Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Quodaro frowned—an expression that reminded Kodyn of a wild boar spitted for roasting. He reached for a pair of round, wire-rimmed spectacles and, perching them on his nose, picked up the parchment.

  “Pay special attention to the sixth item on that list,” Kodyn offered helpfully as the Grand Reckoner read over the contents.

  Quodaro shot him an irritated glare before returning his attention to the parchment. His eyes narrowed. “And what, pray tell, would you have me do with this?” He waved the bill at Kodyn.

  “First, you can summon Reckoner Dyon.” Kodyn tapped the name signed on the bottom of the parchment. “Then you can command him to explain whether he’s complicit in the theft of shalanite or simply incompetent at his job.”

  Quodaro’s eyebrows shot up and his face turned a furious beet red. He ripped off his spectacles so hard he nearly broke the wire rim. “If you are insinuating that—”

  “If you are half as competent as Grand Reckoner Edmynd of Praamis,” Kodyn snapped, “then you will know precisely how I have made the connection between the shipment of grain and the illegal exportation of shalanite.” He leaned forward. “Which, as you well know, is treason, a crime punishable by whatever creative manner of execution the Pharus feels applicable. All that remains is to determine whose head will end up on a spike. Reckoner Dyon or the one to whom this bill of lading was signed.”

  Grand Reckoner Quodaro replaced his spectacles and frowned down at the parchment again. “A serious accusation against a newly elected member of the Keeper’s Council.”

  “Which is why we thought it best to bring it to you first.” Kodyn gave him a saccharine smile. “The Necroseti will immediately blame the error on Reckoner Dyon and your priest would have no chance to refute the claims. After all, it would be his word against that of a Councilor.” He inclined his head. “However, if Reckoner Dyon cooperates fully with the Blades’ investigation into the matter—” This was an utter lie, yet Hykos’ presence sold the ruse to perfection. “—I’m certain Lady Callista Vinaus could be persuaded to show clemency. Particularly if it turned out that this was simple negligence on the part of your Reckoner.”

  “I see.” Quodaro pursed his lips, which made the folds of his neck protrude like too-thin custard. Silence descended upon the room for half a minute as the Grand Reckoner studied the parchment through his spectacles. Without a word, he reached for a little golden bell that sat on the right-hand side of his desk.

  The high-pitched tinkling echoed loud in the chamber, and a moment later the door opened to admit the Reckoner that had allowed them entrance minutes earlier.

  “Bring me Dyon,” Quodaro said before the newcomer could speak. “Quickly and quietly.”

  “Of course, Grand Reckoner.” With a bow, the man slipped out of the room as silently as he’d come.

  Quodaro fixed Hykos with a glare. “I am surprised to see someone of your reputation aligning himself with one like him.” He waved his hand at Kodyn without taking his eyes from the Archateros—a clear dismissal.

  “I am simply here to see the Long Keeper’s justice done.” Hykos’ expression revealed nothing. “By whatever means necessary, using whatever tools my god places in my hands.”

  Kodyn wasn’t sure if he should feel offended or not. Hykos had proven himself inscrutable enough that this could simply be an act, or he might be genuinely repulsed by the blackmail. Light blackmail, certainly, but no less reprehensible to a truly upright man.

  At that moment, Kodyn didn’t really care what the Blade thought of him. He would do whatever it took to protect Briana and help her get vengeance for her father. He owed her that much; not only because she was helping him complete his Undertaking, but he genuinely cared for her. He didn’t want to see her hurt or mistreated. Life in the Night Guild had taught him that the most devious methods tended to be the most effective. And, given Evren’s revelation that the gods didn’t really exist, any fear of “staining his soul” through these actions had faded.

  A tense silence hung in the office as the scowling Grand Reckoner sat back in his chair, his movement accompanied by a chorus of groaning wood and creaking leather. Hykos remained silent and still, his spine straight as a spear. Kodyn occupied himself taking inventory of everything valuable—both for melt and resale value and potential caches of information for future attempts at blackmail—in the office. It was an old habit that the Hawks had drilled into him. He could see at least five secret hiding places in the office.

  What I’d give for two minutes alone in this room. He chuckled to himself. I’d come away a seriously wealthy man.

  The sound of approaching footsteps snapped his eyes toward the door. When it opened, a nervous-looking man stood framed in the doorway. The light of the lamp burning on the desk made his pinched, drawn face even paler.

  “You summoned me, Grand Reckoner?” the man asked, his expression a mixture of apprehension and confusion

  With a stern look, Quodaro held out the bill of lading. “Explain,” he growled.

  Reckoner Dyon’s eyes flew wide and his face turned a sickly shade of grey as he took the parchment in trembling hands. “I-It is my signature, yes,” he replied. “But I don’t—”

  “The truth, Dyon!” Quodaro’s voice thundered in the office. He might not be able to intimidate Kodyn or Hykos, but he was sovereign master over the priests under his command. “Before the Keeper’s Blade hauls you away to Murder Square for treason.”

  The words had an instantaneous effect on the Reckoner. Dyon dropped to his knees, his expression pleading. “Forgive me! I had no choice. They threatened to report me to the Lady of Blades as a Gatherer if I did not do as they asked.” A torrent of words poured from his mouth in a babbling rush.

  “All because my second cousin thrice removed joined the cultists, and once, months ago, I offered him a room to stay in for a week after he abandoned his position in the Hall of the Beyond. I didn’t know he was a Gatherer, but they wouldn’t listen to me. I could only sign my name to this document to verify it. But I swear by the Apprentice that I have no hand in whatever they are doing.”

  Pitiful tears streamed down the man’s face as he fixed fearful eyes on Hykos. “I am a loyal servant of the Pharus and the Keeper’s Council. Tell me what I can do to make this right and—”

  “Who are they?” Hykos demanded. “Who threatened you?”

  Dyon’s head whipped back and forth frantically. “They did not give me their names, but they simply brought me the bill and insisted that I sign it, as is my role as Head Auditor of Shalandra’s exports.”

  “Including shalanite?” Hykos cocked an eyebrow.

  If Kodyn had thought the man couldn’t get paler, he’d have been wrong. He gave a terrified wail and nearly collapsed, eyes fixed on the parchment as if at the warrant for his death. Which, in all honesty, it very well could be.

  Kodyn shot a glance at Grand Reckoner Quodaro. “Will he swear to this? Give testimony before the Pharus?”

  Quodaro stared down at the sobbing man, disdain etched into every line of his face. “I will have my attendant draw up an affidavit at once, and I will sign it myself to verify its accuracy. If the Pharus demands testimony in person, Dyon will present himself in the palace.” His eyes narrowed and his gaze went from Kodyn to Hykos and back. “On the condition that he receives no punishment for his complicity. I will see to it that he is sufficiently chastised and removed from his position as Head Auditor.”

  Kodyn glanced at Hykos. Of the two of them, the Keeper’s Blade was the only one with the authority to accede to the Grand Reckoner’s demand.

  After a moment, Hykos nodded. “Fear can kill a man a thousand times before death claims him. Lady Callista Vinaus will honor your request.”

  Quodaro reached for the bell. “Then give me five minutes and you will have what you desire.”

  * * *

  Less than an hour after they had walked into the Coin Counter’s Temple, Kodyn left with the evidence he needed to prove Councilor Angrak�
��s crime. Elation surged within him, and it took all his effort not to laugh out loud.

  After all the shite that’s been going wrong, it’s nice to finally have something go right for once!

  Hykos strode stiffly at his side, his face a stern mask.

  “You played your part to perfection.” Kodyn clapped him on the shoulder. “For a minute, I thought you were actually going to arrest me for blackmail.”

  “I considered it.” Hykos’ words held no trace of humor.

  Kodyn’s gut clenched, but his smile never wavered. “Good to know.”

  “Were it not in the best interest of Shalandra, you would be in chains right now,” Hykos replied. “You are fortunate that there are worse evils in this city.”

  “I’ll take it.” Kodyn chuckled. “Now let’s get back to Briana and the others and get this evidence to Lady Callista at once.”

  He hurried toward the place where Aisha had taken up position, yet as he passed it, he saw no sign of her. His brow furrowed in confusion. He tried to write it off as nothing—she’d found another vantage point to keep an eye on them, or she’d had to duck out of sight to avoid a passing patrol.

  But as they left the Temple District and he hadn’t yet caught sight of her, dread settled like a stone in the back of his mind. No matter what he told himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

  Where the hell are you, Aisha?

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Aisha crouched in the shadows of the Swordsman’s obelisk and watched as Kodyn and Hykos were admitted into the Coin Counter’s Temple.

  She allowed herself a smile. That message definitely got the Grand Reckoner’s attention. I wish I could be there to see his face.

  The Coin Counter’s Temple was a squat, three-story building of plain sandstone unbroken by any windows or doors save for the grand front entrance. Definitely a fortress solid enough to house the gold coins, valuables, and documents that flowed in and out every day.

  Beyond the temple to the Apprentice stood the Temple of Prosperity, home to the priests of the Illusionist, god of coin, madness, and success. A strange combination, but strange was precisely the word that described the Illusionist and his followers. She had never understood why anyone would worship a god that delighted in driving his priests insane—or collecting into his priesthood those already affected by his touch. Then again, such madnesses were uncommon in Ghandia. Many of the afflicted of mind chose to leave the tribe and wander the Ghandian grasslands alone, to commune with the gods, the Kish’aa, or whoever else spoke in their minds.

  Aisha had little doubt the southerners would consider Spirit Whisperers mad. Umoyahlebe heard the voices of the dead and saw the spirits, even communicated with them. Southerners simply couldn’t understand the true nature of the Kish’aa and their relationship with the living. They believed the spirits passed into the Sleepless Lands, forever out of reach. Aisha knew the truth: the dead interceded with the gods and offered their wisdom to the living.

  Thoughts of the dead seemed to set the sparks within her dancing. That, or perhaps her proximity to the Temple of Whispers. Her eyes were drawn to the vault-like Secret Keeper’s temple as Thimara’s spirit burned brighter within her, a thrum of energy coursing through her veins. The dead Secret Keeper seemed to come alive this close to the Temple of Whispers. Aisha knew it was because of Thimara’s connection to Uryan—child and parent, lovers, siblings, dear friend, she couldn’t be certain, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Uryan and Thimara had meant something to each other.

  Yet the spirit’s urging had to go unheeded, at least for now. She had to keep an eye on the Temple District for any sign of watchers. If someone was shadowing their house, they might not be interested in Briana. They could be enemies of the Black Widow searching for Evren and Kodyn, enemies of the blacksmith Killian hunting Evren, or even someone wanting to keep an eye on Hykos or Issa. Evren would report back when he found out who they were—for now, they had to stay focused on getting the information Lady Callista would need to move against Councilor Angrak.

  If anyone can make that Reckoner talk, it’s Kodyn. He had inherited his mother’s charm, wit, and perceptiveness. His concern for her back at Suroth’s mansion had convinced her to let him into her secret. If the patrol hadn’t arrived at that precise moment, she would have told him everything.

  Yet at that moment, she wasn’t certain she felt ready to share the truth of her gift as a Spirit Whisperer, at least not until she understood it a bit more. There was so much she didn’t yet know about her Umoyahlebe abilities. They had saved her and Briana back in Suroth’s mansion, but that had been an involuntary action beyond her control. Radiana’s spirit had intervened to protect her daughter.

  Even back in the alley behind Suroth’s mansion, the call of the Kish’aa had taken control of Aisha’s body. She had been drawn to the spirits of Eldesse and Osirath with a force that overrode her willpower. If she didn’t find a way to command of the gift rather than letting it command her, she would be as much its prisoner as her father had been. Her body would become subject to the Kish’aa long before their cries or the Whispering Lily ravaged her mind.

  The thought of the bright blue flower added to her worries. Briana hadn’t had time to research a way to counteract its side effects, not with the secrets of Suroth’s journals to unlock. The Shalandran girl had promised she hadn’t forgotten, but right now, it seemed as if everything else in the world was more important.

  I shouldn’t complain, Aisha told herself. Survival is definitely our first priority, and the only way we survive is by dealing with our enemies. Starting with Councilor Angrak and finishing with the Gatherers and Ybrazhe.

  She had no doubt Lady Callista would use every tool, trick, and weapon in her arsenal to convince Councilor Angrak to turn against not only his fellow Councilors, but also the Ybrazhe. Maybe even the Gatherers, if they truly were working together. But that would take time. How much, Aisha didn’t know, but she needed help understanding and mastering her powers soon, before they took control of her.

  A sudden heat radiated through Aisha’s body. She felt the two sparks—Eldesse and Osirath—flaring to life within her, so bright and hot it set her skin tingling and the energy crackling between her fingers. Though she could not see or hear them, she could feel their emotions radiating through her as she had with Radiana.

  Surprise. Anger. Sorrow.

  Fragments of images flashed through her mind, too quick for her to see but she got a sense of what the two were feeling. Shock and fury at discovering they were betrayed by someone they trusted. Anguish at watching death take the one they loved.

  The anger flared hottest and brightest, accompanied by a pull so strong that it actually brought Aisha to her feet. She wrestled against the force of the Kish’aa but the spirits she had absorbed moved her muscles with a force beyond her control. One step, then two, and a third. Her eyes were drawn beyond the temple, westward, and fell on the Keeper’s Crypts.

  Vengeance! The thought flashed through her mind with the force of a shout. Vengeance!

  Wait! Aisha gritted her teeth and tried to regain command of her movements. She stopped, left foot lifted in the air, a single step away from leaving the cover of the shadows.

  Fighting against the tug on her limbs, Aisha reached into her pouch and drew out two of her remaining five petals. So small, so delicate, their once-bright blue color now starting to wither as they dried, even though she had wrapped them in oilcloth. Beauty and peril, salvation and madness rolled into one.

  Yet she had no choice. They were the only way to speak to the dead, to try and reason with them. She crushed the petals between her fingers and rubbed hard, until twin drops of oil oozed between her fingers. With only a moment’s hesitation, she licked the oil from her fingers. A hint of sweetness filled her mouth, turning bitter before rolling down her throat.

  The effects were instantaneous. The sounds of the night seemed to fall silent around her, to fade int
o the background. Within her mind, the voices of the spirits sharpened until she could hear their whispered pleas. But could they hear her, too? She didn’t know, but she had to try.

  You want vengeance for your deaths, yes? The silent question echoed through her mind.

  The answer came a moment later. Vengeance against our killers! The entwined voices of Eldesse and Osirath reverberated with thundering force that rattled against her skull.

  Aisha gritted her teeth. I will give you what you want, she told the spirits. But I cannot if you do not let me.

  She felt the tug again and her body moved, her weight shifting forward as her left foot fell to the ground.

  I must have control! she screamed silently. If you control me, I cannot hunt your killers, cannot fight to bring them down. You must let me do it my way.

  Vengeance! A powerful protest, one that sent her fingers twitching toward her assegai.

  Yes, vengeance, Aisha promised. Together, we will find those who murdered you and have justice.

  The tug on her body grew stronger for a moment, then dwindled to a dull pounding in the back of her mind.

  Vengeance, came the voices of the slain maidservant and guard. Together.

  Aisha gasped as sensation suddenly returned to her limbs. She could move freely, as if the strings controlling her had been severed. She ducked back into the cover of the shadows of the towering obelisk, heart hammering.

  We have to be smart, she told the spirits as she tried to slow her frantic breathing. Show me where you want me to go.

  The pull came this time on her mind rather than her body, though strong enough that she could almost feel her eyes once more drawn to the western cliff and the Keeper’s Crypts.

  She could feel their desire within her, wordless yet no less insistent. You want me to go into the tombs?

  Yes! the voices replied.

  So be it. She didn’t understand why the spirits wanted her to go that way or how they knew they’d find their killers there, but right now it didn’t matter. She had to answer their cries.