The Queen's Assassin

  "I understand that still happens in Sardea - the beatings to death, I mean."

  "My dear fellow it still happens here in Kharadrea. Not all of our landowners are enlightened. King Orodruine's edicts may have made it illegal to kill your humans for all but capital crimes, but somehow word of those laws never reached our larger estates. Khaldarus means to repeal the edicts anyway; he has said so publicly many times. That is why it is imperative - imperative! - that Kathea is our Queen."

  Rik felt the old slow, smouldering anger start to build within him. The outrage he had felt even as a boy against the injustice of the world was still there despite his current hypocrisy. As the anger mounted the whisper of the voices in his head became louder. There were times when he thought he sensed even the presence of the Quan, swirling somewhere in the depth of his mind, lurking there like a shark below the surface of placid waters.

  Petron's words reminded him that the order of the world was still wrong, that murder was still being done legally, that people were still being killed at the whim of the world's Terrarch masters, and that it would only get worse if the Dark Empire won. From what Malkior had told him, worse things than that were happening in Sardea, and for once Rik saw no reason to disbelieve his putative father.

  He kept his face a mask, determined that these people would never see the way he really felt. Sometimes it was hard, he thought, caught up in the cynical politics of the Terrarch factions and his former comrades lust for plunder, to keep sight of the fact that, despite everything, the conflict they were engaged in really did have a meaning beyond the goals of the protagonists, that the world really could be a better place if one side won and another side lost.

  He brought his attention back to Petron who was still enumerating a list of his father's crimes against his serfs. Another realisation hit him. Easy as it was to be cynical about Petron and his motives, the Terrarch probably was a real ally to the cause of humanity.

  The night moved on in a whirl of drinking and music and conversation. Rik mostly listened, told tales of his life as a soldier, avoided all questions concerning what had happened in the Serpent Tower or in Harven. He drank far less than those around him, afraid that if he did the voices would become louder. His reticence seemed only to stand him in good stead, to add to the aura of mystery that surrounded him. He began to feel that things were different here, that these people knew nothing about his past, they seemed to take him more or less at face value, as part of the conquering army, as a hero who had saved their future Queen, as the mysterious putative lover of an Elder World sorceress. It was a seductive feeling. He had come a long way from the streets of Sorrow, from their soiled terrors and grubby triumphs.

  All these people saw was his nice coat and his Terrarch features. They did not know and need never know about his thievish past. He grinned. They did not, but he always would. He was marked by more than being a Shadowblood. He was his past and it would set him aside from these folks for as long as he lived.

  At some point during the night, he noticed that a few couples had discreetly vanished, unmissed amid all the drinking and music. He was not in least surprised when Lady Sardontine took his hand and led him from the chamber through a maze of passages into a dark cavernous room. Her breath was scented by alcohol. Her lips tasted of old Kharadrean wine.

  The voices whispered beware, and he drew back. He sensed another presence in the room, and swung Lady Sardontine around so that she was between him and whoever it was. It was only a matter of moments before he noticed a figure standing in the shadows. He recognised her at once.

  “Tamara,” he said. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

  A blade glittered in her hand. He felt a small stab of fear. “I see you are armed with something more than a knitting needle this time.”

  “Thank you for bringing this handsome young man here, Ilea,” Tamara said to Lady Sardontine. “I would be grateful if you could leave us for a while.”

  “It was a pleasure, my dear,” said Lady Sardontine. “One I hope to have the chance to repeat soon.”

  “So here we are again,” said Rik. The voices jabbered in his head. They were afraid of the sword, afraid that if he died they would lose their last toehold in life. He could not blame them for that.

  “I would say the situations are reversed since last we talked,” she said.

  “You surely don’t intend to kill me here,” he said. “Not with all these high ranking Terrarchs around. Or is the Kharadrean Liberation Army about to claim another victim.”

  “One of the things I like about you, Rik, is your sense of humour.”

  “That is reassuring.”

  “There are times you remind me of my father.”

  “Believe me, that is a path you don’t want this conversation to go down.”

  “I hear you had a meeting with him and his interesting friends in Harven.”

  “News does travel fast.”

  “I believe you rather impressed him. He did not expect you to survive your last meeting. My father is usually right about such things.”

  The chorus in his head swelled in anger. He tried to force them down, to make himself concentrate. How did Tamara know about what had happened in Harven? The voices refused to be silenced. They wanted Malkior dead. In truth, he wanted Malkior dead. It did not seem particularly diplomatic to point this out. “He very nearly was.”

  “And yet here you still are, just like after the Serpent Tower. You have a talent for survival it seems.”

  He looked at the sword in her hand. “Is it poisoned?” he asked. He felt sure that with the spells Asea had taught him he might be able to survive that but he was not sure he could survive the thrust of an ordinary blade, not with Tamara wielding it. He was going to do his best though. There was still a huge well of power within him from his encounter with the Quan and he still carried his concealed dagger and pistol loaded with a truesilver bullet. That would give him a chance, even against her.

  “No,” she said. “But it is woven round with some particularly nasty spells. I would advise you to keep your distance.”

  She seemed as wary of him, as he was of her. At least he had that small edge. “Why am I here?” he asked.

  “I wanted to know if you had considered the offer I made you the last time we talked.”

  He could not help but laugh. “I think your father’s behaviour puts that out of the question.”

  “The offer does not come from my father. It comes from me.”

  “I thought your interests were the same.”

  “I once thought so too, but father had become rather erratic of late. I think the magic he uses to preserve himself has some strange side-effects that have finally caught up with him.”

  I am in a position to testify to that, thought Rik. The voices whispered agreement. Tamara seemed completely serious. Of course, she would do. “I think Malkior would object to the way this conversation is going. And I think he wants me dead anyway.”

  “Jaderac and I will soon be in a position to protect you from him.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “In the not too distant future Jaderac will be high in the favour of the Queen-Empress. Not even my father will go against her.”

  “He had already killed one Queen Empress. I don’t see why he would stop at just the one. I don’t think he is entirely sane.” Rik did not think that he was entirely sane anymore himself, and if one exposure to thanatomancy could do this to him, what would it do to someone who had practised it over centuries, if not millennia. He noticed that Tamara did not seem particularly surprised by the news about the Old Queen’s assassination.

  “I agree with you. That is why I am making this offer. You have survived an encounter with him when he wanted you dead. You are perhaps the only person in history to do that. You could be just as useful to us, as we could be to you.”

  Rik inspected the proposition from all the angles he could see. Had Tamara really turned against her father and sided with his rival Jaderac? And wh
at was the sorcerer up to that would soon return him to the favour of the Dark Empress? Rik was willing to bet it was nothing good or healthy to the cause of Talorea.

  “The world is changing, Rik. The First are dying or going mad. The reins of power in the Terrarch lands will soon shift to younger hands. You could have your share of that power.”

  “Or I could get a knife in the back as soon as I have done what you want.”

  “Why would we do that? You are a useful Terrarch, Rik. More useful and more powerful than you seem to realise. Why do you think that Asea has cultivated you so assiduously?”

  “For my startling good looks and rough charm obviously.”

  “That might be part of it, but that’s not the way Asea thinks. You of all people should know that.”

  “I am not going to kill her for you.”

  “You are certain of that?”

  “Yes. And if you don’t stop pointing that sword at me, I am going to take it away from you and beat you with it.”

  “You really think you could?” Rik listened to the voices whisper within him. They wanted to kill. They wanted to feed. The slimy presence of the Quan Exarch moved to the forefront of his mind. By the way her eyes widened, he could see that Tamara could tell the difference in him.

  “You have changed,” she said eventually. “I think you may be possessed.”

  “Ask your father,” Rik said, deciding to add his own section to the vast labyrinth of lies and deceit in which they were all enmeshed. Why not? Everybody else was doing it. “He knows what happened.”

  “So you have decided to side with him? He made you a better offer than we could.”

  “Ask yourself this, Tamara - would you still be alive if that were the case? Given what you have just said to me.”

  “Perhaps you simply want time to report me to him.”

  “No, Tamara, when next I meet Malkior one of us is going to die, and if I have anything to do with it, it will be him. And you would be wise to stay out of my way while I am doing it.”

  “You cannot kill him. No matter how strong you have become, he is still stronger.”

  “We’ll see.” A look of sudden dread and realisation flickered across Tamara’s face.

  “I know what has happened to you. You are just like he is, after he has fed.”

  Rik smiled at her coldly. She did not know how useful this information was to him. Now all he had to do was get out of the Sardontine mansion with it.

  “Why would he share that secret with you, of all people? Or did you find it out yourself, or from Asea? I am starting to wonder if you are really what you seem to be at all. Perhaps you are one of the new ones, from through the Gate.”

  Rik had to fight to keep his features under control. Tamara could only mean one sort of Gate, and if people were coming through it, they were most likely only coming from one place. The Princes of Shadow really might have gained a foothold in this world. This was something that he needed to report to Asea. Tamara looked at him suspiciously as if her own words had just put a number of things into place for her. He did not want to disabuse her of any notions she might be forming. He wanted to get out of here with his skin intact if he could, and avoiding a battle with her seemed like the best way of doing that, despite his earlier bravado.

  “I can’t persuade you to join us?” she said.

  “I will make you a deal,” said Rik eventually.

  “And what would that be?”

  “I won’t try and kill you, if you won’t try and kill me. This is between you and me, and includes no one else. Not Jaderac. Not your father. Not Asea. Let us keep our options open. The situation is fluid and all our positions might be subject to change. You may need someone on my side soon, or I might need someone on yours. There is no need for violence between us. Not now, anyway.”

  She stood silent for a while as she considered his words. Her shoulders slumped. The point of the blade lowered. The atmosphere in the room changed subtly. “You have a deal,” she said and appeared to mean it.

  Don’t trust her, whispered voices. Don’t trust anyone. Right at that moment, Rik didn’t. He was starting to wonder whether he could even trust himself.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “She said there were others who had come through the Gate?” said Asea. Rik nodded and strode to the window. Across the darkened street, he saw the lights of the houses opposite, where life seemed normal. He tried to drown out the voices in his head. The night had taken on an unreal air. He could not quite bring himself to believe that he had been allowed to leave the Sardontine mansion unharmed. All the way back, in the coach, he had expected an ambush that never came.

  “She did.”

  “You are sure? What exactly did she say?”

  Rik repeated it the best he could remember. Asea studied him carefully. He had told her almost everything that had occurred as it had occurred. The only thing he neglected to mention was that Tamara had tried to get him to agree to Asea’s assassination several times before.

  “You think she was telling the truth?” Rik asked. “If so, why mention it now?”

  “Perhaps you startled her into revealing something she did not want to reveal.”

  “That seems a little unlikely. Tamara is very self-possessed.”

  “I am not sure you understand how frightening you have become since you escaped the clutches of the Sea Devils. She could easily be convinced you are a rogue Thanatomancer. The signs are there for those who know how to look for such things, and I am sure she does.”

  “Do you really think she has turned against her father though?”

  “This might be one of his schemes to try and win you over to his side,” said Asea. “I am sure he knows that you would not trust him, but you might trust Tamara, particularly if you thought he was not standing behind her.”

  “That thought had crossed my mind as well.”

  “Keep it there. And keep thinking that way. You will live longer.”

  “How do you know so much about thanatomancy?”

  She sighed and shook her head, and he thought for a moment that she was not going to answer his question. “Because the Princes made the basic principles known to the wizards of Al’Terra. They wanted us to join them, to be tempted, to fall into their ways. Many did.”

  “Malkior claimed that magic was failing on Al’Terra and Terrarch immortality with it. Is that true?”

  “He was apparently very truthful with you, Rik. That is exactly the case.”

  “Were you never tempted?”

  “Of course, I was tempted, Rik. I knew even then that one day I would die. Even if the immortality spells were not failing.”

  “How could you know that?”

  “Simple mathematics, Rik. Accidents happen. People are assassinated. Live long enough and it is a certainty that the same thing will happen to you. It does not matter how good your magical protection is, sooner or later, it will fail, and death will come.”

  “You do not refuse thanatomancy because you thought your soul would be in peril?”

  “I am not even sure we have souls in the sense that the priests mean.”

  “Why turn the Princes of Shadow down then? They must have offered more hope of longevity than what was available to you.”

  “They did not. They offered a path to ruin and madness, a certain path. When you feed on the life force of others, you take traces of those others into you. It’s just the same as if you take a small dose of certain poisons every day — enough will build up in your body to kill you. Eventually thanatomancy drives you mad, if you keep at it long enough. You are not yourself anymore, only one personality among many.”

  “Will that happen to me?”

  “I don’t know. You are already different in so many ways it’s hard to tell. You are the first to devour a Quan. Apparently their feeding process was different from Malkior’s. You already retain far more memories than a Thanatomancer normally would. If you will take my advice you will not repeat the process.”


  “I am not planning on doing so.”

  “Many of my colleagues on Al’Terra never planned on doing so. They did it anyway.”

  “I don’t understand why, if they knew they would go mad.”

  “Because many of them did not possess all the facts. Many of them had no real understanding of what they were doing. And because many of them simply did not care. Wizards always believe they are special, Rik. What happens to others will not happen to them.”

  Don’t trust her, the voices whispered. She is not telling you the whole truth. He hushed them. He still had other questions. “Tamara spotted what has happened to me. You have too. What if the Inquisition come for me?”

  “It would be best if that did not happen. It would be best if you kept your powers secret. It would be best if you avoided the Servants of the Holy Flame until the things within you are less...visible.”

  “I will do that.”

  “Good. I need you here now, Rik, and I need you sane.”

  “Is there any particular reason for that?”

  “You are sensitive to Shadowgates.”

  He understood her thoughts at once. “Malkior is coming here.”

  “Yes. He has to. He has to kill you and he has to kill me. We know too much about him now.”

  “What difference does that make? He is a High Lord of the Dark Empire. The Inquisition is not going to come banging on his door.”

  “It might if we win this war. And he knows that sooner or later I am going to have to kill him. He knows that you will try too and the longer you live, the more dangerous you become.”

  “You are flattering me.”

  “There is a thing you should know about human wizards, and I suspect about half-breed ones too, Rik. They come into their power very young compared to Terrarchs. You have already made more progress in the past few months than most Terrarch wizards would in years, and you are much, much stronger than any Terrarch would be at your age.”