House of Assassins

by Larry Correia

  Ashok had temporarily called upon the Heart to improve his vision, and had been confused to see the warriors were wearing the colors of three different houses. Most of their number were dressed like workers, and there were even a few in casteless rags. There was a surprising number of women and children among them. It was odd to see people of such disparate status thrown together without an obvious reason. He thought they might be refugees from some conflict he was unaware of, but they looked relatively clean, fed, and as far as he could tell, happy, so that made no sense.

  He’d returned and told the others about the strange group. Going around would have required a significant detour, and time was of the essence. It didn’t feel like a trap, and if it was, it wasn’t a very good one. So he had admonished the Somsak to ready their crossbows, but to keep them down unless ordered, and then they had continued along the road.

  The Sons were spotted and an obvious ripple of excitement went through the crowd. People rushed about, alerting each other, and they began to prepare, not for battle, but more like they were going to watch a parade. Two of the group broke away from the camp and approached the road. One was a warrior, wearing the insignia of Kharsawan, the other was a female worker in a long black coat. Both raised their hands in greeting.

  “Hello, Sons of the Black Sword,” called the woman. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Curious. Ashok raised his hand and everyone brought their horses to a stop. They were spread out enough it would be hard to take them all in one volley, and if anyone tried he would turn his Somsak loose.

  “Who are you people?” Jagdish demanded. “And how do you know who we are?”

  “Forgive our insolence. We’re fellow servants.” The warrior spread his hands apologetically. He was maybe twenty years old, a gangly, awkward lad, who wore the rank of a senior nayak. “We are all followers of the Forgotten just like you.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Gutch muttered from the back of the column.

  “We come from a few different groups who have gathered in secret. Most of us had never met before today,” said the woman with a great deal of excitement. She was perhaps thirty, not unattractive, but tanned and weathered from some manual labor obligation toiling beneath the sun. “But we were all told that the time has come to leave our homes to join your mighty army.”

  Jagdish laughed out loud. “That’s just what we need, more fanatics!” Keta and the Somsak all scowled at him.

  The woman looked a little hurt, and the warrior seemed confused. “We mean no offense. We presume too much. We merely present ourselves, and the Forgotten’s great servants will decide if we are worthy to join their cause.”

  Ashok felt ill. More people were turning against the Law, and it was his fault. They were dooming themselves to a short life of suffering and unhappiness until their disgraceful execution, and he was their sick inspiration. He glanced over at the mob. Their children were smiling and laughing, blissfully unaware of the dark path their parents had put them on. There was no good end for those who chose to pit themselves against the Law.

  “Why do you do this?” Ashok demanded.

  “Because it is what the gods want us to do,” the young warrior answered with pride.

  “You are willing to kill for these gods, and die for them?”

  This time it was the woman who answered. “My people have passed down the old ways from generation to generation. We’ve lived in fear and silence the whole time. Killing and dying can’t be much harder than that.”

  “Shows what you know. Dying is remarkably easy,” said Jagdish.

  The warrior looked over at Jagdish, and wrongly assumed because of the stolen uniform they were of the same house and status. “I’ve probably seen as many battles as you.”

  “Don’t let this silly outfit fool you, pup. I am…was a decorated risaldar of Great House Vadal. I’ve killed more men than you have met.”

  While the young man hurried and apologized to Jagdish, Ashok whispered to Keta, “Did you know of these cults?”

  Keta shook his head in the negative. “I was told nothing of more worshippers in these lands, but it isn’t like we speak freely to each other. The faithful hide in the shadows, in fear of the Law. There could be ten thousand of us in the Capitol for all I know.”

  “I doubt that very much. We would have rooted them out and killed them.” It was one thing to be a fanatic out on the edges of civilization, it was quite another to practice illegal religion in the birthplace of civilization. Ashok turned back to the two messengers. “How did you know our location?”

  “The same way we knew the time had come, we were told by Mother Dawn,” said the woman.

  That was the name of the ancient woman he had met in Jharlang. “That can’t be.”

  “Who?” Keta asked.

  “An oddity, apparently with more to her than I first assumed,” Ashok replied. “How do you two know this old casteless, Mother Dawn? She is from a mining village in Thao lands.”

  “Casteless? I don’t understand. Mother Dawn is warrior caste,” said the nayak. “And from the distant west.”

  The woman looked at her companion, confused. “No. She’s a worker. Originally a baker from the north. She’s been stopping in my town for a few days every other year as long as anyone can remember.”

  “She’s no baker!” the warrior scoffed. “She can throw a razor sharp chakram as accurate as any warrior in Guntur. She appeared to us two weeks ago and told us we needed to gather here by today. A few of us had the faith to heed the call.”

  “What?” Two weeks ago Ashok had never even heard of Haradas, let alone known he would be on the road traveling there. “That is impossible.”

  “It is true. I swear it,” said the warrior. “My brothers and I just arrived this morning.”

  “They did. We got here last night,” the worker said. “She drew us a map and told us to be here by today, ten days ago. We’re from some nearby villages, but have few horses and mostly walked. If anything my people made a much bigger effort to be here than these warriors.”

  “Hardly!”

  Ashok didn’t care who had sacrificed more in service of their illegal gods. From Jharlang to Gunter to Akershan so quickly during the winter would be impossible by normal means. The religious fanatics seemed sincere, but for their messenger to get around like that was either trickery or witchcraft. There had to be several different women claiming to be Mother Dawn, or one who had access to powerful magic that enabled her to travel great distances. Neither possibility explained how she could have known their current location so far in advance, with such specificity.

  Of course, Keta had a different interpretation. “The Forgotten has placed more of his servants in our path to aid us!” he declared with great joy. “Truly, this is a miracle.”

  Jagdish looked over at the motley encampment. Half of them appeared to be women, children, or casteless. “If your god is handing out miracle armies, seems a shame not to send us a proper one.”

  “If I may,” the woman asked timidly. “Which one of you is Ashok Vadal?”

  “I am Ashok Vadal.”

  “You’re real! The stories are true!” Both of them went to their knees in the snow and lowered their heads as if he was the Thakoor of their house. From the gathered mob, he heard them repeating his name in awe, most of the whole men calling him Ashok and the casteless saying Fall and others speaking of the Forgotten’s warrior.

  “Enough.” Such deference offended him. He was just another criminal, nothing more, and he would be damned if anyone should take pride in that. “Get up.”

  They did. And from the way he snapped the frustrated command, they felt chastened as they brushed the cold slush from their knees. The woman hurried and spoke first. “Mother Dawn told me to tell you that the two children you carried to her are safe and well.”

  He’d once shown a small mercy and nearly condemned an entire town because of it. Yet news that they lived was a relief. He hadn’t seen their bodies in the afte
rmath. It pleased him to know that some good had come from that day. Unless of course, Mother Dawn was a liar and in actuality she’d plucked out their hearts on some dark altar for a witch’s ritual.

  “Thank you. That is good to know.”

  The soldier interjected, “She wanted me to say that if you stack enough pebbles they can even stop a rolling boulder. She will continue sending you pebbles, but it is up to you to turn them into a wall. I don’t know what this means, but she said you would understand.”

  At the time she had been warning him that powerful forces within the Capitol intended to massacre all of the casteless once and for all, and that most of them would be helpless to do anything about it. “It means she is some sort of witch who pretends to know far more than she should.” The two seemed shocked when he said that, but Ashok had lived this long speaking plainly, he wasn’t about to change now.

  He turned to his second in command. “Jagdish, question all these volunteers and see what their skills are. Those who can be of use against the wizards may join the Sons of the Black Sword. There is no place for the weak where we are going. Any who seem untrustworthy, send them back to their homes.”

  “They’re fanatics, Ashok. Untrustworthy would be the lot of them.”

  “It may be a fine line. Have Keta help you. If they seem even more irrational than he does, send them away.”

  Keta looked like he was about to argue with that, but then he must have decided that was, in fact, a reasonable barrier. Not all fanatics were created equal. “I will gladly help the risaldar judge their worthiness.”

  “Sorry, if I may interrupt?” the worker woman had raised her hand trying to get his attention.

  “What? Speak.”

  “If you send anyone back to their homes, they’ll surely be in danger. Some of them may have…well, been a little excitable about the gathering and talked too much.”

  “What manner of imbecile would brag about violating the Law?”

  The warrior looked down at his feet, embarrassed, when Ashok asked that.

  The worker tried to explain such foolishness. “Some of us may have spoken more than we should have about our secret beliefs to try and get our loved ones to come with us. It’s easy to get caught up in the fervor. By now, Inquisitors will have been informed. To return would mean torture and death. But this is good. There’s no turning back, so we’re truly committed to your cause.”

  Ashok was growing frustrated. The Protector Order had to be searching the entire region around Neeramphorn. It was by luck alone that their small, fast-moving group had avoided being spotted. This haphazard wagon train would be easily discovered.

  “We have no time for this.”

  “Wait. A suggestion, if I may?” Keta obviously knew what Ashok was thinking. “They can’t go with us, and they can’t go home, but I know where to send them. The hidden place I’ve told you of—the journey south is difficult, especially this time of year, but if the weather holds it is doable. The rebellion can take them in. It will be safe. There is room to grow there, and much work still to be done.”

  The south was far colder than what they’d just experienced around Neeramphorn. Ashok had no love for fanatics, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see them snowed in and starving until spring. “You can’t cross the Akershan mountains in the winter, Keeper.”

  “We don’t go over them, Ashok.…Just trust me. It can be done.”

  “Mother Dawn didn’t speak of any such thing.” The worker woman sounded hesitant. “We were to help the Forgotten’s warrior by joining his army.”

  “Ashok will lead the rebellion’s army too. Soon we will be so strong the Law will have to leave us be. We’ve been building something marvelous there, where everyone is free to make their own way. We grow plenty of crops, have clean water, and you can practice your religion openly. I am the chief priest of the Forgotten, Freeman Keta, the Keeper of Names.”

  “Who?”

  “Keta…I serve the prophet. I’m the one who has been recording the prophecies and directing the rebellion.”

  “Wait.” The warrior sounded hopeful. “There’s a prophet?”

  Ashok just shook his head. The Law had done a fine job keeping Lok’s fanatics isolated in their own dark little corners. “Keta, Jagdish, you two figure this out. I will continue on with Gutch to locate the courier.”

  “A wise decision. Too many newcomers at once might spook him.” Gutch had been hanging back, amused at the spectacle. “Don’t worry, if there’s magic being smuggled in that town, I’ll find it.”

  “I’d rather go with you,” Jagdish said. “I’m here to hunt wizards, not order around kids and casteless.”

  “You once told me even a sad army needs officers.”

  Jagdish sighed. “I’m regretting my choice of words now.”

  “Good. Get this rabble organized and then join us in Haradas as soon as you can.”

  Chapter 26

  Once they arrived in town, it didn’t take Gutch long to catch the scent of magic, but it was not his tracker’s gift that showed them the way, but rather a few friendly conversations. Since Chattarak was the master of all the barge traffic along the Nansakar, everyone in Haradas knew of him. During the day he conducted his business out of a small office near the river, and after sunset he could usually be found at a worker pub called the Black Sheep, where he rented a small room in the back, and generally kept to himself.

  That was where they first caught sight of their target, eating supper and warming himself by the hearth. Chattarak was a small, wiry man, with a long unkempt beard, and a mane of wild hair. Despite the crowded, noisy room, Chattarak was alone at a table. Ashok noted he kept his back to the wall, and continually watched the other patrons through narrowed eyes as he chewed.

  Haradas was the last real settlement in the southeastern Kharsawan lands, but it was a nothing town. It existed primarily to cut lumber to send up river for the needs of ever growing Neeramphorn, or south by wagon to the Akershan plains, where the winds were too strong for straight trees to grow. The town had been built on the banks of the river, which must have made their whole men uncomfortable, but they were far enough from the ocean that demon attacks were rare. There was a paltan of warriors stationed here to ward off border raids, but the security was so lax that there wasn’t even an arbiter to check their forged traveling papers.

  It seemed like the whole world was searching for Ashok Vadal, but nobody had bothered to tell poor Haradas of this fact. It was a forgettable sort of place.

  They had borrowed clothing from the new volunteers, so were wearing long winter coats bearing the insignia of Kharsawan workers, Gutch a tree cutter and Ashok a miner. This was a trading town, so strangers were common. They fit right in as they ordered food and drink—it was the best meal Ashok had eaten in quite some time—paid for with a banknote taken from Bajwa. Each house minted their own coins, but Capitol banknotes had become commonplace wherever there was trade.

  While they ate, they watched their prey, but it appeared Chattarak was truly alone. Even the hungry pleasure women avoided his table. He was known, but his reputation was not a pleasant one.

  As always, Ashok’s initial inclination was for the direct approach, dragging Chattarak from the place by the hair, and cutting fingers off until he told them where to find the wizards. But Gutch urged caution, because this was no mere servant of the Lost House. From the many pieces of demon Gutch sensed hidden upon his person, Chattarak was a full-fledged wizard, and a potent one at that.

  “You go to stabbing in front of all these witnesses, fifty warriors will descend on this place. You may enjoy such things, but personally I’m tired of having to flee towns in the middle of the night.” Gutch continued shoveling food in his mouth while he spoke. “You let me handle this one. Everyone loves Gutch. I’ll share a bottle of wine with him, and soon we’ll be the best of friends.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  “I will be my charming self, and engage in lucrative commerc
e.” Gutch continued chewing loudly. Ashok marveled that the man could still speak with half a chicken between his teeth. Gutch had ordered a bottle of the establishment’s finest wine, all the way from Vadal. When it was delivered, he grabbed it up, and made a big show of smelling it. “Ah, reminds me of home. How about you?” He shoved the bottle toward Ashok.

  Most of the real memories he’d recovered of Great House Vadal involved scrubbing blood from stones, and the rest were fabrications. “I would not know. I was very young when I left.”

  “Well, trust me, it surely does. I used to drink this vintage all the time, oh, but not when I was young. I had to work long and hard before I could afford such things.”

  “I thought you were rich.”

  “I wasn’t born with status, and even after I earned the rank of forge master smith, I didn’t feel rich. More like I was a poor man who temporarily had money. But someday I’ll return, so fabulously wealthy that I shall buy my own palace there, overlooking a vineyard of Vadal’s finest grapes, and I’ll have a hundred slaves to pick and stomp them into this delicious nectar, or however they make this stuff. That’s why I’ve come all this way. Your reasons for doing all this, I still haven’t figured out. The woman you seek must be rather lovely.”

  Ashok scowled. Gutch had talked his ears off the whole way here, and Ashok had said almost nothing in return. His duty to the prophet was a punishment mandated by Law. Officially he had no obligation to Thera beyond that…Except when he told that to himself, it no longer felt like the truth.

  “You are too familiar, worker.”

  “See that insignia you wear on your sleeve? It says that I can be familiar as I want, my equal worker brother…So she is pretty. Good. If Keta’s fake gods picked a lady prophet, I’d hate to see you put forth such effort for a homely one.”

  “My reasons shall remain my own.”

  “Nonsense, but noted.” Gutch wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, and took up the wine and two cups. “Now, I go to be diplomatic. But would you kindly mind keeping an eye out, and in case he goes to turn me into a frog or some such, stepping in? I shall shout for help, or croak, as appropriate.”