Masters of Deception

by J C Kang

  Her hands disappeared. All vitality drained from her.

  Makeda gasped.

  Dawit turned around. His eyes widened.

  With what energy she had, Brehane had already tiptoed toward the doorway. She might have no way of defeating Dawit, but maybe she could get help.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The wagon slowed to yet another stop, stirring Sameer from his meditation. The first time had been when the Aksumi male had gotten off with a storage chest. Given how he’d been at the Teleri compound, he was likely the one who’d provided the invisibility bauble for the Bovyan who’d been involved in the attack the first day. He was probably also the one Brehane was looking for. The next several stops, they’d loaded up bodies—Mafia enforcers, judging from the dark clothes. The stench of voided bowels had sent his gut churning.

  Now he opened his eyes. The wagon door opened from the outside, letting in light and glorious fresh air.

  A Bovyan stood there, beckoning. “We have arrived. Get out.”

  Sameer rose, taking care not to bash his head on the ceiling. Huddling over, he shuffled to the back and jumped out. The clean air filled his lungs. Meditation had rejuvenated him, and even with bound hands he landed with ease. He blinked several times in the late afternoon sun.

  The block of two-story buildings looked familiar. Above one hung a purple banner emblazoned with De Lucca’s gold lion. Of course. It was the signore’s office, which he’d visited the night before. It looked different in the daylight. More opulent, with vaulting columns and frescoes.

  Sameer’s shoulders relaxed. De Lucca had been nothing but helpful, so perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad. Surely he would forgive the misunderstanding.

  Four Bovyans flanked him as they passed through the iron gates.

  Dozens of soldiers watched him from the front door. Like the ones at the compound, two Bovyans wore the same De Lucca purple longcoats; but several more to the left were dressed in formal black surcoats emblazoned with the nine-pointed, gold Teleri sun, above burnished steel cuirasses. On the right, bronze-skinned Levanthi soldiers wore lamellar armor and turbans, which must’ve been hot in the afternoon sun. The black scythe on their white banners marked them as Levastyans.

  Guards at his side, Sameer passed into the foyer. If last night had been chaotic, the building today looked to be running with the efficiency of dwarf gears. Several men in De Lucca livery took silver platters of sweets and tea to the rooms down the hall. Sameer’s escort seized his elbows, stopping him. Looking up from some kind of ledger, a man at the front desk stood up and marched toward De Lucca’s office.

  He returned. “Signore De Lucca will see the Paladin now.”

  The guards led Sameer past the side rooms. In the first sat several bronze-skinned men with pointed beards and mustaches, swathed in embroidered white robes. Levanthi, dressed in the white robes of the Levastyan Empire’s Akolytes.

  The Bovyans prodded him along, but Sameer glanced into the library.

  Captain Robas, from the banquet last night, sat straight in a plush chair. The small, scar-faced Bovyan, from the ambush yesterday morning, stood next to him. Both wore the same formal black surcoats as the men at the front, and the platter of sweets went untouched.

  Just who did Scarface work for? Given his smaller size, he might’ve been the ash-faced Phobos from last night. Sameer’s head spun. He clenched his fists, as if that would loosen the bonds around his wrists.

  “When will your men assail the pyramid?” Scarface asked in a low voice.

  “When the second battalion reaches it,” Captain Robas said. “They cleared the Mafia district faster than expected, so I would guess before dusk.”

  “Good. It will be easier to arrange the Mafia bodies under the cover of darkness.”

  Sameer sucked in a breath. The Bovyans planned to capture the pyramid. He had to warn Signore De Lucca of the betrayal.

  One of his escorts shoved him in the back, toward De Lucca’s office. The air didn’t feel cold, like it had the night before.

  Inside, De Lucca leaned back on his enormous chair, turning a metal box the size of a head over in his hands. “Sir Sameer.”

  “Signore De Lucca.” Sameer held up his bound hands. “Am I your prisoner?”

  Face impassive, De Lucca motioned to the guards. One untied the knots.

  Sameer shook the numbness out of his hands and fingers. “The Bovyans. They plan to attack the pyramid.”

  “Oh?” De Lucca’s tone displayed no concern.

  Sameer pointed back down the hall. “I just overheard them. Captain Robas and the small one who worked for the Mafia…” Unless the scarred one worked for De Lucca? It might’ve been him last night, here in the office. “You can’t trust them.”

  De Lucca studied him for a moment. “I’m not sure what to do with you. On the one hand, you and your friends eliminated Don Acerbi. What’s left of his organization is in shambles.”

  Anger burned in Sameer’s cheeks. “Was that what this was about? Getting rid of your rivals? Did you really send Sohini there?”

  De Lucca’s grin couldn’t get any smugger. “No.”

  Emulating the God of Patience, Sameer took a deep breath to keep him from lunging over the desk. “You said she came to you, seeking refuge.”

  De Lucca shrugged. “That’s what she told me. I can’t tell you how much of that is true. I suspect she was trying to kill my guest.” He pointed his chin to the door.

  Cold pricked at the back of Sameer’s neck, like the day before when the Mafia had ambushed them. He looked over his shoulder.

  A man with long, oiled dark hair and a thin pointed beard ambled into the room. He, along with the masked aide a few steps behind, wore the high-collared longshirts ubiquitous in Sameer’s homeland. If the rich burgundy robes with gold borders didn’t give away where they were from, the gold scorpion emblem emblazoned on their right breasts marked him as from the evil kingdom of Madura. A Paladin naga hung at his side, singing with the Vibrations. Singing with…

  Sameer gasped. It was his naga. In the hands of a filthy Maduran. Its song was unmistakable. Heat raged in his head. He jumped to his feet.

  Time slowed as the Bovyans reached for him. Sameer sidestepped their grasps and pulled the dagger from one’s belt. He lunged for the Maduran.

  Cold flared in him. Time resumed. With blinding speed, the masked aide leaped forward, swept the naga from his hip and clanged against Sameer’s weapon.

  Sameer’s hand wrung as he watched the blade fly from it, clattering across the marble floor. He looked back, tracking the naga from its tip at his neck to its wielder.

  The mask was featureless, revealing only the wearer’s dark eyes behind two slits. It marked a Golden Scorpion, a former Paladin recruited by Madura. Their masks were supposedly made from the re-forging of their Paladin nagas.

  Yet this one still had a naga. He now removed his mask.

  Master Anish.

  Sameer’s gawked. How could it be?

  “Master Anish,” De Lucca said from his desk. “I have yet to thank you for telling my men about the half-elf interloper last night.”

  Sameer’s eyes went from the signore to the man he’d once admired. “Why?”

  The traitor smirked. “She was too smart. I was worried she would deduce who I was.”

  “I’m still trying to figure out who she is.” De Lucca laughed, a grating sound.

  Cold seeping into his bones, Sameer eyed Master Anish’s naga. The Vibrations felt so distant, so far out of reach.

  The other Maduran laughed. “Surrender, boy. You have no chance against Anish. He has achieved such mastery, he can mute your Paladin skills.”

  That would explain the cold sensation and the dulling of his combat reflexes. Sameer studied the vile traitor. “That’s how Elder Gitika got injured yesterday.”

  Master Anish shrugged. “Someone so powerful… I could only weaken her combat reflexes a little, but it was enough that the mobsters and Bovyans could injure her.”


  Anger and sadness buzzed in Sameer’s head. “Why?”

  “To separate you from her. To keep her from guiding you to Paladinhood.”

  The bastard! Sameer’s face burned hot. “It wasn’t the Mafia that killed her, was it?”

  “Of course not. An army of pathetic mobsters wouldn’t stand a chance against her, even wounded.” His scoff transformed into a genuine expression of remorse. “It was me. A sad but necessary sacrifice. She should have never come to Tokahia.”

  “If it was you, and not mobsters, then how did the innkeeper—”

  “I just planted that suggestion in the weak-willed man’s head. Just like I did Don Acerbi to get him to attack us in his den. It’s a more powerful skill than a Command. A skill taught to the Golden Scorpions by Madura’s former Grand Vizier. A skill I can teach you, if you join us.”

  Sameer’s head spun. Madura’s former Grand Vizier had used Dark Arts to preserve his life for centuries before disappearing almost thirty years before. To think he’d corrupted Bahaduur abilities with his evil magic. One which would corrupt a soul. Sameer knocked the naga away from his neck and lunged for Anish. “Traitor!”

  In a blur, the master swept a foot out and slapped Sameer in the back of the head.

  Sameer tumbled to the ground, face-first. The sword tip was again at his throat.

  The other Maduran snorted. “This one looks too foolish to be recruited.”

  “Your Highness,” Master Anish said, “despite his lofty goals of Paladinhood, Young Sameer is brash and ruled by his emotions. He is a perfect candidate.”

  Your Highness? The Maduran was Prince Dhananad himself.

  Turning over and scuttling back out of reach, Sameer hung his head. It was too true. He’d been so blinded by trying to rescue Sohini, he’d missed the obvious. Now, it was all making sense. “You’re the one responsible for all the missing Paladins. Sohini found out, didn’t she?”

  “Her, again?” The traitor didn’t pursue. He just grinned. “Do you want to know why I had a lock of her hair?”

  Sameer’s fists clenched tight. The bastard had forced himself on her. Taken her against her will. It had to be. He jumped to his feet and lunged for Anish’s neck. Time slowed.

  It wasn’t supposed to. Not if Anish had blocked his power.

  Anish backed away, moving fast, but not blindingly so. His eyes widened.

  He’d left Prince Dhananad unprotected.

  Sameer reached for his naga at the prince’s hip. Dhananad’s hand moved much too slow to prevent from losing the blade.

  The weapon felt so right in his hand, its Vibrations merging with his own. Sameer chopped and hacked.

  Anish dodged each blow, and circled himself into a protective position by the prince.

  “You fool!” Prince Dhananad screeched. “He could’ve killed me!”

  Sameer found himself by the office door. Taking several deep breaths, he disengaged. How foolish he’d been. He could’ve taken the prince hostage. Instead, he’d let emotion dictate his actions. Elder Gitika would be so disappointed in him.

  Signore De Lucca cleared his throat. “I hate to ruin your entertainment, but Prince Dhananad and I have business to discuss.”

  The Paladin traitor took several purposeful strides forward.

  Sameer turned and fled. Anish didn’t know where Sohini was, and it was foolish to keep fighting someone with the skills of a Scorpion master.

  “After him!” Prince Dhananad yelled. “If he doesn’t join, kill him.”

  Chapter 27:

  Illusions

  Jie had once thought nothing could be worse than riding a horse; that was before having to ride without a saddle, clinging to Cassius’ back on their canter back to the city. Though he rode well, he was so tall that she couldn’t see over his shoulder. Not to mention, if it wasn’t his hair whipping in her face, it was his long jacket billowing into her nose.

  The Bovyan wagon had a good lead on them, and by the time the horse had reached the outskirts of Tokahia, they were nowhere to be seen. Cassius couldn’t appear any more frantic, the way his head turned side to side as he checked every one-story wood building and brightly-dressed pedestrian on the main road.

  If she didn’t know any better, she’d assume he actually cared about Brehane. Harrumphing, Jie scanned the surroundings as they passed. At this hour, people were headed home.

  There, in a patch of dry clay that had gathered where the pavestones dipped…

  “Stop,” Jie yelled over the rush of wind.

  Cassius looked over his shoulder. “We’re losing time. You told me the doctor said they were going to De Lucca’s, so that’s where we’ll find them.”

  “We’ll lose even more time if we ride in the wrong direction. I don’t think they are going straight to his office. Let me look for clues.”

  He brought the horse to a stop. “What—”

  Jie shimmied off the horse with about as much grace as a duck on dry land. When her feet hit solid ground, she could’ve knelt down and kissed it. Instead, she loped toward the spot they’d passed.

  Passersby chattered, talk of the Acerbi fire on every lip. Almost everyone discussed the crime families’ attack, and how only the heroic Bovyans had been able to vanquish them. Rumor had it that the remnants of the Mafia had taken control of the pyramid, and that the Bovyans were now marching there to finish them off.

  She stepped in front of a pair of laborers, who were just expressing their hopes for more Bovyans to protect the city.

  “Have you seen a wagon with nine Bovyans guarding it?”

  They shook their heads.

  Taking note of the direction those people had come from, she went to the patch of dry dirt. The slightest imprint of a wagon wheel and a partial bootprint passed through it. She knelt down to examine the tracks.

  Fresh. Definitely a Bovyan-style boot. Angling toward a turn two intersections down the road, though not toward De Lucca’s office.

  She pointed in the direction opposite the laborers. “What’s that way?”

  Cassius spoke as if he’d sucked on bitter melon. “High-end whorehouses.”

  There were so many brothels, it was amazing there was enough seed to keep the population from declining. Jie snorted. Now, why would the Bovyans be headed that way? Surely not for a tumble in the sheets, since they had an entire breeding compound where they didn’t have to pay. “The Bovyans must’ve had Brehane. Maybe they are selling her to a brothel.”

  Cassius, already fair-skinned, paled even more. The man seemed as obsessed with Brehane as Sameer was with Sohini. Men.

  “Does De Lucca have a place there?” she asked.

  Cassius scowled. “I don’t keep track of all his endeavors.”

  “I’m guessing that’s where they’d take her. We’ll look for his banners.” She gestured for him to follow.

  Walking with as long a stride as her short legs would allow, she scanned and sniffed. A slight trace of the flower Brehane used to scent her hair hung in the air, almost hidden by the odor of sweaty men and women.

  With Cassius on the horse behind her, she broke into a trot, following as the scent grew stronger. One-story buildings gave way to two-story stone row houses, and the sour stench of boisterous laborers gave way to the flowery perfumes and musky colognes of the chattering wealthy.

  It all overwhelmed Jie’s senses, burying Brehane’s smell. She turned back to Cassius. “I’ve lost her scent.”

  He stared at her, wide-eyed. “Have you been following her smell? What are you, a bloodhound?”

  It wouldn’t be the first time—and probably not the last—that she’d been compared to a watchdog, bloodhound, and in Prince Aryn’s case…she shook the image out of her head. “It was a sweet fragrance, but there are too many around here. Let me ask around.”

  Cassius held up a finger.

  She ignored him, and instead hurried up to a pudgy merchant in a blazing orange longcoat. A pretty girl hung on his arm. “Excuse me,” Jie said, “have you s
een Aksumi around here?”

  He looked down his nose, favoring her with a look as if she were a fly that had landed on his crumpet. With a harrumph, he shouldered past her.

  Palming his coin purse, Jie silently thanked him for his donation. But it didn’t get them any closer to finding Brehane. She turned to Cassius—

  Who was off his horse. With a charming smile, he was clasping the very same merchant’s hand.

  The merchant was bowing his head. “Signore Cassius, it’s such an honor. Thank you for your help. The Pirate Queen’s marauders ignored Antoli’s ships, just as you said. My glassware is safely on its way.”

  Cassius dipped into a flourishing bow. “The Gods’ Whispers never fail.”

  Jie raised an eyebrow. The Gods’ Whispers didn’t seem to be telling him about Brehane.

  “May I recommend a fine house?” The merchant pulled the giggling girl closer.

  Cassius waved his hands. “I’ve come for a client, but I’m having a hard time finding him.”

  “The great Cassius Larusso?”

  “Alas, the White Stag is hidden behind the Eye of Ayara, while Kor, the Hunter, is distracted.” Gesturing to the heavens, Cassius leaned in with a sidelong glance at Jie. “I tried to warn her this was an inauspicious time to search.”

  Jie sucked her lower lip. Surely this merchant wouldn’t buy into such an obvious con.

  The merchant looked back at her, his lips rounding into a circle, then back at Cassius. “I haven’t seen any around here, but ask that street urchin, Odi. He knows everything that happens around here.”

  Cassius shook his head. “Odi’s birth hour, too, is dominated by the White Stag. If he wishes to remain hidden, not even the Gods’ Whispers will reveal his location.”

  Just ask for directions, Jie mouthed to no one in particular.

  “You can find Odi pimping his girls, over by the Orchid Fountain.” The merchant pointed down the street, then laughed. “Today, I can say I beat the Great Diviner.”

  “And yet, you won’t,” Cassius said, grinning like a snake. “Because the Gods’ Whispers will tell me the next safe shipping company, and I will tell you.”