldiers were terrified. She saw their mouths moving. The word…witchcraft.
Then they were at the edge. Below them was the dark ocean. Dhaval’s eyes were bulging. His teeth were snapping together like a mad dog, completely consumed by rage.
Desperate, Thera twisted hard against her frayed ropes.
She began to hear again as Dhaval bellowed and spit in her face. “—a cultist in my own home! Bringing shame upon my name! I’ll never live down this embarrassment! Let the demons take you!”
The rope snapped. Thera reached out, swept the dagger from her husband’s belt, and slashed it across his eyes.
Dhaval screamed as he hurled her into the sea.
* * *
“It is vital that you think back to the greatest fear you have ever experienced,” the wizard Omkar told Thera.
“I was,” Thera answered. She remembered what it was like, thrashing around in the ocean, trying not to drown, as her blood and terror drew forth a demon from the depths. There was nothing worse.
“Good. Recall the sensations. Focus upon those,” Omkar directed. “Sights, sounds, smells.”
The water had shocked her body, cold, as sudden as the bolt from heaven. It had tasted like salt. She had been half blind from terror, but she’d still seen the demon coming out of the waves, nothing but a sleek black shadow. Years later and it still made her stomach hurt from fear.
The wizard must have heard the change in her breathing. “Do you have it now, Thera?”
“I do.”
“Good. Once you have the scene clear in your mind, the emotions you experienced will naturally follow. There is clarity in context.” The two of them were sitting on the floor, cross-legged, facing each other. Thera was blindfolded. “A memory is merely an imprint on a pattern. Now take that pattern from your mind and imagine it flowing into the piece of demon bone you hold in your hand.”
Thera tried, she truly did. They had been over this a hundred times. A dead demon was just a container. Messages could be recorded on the magic within, and then a wizard could do several useful things wit
h them. Like send them instantly and invisibly through the air, to be received into another container hundreds of miles away, to be viewed by another wizard, or passed on to the next.
“This is no different than using ink to write words on paper, Thera, just finer. Concentrate.”
Only none of this was simple. The wizards kept prattling on about patterns, and waves, and how everything was tiny particles—some of which could be stuck together in spooky and interesting ways—but she couldn’t see a damned thing. The piece of bone clenched between her fingers caught on fire. She yelped and reflexively dropped it. “Oceans!”
Her teacher sighed, annoyed. “Remove your blindfold.”
The bone was lying on the rug. It hadn’t burst into flame, and when Omkar snatched up the precious material in his bare hand, that proved it hadn’t even gotten hot. She could have sworn it had been like red-hot molten metal, searing through her skin.
“It felt like—”
“Like another miserable failure,” he snapped.
She had intended to say a premonition, but she remained silent.
Omkar was the eldest of the Lost House wizards that she’d seen, maybe even sixty, which was ancient by the standards of her caste, and he had gone to fat in his old age. She suspected Sikasso had given him this duty because he was too old and fat to go out and murder people in exchange for magic and treasure like the rest of them. But as her father had told her many times, never underestimate anyone who got old in a job where most die young.
“This was the simple part. The easiest memories to record are the ones with the greatest personal weight. Nothing stands out like your most terrifying moment, or the instant of your greatest achievement, or the happiest time of your life.”
She had volunteered to share her most terrifying memory. She wasn’t fond of it, but she wouldn’t give these scoundrels access to her happiness. “I tried, but—”
“Silence.”
Thera was not officially a prisoner. They no longer locked her door. Why bother? Where would she escape to? The demon infested swamps? But she wasn’t made to feel welcome either, and she was certainly not one of them. She was a freakish anomaly to be studied, nothing more. If she proved useful, she’d live, and if not, they would dispose of her.
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