by Davis Ashura
Hal’El chuckled. “I think it best if you don’t know who I am,” he replied. “Although … ” He withdrew into the dining room and donned a handkerchief over the lower half of his face. He released the Blend and stepped back into the sitting area. “Better?”
Ular nodded.
“Good. Now you can tell me why you appear as frightened as a gazelle before a Shylow,” Hal’El said. “Or is my presence truly so fearsome?”
Ular glanced at the door.
“You’re expecting someone?” Hal’El asked. Ular shot another glance. “Or you’re wondering if you can get out of this house before I stop you.” Ular startled and a look of nervousness took hold over his face. “I’ve done nothing wrong,” Ular said, the panic evident in his voice.
Hal’El knew it was a lie, but the question was, what was the old Muran hiding? He thought about it as he studied Ular. He rocked back when he the answer came to him. Ular must have betrayed the Sil Lor Kum. He’d been a member of the organization for decades, and he’d sold them out. It was the only thing that made sense. The only remaining questions were what Ular had been paid for his treachery? And who had he spoken to? Hal’El withdrew the Withering Knife, letting the old man see it. “Who else knows about you?” he demanded.
Ular’s eyes grew huge, and he swallowed convulsively. “Kill me and you learn nothing,” he vowed.
Ular’s death was assured, but not until Hal’El knew who the Muran had been talking to. He had to know. His life and Varesea’s might depend on what he learned. “I won’t kill you,” he said with a chill smile. “I’ll cut you. Only once, and you’ll feel your Jivatma rip apart. You’ll feel your soul shred. I can’t imagine anything more painful.” He took a step forward. “Tell me who you’ve spoken to!”
Ular darted to the mantle. On it was a clear glass of water. He upended it, pouring the liquid down his throat.
Hal’El cursed, realizing too late what the old man intended. He tore away the glass away, but it was already over. Ular frothed at the mouth. His eyes bulged and blood poured from his nose. He would be dead in minutes.
Ular’s legs gave way and Hal’El caught him before he fell. “Who did you speak to?” he demanded, shaking the old man in his urgency.
Ular clutched Hal’El’s handkerchief and pulled it down. The old Muran smiled at the last. “I always thought it was you, Hal’El Wrestiva.”
*****
Despite hurrying as best he could, it turned out Rector was still the last one to arrive for the meeting he had requested. Jaresh, Bree, and Mira were already there, waiting at a square table. They spoke quietly amongst themselves, but their conversation ceased when they saw him. Jaresh and Bree gave him wary looks, as if he was an unpredictable dog who might lunge and bite at any moment, while Mira shrugged as if to say it was his own fault for the others’ hostility.
Rector mentally sighed.
It was to be expected given what he’d done to them. What he’d done to Rukh. He deserved every ounce of Jaresh and Bree’s distrust, even their hatred if it came to it. He just hoped there would come a time when he could make restitution for his offenses and earn their forgiveness. Perhaps it could begin now that Rukh was no longer considered Unworthy. In just a few days, Farn Arnicep would lead the very first Trial to Stronghold. Jaresh was supposed to go with him, too, and if everything went well, they would bring Rukh home. He doubted it would change anything between himself and Dar’El’s family, but stranger things had happened.
Rector shook off his thoughts and took the remaining seat at the table. He looked around at the looming walls of bookshelves on all four sides, and shifted uncomfortably. The Cellar, with its poor lighting and claustrophobic spaces, was reminiscent of a dank, dark cave. Rector felt hemmed in, and he wondered how Jaresh and Mira had tolerated the months they’d spent down here during their search for clues about the Withering Knife.
Bree cleared her throat and gave him a pointed look.
Rector took the hint. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “I was finishing up some paperwork, and the time got away from me.”
“Why don’t you just tell us what you learned?” Mira suggested.
“I’ve discovered some information which I think might aid our cause,” he said. “I was able to make some headway on whoever owns the warehouse I oversee. The bookkeeping made it nearly impossible, but I think I might be able to figure it out.” He flashed a hesitant smile. “Deciphering accounts and ledgers is not my strong suit, but from what I’ve ascertained, ownership of the warehouse is held jointly by a company titled Quality Building Divisions and an unnamed silent partner.”
“Who’s the silent partner?” Bree asked.
“It might be a Rahail,” Rector replied. “There was a note inside one of the books I found, and it referred to ‘our dear Rahail partner’.”
“It’s not much to go on,” Jaresh mused.
“Which is why I brought the actual ledgers with me,” Rector said. “There’s something unusual about them. Mira mentioned it I think.”
Jaresh nodded. “Letters bolded or capitalized when they need not be.”
“I tried applying the code you used on that journal you found, the one from the caravan master who transported the Withering Knife to Rock.” He chewed a lip. “It didn’t work, so I was hoping you could take a look at them.” He passed over a set of bound papers.
Jaresh took the ledgers without comment and flipped through the pages. “How soon do you need these back?” he asked.
“Tonight,” Rector replied. “The accountants throw a fuss whenever they see me thumbing through their works,” he said. “I’d hate to see their reaction if they discover these books are missing.”
Bree looked at him in surprise. “You think the accountants are Sil Lor Kum?” she asked. “Every one of them?”
Rector shook his head. “No. Just someone to whom they answer. That person would be of the Sil Lor Kum.”
“And you have no idea who it might be?” Mira asked.
Rector gave her a wry expression. “What do you suppose would happen if I did know?”
Mira chuckled. “Probably the same as what happened to the Rahail who attacked Bree and Jaresh.”
Bree gave Mira a sour look before turning to Rector. “We never thanked you properly for your help,” she said.
Jaresh glanced up from the ledger. “Yes. We owe you a certain debt for what you’ve done,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Rector said politely, although the double meaning in Bree and Jaresh’s statements was readily evident.
“It is a code,” Jaresh announced. He didn’t look up from the ledger, and his hand groped across the table, seemingly searching for something.
Without comment or having to ask what he needed, Mira passed him a pencil and a clean sheet of paper.
Jaresh nodded his ‘thanks’, and the paper was soon filled with a trail of letters.
As he worked, Bree and Mira spoke softly of Farn’s impending departure while Rector sat ignored.
It was to be expected. The other three here were Shektans, while Rector was nominally a Wrestiva. He was the outsider amongst the four of them, the one who didn’t belong. And with the way his life had shaken out, it seemed like there was nowhere he did belong. He was a spy, which was the same as a liar and a thief. As a result, Rector found it impossible to join in the laughter and fellowship of his family and friends given how much he detested who he had become.
Choices had consequences, and Rector had made a rather spectacularly poor one many months ago. He should have remained loyal to Dar’El rather than spill everything he knew to House Wrestiva. He had thought he was maintaining the honor of his Caste by exposing Rukh’s Talents, but it wasn’t the case. He had done as he had because of his arrogant pride.
Now Rector had to work hard in order to keep those same mistakes from defining who he was or what he might become. If could make amends for what he’d done, Dar’El’s heart might soften, especially once Rukh returned. Perh
aps then, Rector would be allowed to join a House of his own choosing, and this time, offer it his full loyalty. So much of it was out of his control, and Rector could only do whatever tasks he was assigned to the best of his ability. And while he hated the role he had to play, at least his work on behalf of House Shektan had proven useful.
Rector watched as Jaresh set aside the ledger and focused on the letters he had transcribed. The Sentya’s lips moved silently as his brow furrowed in concentration. Sooner than Rector would have imagined possible, he grinned.
“Whoever devised this must not have had much knowledge of codes,” Jaresh said. “It’s a simple substitution cipher: one letter corresponds to another.”
Rector had always known Jaresh was clever, but with this, his estimation of the man rose once more. Jaresh had managed to break the code in less time than it would have taken Rector to read the morning broadsheet.
“The journal hides a conversation between two people,” Jaresh continued. “I think one of them is a woman. Her letters are more curved, and she’s left-handed.”
“Do they say anything important?” Bree asked, leaning forward with an intense, almost lupine expression on her face.
Jaresh grinned. “Nothing except businesses and buildings where these two have dealings. Not all of it is clear-cut, but with time, we should be able to learn who they are.”
“We’ll have them gutted before the end of the month,” Mira said with a cold, deadly smile.
Her attitude was so different from how she usually behaved. Mira could be proud and dismissive when she was made truly angry, but usually she was just matter-of-fact and businesslike. Rector had never seen her display this predatory side before.
Jaresh appeared just as ready for blood. “When we find out who they are, we should, — ”
“Not you,” Bree interrupted. “You’re leaving for Stronghold in a few days.”
Jaresh grimaced. “I so wanted to be there when we brought them to justice,” he said. “I wanted to see them pay for their crimes.”
Rector sympathized with Jaresh’s sentiments. He felt the same way. He wouldn’t shed a single tear when every member of the Sil Lor Kum was staked out on the Isle of the Crow. In fact, it would be a glad day for everyone involved.
A clock struck the time, and Rector realized he had to go. “I need to get the ledgers back to the warehouse,” he said, rising to leave.
*****
Bree was the next to depart, which left Mira and Jaresh alone in an uncomfortable silence. The Cellar had never seemed so dark or confining. Jaresh flicked her a sidelong glance, but Mira had her gaze fixed toward the exit. She appeared to be doing her best to avert her eyes from him.
Jaresh realized this might the last time he saw her. A Trial was always dangerous, especially one that had never before been attempted. There was a real chance he might die, either on the way to Stronghold or on the journey back. If so, this could be the last time he would have to speak with Mira. The realization struck him with a bittersweet longing. His feelings for her might have dulled over the past half-year, but they’d never entirely subsided, and he doubted they ever would.
There was still so much he wanted to say to her, but he wasn’t certain if he should. Their kiss might have been nothing more than a momentary loss of judgment on her part, an action she regretted the instant it had occurred. However, he also found he didn’t entirely care. Some words had to be spoken, some regrets voiced.
“Jessira once offered to take me with her to Stronghold,” Jaresh began. Mira turned to him, a look of mild interest in her eyes. “She knew how I felt about — ”
“Don’t,” Mira interrupted, her eyes closed as if in pain. “Whatever we had was something that should have never happened. It was a mistake we both made.”
Her words cut, but Jaresh couldn’t fault her for thinking back on their relationship in any other way, especially since he felt the same way. “Yes it was,” he agreed softly.
She left off her examination of the exit. “You agree, don’t you? We could never have been anything other than a disaster for both our families.”
“Jessira offered to take you with us as well.”
Mira inhaled sharply. A fleeting look of shock stole across her face before her features settled into lines of impassiveness. “You should have told me sooner,” she reproached. “As in before Jessira left.”
“What would you have done?” Jaresh asked.
“What you didn’t. I would have told you of Jessira’s offer. We could have chosen our fate together.”
Jaresh felt his heart wilting. He’d been too cowardly to allow Mira to make her own decision, and his fear had cost them both. “If I had spoken up, would you have gone to Stronghold with me? Even though everyone we love is here?”
Mira didn’t say anything. She stared at him, and her hand twitched. Indecision clouded her eyes. She wavered but fitfully, she reached for Jaresh’s hand. Her touch had once sent a line of fiery longing racing up Jaresh’s arm and into his spine. It still did, but now the fire was tame, a memory of heat rather than the burning itself.
A sad acceptance entered Mira’s eyes, and she let go of his hand. “We’ll never know,” she said as she stood to leave.
Chapter 29: Run Through the Hills
Furious reason offers no solution for the simplest of truths: Death is an irrational Mistress.
-The Warrior and the Servant (author unknown)
Jessira went back to the pond and washed off the leaves and twigs she’d collected as a result of her brief tussle with Rukh. She felt bad for him — she knew he was eaten up with remorse for what he had done — but she was also annoyed by his actions. Why wouldn’t he have just waited for her before reading The Book of First Movement? None of this would have happened if he had. They could have gone slowly. He could have slowly read The Book of First Movement and learned about —
She inhaled sharply as she realized the enormity of what Rukh had accomplished. Rukh had seen the memories and thoughts of the First Father. Linder Val Maharj. Devesh save them. Once again, almost by accident, Rukh had managed an unfathomable feat. How could one man accomplish so much?
Jessira shook her head in disbelief.
Of course, none of it changed Rukh’s underlying stupidity. He was still an idiot, but he was an idiot Devesh seemed to have marked either for greatness or an early death.
The light from the campfire suddenly blinked out.
Now what? She glanced back at their site.
Rukh stood at the edge of the pond. “Get out of the water. Hurry!” he urged. He looked terrified. She wondered for a moment what had him so frightened, but his next words answered her unspoken question. “Suwraith. She’s coming.” He pointed to the sky where in the distance a madly swirling wall of clouds flew against the winds. The Queen. She crisscrossed the heavens, almost as though She was searching for something. Nevertheless, She would be here soon.
“Fragging unholy hells!” Jessira splashed out of the pond, dried herself off as best she could and got into her clothes in a flash. By the time she was finished, Rukh already had their provisions and bags stowed away on the packhorse.
“We need to get out of here,” he said.
“You think it has anything to do with The Book?”
Rukh shrugged. “Who cares? We need to go.”
“Blend as hard as you can,” Jessira said. “Like you’ve never done before.” She took the lead, leading them into the forest, taking a deer trail they’d used to find the pond.
“That hill,” Rukh said, pointing to a nearby tor, about a half-mile away “I want something big to hide behind when the Queen arrives.”
Jessira nodded and led them toward the rise as fast as she dared. She had to be careful, though. Footing could be treacherous in the forest’s inky blackness. Rukh ran silently on her heels, while the packhorse rumbled along, whoofing with each stride. Its hooves sounded like thunderclaps. Too loud. They needed silence. Jessira reached for Rukh and Linked her Blend w
ith his. For a moment, the world seemed to stretch outward, as if viewed through a concave mirror before snapping back into focus.
Jessira stumbled. She’d never experienced that before while Linking. She risked a look back, but Rukh seemed just as confused as she. He shook his head in answer to her unspoken question.
She grimaced. Whatever had just happened, they’d have to figure it out later, once they were safe.
Rolling toward them from high up in the skies was a rumble of thunder echoing amongst the shallow valleys and rises. It became a hurricane scream of tortured wind with lightning flashing. The ground shook. The Sorrow Bringer was coming.
Jessira picked up speed. The deer track led up the face of the hill. Jessira took a deep breath and sprinted for the top. Rukh was right behind her. He crested the rise just in time. They huddled behind a nearby shelf of rock, hidden by the mass of the low rise. The horse neighed in fear. He had sense enough to understand when mortal danger approached.
Jessira looked up and swallowed back a lump of fear.
Descending from the sky like an avalanche was a wall of cloud, thunder, and coruscating lightning. It was going to be just like on the Hunters Flats when Suwraith had flattened Li-Dirge and his entire command.
“Get down!” Jessira shouted, pressing Rukh against the ground. “Keep your eyes closed!”
They missed what happened next, but a booming quake almost knocked them off their perch. The horse screamed in terror, but maintained his footing. The roaring rumble ground on and on and on.
Jessira opened her eyes.
The Queen had hit the ground with the force of a falling mountain. Roaring upward like an inverted tornado, a spume of water and dirt launched into the air, rising high and forming the shape of a mushroom. It hung suspended for endless minutes before collapsing down on itself, captured in the mad swirl of the Queen’s winds and clouds. Mud splattered in all directions, and flattened trees lay like matchsticks for hundreds of yards around. Suwraith hovered over the area before hurling Herself down once more. Jessira ducked her head low. The Sorrow Bringer hammered the land once again, and when She struck, it was with the sound of a thousand anvils ringing. Over and over again, She rose and crashed, rose and crashed, like an unending tide.
