The Bastard’s Pearl

by Connie Bailey

  “Yes. He needs proper clothing.”

  Kashyan paused before he spoke again. “I’m not taking proper care of him, is that it? Don’t cringe. I’m not angry. I’m… I shouldn’t have to have my duty pointed out to me by the likes of you. I’ll be back to fetch Pearl after the evening mess.”

  “He’s the most infuriating person I’ve ever known,” Sheyn said as soon as Kashyan was gone.

  “Listen to you.” Luks sighed. “You don’t realize what just happened, do you?”

  “My master stormed in and barked at me and threatened you before storming out again.”

  Luks rapped his knuckles against Sheyn’s skull.

  “Ouch!” Sheyn drew back with a deeply affronted look.

  “You disobeyed your master, but he didn’t punish you. Both these things should be impossible.”

  “Nonsense. You keep prattling about some mystical bond, but I see no evidence of it. It’s true that I felt ill last night, and you convinced me it was because of this bond, but I’ve thought about it and decided it was the result of eating strange food.”

  “You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever known.”

  “Finally.” Sheyn smiled. “I knew you were hiding a temper somewhere.”

  “Why do you enjoy making people angry?”

  “I don’t enjoy it, but it does seem to happen quite a lot.”

  “You’ll find life easier if you listen to me.”

  “Why do you care if my life is easier?” Sheyn asked.

  Luks looked puzzled. “Why would I want you to suffer?”

  “I don’t know.” Sheyn paused. “Why do I assume people mean me harm?” He sighed. “Very well, you can teach me Kandaari manners, but I still intend to leave this barbaric land as soon as I can.”

  “Until then, try to remember to speak softly. Wait for your master to acknowledge you before you speak. Never raise your voice or disagree with him.”

  Sheyn shook his head. “And this seems right to you?”

  “It’s tradition.”

  “I thought you said daaksim once served as advisors to kings.”

  “That was a long time ago, before Anaali turned Her back on Kandaar.”

  “So daaksim were intended as companions and became pets.”

  “Why do you have to make everything sound so awful?”

  “I’m only pointing out the truth. If I have to live by your rules until I return home, I can manage it. But I won’t pretend I think it’s right or that there’s any honor in it.”

  “It’s an honor to be the comfort a warrior seeks after he has battled to defend his people.”

  “I can see how that would seem noble to you.”

  “Why do you always speak as though your ways are better?”

  “Because they are. I was born a prince in a civilized country. Kandaarim aren’t quite the pelt-wearing nomadic savages I imagined, but you are inferiors.”

  Luks’s shoulders drooped. “I don’t know what will become of you.”

  “Don’t be sad. It isn’t your responsibility.”

  “Yes, it is. Your master has made it my responsibility.”

  Sheyn gave Luks an exaggerated wide-eyed look. “Do you think he was serious?”

  Luks stared at Sheyn for a moment before he broke into a grin. “You have an odd sense of humor,” he said. “Let’s continue your lessons later. I want to take a nap so I’ll look fresh when the commander returns.”

  “What will I do while you sleep?”

  “Practice speaking in a tone that’s not so sharp.”

  Sheyn watched Luks curl up in a pile of pillows. Luks’s tunic rode up far enough for Sheyn to notice several large freckles on the otherwise flawless skin of Luks’s hip. He hadn’t noticed the dark splotches before and assumed Luks took care to keep them hidden. After prowling about for a bit, Sheyn found some scrolls, but he couldn’t read the writing. He listened to Luks snore softly for a few minutes before he went to the entrance. The soldier outside glanced at Sheyn and then resumed walking his post. Sheyn watched the man’s shadow circle the tent, and when he returned to the front, Sheyn went under the wall at the back. Earlier, he’d seen peddlers hawking wares in the camp. Surely, he could find someone to take a message for him in return for the promise of payment. At the least, he might find clothes that fit him, though what he’d use for money, he had no idea.

  Sheyn walked quickly behind the cloth stall of the commander’s private latrine and paused there until he heard the sentry make another round. He darted off, but after a few minutes, he was sure he was being followed. Though he couldn’t see anyone, he could feel the interest of a presence nearby. A shiver ran the length of his body, and he decided he’d rather be in plain sight than endure another second of this dread. As he stepped from the shadow of a tent, someone yanked him back out of sight. A cloth was held over his nose and mouth, and he went limp.

  A few minutes later, a sentry stopped a man carrying a roll of carpet from the Savaani camp. The Muergathi laborer produced the name of a merchant he worked for and was allowed to go on his way. It wasn’t until later that the sentry realized why the porter looked familiar. By then, Sheyn’s disappearance had been discovered.

  Chapter 13

  “I’M SORRY, lord,” Luks said when Kashyan returned for Sheyn. “I should have stayed awake, but I thought the guard on duty would be enough to discourage Pearl from leaving.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Kashyan said. He could barely restrain himself from stalking out of the tent, mounting his horse, and galloping off on a wild search.

  “Well, no one in camp has come forward to say they saw—” Kholya broke off as the door guard called out. “What is it?”

  “A sentry with some information for you, sir.”

  “Send him in.”

  “I came as soon as I heard,” the sentry said. “A man carrying a rug went through my checkpoint this evening. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now I’m sure I’ve seen him before. He was the leader of the Muergathi soldiers that were here this morning.”

  “The Red Monks?” Kholya said.

  “Yes, sir. The leader. He was wearing a wig, but I’m sure it was him.”

  “Kashyan!” Kholya shouted. “Stop!”

  Kashyan paused in the entryway. “Kholya, you know I have to go.” He grimaced at the stomach-clenching wave of nausea that flooded his body. The pain that radiated from his core threatened to put him on his knees, and only his will kept him upright.

  “Yes, but not alone.” Kholya stood and took his sword belt off the back of his chair. “We’ll go to Taar Muergan with your Black Hawks, and I’ll demand to see Lord Beshar. I’ll tell him what happened and demand he take us to the Red Temple to confront this monk.”

  Djenya cleared his throat. “Suppose King Kezlath heard Beshar’s description of Velvet and Pearl and coveted them?”

  “He’d send his war band, or he’d simply demand one or both daaksim and wait to see what we’d do. He wouldn’t send Temple soldiers,” Kholya said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Have you forgotten that he and I learned battlecraft together?”

  “He might have changed.”

  “Not judging by his side of our correspondence.” Kholya squeezed Kashyan’s shoulder. “We’ll get your daaksi back.”

  “It’s maddening,” Kashyan said. “I can’t bear Pearl’s presence, but I ache for him.”

  “Wait just a moment and we’ll ride.” Kholya thanked the sentry and called for his horse.

  Kashyan whistled piercingly as they left the tent, and in a few moments, Karkaran trotted up to him. Kholya’s charger was brought, and they left camp at the head of Kashyan’s cavalry troop. When they reached the gate of Taar Muergan, Kholya set a messenger running to court to find Lord Beshar and deliver Kholya’s scroll. It was now almost dark, and Kashyan was out of patience when a different messenger ran up at top speed.

  “Lord Beshar will meet you in the square in front of Taank
h’s Temple,” the gate guard said. “I’ll send a guide with you, but your men must wait here.”

  “We allowed your soldiers into our camp,” Kholya said. “At least let me have a decent honor guard.”

  “Six men, then.” The head guard stood aside as he gestured to another Muergathi soldier. “Lead Lord Beshar’s guest to the Temple,” he ordered. “And don’t dawdle.”

  “You see?” Kholya said to Kashyan as they followed their guide. “Diplomacy has its uses.”

  Kashyan looked over his shoulder at Djenya, and Djenya winked. Kashyan faced front again and rested his free hand on the hilt of his sword as they entered the Temple square. True to his word, Beshar was waiting with an entourage of three.

  “Commander,” Beshar said as Kholya and his men dismounted. “Your message was brief, but obviously deserving of my attention. May I ask some questions before we enter the Temple?”

  “We don’t have time for—” Kashyan began but subsided at a look from Kholya.

  “The captain is a bit anxious,” Kholya told Beshar. “But it’s to be expected of a man of royal blood when his daaksi is stolen.”

  Beshar cleared his throat. “As you know, this is a very serious crime. Are you certain your daaksi was taken by Taankh’s Servants?”

  “A witness saw a Red Monk.”

  Beshar looked queasy when he replied. “I’ve spoken to King Kezlath about this matter, and he’s given me the authority to settle it. Come with me, and we’ll speak to High Priest Chanesh. We’ll have to go through him before we search the Temple.”

  Kashyan didn’t look satisfied, but he kept his mouth shut and followed Kholya and the Muergathi nobleman into the Red Temple. It was gloomy and cool in the large space that held the bull-headed statue of the God of the Shadoworld. Six times the height of a man, the seated depiction of Taankh was forged of bronze. The midsection was hollow for use as a furnace and had a barred hatch at the front so worshipers could see into it.

  “Why would you need a window there?” Kashyan whispered to Djenya.

  “You really don’t know?”

  “I don’t know anything about Taankh, except a few nursery stories. I might end up in His realm after I die, but until then, the less I know about Him, the happier I am.”

  “I understand.” Djenya walked closer to Kashyan and lowered his voice. “I know quite a bit about Taankh and His Servants. My aunt lived in Muergath after she married. Twelve years later, she came home with her children. I wasn’t born yet when she left Savaan, so I’d never seen her before, but I could tell my mother was shocked at the change in her.”

  “I just want to know about the window in that ugly statue.”

  “Right. My aunt told me many stories about her life in Taar Muergan, and being a typical bloodthirsty boy, I begged her to tell me about the worst of it. That window in the ugly statue is there so Taankh’s faithful can watch people being roasted alive.”

  Kashyan shot Djenya a look, saw his friend wasn’t joking, and shook his head. “That’s….”

  “Yes, it is. And it’s not even the worst thing they do here.”

  “But why?”

  “It’s how they praise their God. Taankh thrives on suffering and misery. Cries of pain are His incense and tears are His sacramental wine, according to my aunt.”

  “Why would anyone worship a monster who enjoys their pain?”

  “Taankh is known to reward those He favors. For a powerful or wealthy man who doesn’t care who he kills, worshiping Taankh makes perfect sense. You sacrifice a slave a day to the Lord of Shadows, and he brings bad luck to your enemies.”

  “It makes no sense to me,” Kashyan said as they came to a halt in front of a set of doors. “I don’t rely on anything as unpredictable as luck or the favor of Gods.”

  “You don’t rely on anything except that big sword.” Djenya fell silent when Beshar spoke up.

  Lord Beshar had talked to the guards and wasn’t happy with their answers. “The high priest isn’t here,” he told Kholya. “He’s performing an evening ritual. Just a moment!” Beshar raised his voice. “You there, acolyte!”

  Moksha stopped a few feet from the high priest’s chambers. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Do you serve High Priest Chanesh?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Where is he? I have a message from the king.”

  Moksha swallowed. “My lord, I—”

  “If you know where the high priest is, take us to him, boy!” Kashyan said.

  “Yes, my lord!” Moksha turned and started back the way he’d come.

  “There was no need to terrify the lad,” Kholya said as they followed the acolyte.

  “This is taking too long,” Kashyan growled.

  They left the residential section and crossed through the main temple again. On the other side, they entered the complex of rooms where much of the real work of the priesthood was done. Kashyan’s discomfort abated as they moved farther into the temple. When Moksha stopped before a door faced with rough stone in contrast to the dressed blocks of the rest of the building, Kashyan knew Pearl was near.

  “I’ve never been this far into the Temple,” Beshar said. “Where are we, acolyte?”

  “This is the Gate Chamber, my lord,” Moksha said.

  “Open the door.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord. I cannot.” Moksha bowed his head. He’d been overjoyed when Chanesh dismissed him an hour ago, but now he was back in the last place he wanted to be. His luck God was asleep today.

  “How dare you refuse to obey me! I’m a minister of the court and a personal friend of King Kezlath. If you don’t open that door, you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

  Kashyan tensed like a hound hearing a strange noise. “Out of my way,” he said as he drew his sword.

  “Kashyan!” Kholya shouted, but Kashyan had already swung the great blade.

  Moksha and Beshar jumped aside as the sword cleaved wood and metal. Kashyan yanked the blade free and raised it again.

  “Wait!” Moksha shouted.

  “No more talk. Pearl is in there,” Kashyan said through clenched teeth. He brought the sword down again and sheared off part of the lock.

  “You’ll all die if you go in there!” Moksha cried out.

  Kholya looked at Beshar.

  “I have no idea what’s going on in there,” Beshar said. “I’m not a particularly religious man. But you have official permission to break the door down if you believe the daaksi is in there.”

  Djenya looked at the other five men of the Savaani honor guard. “What are you waiting for?” he asked.

  The double doors burst open under the impact of eight men. With Kashyan in the lead, the soldiers spilled into the room and stopped in their tracks, eyes wide with shock. Though they were veterans of many battles and had witnessed butchery and madness, the scene was a form of horror beyond any they’d beheld.

  Sheyn was chained to an altar of rough stone. His pale skin was crisscrossed with the red lines of countless fresh and healing cuts. An ancient man in ornate robes chanted as he circled the altar, darting out his hand to inflict another wound at the end of each drawn-out word. The air above the altar roiled with dark, oily smoke. A shape formed in the smoke and grew more distinct by the second. Sheyn screamed as a dark claw emerged and raked his shoulder, opening deep gashes.

  Kashyan’s paralysis broke. The Bastard focused on the knife the old man held as he sprang to the gory altar. Sheyn opened his eyes as Kashyan’s sword struck the manacle on his left wrist, and the high priest shouted in fury. Sheyn’s gaze fastened on something over Kashyan’s shoulder, and Kashyan’s blood went cold at the look in those dark eyes. Throwing himself to the side, Kashyan cut through the chain on Sheyn’s right wrist as he slid to the floor. He dodged around to the foot of the altar, focusing on his goal of freeing Sheyn. In two rapid strikes, he severed the remaining chains. Yanking Sheyn off the altar, Kashyan covered the daaksi’s body with his own. Only then did he look up.

  “G
reat Raas,” Kashyan breathed. “What is that thing?”

  “I can’t say for certain,” Djenya said as he stepped in front of Kashyan. “But I’d guess it’s a demon, or at least part of one.”

  Kashyan stared at the great limb—as thick as a man’s waist and gnarled as oak bark—that appeared out of the smoke. The claw at the end of the arm was mottled white and yellow and had six talons, each as long as a dagger. He thought the hide was glittering until he realized he was looking at countless tiny creatures moving about like fleas on a dog. Everything about it repulsed him at his core. Leaving Sheyn on the floor, Kashyan jumped atop the stone table and slashed at the hideous limb. A great bellow shook the walls, and dust sifted down from the ceiling. Kashyan struck again as Djenya leaped up beside him.

  “Stop!” Chanesh screamed. “What are you doing?”

  “Stay out of the way, priest,” Kholya said as the rest of the Savaani troopers entered the fray.

  A massive shoulder pushed through the smoke, giving the arm a longer reach. The warriors hacked at the arm as it slashed blindly at them.

  “Stop!” Chanesh shouted again, but no one paid him any attention. Shaking with fury, he went to the hall to call for the Red Monks.

  “Where are you off to, Reverend Lord?” Beshar asked.

  “Step aside, fool.”

  “I’d like to, but I’m here at His Majesty’s behest. He’d like an audience with you.”

  “Hinder me any longer and I’ll not be responsible for the consequences.”

  “I’ll make a note of it.” Beshar glanced through the doorway. “I look forward to hearing you explain this to the high king.”

  “He isn’t the high king yet.”

  Beshar hid his reaction to the treasonous remark. “He was born high king.”

  “But he needs me to put him on the throne, me and my God, and you’re standing in the way.”

  “It looks like you were summoning a demon.” Beshar tilted his head to one side. “That’s against the law.”

  “Laws change.” Chanesh cringed at the sound of another pain-filled bellow. “Get out of my way so I can call for help.”

  “I don’t believe I will. I believe I’ll follow King Kezlath’s orders. As soon as the Savaanim are finished in there, we’re going to the king.”