Ruler, Rival, Exile

by Morgan Rice

  That room was a long gallery, lined on either side with the bones, heads, and skins of animals he’d hunted. Animals, and enemies. There was the skull of a mastodon sloth, slow moving but deadly; beside it hung the stretched out skin of a tattooed witch who had claimed that her powers came from the marks inscribed on her flesh. Skulls and tusks, skeletons and stretched out hides vied for space on the walls, while weapons hung in between, some still embedded in the bones of their former owners.

  A dozen figures stood in between them, some lounging and some standing primly at attention. One woman dangled impossibly inverted from the skeleton of a spotted wyrm, while a man who must have been seven feet tall toyed with the axe Ulren had taken from a half-giant foe many years before.

  A dark-skinned man with gray hair hacked short and the shapeless robes of a desert dweller stepped forward. His voice, when it came, was a rasp.

  “You wanted us, First Stone?” He bowed. “I am N’cho, spokesman of the Dozen Deaths.”

  Ulren had heard of the Dozen Deaths years ago. He’d tried to find a way to hire them many times before now, but it seemed that the assassins were as elusive as they were unstoppable. Only once he had become the First Stone had he found that Irrien had possessed the knowledge of how to contact their sort all along. Not that he’d bothered using them. Irrien had been a man to do his own killing.

  Ordinarily, Ulren would have agreed, but this was a job that required the best.

  “I have a task for you to perform,” Ulren said. “A task for which you will be well compensated should you succeed.”

  “And if we fail, will you hunt us to the ends of the world?” the woman hanging from the skeleton asked in a singsong voice. “We hear that a lot.”

  “That, or we’re told to take what we want from the bodies,” a man whose hair and skin were both the pale white of bone said. “As if we couldn’t do that anyway.”

  Ulren’s ire started to rise. The trouble was, he wasn’t sure what he could do. For the second time that day, he found himself feeling helpless in spite of the advantages of his new status.

  “Forgive Xing and Galetto,” the man who had stepped forward said. “In their own ways, they are both quite mad, but they are deadly. Which of us is it that you want for your task?”

  Ulren forced himself to smile. “I hope that you are all deadly.”

  “You want us all?” the other man said. He shook his head. “There must be some mistake. Just one of us will be enough for any death you could require. Perhaps two, if Leanne and Lorus do the work.”

  Ulren knew that. He’d heard what they could do. He’d seen it. Every one of them could kill a dozen of his men. Each of them would have been a threat to him in a fair fight, and they rarely fought fairly. Still, he wanted to be sure.

  “This will require you all. Are you the Dozen Deaths or aren’t you?”

  “We are,” the other man said. “Our numbers never change, and neither does our purpose.”

  “You’re so pompous, N’cho,” the woman said. “Just make him tell us who he wants dead, so we can decide if it’s interesting or not.”

  If they had been alone, Ulren would probably have taught the girl the error of speaking out of turn like that. As it was, he glared up at her.

  “Irrien. I want Irrien dead,” he snapped. “Is that interesting enough for you? Just tell me how much money you want.”

  N’cho smiled at that. “A considerable amount, but these things are not just about the money, First Stone.”

  Ulren was rapidly losing his patience. “What then? Are you going to demand my soul? My firstborn? What kind of world is it when paid killers don’t kill when paid to?”

  The other man’s smile stayed in place. “Every man and woman in this room kills for a different reason. Some do it for the challenge, others because their particular madness demands it. Lucas there kills to make the world a better place, if you can believe that.” He said it as though it was a grand joke, and Ulren had to admit that it did seem like the strangest of the reasons there. “Myself, I strive to do what is pleasing to the gods of death.”

  “And what does all that mean?” Ulren asked.

  N’cho shrugged. “It means that each of us makes our own decision about whether to accept a task such as this. What do you say, brothers and sisters? Shall we kill Irrien? Shall we go to Delos and slay the man who was the First Stone for the man who is?”

  He looked around at them one by one. One by one, the killers nodded.

  Finally, finally, Ulren felt like the First Stone he had become. He could order life or death. He could do it for Irrien.

  And, once his former rival was finally dead, maybe he could be the First Stone in more than just name. All that Irrien had taken would be his.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Stephania woke from her dreams with a gasp like a drowning woman rising from the water. There was no ocean around her, though, just the rickety bed of the healer’s home. Stephania groaned, expecting the onset of pain, but right then, there was none. Certainly, there was nothing to match the fear of closing her eyes again.

  “Good,” the healer said. “You’re awake. I wasn’t sure that you would survive the night.”

  She pressed the back of her hand to Stephania’s forehead.

  “No fever. That’s a good thing. I think you might survive.”

  Stephania would survive. She could find a way to survive anything.

  “I don’t even know your name,” Stephania said. She sat up, and although the movement proved to be too fast for her then, there was no pain.

  “I’m Kaydn,” the healer said. “People don’t call me by my name much though. Mostly, I’m just ‘Healer’ to the people out on the heaps.”

  Stephania swallowed at the thought of the heaps of discarded things beyond the city, and the fires that had nearly claimed her. She thought of the packs of scavenging men too. This was an evil place. She would need to be at her strongest to survive it.

  “How bad was it?” Stephania asked, the way she might have asked for the results of an interrogation or demanded answers from one of her spies. This wasn’t about the city, though. This was what was happening to her body.

  “You were dying,” Kaydn said simply. “Your abdomen had been torn open, and you were losing too much blood. Then there was the infection. You might have died from that. You should have died from that.”

  Stephania shrugged. “I’m stronger than I look.”

  “I know that, Lady Stephania.”

  Stephania froze then. This woman knew who she was? She had still treated Stephania, though. What did that mean? Did it mean that she was planning to sell Stephania now that she was healthy? Did it mean danger, or a loyal supporter?

  “Don’t worry,” Kaydn said. “You are my patient, and I do not harm them.”

  An admirable sentiment. Stephania wondered if she could trust it.

  “I worked out who you were almost right away,” the healer went on. “People talk to me. They told me about Irrien’s sacrifice of you and your child, the way the sorcerer intervened.”

  “It sounds as though people tell you a lot,” Stephania said.

  She saw the other woman nod. “A few things, yes.”

  Stephania stood up, testing herself and the strength that remained in her frame. There wasn’t much. She felt as shaky on her feet as a newborn lamb.

  “Will I be everything that I was, physically?” she asked.

  Kaydn frowned. “I’ve done all I can,” the healer said. “But you will be weak for a while from the lack of food. The muscles in your abdomen will never quite be as strong, and the scarring… when you are strong enough, you will need to come to terms with the scarring. And with the fact that… I’m sorry, but you will never be able to have another child.”

  Those words hit Stephania like a hammer blow. She’d never even considered having another child, but even so, the thought of being unable to felt like something was being snatched away from her. The baby she and Thanos had produced t
ogether was the only one Stephania would ever have, and he was gone, taken by Daskalos.

  Taken because she’d given him away.

  Stephania forced her face to show none of that. The woman opposite her might have helped her, but Stephania did not know her, and she’d spent a lifetime not trusting people.

  “Are you all right?” Kaydn asked, reaching out for her arm. “Would you like to sit down?”

  Stephania let the other woman guide her to a chair that looked as though it had been patched together from pieces of broken things. On instinct, Stephania palmed a small pouch from the other woman’s belt, recognizing it from when the healer had drugged her.

  “How long was I unconscious?” Stephania asked.

  “Several days,” Kaydn replied. “I’m sorry, but you will find that the city has changed much in the meantime.”

  Stephania could remember the invasion. She could remember the things Irrien had wanted her for, treating her like nothing but the lowest of slaves when he should have treated her as an equal. Stephania had given him an opportunity to forge the strongest of partnerships, and instead, he had cast her down, stolen her baby, and done this to her.

  “Tell me what has happened,” Stephania said. She sat on the chair the way she had sat on Delos’s throne before, waiting for information from whatever quarter she could get it. Now, there was only one source of fresh knowledge, and Stephania was determined to get all she could from the healer.

  Kaydn set a plate of food down in front of Stephania. It was little better than slop, and if there was meat in it, Stephania didn’t want to think about where it had come from.

  “Eat,” the healer said. “You need to get your strength up.”

  Stephania poked at it roughly. “Answers first. I can go without food, but not knowing what’s happening could see me dead.”

  Kaydn didn’t look happy about that, but she sat down on a chair of her own opposite Stephania. It reminded Stephania of the times she’d interrogated people, although in this case, Kaydn wasn’t tied in place.

  The outcome might well be the same though.

  “What do you want to know?” Kaydn asked.

  “What has been happening in the city while I’ve been stuck here?” Stephania asked.

  “The invasion has been happening,” the healer replied. “Felldust troops now control every building in the city. The people have all been enslaved. Some of them are still working their normal jobs, but having to give over everything they get in return to the soldiers. Some of them have just been dragged off in chains.”

  That was about what Stephania had expected. Irrien had been thorough in the castle, sparing no one from his chains. Not even her.

  “Are there people resisting him?” Stephania asked.

  Kaydn laughed at that. “Are you trying to find a way to fight back against him? Look around you. Look at where you are. Do you think you can organize a rebellion from here?”

  Stephania looked around as the healer instructed, but only because she wanted to size up what resources were available in the healer’s home. It was little more than a shack, but there were powders and preparations that might be useful if Stephania could identify them.

  There would be money here too, somewhere. A healer like this probably didn’t take the high payments of those who tended to the nobility, but she had to take something, if only to pay for the medicines she needed. Stephania would find it. She was good at ferreting out hidden things.

  “Tell me who stands against him,” Stephania said.

  “No one stands against him!” Kaydn snapped back. “There’s no one left in the city to fight. The rebellion is gone. Ceres and Thanos… well, you played your role in getting rid of them, didn’t you? There are rebels on Haylon, and rumors that Irrien is sending out men to fight Lord West’s warriors, but do you think they’d want anything to do with you?”

  Stephania ignored her anger. People’s anger could be a useful thing. It encouraged them to say more than they intended.

  “And how are the Five Stones of Felldust sharing the city?” Stephania asked.

  The healer shook her head at that, and Stephania finally felt as though she was starting to see the shape of things.

  “They haven’t come,” Kaydn said. “They say… they say that Irrien has declared himself the sole ruler of Delos, and left Felldust behind for good.”

  Stephania knew that he was planning to stay. The rest of it… it made sense, but it also provided her with a potential opportunity. She pushed herself to her feet.

  “Fetch me a mirror,” she said.

  “I don’t think—”

  “I did not ask you what you thought,” Stephania said, in a tone designed to produce obedience. “And do not try to say that you have no mirror. You will need one for some of the tasks you perform.”

  Kaydn moved away, fetching one. While she did, Stephania quietly added the contents of the pouch she’d palmed to her food. She sniffed it. As she’d thought, it was a powerful sedative. A thing for use in small doses, if at all.

  When the healer returned, Stephania stood, stripping off the few scraps of clothing she had, and surveyed what was left of her.

  The scars were awful. They crossed her abdomen in a sea of angry red that seemed impossible to ignore. Just the sight of it made Stephania’s breath catch in her throat. Once, she had been so beautiful that artists had fought to paint her. Now, they never would again.

  The rest of her had been affected too. She was thinner than she had been, far thinner than was healthy. Her features were sunken and hollow, while her hair was knotted. She looked like a pale imitation of her former self. Time would repair some of it, but the scars… she would be left with those for the rest of her life.

  Very deliberately, Stephania took up her clothes again, covering over her wounds. She wouldn’t let them stop her. She would find a way to disguise the scars if she needed to, and for now, they served a reminder of all that she had lost.

  “It’s all right to cry,” Kaydn said.

  Stephania wouldn’t, though. She had cried enough for one lifetime. Now was the time for vengeance.

  “If I needed to get to Felldust, could I do it?” she asked.

  “Short of selling yourself as a slave to one of the captains?” The healer paused, then nodded. “There are still smugglers, taking refugees for a price. Why would you want to go to Felldust, though?”

  It was better not to tell her, but it had already gone well past that by then. The best she could hope for was to tell only part of the truth.

  “There are things I need to do,” she said.

  Like killing Irrien. Like getting her son back.

  “What’s in Felldust?” the healer asked.

  “The help of powerful people,” Stephania said.

  “You mean the Stones, don’t you?” Kaydn said. “You would really side with them? They are as ruthless as any of the invaders.”

  Stephania smiled at the note of concern there. As if she hadn’t considered the risks involved. What was the worst that could happen to her now? Being killed? She had been sure that she would die before. Being made into a slave? That had already happened. The only things that mattered were recovering her son and getting revenge on Irrien. Any risk was worth it for that.

  She hoped that they were ruthless, because she wouldn’t want a weak man for a husband. That plan formed quickly enough. It was a sound plan with Irrien, before the walls to the castle fell. It was a better plan with his rivals, because she had something to offer them. A rightful claim to the Empire, and all the knowledge that came with it.

  It was a risk, of course. A terrible risk, in its way. Stephania was not stupid, but this time, she suspected that she’d chosen her targets well. The other Stones were Irrien’s enemies, as much as she was. They would be her friends.

  And more than that. She might not have the full beauty she’d had before, but she could recover a semblance of it on the way. She could be whatever they needed her to be, so long as it gave her
a chance to recover power.

  “You’re determined to do this, aren’t you?” Kaydn said. She sounded scared now. Perhaps she was even thinking that it might have been better if Stephania had died.

  “What would you do if someone took everything from you?” Stephania demanded.

  “Someone did,” Kaydn snapped back. “The Empire took all I had.”

  And yet she hadn’t killed Stephania. It was a level of mercy that Stephania couldn’t contemplate. The people who had hurt her would suffer for it.

  “Will you eat your food now?” the healer asked, with a nod toward Stephania’s plate.

  Stephania sat back down, as though considering it. “How do I know that you haven’t drugged this?” she asked. “You’ve done it before.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Kaydn shot back. “Taste it?”

  Stephania didn’t reply, just pushed the plate toward her.

  “This is stupid,” the healer said. She sighed theatrically, then took a bite of the meal. “There, is that better? I should finish this whole thing, if you’re going to be that—”

  She paused, and Stephania knew that she must have guessed. By then, it was too late. She stepped back as Kaydn moved toward her, but the healer’s grab was more of a stagger. She stumbled, reaching out toward Stephania, then collapsed into sleep. Perhaps she would dream as Stephania had. She deserved it.

  Stephania stood. She moved around the shack, sorting the items there into the valuable and the valueless. She stole a dress and a cloak, a series of pouches for powders and a smaller one containing coins. In a box, she found letters that seemed to be from a dead lover. Stephania put them back without looking at them.

  Finally, she felt ready. The healer had been right: there would be smugglers down by the docks. Stephania could use them to get to Felldust, and once she’d made it inside the country, it would be relatively straightforward to gain access to the other Stones.

  Seducing the most powerful of them wouldn’t be easy, especially in her present state. Even so, Stephania would find a way. She would find something to offer him, whether it was the chance to kill Irrien, or more power, or just herself.