Shadow Blade, page 22
Bauti looked hurt. “Not all men break their oaths.”
Ashai ignored the jibe and concentrated, listening with his magic-enhanced hearing. He held up his hand for silence, and the other two stopped talking. In the distance he heard footsteps. Marching, with mail and weapons clinking and clanging.
“Patrol coming,” he said. “About two blocks away.”
“How do you … never mind.” Bauti started off down the alley. “I don’t want to know.”
Ashai was tempted to keep his grip on his magic, knowing it could well warn them about approaching trouble. But he would need the tiny remaining amount more if they had to fight again, especially against the second assassin, so with a sigh, he let go of Nishi’s power and jogged after Bauti and the princess, his hands shaking as he ran.
He needed to pray soon, but he remembered what had happened the last time he’d done it, and decided it could wait.
Something occurred to him as he caught up to the other two.
“Who told you where to find my safe house?”
Bauti eyed him sidelong. “Tan. His spies located you and he told me.”
Pieces of a gigantic puzzle fell into place in Ashai’s mind. The Chargh Lai had seen him during his prayer, and had told the second assassin: Tan. It all fit. Tan had access to almost unlimited information, and could easily have known who Ashai was all along. Tan had missed the wedding, allegedly sick in his chambers, but now he was well enough to run a nation. And Tan had used the Chargh Lai’s information to send Bauti and his men after Ashai and Makari.
And the Chargh Lai was tracking him through his power, through his connection to Nishi.
He should have known, should have seen it. He’d let his love for the man ruin his judgment. His loyalty to the man who had saved him had shrouded him in a fog of denial, making it impossible to see even that which had been right in front of his face all along.
“I’m a fool,” he muttered.
Bauti nodded. “If you think you can keep her safe better than I can, then a fool you are.”
“That’s not what I mean. I know who the second assassin is.”
Bauti stopped at the near end of the alley, peering out into the street. When he pulled back his head, his brow was wrinkled with concern.
“You think it’s Lord Tan?”
“I don’t think it,” Ashai answered. “I know it. And he’s tracking me through my connection to God. We need to get inside. There’s something I need to do.”
Bauti studied him a moment, then nodded. “Follow me.”
Bauti led them down a series of twists and turns, ending in yet another alley. But this one was cleaner, lacking the huge, stinking trash piles Ashai had grown used to, the only obstruction a stack of three crates outside a narrow, wooden door. Light seeped out from around the wood, inviting and warm through the misty rain.
The captain knocked once, and someone scrambled inside. Something crashed, and a man’s voice spit out a curse. A moment later, the door opened.
In it stood a stooped, wrinkled old man, with wispy white hair and eyes pale with age. He squinted at the three of them, then took a step back.
“Marwan. It’s been a long time. I’d thought you’d never visit again.”
“Hessig, I’m sorry for my neglect. But it was …”
Ashai had never seen Bauti at a loss for words before, and it intrigued him. Who was this old man?
“Too painful, I know,” Hessig finished for him. “Well, come in then, before someone sees you.”
Hessig’s flat was a tiny space, consisting of a small, brightly lit room with a table, two chairs, and a cot covered in ragged blankets and pillows that looked like they’d been used by Hessig’s father. It had no windows, no kitchen, and as far as Ashai could tell, no privy. A small pantry took up the right wall, and from it, the old man pulled a flagon of wine and four tin cups, handing one to each. Ashai refused his at first, but the old man insisted.
“I know your God doesn’t allow you to drink, but in this case I think you should make an exception.”
“How did you know?” Ashai asked.
Bauti chuckled and patted Hessig on the back. “Hessig here was sniffing out Nishi’itis back when I was your age. He found more of your spies than anyone else I know.”
“Back when the Master of Spies was focused on the right kinds of threats,” the old man added, rolling his eyes.
Ashai took the cup and let Hessig pour. Thankfully, the old man went easy on him, doling out only a small portion. Ashai sighed. He would need something to drink if he was going to do what he’d come here for.
“So you know who Tan really is?” Bauti asked his old friend.
Hessig shook his head. “Never met the man, and you know I need to see him to know. Even then it’s not exact. I knew your friend here—who used to be our Finance Minister, unless I’m getting rusty—is Nishi’iti, but I don’t know much more. He’s a guarded one, keeps his face neutral, so I’d normally guess he’s a spy. Given recent events, though, I’d put him in a bit more sinister profession.”
“He is what you suspect,” Bauti said. “And so is Tan.”
Hessig chuckled and handed Bauti a cup, pouring him twice as much as he had Ashai.
“Well now, it seems the rats are kicking the cats out of the palace. Abadas never did have a knack for choosing people around him.”
As he handed Makari her cup, he bowed his head and lowered his voice.
“Majesty, excuse me if I miss certain formalities, but I’d hate for someone to overhear a foolish old man mentioning your name or title too loud.”
Makari gave him a radiant smile and took the cup, letting him pour for her as much as he wanted.
“Do I know you, Master Hessig? You seem familiar.”
“You were just a babe in swaddling when I left your father’s service. I’d know you anywhere, but I’m shocked you have any recollection of me. No, on second thought, I should have expected that. You took your mind from your mother, thank The Five.”
“Hessig once refused to identify a Nishi’iti in the palace because your father suspected them of stealing from the kitchen. Your father had him beaten and removed from his service to live in squalor here. Hessig had been a land-holding lord, but Abadas stripped him of all lands and titles. He had nowhere to go.”
“Eh, I make do here,” Hessig said. “Fifteen years and counting now.”
Makari touched his hand lightly and the man practically glowed, his eyes brimming.
“Thank you for helping us, Hessig,” she said. “I will not forget it.”
Hessig inclined his head again, lingering that way this time, as if relishing the moment.
“We should move on quickly,” Bauti said. “It’s bad enough your father forced Hessig into this life, it would be tragic for him if a patrol found us here.”
The old man shrugged. “My life is almost done anyway, Marwan. A few days less won’t matter.”
“The captain is right,” Ashai said. “I need to do one thing, then we can move on.”
He removed his boot and twisted the heel off, exposing the hidden wooden vial there. Bauti tensed, but Ashai waved him off and popped the stopper off the vial.
“Don’t worry, Captain. This particular potion is for me. It would be quite harmless to Makari.”
Taking a breath, he tilted his head back and poured the white powder into his mouth. It sizzled and popped as he took a gulp of the wine to wash it down.
The effect hit immediately, as the link to God’s magic severed, cutting him off from Nishi, leaving him with whatever magic still resided in him. He shuddered, feeling even more isolated and alone than before. Prayer would hurt until the drug wore off, making it impossible to even attempt a renewal.
“What did you do?” Concern resonated in Makari’s voice, surprising him.
“I suspect our whereabouts are being monitored through my link to our God’s magic. That’s how Tan knew where to send the captain and his men. This powder cuts me off from that link, making me impossible to track.”
“It also makes you vulnerable,” Hessig said. “Weakened.”
Ashai nodded, impressed by the man’s knowledge. “For now. It only lasts a day. After that, I can pray again and renew my strength. Of course, the Denari Lai will know where I am the moment I do.”
Makari and Bauti looked at one another.
“Promise me one thing, Captain Bauti,” Ashai said.
Bauti studied him with cool, blue eyes. “What?”
“If we don’t make it out before this wears off, and I become a danger to her, kill me.”
Bauti gave him a long, hard look. “Done.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tan sat back in the cushioned chair in front of his fireplace, putting his bare feet up on an ottoman and warming them before the flames. Ache clawed its way up from the arches of his feet, into his ankles and halfway to his knees. His calf muscles knotted, bunching and grunting in pain, as if they had their own voices to lift in protest.
It had been a long time since he’d taken to the streets for any reason, much less in the thin, light slippers of a Denari Lai. Oh, he’d kept himself in shape, certainly, as much as he could without drawing attention to himself. But nothing substituted for actual work in the field, moving along the cobblestones, tiled rooftops, and back alleys of Dar Tallus or any other city.
Still, he’d done better than he might have expected during his foray outside the safety of the palace, moving well through the city and managing to fight decently for one so long out of practice. Not as well as he would have done in his early years, when he’d first come to the city, fresh out of Denari Lai training. But well enough.
And he’d managed to kill Abadas, even if Makari had gotten away. All in all, it might have worked out for the better. With Makari on the run, he had the chance to show the resolve of the Nishi’iti people and the Denari Lai. By waiting and killing Makari later, he would not only show that his order and his nation would not give up, but create two separate traumas for the Pushtani people. First they lost their king, an event known to leave entire nations directionless and weakened.
But Makari’s disappearance offered the Pushtani people hope, a candle in the window of the royal palace, left to guide them back together. People would rally around her as soon as she was found, emotions rising like a wave, lifting the citizens up on a kind of euphoria. Then he could kill her, cutting her throat in front of advisors, families, and nobles. Her blood would harden and become the rocks on which the wave of emotion would crash, smashing hope into bits.
Tan grinned and lifted a cup of Slevonian White, letting its bouquet dance upon his nose, preparing to savor the fine fluid’s trek across his palate. As the cup touched his lips, someone knocked on the door. He lowered the cup to the table and looked over his shoulder.
“Enter,” he called.
A lone Royal Guardsman poked his head inside, looking apologetic.
“My Lord Tan, a messenger. He says he comes from the old city?”
Tan inhaled sharply. That hadn’t taken long.
“Send him in.”
Tan was expecting one of his spies, so when a lieutenant from the Royal Guard entered, blood running down his temple and his left arm in a sling, Tan rose and hid his surprise.
“Please, lieutenant, take a seat. You look badly injured. What happened?”
“My Lord Tan.” He inclined his head, but made no move to sit. “I am Lieutenant Gartka. I bring disturbing news. Captain Bauti has turned.”
Tan raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean ‘turned,’ Lieutenant?”
“My squad was on patrol in the western sector, near the Gate of the Setting Sun when we encountered three people, all cloaked and looking suspicious. One of them was Captain Bauti, who claimed to have captured Minister Ashai and rescued the princess, both of whom were with him.
“But as we tried to get them back to the palace, Bauti and Ashai attacked us and got away, taking Princess Makari with them.”
He kneeled and lowered his head.
“I’m sorry, My Lord. We failed.”
If there was one thing Tan had learned during his time in Tabi Ge Nishi and his training as a Denari Lai, it was that salvation—real or imagined—created one of the fiercest brands of loyalty he’d seen. So he limped to Gartka, placed his hand on the man’s blood-matted brown hair, and smiled.
“You do not fail unless you quit. Now rise and face your new responsibilities, Captain Gartka, Commander of the Royal Guard.”
The look on Gartka’s face as he stood could have illuminated even the darkest chamber, and Tan knew he’d gambled right. This man was his now.
“My Lord, surely I do not deserve this honor.”
“I will determine who deserves what, Captain. And I say a man with the courage to come before me and admit a temporary defeat is worthy of command. That is, assuming your defeat was, in fact, temporary?”
Gartka straightened to attention. “Yes, My Lord!”
“Good, then get out there and lead the Royal Guard until the princess is back in the safety of the palace.”
“And the other two, My Lord?”
Tan pretended to think about his answer a moment. “Kill them both.”
Gartka saluted and strode from the room, a full inch taller than he’d been when he entered.
Tan returned to his comfortable chair, putting his feet up again and taking a long drink of the bitter, white wine. He’d never thought much of sweeter wines, preferring the harsher, tarter tastes of dry wines. Life wasn’t always sweet, and bitter wines seemed truer to the nature of the world, and the nature of his enemies.
He knew the Royal Guard would not find the trio again. With both Ashai and Bauti leading, they would disappear into the fabric of the city, indistinguishable from any other thread woven in. He could not keep the gates sealed forever, for commerce would falter and the people would soon rebel. He needed to remain in control at least until Makari was dead. Then it would not matter who ruled Pushtan—the empire would topple.
So it would be up to him to find the three fugitives, either through his spies or through his … other methods. Since his spies had been silent so far, he knew what he had to do.
He set the cup back on the table and moved into his bedchamber, closing and latching the door behind him. He’d gone to great lengths to be sure this room was secure, with no way for anyone to spy on what he did here. Holes had been sealed, walls covertly thickened and the craftsmen discreetly disposed of. He’d even placed subtle magical wards around the room to alert him should anyone try to eavesdrop.
No one ever had, but he could never be too careful.
He retrieved the three jewels from a secret compartment in his wardrobe, kneeled, and placed them in a row on the floor before him. Both the diamond representing Ashai and the oval representing Makari still glowed bloody red, marking those who still needed killed. The round gem representing Abadas, however, had turned black as coal, marking the end of the king’s life, and rendering the gemstone no more than a simple, pretty rock. Tan pushed it aside, as it would do him no good now.
Taking Makari’s jewel in one hand and Ashai’s in the other, Tan marveled at the ambient warmth radiating from them. To anyone but a Denari Lai, they would feel cold and lifeless, but he could feel the lifeblood of Nishi’s power pulsing in them, making them feel like embers in his palms.
Hugging the stones to his chest, Tan turned his face up toward heaven and prayed, hoping the Chargh Lai would hear him. He’d never initiated contact this way before. Always in the past, his mentor had contacted him during prayer or once in a dream. This method was theoretical only, and counted on the Chargh Lai to be in prayer at the same time, the connection of the gems boosting Tan’s power enough to contact his mentor. Tan possessed neither the strength nor the skill to enter the other man’s dreams, so he had to count on this to work.
At first, nothing happened, other than Tan feeling the rejuvenating power of magic pumping through him. The pain in his feet and legs disappeared, replaced by a warm, relaxed sensation, as if he’d just gotten a rubdown.
The link renewal was exhilarating, and he reveled in its cleansing, purging feeling, but he needed more. Without help from the Chargh Lai’s ability to track Ashai through their connection, he knew he had little chance of finding the other assassin at all.
He waited, even after he no longer needed more magic, but still nothing happened. He was about to give up when the Chargh Lai appeared in his mind, a larger-than-life version of the man who had trained him all those years before.
The Denari Lai leader looked exactly as he had when he’d trained Tan, though that was likely a trick of Tan’s mind, drudging up the newest memory he had of the man. Full, round cheeks and an ample chin belied the cold, deep brown of his eyes, and his broad shoulders seemed fit to carry the weight of the Nishi’iti people, as they so often had.
Words were not possible in this medium, so the Chargh Lai communicated in a series of images. The first showed Ashai and Makari fleeing the safe house where Bauti and his men had failed to capture them. The second showed brief snippets of the fight where Ashai had tapped into Nishi’s magic to defeat the Royal Guard patrol.
That was crucial. The more Ashai tapped into the power of Denari Lai magic, the easier he was to track, so the last image punched Tan in the gut. It showed Ashai seated on a bench, an aura of magic around him as the power of Nishi washed through him. Then he ate something, took a drink, and the aura winked out. Then the entire scene went black, and the Chargh Lai faced Tan again.
Tan knew what the scenes had meant. Ashai had temporarily severed the link to his magic, a bold move, but also brash and foolish. It left him weak and vulnerable, unable to fight as more than a mere man. And by the time his link re-established itself, he would be suffering from the symptoms of Yanagat, the illness that overtook ones needing the touch of Nishi’s magic to survive. It would not kill him, assuming he allowed the link to re-establish itself, but he would be unable to win against Tan in a battle.
The Chargh Lai looked deep into Tan’s soul, his iron gaze sending one very clear, very emphatic message: find him.
