Maybe it did, once. Maybe that waterfall created this cavern.
Then how had the hole come to be?
Not an important question right now, Sword.
People moved back and forth between the tents. Talking to one another, some hanging laundry on lines that ran between some of the smaller stalagmites, some with fishing lines thrown into the lake, a few with campfires.
"There's no night and no day down here," said Brother Scieran, as if in answer to a question she hadn't asked, "so people make whatever hours they see fit."
"Who are they?" asked Sword. "The rebels?"
Arrow snorted. Brother Scieran laughed. Smoke looked at her like she had just lost her mind. Only Wind and Cloud did not react – expressionless as always.
"Those are people who've been… ahem… displaced by the mercy of the Empire," said Arrow. "People even less lucky than the ones you saw at the village; the ones my father tried to help."
"Like who?" said Sword. "Who could be –"
Then she froze. The flaps of one of the tents flipped back, and a child came out. A little boy. He went around the side of one of the stalagmites and sleepily voided his bladder, then went back to the tent.
"Is that…."
Brother Scieran nodded. "That's one of Eva's children," he said. "We managed to get them out safely."
Relief flooded through Sword. But with it, corrupting it like a core of rot: guilt.
You didn't kill their mother.
No, but you were there.
You didn't do it.
But I helped kill those who would protect them.
(guilty)
She gulped. She looked away, and of course she ended up looking right into Arrow's eyes. He was watching her with an expression she couldn't interpret. Something deep, something strong.
Will he kill me? she wondered. And, on the heels of that thought: Would I stop him?
"We're all there is?" she said at last.
"What do you mean, 'we'?" said Smoke. "All I see is an 'us' and a 'you.'"
Brother Scieran touched the other man's shoulder. "There are others who are prepared to fight," he said. "But the ones who stand with us in this small circle are perhaps the most important. After all, the only person who can stand up to a Blessed One is a Cursed One. "
"But… you're not a Cursed One," said Sword. "Are you?"
"No," said Brother Scieran. "I'm just a fool who doesn't know how to heed his own counsel and stay out of fights that are above his ability."
"Why are we here?" asked Sword. "Why are you showing me this? You wanted me to see Eva's children, didn't you?"
"Yes," said Brother Scieran. "I wanted you to understand what you are fighting for. These people," he said, gesturing at the people in their tents below, "have had families murdered, homes taken, lives destroyed. And these are just the ones we have been able to help. They represent not the hundredth part of the ones harmed every day by the Empire. You and the Blessed Ones have been told you are killing dissenters; people who would bring an end to the Empire. And that's true. But those people are trying to end something corrupt. Something that deserves to end."
"But they don't know. The Blessed Ones – Garden, Armor, the rest – they have no idea."
"And yet they kill, they maim, they destroy."
"They don't understand what they're doing."
"I think you'd be surprised." Brother Scieran sounded sad when he said the words. Like he understood the depths to which humanity could sink, and in that understanding he, too, fell to a kind of Netherworlds.
"They don't understand," insisted Sword.
Armor. Garden. Teeth, Scholar, Siren.
Devar.
"They don't." This time the words were but a whisper.
Brother Scieran hesitated. "Perhaps," he finally said. "But do you think this is the first time we have tried to reach a Blessed One? The first time we have tried to bring one of the Emperor's servants over to us?"
That stopped her.
"What can I do?" said Sword.
"Be careful," said Smoke. He shimmered, and she stared at her image again. "Don't rush in where you can't stand to stay."
"What can I do?" she repeated.
Brother Scieran smiled. A smile that showed happiness at a new ally, weariness for the necessity of one. "Smoke, if you hadn't noticed, is quite excellent at disguises. He is our infiltrator, our finder of secrets." He looked at Smoke, who shimmered and became himself again.
Sword held up a hand. "Can he look like anyone?"
"Anyone," said Smoke. He looked pleased.
"Then why not just pretend to be the Chancellor – or even the Emperor himself? You could just walk into the palace, take either of them hostage, and walk right out again."
Smoke and Brother Scieran shared a look. It was gone as fast as it came – faster – but there was something strange and heavy in it.
Then Smoke looked down. "Well," said Smoke. He nudged the cavern floor with a toe. "That is, uh, well…."
"His high and mightyness doesn't want to admit it, but his disguises aren't perfect," said Arrow.
"They are, too!" blurted Smoke. Then, quieter, he said, "Just some people can see through them, that's all."
Sword felt her brows bunching in confusion. "Who…." Then she nodded. "Readers," she said.
Smoke nodded, still looking embarrassed. "Yeah," he said. "And since practically every noble in the country has a Reader at his side or at his gate – or both – to help him gauge the emotions of those in front of him, and avoid traitors or assassinations…." He shrugged. "Those people can see through my disguises like they weren't even there. Unless –"
Brother Scieran held up a hand to silence him.
"Unless what?" said Sword.
"It doesn't matter," said Scieran. "What matters is that Smoke is an excellent spy, but he can't get within a mile of the palace."
"So how does he get any information."
Smoke shimmered, and suddenly Sword was looking at a stunning woman. Long dark hair, clothing that served more to hint at what was beneath than to cover, and the brand of a prostitute from the House of Fives: one of the higher-end brothels of Center. "You would be surprised how many officers come to the brothels… and how many of them wag their tongues when plied with the right wines."
"But how do you… I mean, do you even have…." She couldn't finish.
Smoke blinked. Then the beautiful features curled in disgust. "Yuck! No, I don't really…. It's just a disguise." He turned back to himself. "I get 'em drunk, they talk, and then I slip them a few herbs prepared by our good Brother Scieran and they go out like smashed glo-globes."
"So what have you gotten while we've been away?" said Arrow. "With your feminine wiles and whatnot?"
Smoke glared at the other man. "You be careful or I'll use my Second Gift to be you and just dump your body in the whirlpool," he said.
There's that "Second Gift" again, thought Sword. She wanted to ask about it, but Brother Scieran spoke first.
"Arrow, don't antagonize him." He turned to Smoke. "Is Rune here?"
Smoke nodded. "She got here just an hour ago. She's waiting in the big tent."
"And do we have any new information?"
Smoke grinned. "I don't know about 'we,' but I sure do."
"What is it?" said Arrow. Brother Scieran looked interested as well, and even Wind and Cloud – so quiet up until now that Sword had nearly forgotten about them – stepped a bit closer.
"It's a big one." Smoke smirked. "Shouldn't we wait until we include Rune?"
Arrow growled, "Smoke, now isn't –"
But Brother Scieran said, "No, he's right."
"Gods' bells I'm right," said Smoke. "But you're gonna love it. Trust me."
6
"The big tent" turned out to be nothing more nor less than its name implied: a large tent, set apart from the rest of the tents, around the back of one of the largest stalagmites in the cavern. The effect was of self-imposed solitude, and Sword wonde
red if that was so the Cursed Ones could talk in secret about their plans.
But who would want to listen? Who in this place would betray them?
She couldn't help but compare the way they held their councils to the way the Blessed Ones operated: in a place so secure that almost no one in the Empire could get in. In total secret.
The Blessed Ones lived in complete mistrust. The Cursed Ones didn't even have doors to protect them. The Blessed Ones lived in comfort in a palace in the Capitol. The Cursed Ones hid in a cavern below the mountain of Faith.
They entered the tent, and found a girl about Sword's age waiting for them. She had short-cropped brown hair, dark eyes that glinted dangerously, and a series of scars that ran down her bare shoulders. She wore leather breeches, soft leather boots, and a leather vest over a cotton blouse, with twin daggers resting easily in a belt at her waist.
She eyed Sword as the group entered the tent. "This her?" she asked, then her outline shimmered as though Sword was viewing her through a sudden fog. It solidified after an instant, and she said, "Nevermind." She eyed Sword up and down. "So you're her, eh? Huh." She snorted. "I thought you'd be taller."
Sword blinked. Confusion reared its head within her. She felt like she'd missed something.
Brother Scieran came to her rescue. "Sword, meet Rune."
Sword felt oddly like curtsying. Rune shimmered again. "Please don’t," she said. "It'll be weird for both of us."
Sword felt her jaw drop. "You read minds?"
Rune snorted again. "Hardly."
Brother Scieran smiled. "Rune sees the future."
Sword looked at the young girl. "That's amazing," she finally managed.
"Isn't it, though?" said Rune. She pulled out one of her daggers and began cleaning her fingernails. "I can tell what you're going to do before you do it." She pointed the dagger at Sword. "So don't get cute or I'll gut you."
"Charming as always," said Smoke. He turned to Sword. "Don't get too worried. She can only see six seconds into the future."
"Hey! You goat's privates, don't you go telling her my secrets!" Now the dagger was pointing at Smoke. She shimmered. "And don't you talk about my parents, either. Joke's on you: they're dead. And at least I'm not ugly."
"We've talked about this before, Smoke. Your insults don't work as well when there's no warmup." He smiled sweetly. "And you're ugly. And an orphan. So double goat's privates on you."
"Gods," muttered Brother Scieran. Then, louder, he said, "It's no wonder we've failed to get rid of the Chancellor. I'm fighting an army with a group of toddlers."
Smoke and Rune fell silent at that, but both glared at one another. "Sword," said Brother Scieran, "this is Rune. She does see into the future, though her sight is a bit short in its range. Still, she's invaluable in a fight."
"How?" asked Sword. "What does it help to see the future?"
"What do you mean?" Rune bristled. Then, as quickly as she grew upset, she calmed. "Oh, I see what you mean." She went back to cleaning her nails. "The future's not fixed. Time is like a stream. We're in a point called the present – a place at the halfway point of a stream that stretches forever in either direction. The past is fixed – it's already happened. But the future path of the water isn't solid. You toss a pebble in, it causes ripples. You toss a boulder in, you can change the entire course of the stream; you can derail it completely and shift it to a place of your choosing."
"Of your choosing?" said Smoke, incredulity in his voice. "Since when?"
"Well, at least to a different place."
"That's got to be good in a fight," said Sword. She tried to pack as much admiration into her voice as possible – so far it seemed she had antagonized pretty much everyone in this group but Brother Scieran. It wouldn't hurt to have at least one more person on her side.
She missed Garden and Armor.
I hope they're okay.
The irony wasn't lost on her: standing in the heart of the Cursed Ones, hoping her Blessed One friends were okay – presumably so they'd be well enough to hunt her down.
"Gods' truth it's handy to have in a fight," said Rune. She pointed at Smoke. "See, you deranged monkey? At least someone in this group recognizes talent when they see it."
"Who's a monkey?" demanded Smoke.
"You. And I notice you didn't argue against 'deranged.'"
"I'd have to be, to be your friend."
"Yeah, you would."
Brother Scieran sighed. "My children, I would very much not prefer to send you to opposite sides of the cave – again. Could we speak of whatever information Smoke has for us?"
Rune shimmered. And suddenly all the sarcasm, all the semi-friendly ribbing, disappeared from her face. "Oh, wow," she said. "No kidding?" she added, looking at Smoke with something like awe.
"Yeah," he said. He seemed to take her strange manner of conversation in stride. Sword wondered if she would ever be able to deal with it that way.
Smoke looked around the group. "I found out where the Minister of Finance is going to be," he said.
The effect was instantaneous. Wind and Cloud both hissed, the intake of breath making them sound like a pair of vipers that had been poked with a stick.
Arrow whispered, "Yes."
Brother Scieran made the sign of Faith and whispered something under his breath – probably a quick prayer.
Smoke looked pleased with himself and cracked his knuckles.
Only Rune looked somewhat nonchalant – likely because this was the second time she was hearing the news.
Sword knew who the Minister of Finance was, of course. She had never seen him in person, but she knew of him. His name was Ambek, and he was in charge of the moneys that flowed into and out of Center in general and the government specifically.
She had never seen him because, like all three of the Emperor's Cabinet, he was always on the move, always in hiding.
She had known this, but it never made sense until now. The three ministers – Minister of the Interior, of Secrets, and of Finance – were rarely seen in public, rarely even came to the palace. Cabinet meetings were conducted via Ear, and on the rare occasions when they met in person the Chancellor typically traveled to them, to a secret place decided at the last second.
They're afraid of this group. Of the Cursed Ones.
How many practices of the Empire were in place to protect against these very people? she wondered.
"Where is he going to be?" asked Brother Scieran.
"More to the point, is it a place that we can kill him?" asked Arrow.
Rune shimmered. "Oh, Gods' tackle," she said.
Brother Scieran looked pained. "Must you speak obscenities?" he asked.
Arrow looked irritated, though for a different reason. "And does it really help much to know the answer to a question when we're all going to have to hear it a few seconds later anyway?" He looked back at Smoke. "Well, where is it? What State is Ambek going to be in? Where can we kill him?"
Smoke looked pained. "Uh… well, that is… he's not actually going to be in any of the states."
7
Malal felt lost. Like he had fallen asleep and found himself in a dream where no one lived but himself.
Or, worse, perhaps he was waking up.
He sat alone in the great hall – typically a place where visitors and nobles would be greeted, where balls would be held.
Now, it was empty save him and the few guards who never left his presence. And even they were far enough away – and so very motionless – that they were more fixtures of the room than actual people.
He felt hungry for something, an ache deep inside that he could never satisfy. He could never sleep, he barely ate.
He felt like he was losing something. Losing….
Myself.
He stared at the floor in front of him. The light of the great hall's glo-globes bounced off the marble, making it seem almost alive.
It is alive. The palace is a beast that has consumed me.
For a moment the fee
ling was so real he wanted to scream. He turned to the closest guard. There were a dozen or so, stationed at regular intervals along the length of the hall. Staring at nothing – or perhaps looking at him. He couldn't tell through the helmets they always wore. Black, with smoky glass enchanted to the strength of steel that shaded even their eyes from view. The story went that the Emperor's guards dressed that way to signify that they had given themselves to their work. That they bore no identity, other than as the shadows of the Emperor. That like shadows they would go everywhere he went. Silent, but always there to be called upon.
The only one he had ever heard speak was the Captain. The Captain of the Guard was permitted to speak, was even permitted to remove his helm. But this Captain rarely spoke. He was a mystery. Just like so much of Malal's life.
He didn't remember his parents. Didn't remember the twin sister that he was supposed to have had, once upon a time.
Once upon a time…. Like the faerie stories that the Chancellor had read him when he was a child. The Chancellor who was father and mother and only friend.
Is he your friend?
Of course he was. That was a ridiculous thought.
But it continued to force its way into Malal's mind. On the long nights when he could not sleep, during the daytimes when the Chancellor was busy doing other things, seeing to "the boring day-to-day affairs of the Empire," Malal couldn't help question.
And the longer the Chancellor was away, the stronger the question became. The harder it was to think of anything else.
What is it I do? The Chancellor always says that I am being groomed to take over in just a few short Turns, but what is it I know how to do? Greet minor nobles from other States? Throw the Gods' Feast every twelvemonth?
What do I do?
(nothing)
He realized he was still staring at the guard nearest him. Almost he called the man. Almost he demanded that the Chancellor be brought to him.
The Sword Chronicles: Child of the Empire Page 19
