Son of the Black Sword

  “I was there that day.” His expression suggested he’d enjoyed it as much as she had.

  “That’s when I saw you and knew you’d help,” she exclaimed, and wished that she hadn’t, because that sounded childish. “I mean, you were actually honest.”

  “That isn’t necessarily a positive trait in the Capitol. I brought shame to my Order and discovered I lack the temperament for court. Other Protectors will be handling those duties on my behalf from now on.” Devedas shook his head, as if the whole thing was rather amusing. “What can I help you with?”

  Rada’s mouth was suddenly very dry. She drank more of the wine without even tasting it. “The report . . . There was a problem.” For someone as devoted to the ideals of the library as Rada was, this was like admitting to the foulest deed possible. Feeding babies to demons would have been better. “The report was inaccurate.”

  Devedas blinked slowly. “And?”

  “On purpose. It wasn’t my fault. I was forced to leave things off. But only because I was threatened! They’d kill me if I didn’t.”

  “Oh.” He sensed her hesitation. “Listen, you might have broken the Law, but I’m not going to judge you now. The Law allows leniency for crimes committed under duress. The important thing is that you’re trying to correct your mistake. You’re safe. I won’t allow anyone to hurt you.”

  It was so easy to believe him that Rada told of the events in the archives.

  Devedas listened intently the entire time, and his expression darkened when she spoke of the Inquisitor. When she was done he seemed to weigh his words very carefully. “That is troubling. I’ll do my best to find this man, but you have no evidence this wizard was actually from another order, let alone one as important as the Inquisition, and you can’t take a criminal at his word.”

  She certainly hoped he was right about that, but the sabotage worried her. “But what of the conspiracy? The missing pages?”

  “The Order of Inquisition is powerful, and frankly, currently better favored in this city than either of our orders. You can’t expect me to accuse the Inquisition of wrongdoing on just your word.”

  That stung. “Then I didn’t need to dress up and make a fool of myself to come here.”

  “I’m not disparaging you. It was wise to be discreet. Besides, I think you look lovely,” Devedas said, obviously trying to put her at ease, and just for a moment his smile was so damned charming that Rada could see how rumors got started. “This isn’t the first time the threat of violence has been used to sway the making of law. What is it they forced you to leave out?”

  “It was some ancient history about the beginning of the castes. References to the origins of the untouchables were struck from all of our newer records.” The whole thing sounded insane to put it into words. Her father had often told her that good information was the foundation of good law, but someone was trying to sabotage that foundation. She found the whole thing incredibly offensive.

  “I think those advocating for their slaughter are fools. I can reassure you that I honestly don’t think anything will change.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  It was surprising how Devedas could go from charming to somber so quickly. “I don’t hope. I fight. I think about logistics. There are whole regions of Lok where the majority of the residents are casteless. Some houses depend on their labor to feed themselves. Our nation would rip itself apart. Most of the judges aren’t foolish enough to do something like that, but if they are . . .” Devedas shrugged.

  “We can’t allow them to hurt the untouchables.”

  “That isn’t our decision to make. The council will decide, laws will be written, and then we’ll follow them.”

  “You don’t understand, Lord Protector. The Law only exists because of the casteless!”

  Devedas laughed. “The most perfect system of governance in the history of the world exists because of the casteless?”

  “I have proof.” Rada took out her glasses case and reached beneath the padding for the folded scrap of paper she’d hidden there. She regretted not wearing gloves, and as delicately as possible extracted the damaged treasure. “This was the page I was reading when I was attacked.” She wanted to be clear that she would never willingly damage a library book. “I accidentally tore it out when that man grabbed me.” She placed it on the table and steered it toward Devedas. He stared at it. “Oh, I’m sorry. Can you read?”

  “All Protectors are literate . . .”

  “I meant no offense, just that most warriors . . .”

  “Actually, I was born into the first caste. When I’m not traveling the countryside cracking skulls like a barbarian, I enjoy books.” He read the scrap. Rada bit her lip, hoping he would believe her. She didn’t have her glasses on, but she’d memorized what it said.

  The Lord Protector finished and was quiet for a very long time. “How old is this?”

  “The original is from the dawn of the Age of Law. This was a copy transcribed hundreds of years after.”

  “You believe this to be accurate?”

  “Of course. That’s one of the duties of my Order. To preserve the words of older documents we often make new ones. Now we use the press, but this is how it was done for generations. We pride ourselves on our accuracy. I’d have more evidence, but this is exactly the sort of thing that’s been stolen. I’ve been afraid to return to the restricted collection to search for more.” She’d seen that her father had posted more guards around the library, so hopefully the saboteurs had been scared off, but she suspected their work was already done.

  Devedas was deep in thought. He finished off his wine and set the cup down far too hard. “The idea of a conspiracy offends me. I will personally oversee this investigation.”

  “If they find out I told you—”

  “Protectors of the Law aren’t known for our discretion. We’re usually more direct in our investigations, but you have my word that I will do my best.” Devedas reached out and placed one rough hand on top of hers. Rada was surprised that she was suddenly feeling very flushed. Even with the scar the Lord Protector was perhaps the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He let go of her hand and stood up. “You’ll be safe. I’ll have my men escort you back to your estate.”

  Rada surprised herself by exclaiming. “Wait!”

  Devedas paused. “What?”

  She didn’t want to leave yet. “My disguise, the rumors,” Rada blurted. She had no idea what she was doing, maybe Daksha was right, and it was time to have some experiences worth writing about. For once she was doing something extremely important, she actually felt pretty, and that made her bold. And on the spot Rada decided that, damn it, she was going to seduce this Protector. “Maybe it would be safer if I returned to my estate in the morning instead?”

  “I see.” Devedas smiled.

  It turned out that some rumors were true.

  Chapter 21

  Thwack!

  “Excellent,” Ashok told Jagdish. “You almost hit me. Good work.”

  The risaldar stumbled away, one hand pressed to his bruised ribs. He caught himself on the prison wall and held himself there, trying to catch his breath. If they’d been using real blades, Jagdish would be dead, and they both knew it. “That was good?” he gasped.

  “Well . . . Better.” Ashok respected Jagdish. Ratul had taught them there were two types who could become great swordsmen, tigers and hounds. Tigers were naturally gifted, fast, graceful, and everything came easily to them, but tigers were proud, so were resistant to learning. Hounds were not born lucky, but they simply would not quit, and they just kept grunting along until the job was done. Jagdish was a hound. It was too bad Vadal hadn’t obligated him, because he would’ve made a good Protector. Jagdish’s skills had improved greatly over the last few months they’d been training together, and if he’d done this well during their knife fight Ashok might have gotten injured.

  Jagdish pushed himself off the wall, lifted his shirt, and grimaced at the spreading bruise. “Dam
n! That hurts.”

  “My swordmaster told me it has to hurt, or you can’t learn.” Ratul may have lost his mind and descended into the madness of religious fervor, but he had been an excellent teacher before that—among the best there had ever been. “A balance must be struck between severe injury—which makes you unable to train further—and the tag-and-slap games those who play at combat mistake for training. So, as my master used to ask, is it squirting blood or is a bone sticking out?”

  “No.”

  “Then we can continue.”

  “If it wasn’t for this bum leg, I could take you,” Jagdish lied. They both knew his leg was completely healed at this point, and besides, Ashok routinely defeated everyone, so it wasn’t like Jagdish needed an excuse. “At this rate, by the time I’m ready to retire and you’re about to die of old age, I’ll be ready to duel you.”

  “Keep winding your little clock, but I don’t think time will save you. The judges may move like snails, but they’re not that slow.” It had been fall when he’d faced Bidaya, and winter was just starting. He’d been imprisoned here for over a year now. Even by Capitol standards, he must have given the judges something interesting to argue about. “Justice isn’t swift, but it is, by definition, correct. My corpse will be decorating the Inquisitor’s Dome long before either of us can grow old.”

  Jagdish picked his wooden sword out of the dirt. “Then I’d better work harder.”

  “A wise answer.”

  “How in the ocean’s name are you this good? I’ve trained my whole life.”

  Ashok shrugged. Fighting had always come easily to him. “Strike your opponent while avoiding their strikes. Hit them before they hit you. If they put something in your way, move it, then hit them. They’re easier to hit if you knock them down first. There is no showmanship, no flash, only hitting and not being hit. Don’t make it complicated.”

  “Yes, yes, I got the fundamental philosophy the first hundred times you said it, but I was the best in my class, from the house with the greatest warrior tradition in Lok, and this is ridiculous. All of the legends about Protectors are true!”

  “Warriors train to fight other warriors. Protectors fight everything.” That was only part of it, but he’d made a solemn vow to never speak of the Heart of the Mountain. The truth of it was, ever since touching the Heart, the movements of regular fighters seemed sluggish in comparison. It wasn’t fair, but anyone who got into fair fights could expect to lose half the time.

  “It’s like you know what I’m going to do before I do it, every single time!”

  “I don’t have to have Angruvadal in my hand to feel its influence. Every fight it has ever experienced, I’ve experienced. It makes you predictable.”

  “Then perhaps I should be unpredictable!” Jagdish must have picked up a handful of dirt when he’d retrieved his sword, because he threw it at Ashok’s eyes.

  With Angruvadal helping, he could pick out every grain of sand suspended in the air. Borrowed lifetimes of experience enabled him to respond without thought. Ashok simply closed his eyes and felt the stinging bits bounce off his skin as he swayed to the side. He felt the wooden sword pass through the ragged remains of his shirt as he calculated all the angles and the most efficient way to respond to Jagdish’s lunge. Time returned to normal and Ashok was already turning, bringing his own blunt practice blade up, and he struck Jagdish in the armpit with a push-cut that was hard enough to break skin and toss the young warrior on his back.

  Jagdish landed hard and swearing. The guards watching along the wall had a good laugh at their commander’s misfortune. He was enough of a man to let them watch, and they’d gained respect for their leader seeing him try to beat the unbeatable, without fail, every single day. So the laughter was all in good fun. Soldiers fought harder when they knew their leader had guts. “Are you all right down there, sir?”

  “Get back to work!” Jagdish shouted at them.

  “Come on, Risaldar! You think in a thousand years nobody ever thought to throw sand in a bearer’s eyes?” Ashok tapped two fingers to the side of his head. “I’ve got the memories of someone who fought a duel where both combatants stood on the back of an elephant in here!”

  Jagdish groaned as he sat up. There was a dark spot of blood showing through the side of his shirt. “I’ll have Wat fetch us some elephants for tomorrow then. That’ll give the men a good show.”

  Ashok extended one hand to help him up. It was an unconscious movement, something an equal would do for a friend. Ashok realized too late that he’d just broken the Law, but the warrior didn’t seem to notice and he took Ashok’s hand anyway. Jagdish might have hesitated to accept the help before, but when you fight against a man every single day, it became easy to forget the caste of their birth. Ashok hauled him to his feet.

  Jagdish leaned his practice sword against the stone wall. “I’m done.”

  “Calling it a day already?”

  “I don’t think I have a choice.” He pointed at the highest guard tower, where one of the men was waving a flag. Red was for potential danger, green was for regular business, and blue was for high-status visitors. This flag was blue. “They must be flying heraldry. Someone important is coming to visit. Damn it, I wasn’t told of any inspections.”

  “Perhaps it’s a judge, finally come to condemn me,” Ashok said hopefully.

  “Don’t say that,” Jagdish said as he picked up a towel and wipe the sweat from his face. “I’d miss our practice sessions.”

  “Don’t worry, Risaldar. After they execute me, you could still try to become Angruvadal’s bearer.”

  Jagdish paused. The idea of becoming a house’s bearer wasn’t something any honorable warrior took lightly. “Do you truly believe I’m worthy?” he asked earnestly.

  Ashok thought that over. It was a curious thing for an honest whole man to ask a vile criminal about worthiness. “I only know of one man who may be more deserving, but it is Angruvadal’s decision to make, and no one can truly understand how black steel thinks. However, I’ll put in a word with my sword and ask it to not mangle you too badly if it finds you unworthy.”

  Jagdish paused, thoughtful. “Does that work?”

  “I don’t know. There’s only one way to find out, but I won’t be around to see if it cuts your hands off or not.”

  “Maybe I won’t miss these practice sessions that much after all . . .” Jagdish muttered as he limped toward his office. “Wat! Return the prisoner to his cell.”

  Ashok enjoyed the bright winter sun on his face until he was put back in his hole.

  * * *

  They were coming for him.

  The footsteps were getting closer. Some of them weren’t wearing guard’s boots, or prisoner’s bare feet or coarse sandals, but fine soft shoes. The prestigious visitors were approaching his cell. Ashok’s pulse quickened.

  It was strange to be so excited for his own death, but the wizard Kule had burned away all that he had been before and replaced it with devotion. He’d proven that he was an imperfect servant of the Law, but the Law was still his foundation, his purpose, and now it required him to perish. As long as he lived, he would remain an aberration, an element of chaos in an otherwise orderly system. So Ashok would go to his death, not just willingly, but eagerly.

  They stopped outside. “This is him.” Jagdish. “Do you wish an escort?”

  “We require privacy.” Ashok didn’t recognize this voice. “Go home, Risaldar. You’re bleeding on your uniform.”

  “If you would allow it, your honor, I would like to stay and hear the prisoner’s fate.”

  “Clean yourself up, you disgrace. You may return tomorrow.”

  Footsteps retreated as Jagdish was cast out of his own prison. That was disrespectful. But then Ashok corrected himself. He had been away from society for a year, and too much familiarity with the lesser classes had made him soft. A judge could do almost whatever he wanted to his inferiors, and they’d best accept those decisions. Ashok got on his knees, ready to acce
pt his.

  The door opened. Three men were standing in the hall, and in the instant before he put his forehead to the floor, he saw that one was wearing the blue-gray and bronze of a Great House Vadal judge, another was wearing the white robes of an Arbiter Superior, but most importantly, the one in the center was dressed all in black and wearing the ornate golden mask of the Grand Inquisitor himself, one of the most powerful people in the Capitol.

  Ashok kept his face down. They wouldn’t have sent such important men if the time of his judgment wasn’t at hand. His heart rejoiced.

  “Rise, Ashok.”

  He lifted his head. The three men had entered and spread out. There were lesser Inquisitors in the hall. The arbiter seemed very nervous about the hems of his fine robes touching the straw.

  The Grand Inquisitor stopped directly before him. It was hard to tell in the uniform, but he seemed to be an average-sized man, gone a bit plump, and the only parts of his body that were visible were his small dark eyes and the crow’s feet around them. “You are aware of who I am?”

  “Grand Inquisitor Omand Vokkan.”

  “Correct. I wish to make this official so that there can be absolutely no question as to the validity of your sentence.” He reached into his sash and pulled out a piece of gold jewelry, shaped like a raven. “You recognize the symbol of my office?” Ashok nodded, so Omand handed him some folded papers. “Here are my documents.”

  Ashok had no reason to doubt him, but Omand must have been as much a stickler for the letter of the Law as Ashok was, so he carefully inspected the papers. They had been signed and stamped by several extremely high-status officials. The criminal Ashok the Black Heart is remanded into Inquisition custody to be dealt with according to the Grand Inquisitor’s wishes.

  “Do you concur?” Omand asked the Vadal judge.

  “He’s all yours.” This was the one who had insulted Risaldar Jagdish. The haughty judge spit on the straw. “Good riddance.”