He extended it to her. ‘This was set upon his breast by his killer.’
It was a bird’s foot, but not just any bird: a large bird of prey, complete with talons, now stained in blood. ‘What does it mean?’
‘A badge, or sigil. An announcement. A warning. All at the same time.’
‘I did not think the Protectress would have dared.’
‘Neither did I.’ The general set the foot on to a slip of white silk then rolled it up and placed it in a wooden box. ‘You and your sisters will head immediately to the heir.’
Iko nodded. ‘Of course. I will inform our new commander.’
The old general raised a greying eyebrow. ‘That is you.’
Iko swallowed hard; her glance went to Torral, who glared her resentment. ‘With respect, m’lord, that is for the heir . . .’
‘As acting regent until the heir’s investment, I so order it.’
Iko bowed her head. ‘Very good, m’lord.’
‘You and your sisters are dismissed. The elites will escort the king to Kan for his funeral. You must go with all speed.’
Iko bowed. ‘As you order, sir.’ She gestured her sisters out and left with them.
When they reached an outer chamber, Torral turned upon her as she had known she would. ‘Since when do outsiders dictate our officers?’ she demanded.
‘Just until the heir decides,’ Iko answered calmly.
‘The heir? The heir? Do not talk to me of him!’ Torral stabbed her fingers to her chest. ‘We decide. Us.’
Iko merely shrugged. ‘Very well.’ She raised her chin to the gathered sisters. ‘Are we fine with things for now, or need we organize some sort of vote?’
There was silence among them until Rei waved to the exit, saying, ‘Now is not the time, Torral – let’s just get going.’
Iko raised her open hands to Torral. ‘Then let us go.’ She headed out with her sisters leaving Torral behind. The Sword-Dancer remained staring after them, her jaws working.
* * *
Word of the tumult within the Kanese camp came to Silk by a messenger, and he returned to the palace. Here he waited with Mara, Smokey and Koroll in the empty audience chamber, their steps echoing hollowly from the white marble pillars and walls. All they knew was that Shalmanat yet lived. They waited for Ho to come out of her quarters, for they had news for him and things to discuss.
Such as the future of Heng itself.
As the night passed, Silk dealt with messengers from the various quarters of the city, all with urgent details of organization. Between times he tried to doze on the marble throne. Heavy footsteps finally woke him and he straightened on the tall chair. Smokey roused himself where he was lying down on one of the stone benches that those seeking audience occupied during court business and nudged Mara to wake her. Koroll emerged from the far shadows.
Ho nodded to them. ‘She sleeps. I have numbed the pain. But she is weak – very weak. Too much blood lost. I have done all I can.’
‘We have Denul talents here in the city,’ Silk objected. ‘Summon them.’
Ho blinked at him, appearing completely drained. ‘None is as skilled in such matters as I.’
Silk was amazed – he hadn’t known that. He inclined his head. ‘My apologies.’
Mara cleared her throat. ‘We have news. Chulalorn has been assassinated. His army is retreating. The siege is over. The question for us is . . . do we pursue?’
Ho absorbed the news with his typical stone-faced calm. He frowned. ‘Pursue? Whatever for?’
‘They are in complete disarray,’ Smokey said. ‘We could eradicate their remaining force. Punish them further.’
Ho was shaking his head. ‘No need. Who killed the king?’
Koroll spoke up. ‘I believe it was our young friend.’
‘We don’t know that,’ Mara objected. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Who else?’
Mara threw open her arms. ‘It’s a wide world . . . Dal Hon wouldn’t mind.’
‘Why don’t we pursue?’ Smokey asked, gesturing to the south. ‘They have stores, equipment. We need it. We could capture it.’
Ho waved off the idea. ‘On the contrary, we should offer help. Perhaps they need more carts and wagons . . .’
Silk barked a sudden laugh at that. ‘Touché, Ho! What a supremely galling insult.’
The burly mage frowned his confusion. ‘I was only trying to help.’
‘So what are we going to do?’ Smokey demanded. ‘Let them go freely, without any further cost? Look what they’ve done to us.’
‘Their king is dead,’ Koroll rumbled. ‘Let them go. It is Heng that needs our attention, not Kan.’
Mara slapped a hand to her palm. ‘We have to decide, now. Either way.’
‘Ignore them,’ Ho said. Koroll grunted his agreement.
‘I say we pursue,’ Smokey said. Mara pointed to him, nodding. She eyed Silk. ‘Well?’
Silk realized that they were all now peering up at him – except Koroll – as he was still occupying the throne. He cleared his throat, rather self-conscious, and considered. Did he really give a damn about the Kanese? He decided that he didn’t. ‘Let them go.’
Mara glowered, muttering, but didn’t challenge him.
‘It is this assassination that troubles me,’ Ho said. ‘She will be blamed. Representatives from the other states will denounce it.’
‘What of it?’ Mara asked, now pacing in circles, obviously eager to go. ‘That and this demonstration of her powers leave her unassailable. No one will ever dare attack us now. We rule the centre of this entire continent unopposed.’
‘It is a troubling precedent.’
‘We could capture the assassin,’ Koroll suggested. ‘Put him on trial and execute him for regicide.’
Mara laughed her scorn. ‘Oh please. Are you telling me this is something to be upset about? Sons strangle their own fathers for a throne. Daughters poison their mothers.’ She threw up her hands. ‘If a prince doesn’t have paid agents in place to kill his brothers then he isn’t fit to rule!’
‘All is not so dark as you say, Mara,’ Ho objected. He pointed to the throne. ‘There it is. Shalmanat is weak. I’m sure Silk is willing to give it up. Take it.’
Silk started, half rising from the seat. Mara laughed nervously. ‘Well, I wouldn’t take on all four of you . . . Besides, I have no formal claim.’
‘Since when has that been necessary?’ Ho asked. ‘Go ahead – take it.’
She raised her hand in an obscene gesture. ‘Go to Hood’s path, Ho,’ she said, and stormed from the audience chamber. Silk felt a buffet of Warren power and the tall stone doors boomed shut in a crash. Pieces of broken marble facing clattered to the floor.
In the long silence that followed, Koroll offered, ‘So . . . do we track this fellow down?’
Ho was staring after Mara. ‘Yes,’ he answered, distracted. ‘We will execute him for regicide to placate the other states.’
Chapter 21
A KNOCK AT the door woke Dorin. He pressed a hand to his eyes and groaned. ‘What time is it?’
‘Afternoon,’ answered one of the digger lads.
‘Gods! The afternoon? Orders were to let me sleep till dusk.’
‘Yes, I know. But Wu’s called a meeting. Wants you there.’
Dorin let the hand fall. ‘All right. I’ll be there.’
‘Want tea?’
‘Hood yes.’
‘Okay. We’ll get you some.’
‘Thank you.’ Dorin swung his legs from the cot and sat up. He rubbed his face then examined his cut and bruised hands. Did he have to personally defeat every dumb thug in the city before they’d come round? He wasn’t trained for this sort of fighting; he was a knife-fighter, not a grappler. How many would it take before they’d just wise up? It would all be so much easier if he could just kill them. But that would rather defeat the object of assembling a gang, wouldn’t it?
Sighing, he pulled on his low soft shoes and went out to find
the meeting. He was handed a tiny glass of tepid tea and directed to Wu’s rooms, where the mage kept a sort of unofficial underworld court. Here he found Rheena standing up against the wall. She was in charge of their troop and all the day-to-day running of the territory. She operated out of Pung’s old quarters; Wu had obviously called her in for this get-together.
Dorin noticed that she was now dressed in a fine engraved leather jerkin over a loose-sleeved white cotton shirt with black trousers. She gave him a smile and a wink and he nodded in answer, leaning back and crossing his arms.
‘Business is good,’ Wu called to him. ‘And we have most of it.’
He gave the barest of shrugs. Wu’s lips pursed and he glanced about to the ten or so hand-picked lieutenants and bodyguards. ‘Yes, well . . .’ He set his elbows on the table and meshed his fingers. ‘I have decided on a plan . . .’
‘What is it?’ Dorin demanded, wearily.
Wu let his hands fall and shot a quick glare. ‘Our problem is that we lack street muscle and enforcers. We can’t defeat Urquart one to one. Dorin here can’t be everywhere.’
‘I agree,’ Rheena added.
Dorin agreed as well, but wasn’t certain of any alternative. ‘So? What’s your plan, then?’
Wu raised his hands and steepled the fingers again, then noticed what he was doing and whipped them from sight. ‘I’ve assembled quite the war chest. I’m sure we have far more coin on hand than any other gang. Therefore, I suggest bribery, price-hiking, kickbacks and outbidding. We’ll take the market out from under all of them and squeeze them dry. Then we’ll bribe or outright buy their followers and muscle.’
‘Beat them with gold,’ Dorin said.
‘I like it,’ Rheena said, and offered Dorin a nod of agreement.
Dorin considered, tilting his head and thinking. He had to admit the plan had a real elegance. What he liked was the logic: why subdue everyone when you could just offer to pay them twice as much? Once word got out they’d start trickling in on their own. And when Urquart couldn’t meet his payroll . . . well, everyone would just melt away.
He gave his own nod of assent. ‘Okay. Give it a shot.’
Wu was obviously disappointed by Dorin’s reaction. He raised his brows. ‘Well, with that enthusiastic endorsement we are in agreement.’ He waved everyone out. ‘Enough for now. My partner and I need to talk.’
Rheena jerked a thumb to the doorway. ‘You heard the man. Get going.’
‘You too,’ Wu said, shooing her out. She shot a glance at Dorin who inclined his head to the doorway and she straightened her shirt. ‘Fine. I’ll be outside, then.’
Once the door was shut Wu turned his attention to Dorin and studied him for a time. He knitted his fingers across his stomach, twiddling his thumbs, and cleared his throat. ‘I know how you feel,’ he began.
‘Oh? You do?’
‘Absolutely. This work bores you. You are thinking . . . what now? Is this all there is? What possible challenge remains?’
Dorin raised a brow. ‘Really?’
‘Of course. And I understand. Really, I do.’
‘You do.’
‘Certainly. And I have been thinking. Other challenges beckon.’ He reached into his shirt and withdrew a flat wooden box.
Dorin jabbed a warning finger. ‘Do not talk to me about the godsdamned box.’
Wu quickly slipped it back within his shirt. ‘Okay.’ He drummed his fingertips on the table before him. His brows rose. ‘About Shadow. I think I may have a solution . . . We could return, as you say.’
Dorin, his arms crossed, leaned forward. ‘You think . . . you think you have a solution? You’ll have to do better than that.’
‘Well, we have to test it. How else will we find out?’
‘And this testing . . . it involves us dangling ourselves in front of these daemon dogs, I suppose?’
‘Hounds. They’re referred to as hounds.’
Dorin looked to the ceiling. ‘Whatever you say. No. Not good enough. Go dangle yourself.’
Wu ducked his head and fluttered his fingers among the papers piled on his desk. ‘I think we have a greater chance for success together.’
‘You mean you have a better chance with me.’
‘Let’s not get bigheaded,’ Wu observed loftily.
‘No, let’s not.’
Wu stared; Dorin returned the stare. Wu held his glower, his brows lowering. Dorin tilted his head a touch to one side, drew a long slow breath. The silence lengthened between them. He could hear the murmured voices of their crew in adjacent rooms and halls. He waited.
Wu finally pressed a hand to his brow, sighing. ‘You are so infantile. So be it! Shalmanat, then. We move against her.’
‘From what I hear we only have to wait.’
‘No. She is recovering.’ Dorin lifted a brow. Wu opened his hands as if insulted. ‘What? I have paid sources in the palace.’ Dorin grunted his satisfaction. ‘So, we are agreed, then?’
He was shaking his head, tapping his thumbs to his biceps. ‘I don’t know. I’m really developing a strong dislike for this place.’
Wu’s grey brows wrinkled in confusion. ‘Well, where then?’
‘I’ve been thinking about Unta . . .’
‘Unta!’ The mage threw his hands in the air. ‘As I’ve said: we’d just have to start all over again.’
Dorin sent him a glare. ‘We? What do you mean we? I can do just fine on my own!’
Wu now held his palms out, soothing, ‘Of course, of course. No one disputes that. That is not the question. The question is – what should we do?’
‘Exactly.’ He pushed himself from the wall. ‘What should we do?’
Wu merely stared from beneath his wrinkled brows. His tiny ferret eyes darted right and left. Dorin sighed and let his arms fall. ‘I’m going to take a walk.’ He pulled open the door and headed down the tunnel hall. As he passed Rheena he said, ‘I need some air.’ She drew breath to say something, but perhaps noted his expression and reconsidered, and nodded him out instead.
He walked aimlessly through the late afternoon, until an errand he’d been considering for some time brought him to the caravanserai district of the western Gate of the Dusk. He was now slightly anxious, which was almost funny, given what his errand here was, but he felt it just the same. The district was booming now with the end of hostilities; travellers were thick in the streets, and the first of the traders’ caravans had arrived from the nearest cities, such as Ifaran and Ipras. Produce was finally out on the stalls and shops. And people had money now that work was easy to find, what with all the rebuilding to be done. The delayed spring rains, now arrived with a vengeance, were cleansing away the lingering stink of smoke. It seemed surprising to him how quickly people could put hard times out of mind and look ahead to future plans. He supposed it was both a strength and a weakness.
Eventually, after much idling and delaying, he arrived at the wide doors of one of the larger stables in the district; that of Ullara’s family. In time, the portly fellow he assumed to be her father came to him, harried and busy now with all his new business. ‘Yes, sir?’ he asked. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘You have a daughter blinded in an attack during the siege?’
The proprietor’s brow crimped, troubled, and he frowned. ‘What of it?’
‘She is well?’
‘As can be. She works with the animals. Seems to have a way with them.’
Dorin cleared his throat. The proprietor waited, looking him up and down, and Dorin saw him eyeing his new soft leather shoes and new charcoal-grey cloak. ‘I am touched by her handicap,’ he managed, and held out a small bag. ‘This is to help with her upkeep. You are kind to have kept her on.’
The proprietor did not reach for the bag. ‘As I said . . . she has a way with the animals.’
‘Please take it. I do not wish her to be any burden to you.’
‘If you insist. My thanks. Who shall I say came by?’
‘No one. No one came.’
The man frowned anew, but nodded. ‘Very well.’
Dorin inclined his head and left. Ullara’s father was hailed by other patrons, and Dorin’s last view of him was of the man tying the pouch to his belt.
He turned a corner and pressed his back to a wall. He cleared his throat, blinking. He hoped the father would say nothing; he was sure she’d be angry with him. Perhaps the bribe would be enough to prevent the father from tossing her out to beg on the streets. But he had to do what he could. At least until he was certain all this infighting between gangs was over. Then it would be safe to return; then he need not worry about what risk he might be bringing to her.
Once they’d made certain of their grip on the city, of course.
He returned to walking the streets. The curfew had been raised and people were in a celebratory mood, though not nearly as exuberant as Dorin imagined they might have been, given the price paid. The taverns and brothels were doing a booming trade, and he and Wu had a cut of that action.
He did not share the mood.
Frankly, he did not know what to think. Assassins didn’t work with partners. You never heard of such things. Yes, there was a tradition of schools and crews, such as the Nightblades; but those were groups, not partnerships.
He frowned as he walked along – it just didn’t seem workable. Who would be in charge? Him, of course. But the crazy mage would always head off and do whatever he wanted. He didn’t listen to reason, couldn’t follow orders. Had no discipline, no training. How could it possibly work?
As always, his wanderings took him up to the rooftops. He sat on the ledge of a three-storey brick building looking to the south, overlooking the Inner Round. The night was very black as heavy clouds promised more rain on the morrow, but the city was alight with celebration of the end of the siege, and victory.
Though bought with sorcerous devastation such as had not been seen in generations.
Dorin tapped his thumbs together at his lap. Perhaps they could go far together, after all. Yes, the lad’s manner and habits drove him to distraction. But there did seem to be a real genius hidden behind all the nonsense. Who else had solved this mystery of Shadow? At least that he knew of. There must be some potential in it. If they could just figure out how to exploit it properly . . .
Dancer's Lament: Path to Ascendancy Book 1 Page 43
