“The next time you disrespect me, I’ll give you a new scar, you venomous piece,” Kashyan said.
“Charming,” Sheyn said under his breath.
Kashyan looked away from Sheyn as Djenya came back in. “How does your nose feel?”
“Broken.”
“It’s swelling fast. Looks more like a snout than a nose.”
“Thank you for telling me that.”
“No trouble.” Kashyan stretched out on the floor. “Have you lost interest in sex for now?”
“Oddly, yes.”
“Then take first watch.” Kashyan closed his eyes and was asleep between one breath and the next.
“We might as well get some rest too,” Luks said to Sheyn. “Take the cot if you want.”
Sheyn didn’t think he could sleep, but once he was horizontal, he felt abruptly exhausted. The last thing he heard as he drifted off was the sound of Djenya and Luks talking.
Chapter 8
“WAKE UP,” Luks said as he shook Sheyn’s shoulder. “We’ll be leaving soon.”
Sheyn focused on Luks’s face, and he groaned. “I dreamed I was home.”
“No time to feel sorry for yourself.”
“Why are you so cruel to me?”
Luks looked surprised. “Cruel?”
“Don’t you long to go back to your home?”
“I was told I was given to the Shrine when I was born, and I grew up there. When I was old enough, a priest performed the ritual, and I became a daaksi.”
“So this is the only life you’ve ever known?”
Before Luks could answer, Kashyan strode into the cabin. “The horses are saddled,” he said. “Let’s go!”
Luks and Sheyn followed the Bastard outside. To Kashyan’s astonishment, Sheyn trotted to his horse, put a foot in the stirrup, and swung into the saddle. Even more surprising, the battle-trained horse didn’t object to the stranger on his back. The charger stood in docile stillness as Sheyn scratched between his ears.
“My eyes see it, but I don’t believe it,” Djenya said. “How is it that the daaksi still has all his fingers?”
“How is it that Karkaran hasn’t thrown him?” Kashyan stalked over and took the reins from Sheyn’s hands. He didn’t think the big horse would obey the daaksi’s commands, but he wasn’t taking the chance they’d gallop off and leave him looking a fool. He mounted behind Sheyn and slackened the reins.
“Do you have something I can use to tie back my hair?” Sheyn asked.
“What?”
“I need something to tie back my hair.”
“Do I look as though I carry hair ornaments with me?”
Sheyn shrugged. “It’s all the same to me if you want to chew on my hair until this ride is over, but I’d sooner have it out of the way.”
Kashyan ground his teeth as he drew his knife. “Why don’t I remove the problem for you?”
“Stop! Take this.” Djenya held out his neck scarf. “Be a shame to chop off hair like that.”
Sheyn pulled his hair into a tail, doubled it, and used the length of cloth to bind it. “I’m ready now,” he said arrogantly.
The muscles bulged along Kashyan’s jaw. Abruptly, he dug his heels into Karkaran’s flanks, and the horse bounded forward in a serious of great leaps until he settled into a gallop.
“This promises to be entertaining,” Djenya said as he followed Kashyan.
Luks put his arms around Djenya’s waist and held on.
A RIDE of a day and a half took them into the lowlands of Muergath. On the plain before the city of Taar Muergan were several cultivated parkland areas reserved for royal hunting parties. A small army was camped in one of them with tents set up under the trees of a miniature forest. The sentries recognized Kashyan and Djenya, and they rode to the center of the camp to the command tent. They dismounted, and Djenya turned to offer Luks his hand. Sheyn was on the ground a second behind Kashyan. The two guards at the tent’s entrance were too well trained to react, but they couldn’t take their eyes off Luks and Sheyn.
“Is my brother inside?” Kashyan asked the group of officers who were leaving the tent.
“Aye, Bastard,” the older officer replied. “Go right in.”
Kashyan nodded his thanks and strode into the tent, dragging Sheyn by the wrist, and Djenya followed with Luks. A man of Kashyan’s build with the same hawkish features looked up from his plate as the four entered.
“Where have you been, little brother?” he asked.
“I had some leisure time and I wanted to see a bit of the countryside.”
“I ordered you to stay away from Sumadin.”
“Yes, you did.”
“And you’d never disobey my orders.”
“I’d be a fool to disobey your orders, Kholya.”
“Yes, you would.” Kholya let his gaze rest on Luks and Sheyn. “And who are these two?”
As Kashyan struggled to find words, Sheyn spoke up.
“I’m Rosheyn Lir of the House of Merisolle of Dey Larone, and this is…. Velvet. He’s a… daaksi.”
“Yes, I know a daaksi when I see one,” Kholya said in a droll voice. “Who is Velvet’s master?”
“The King of Sumadin was my master,” Luks said.
“Was he indeed?” Kholya looked at Kashyan. “Anything to add?”
“I might have run in to Yevdjen while I was riding about. His death is most likely my fault.”
“You realize you’ve just started a war with Sumadin, when Muergath has just hired us to fight a war for them.”
“With Sumadin?” Djenya asked hopefully.
“Your wit isn’t appreciated at the moment,” Kholya said. “Kashyan?”
Kashyan cleared his throat. “I didn’t know when I’d be this close to Sumadin again, so I had to go.”
“I understand why you did it, but you’ve just undone all my work here.”
“You reached an agreement with King Kezlath?”
Kholya nodded. “He was not shy about his intention to declare himself high king, and as soon as he does that, we’ll have all the fight we can handle. When High King Djulyan hears of it, he’ll send as many troops as he can muster to crush Kezlath.”
“I don’t think I like this job,” Kashyan said.
“Have you ever known me to make foolish decisions?”
“There was the time you defied Father and took my side. Look what that gained you. You were the heir to Savaan’s throne, and now you’re a commander of mercenaries.”
“I command the best army-for-hire in the world,” Kholya corrected. “So have a bit of faith in me. Kezlath isn’t ready to make his announcement yet. He’s waiting on his priests for some sign or other. And when he does make his bid for the Crown of Kand, it will take some time for Djulyan to gather his armies and march to Muergath. A lot can happen between now and then.”
“What’s your plan?” Kashyan asked.
“Who did I swear fealty to?”
“High King Djulyan.”
Kholya glanced around before he spoke again, but he knew he could trust Djenya, and the daaksim didn’t register as people to him, so he felt safe in speaking freely. “Once I knew Kezlath was set on treason, I sent a message to the high king.”
Kashyan shook his head. “I can’t believe I ever doubted you.”
“You doubted me?” Kholya stood, pretending outrage.
“No need to hang me, but I did wonder why you’d take a contract with lowlanders. Their treachery is legendary.”
“What would you have done if I’d truly allied us with Kezlath?”
“I’d have followed your orders.”
“Even if I ordered you to fight the true high king?”
“I love you, Kholya. You never once denied I was your brother. You broke with Father over the way he treated me. I can never repay you, but I can fight for you.”
Kholya put a hand around the back of Kashyan’s neck and drew him forward until their foreheads smacked together. “Now,” he said as he leaned against hi
s worktable. “Let’s talk about the loot from your raid.”
Chapter 9
HIGH PRIEST Chanesh faltered in his recitation of the Chant of Abasement, and the acolyte at his elbow looked up at him in concern. They were alone in the ancient First Temple, but there were guards at the outer door, and Moksha was prepared to run and fetch one. The High Priest had been pushing himself hard since he’d had the vision of the Gate. Chanesh was not young by any means; in fact, he was the oldest man the acolyte knew of, and that was worrisome. Without the High Priest to oversee the Temple, it would fall into confusion and fail. Moksha did not doubt the truth of that. And if the Red Temple fell, the nation of Muergath would fall with it.
The acolyte didn’t quite dare interrupt Chanesh’s morning prayers, but he edged closer, ready to catch the old man if he collapsed. Moksha was very relieved when the High Priest resumed the chant, though he didn’t care for the breathiness of the reedy voice. He was even more relieved when Chanesh cut the prayers short. After an interval of silence, Chanesh spoke.
“He is here.”
Moksha looked around the gloomy space. “Reverend Lord?”
“Not here with us but very near.” Chanesh smiled wearily. “The one who will bring the doom of this world and the birth of a new one.”
Moksha’s mouth went dry. “Would you like a cup of your tonic, Reverend Lord?”
“What? Yes. Yes, that would be good. Come.” Chanesh rose and they left the small temple within the temple. “I’m going to my chambers. Find Brother Mardjan and send him to me.”
Moksha hesitated just long enough to earn an annoyed glance from the High Priest.
“Are you still here, boy? I gave you an order.”
The acolyte hurried away, though he had no wish to visit the barracks of the Temple’s militia. It was understood that all Servants of Taankh were soldiers in His army, but the Red Monks were battle-trained and went about with swords at their sides. An air of imminent violence hung about them, and their eyes were never still, always searching for a reason to use their sharp weapons.
Moksha slowed down when he saw a novice younger than he was. He sent the boy to the barracks with Chanesh’s message and went to Chanesh’s chamber by way of the kitchens. He consumed a meat pie in several large bites, and licked his fingers clean as he approached the High Priest’s door. Once inside, he busied himself setting out Chanesh’s evening prayer robes while he waited for Brother Mardjan.
It wasn’t long before the antechamber door opened and a towering man in a dark red tunic entered. Moksha bowed to the captain of the Red Monks. “Please come with me,” Moksha said.
Mardjan followed the acolyte into Chanesh’s sitting room and bowed to the High Priest. “How may I serve you?” he asked as Chanesh gestured to Moksha to leave the room.
“Sit,” Chanesh said. “I can’t speak to you while you’re looming over me like that.”
Mardjan sat and waited for the High Priest to speak again.
“I need someone found,” Chanesh said.
“Give me a description and I’ll start a search, Reverend Lord.”
“It isn’t quite that simple.”
“Explain, please.”
“I can give you a description, but the search must be discreet. I don’t want anyone to know we’re looking for him until he’s in our hands.”
“That isn’t complicated.”
“He’s a daaksi.”
Mardjan ran a hand over his shaven head as he sat back. “You’re right, it isn’t simple.”
“WHAT WERE you thinking?” Kholya asked his brother as he ran his eyes over Sheyn and Luks.
“I honestly don’t know,” Kashyan answered. “Maybe I thought that you’d be so angry about the raid that you wouldn’t even blink at a pair of daaksim.”
Kholya gave his brother an incredulous look.
“It was my idea,” Djenya said. “I thought it would be cruel to leave them on their own.”
“Is that what you thought?” Kholya said. “You had no other motive?”
“Well… perhaps one.” Djenya made a comically lustful face.
“As I thought,” Kholya said. “I expect you to follow the wishes of your jaavi.” He looked to Kashyan again. “But you… I’m baffled that you’d have anything to do with daaksim. Your contempt for them is legendary.”
“What else could I feel for such creatures?”
“Pity?” Sheyn suggested. When everyone turned to look at him, he shrugged. “I’m not saying that I want your pity, but you could have a little sympathy for poor Velvet. By all accounts, he was enjoying some sort of honored position with his king, when these two ruined his life.” Sheyn looked surprised and then insulted by the laughter his speech provoked. “I fail to see anything amusing about this situation.”
“The daaksi’s honored position is on all fours with the king on top,” Kholya said.
“Royal concubine is a position of some honor,” Sheyn stated.
Kholya looked at Kashyan and Djenya. “Is this daaksi debating me?”
“It’s only one of his annoying habits,” Kashyan said.
“It’s oddly fascinating,” Kholya said. “As if my horse decided to speak up and disagree with me about a point of strategy.”
“How dare you refer to me as an animal?” Sheyn said.
“Pearl is a foreigner, lords,” Luks said quickly. “He knows nothing of Kandaar or its ways.”
“You’re joking,” Kholya said drily. “Tell me, where do they grow boys with hair like that?”
“I’m from the city-state of Dey Larone in the Deysian Protectorate,” Sheyn said. “And I’d be grateful if you’d return me there. My parents will pay—”
“You’re a daaksi,” Kholya interrupted. “You can’t go home.”
“That’s ridiculous. Of course I can go home. I just need some gold and an escort to the coast.”
“You’ll not leave Kandaar while Prince Kashyan lives,” Luks said softly. “You’re bonded to him and cannot leave his side.”
Sheyn was silent for several moments as he realized he could actually feel the truth of Luks’s words. He remembered his odd paralysis when he’d tried to run away in the woods. “No!” he said loudly. “I don’t accept this. How is it even possible? I demand that you help—”
“Enough,” Kholya said. “Kashyan, control your daaksi.”
“He’s not mine. I only gave him a ride.”
“Forgive me, but Pearl is yours, lord,” Luks said.
“No,” Kashyan said. “The Gods wouldn’t be this cruel.”
“The truth,” Kholya said, putting a hand on Kashyan’s shoulder. “Do you feel a bond?”
“I feel something,” Kashyan said grudgingly. “I feel I want to strangle the white-haired witch.”
“You do enjoy making threats, don’t you?” Sheyn said as Kashyan’s gaze met his.
Kashyan had never seen eyes so dark, so deep that you could fall into them forever. He could feel the wind of passage on his face, as though he rode across a plain of sweet grass, his horse’s hooves raising a subtle scent. The perfume of frostflowers filled his nostrils, and he could hear the chuckling of the brook they grew beside in the meadow where he’d played as a child.
“Kasha,” Kholya said. “What are you thinking about? You have such an odd look on your face.”
Kashyan sighed. “If honor says I must claim this daaksi, I will, but if there is a way to escape this fate, I hope someone will tell me.”
“Claim me?” Sheyn said. “I want nothing to do with you, brute.” He looked at Kholya. “Couldn’t I stay here with you until we find a way home for me?”
Kholya laughed. “I’ve never seen, or heard, a daaksi like this one,” he said and then glanced at Luks. “And what shall we do with you? There are only two men in this camp with royal blood, and I doubt my brother wants a pair of you.”
“Kholya, please,” Kashyan said. “Take him into your tent.”
“I won’t say it isn’t an attractive p
roposition, in some respects,” Kholya said.
“Please, lord, give me your protection,” Luks said, going abruptly to his knees.
Kholya smiled. “Now, how can I refuse such a sweet request? I’m afraid you’ll be bored, though. I’m hardly ever in my tent.”
“Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I spent that time with Pearl,” Luks said.
“If that pleases you, I have no objections. Kashyan?”
“I don’t care.”
“Then it’s settled,” Kholya said. “The daaksim can stay together in my tent for now.”
“I need clothing,” Sheyn said.
Kholya chuckled again. “It’s the haughty tone that makes it so amusing,” he said to Kashyan and Djenya.
“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” Kashyan said. “I want to slap him.”
“Maybe you could try being amused instead of annoyed.” Kholya picked up his helmet from the table. “I’m going to review the archers at their request. Care to come along?”
As Kashyan and Djenya followed the commander out of the tent, Sheyn turned on Luks. “What just happened?”
“Lord Kashyan claimed you,” Luks said as he got to his feet. “You’re lucky. You have a master now.”
“What does that mean exactly? Am I a slave?”
“Only to your bond with your lord. You’ll find it hard, sometimes impossible, to leave him.”
“He just left.”
Luks paused as he thought about that. “Do you feel as though you want to run after him?”
“No.”
“But when we were taken by the Savaani, you felt as though you had to follow.”
“Yes, I remember. It was most vexing.”
“I don’t understand,” Luks said softly.
“This isn’t fair!” Sheyn burst out. “I only wanted to see Weijan.”
“I don’t know how you became a daaksi, but whatever your life was like before the ritual, you should forget it. You can’t go backward.”
“I don’t believe you. I’ll find a way to undo whatever was done to me.”
“No, you won’t.”
Sheyn stared at Luks for a long moment before he looked away. He couldn’t read Luks’s thoughts, but he could feel Luks’s emotions, and Luks utterly believed what he was saying. It was the oddest thing to feel the emotions and motivations of those around him. It frightened him, though it was terribly useful. Who knew what other changes this “ritual” had wrought in him? Sheyn shook off the temptation to despair and concentrated on the situation at hand as his mother had taught him. “What do we do now?”
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