Omand looked to the arbiter.
“This transfer of custody is witnessed and approved.”
“Thank you, honorable gentlemen. Now I need to speak with the prisoner alone.”
The two of them walked out. A lower-ranked Inquisitor entered, placed a stool behind Omand, then left, shutting the door behind him.
“Inquisition business.” Omand sat down and made himself comfortable. “This shouldn’t take long.”
And then Omand remained there, perfectly still, silently studying him for several long minutes. It was difficult to tell what a man was thinking when you could only see his eyes. Such silent judgment probably unnerved most prisoners, but it meant nothing to a man incapable of fear. So Ashok studied him back. What he found behind those eyes was intense, cold, and somehow broken. Ashok knew it well, because he’d seen something similar every time he had ever looked into a mirror. It took hard men to maintain the sanctity of the Law.
“I will truthfully answer any questions you have to the best of my ability,” Ashok stated. “If you wish to confirm the accuracy of my answers, I will not resist any tortures you wish to apply. You have my word that Angruvadal will remain sheathed in your presence.”
“It is my understanding that you were an unwilling victim in this fraud.”
“I had no knowledge of my true origins until last year. When I found out, I took action.”
“You never suspected the truth, or doubted the false past which was created for you?”
“I did not, but ignorance is no defense. I was born a casteless and took honors which were illegal for me to take, so I must be punished.”
“You won’t ask for mercy?”
“Of course not.” Mercy was a strange concept that Ashok had always struggled with. Mercy was merely the weak trying to rob judgment. “I’m guilty.”
“So the Law truly is your essence . . . Kule wasn’t lying about you.”
Kule? Ashok tilted his head. “You know of the wizard’s treachery?”
“Yes. He has been interrogated and punished.”
Had Devedas brought them to justice? His former brother would never forgive him, but Ashok had known that Devedas would do the right thing. “How?”
“That is not your concern.”
“Harta? Chavans?” Ashok had no problem going into the eternal nothing, but he would die easier knowing that they’d gone first.
“I’m aware of Bidaya’s conspirators, and they will all be dealt with in time.” Omand waved one hand dismissively. Harta was an extremely important man, so doubtless the Inquisition had to tread carefully, but nonetheless, Ashok was glad justice would be satisfied. “They’re not why I’m here. One other question, an unofficial curiosity really . . . If you are such a devotee of the Law, why kill a member of the First to avenge a casteless? Was it so personal because she was your mother?”
“Regardless of my personal beliefs, Bidaya had committed crime.”
“Oh, so you weren’t avenging your mother, you were avenging the Law? If only I’d known your motivations were so pure all along, I wouldn’t have had to come all this way.”
Ashok paused for a long time, mulling over the Grand Inquisitor’s sarcastic response. He had sworn to tell the truth, so he was obligated to continue, no matter how uncomfortable those truths were. “I’ve had time to think about it since. Bidaya didn’t just take my mother from me, she made it so that she never existed at all. Gone. As if they never were. I know that I shouldn’t care, but that offended me. Anger clouded my judgment that night. It still clouds my judgment now. There’s no excuse for the evil I’ve done.”
“It is good that you recognize the magnitude of your crimes.”
Even now, after all this time rotting away in a prison with little else to do but try to remember, he only had tiny glimpses of his real past before the sword—a white smile on a tanned face, eyes bright and proud of her boy, a gentle hand picking bits of grass from his hair as they huddled together for warmth in one corner of a crowded shack—and for all he knew those were fabrications of his imagination. “Forgive my words, Inquisitor, for they sound harsh, but to the ocean with Bidaya. I know that the casteless are little more than animals, but she was my mother.”
“You learned the truth in the Capitol. Having just made the same journey myself I know how long it takes.” Omand rubbed his lower back, as if he was so terribly road-weary from what had probably been a ride in a carriage filled with cushions. “This was no heat-of-the-moment crime of outrage. You had weeks to calm yourself, to seek legal counsel from the judges or to speak with your Order, but instead you committed an act of public, premeditated butchery, supposedly for the Law, but really for someone you can’t even remember.”
“I would do it again,” Ashok said.
Omand nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve come to give you your new orders.”
That was a strange choice of word. Orders implied some necessary action on his part. There was only one order that seemed likely to be given, and his sword would disapprove. “Am I to kill myself, then?”
“That seemed to be the logical choice, but the Vadal delegation wouldn’t hear of it. They didn’t care what was done with you, as long as you died by a hand other than your own, preferably in combat, but they grudgingly accept execution. They’re willing to take some risk to get their sword back, but they refused to simply throw it away. It took some debate before they agreed to turn you over to me. So no, Ashok, you will not kill yourself, though when you hear your orders, you may wish to.”
He couldn’t imagine what else it could be, unless they wanted him to walk from here to the Capitol, naked and barefoot, probably starving and dueling every desperate fool along the way, all so the whole world could mock him before he presented himself at the Inquisitor’s Dome to be strung up and sunburned to death. But if a penance walk was what justice required, then he’d gladly do it. “I will serve.”
“Have you been to the lands of Great House Akershan?”
“Yes. The Order has sent me before.”
“Good. I’m sending you again.”
Akershan was the far to the south. It was a cold, desolate place, with tall, rocky shores overlooking an icy sea infested with demons. Yet just beyond the ice coast was Fortress, the impenetrable island of criminal fanatics and their deadly magic. Ah, a suicide mission. This was a much better death than he’d hoped for.
Ashok’s expression must have changed, because Omand hesitated. The condemned should not smile. “Yes?”
“Since I’m to die, it is wise to let me take some lawbreakers with me. I will gladly attack Fortress.”
“You would, wouldn’t you!” For the leader of such a nefarious, secretive order, Omand laughed like a regular man. Ashok had expected something with more cruelty in it. He didn’t understand why the Grand Inquisitor thought that was so funny, but then Ashok pictured Angruvadal, lost on the floating ice or sinking to the bottom of the sea where demons lived.
“It would be best if I left my sword here. Once I’m dead, it can choose a new bearer. That is the most honorable solution.”
The Inquisitor wiped his eyes. Tears were just another form of saltwater. “I must say, Ashok, you’re everything they made you out to be and more. Breaching Fortress is a task that entire legions have failed at, but you would surely try. From your reputation, you’d probably even discover a whale that miraculously hadn’t gone extinct and train it to carry you across the sea!” The way Omand’s mirth disappeared so quickly suggested it had never existed at all. “I’m afraid your assignment is far more mundane than that. A prophet has risen among the casteless in Akershan and started a rebellion.”
He had heard something about that from Blunt Karno. It was surprising that over a year later this would still be a problem. “Do you wish for me to find and kill their prophet?”
“Finding and killing seems to be your solution for everything, isn’t it?”
Ashok shrugged.
Omand leaned forward on his chair and lowere
d his voice conspiratorially. “Yes, you will travel to Akershan and find him.”
“Very well.”
“Only you’re not to kill him. You will protect him.”
Ashok blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“Since it was your title for twenty years, I’d have assumed a greater familiarity with the concept. Your orders are to find the casteless prophet, pledge your services to him, join his rebels, and do as he commands. He is to be your new master.” Omand paused to let that sink in.
It was the Inquisitors who skulked about in the shadows, pretending to be things that they weren’t. Inquisitors often lied about who they were to infiltrate cults and criminal conspiracies. They were skilled in deceit and trickery. “I’m no Inquisitor.”
“I’m not speaking of going undercover, Ashok.” Omand’s voice had turned low and dangerous. “Oh no, you’re far too noble for that. You’re many things, but you’re not a liar. There’s no hiding your identity. You’ll present yourself to this prophet as yourself, Ashok the Black Heart, the casteless murderer, the fallen Protector, in all your infamy, and you will swear allegiance to his cause and his false gods, and you will follow his orders as if they had all the might of the Capitol and spoke with the voice of the presiding judge himself. You will serve for the rest of your days. That is your punishment.”
Mind reeling, Ashok couldn’t respond, couldn’t speak, could barely think. It was as if the prison cell was spinning around him.
Omand pulled out another piece of paper and handed it over. “Read this.”
It was as Omand said. The written orders were clear. Ashok was to join the casteless rebels. Ten members of the committee had signed off, and it was stamped by the presiding judge.
Their word was law.
“Why?”
“The why never mattered to you before. Do you question the validity of these orders, prisoner?”
“No.”
“Good. But the dumbstruck look on your face amuses me, so I will tell you why. Every man has a place. You’re a casteless criminal, so your place will be with the casteless criminals. This is your obligation. This is your sentence. The rest of your pathetic life will serve as an example to any who dreams of transgressing. If you were a normal man, I would take away your life, but your life is the Law, so I’m taking that instead.”
Ashok couldn’t breathe. This was worse than death. This was banishment, and not just banishment from a house, but banishment from all of society. This was the most dishonorable punishment imaginable, not just dying as a lawbreaker, but living as one. In a daze, he tried to unbuckle his sword belt, but his fingers had become too clumsy.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Leaving my sword here. Angruvadal can’t be dishonored like this.”
“The sword goes with you.”
“No. It can’t.” Ashok looked up, confused and hurt. The sword was more important than the bearer. Bearers lived and died, but the sword symbolized the strength of a house. “It’ll surely be destroyed.”
“The Law has spoken. You’re still the bearer.”
“But Great House Vadal—”
“Never should have let your foulness pollute the world. Now they will pay for their transgressions,” Omand hissed.
There had been no Vadal signatures on the second document. Judgment had been given to more than just Ashok today.
“Listen carefully now. For you to fail in keeping these instructions is to disgrace the sanctity of the Law even more than you already have. These are your final orders. You will take Angruvadal and you will leave tonight, in secret. You will sneak out like a thief. You will speak to no one. You will let no guards see you. All will believe you to be a coward and an oathbreaker. You will leave Vadal as quickly as possible and not look back. You will travel to Akershan without delay. Allow no one to stop or detain you. You’re forbidden from ever speaking of this meeting. You are bound from ever talking about these orders or the names upon them. As far as the world knows, you are nothing but a casteless criminal with a magic sword. Thus says the Law.”
“Thus . . . thus says . . . the Law.”
“Do I have your oath?”
Ashok couldn’t form the words.
“Give me your oath!”
“I swear to follow these orders,” he whispered.
Omand reached out and snatched the papers from Ashok’s fingers. “I told you that you’d rather kill yourself.” He stood up, walked away, and thumped his fist against the door. An Inquisitor on the other side opened it for him.
Ashok felt as if he’d taken a severe blow to the head. It was taking all of his concentration to stay on his knees and not fall over. He thought about taking Angruvadal out and plunging it into his guts. It would have hurt far less.
This was a betrayal of everything.
Omand paused in the doorway. “I must admit, of all the many terrible things I’ve done in my career, this is the harshest punishment I have ever dispensed. Farewell, Ashok.”
Chapter 22
Jagdish drank his beer and thought about his latest shame. Both were bitter.
The warriors’ hall was loud. The air was filled with pipe smoke. Drinks were flowing freely. News had spread quickly. Representatives from the Capitol had gone to Cold Stream to deliver judgment to the Disgrace of Vadal. By the time Jagdish had gotten here, wanting only to drink his anger away, all the other warriors were already talking about it, so he’d listened in annoyed silence.
“It was the masks that came for him. That means he’s going to roast on the Inquisitor’s Dome.”
“Naw. Beheading.”
“But no ax! They’ll use a wood saw. Slow and squirting and kicking. I heard that’s how they do it in Vokkan, and the Grand Inquisitors from House Vokkan.”
“You’re a moron. Harta won’t allow that. Not honorable enough. With our luck they’ll send a whole paltan to fight the Black Heart, make it a nice and proper bearer’s death they can write songs about . . . The arbiters will probably sell tickets.”
“They wouldn’t do that . . . Would they?”
“Oceans, Nayak, they’d gladly spend fifty of us to wrap this mess up. In a generation there’ll be a play about it in the Capitol. The tragic final scene will be the actors playing us getting cut to pieces so the bearer can have a right honorable enough death.” That warrior was fairly drunk by this point. “I bet the actor playing Harta will deliver a fine speech, knee deep in the paint supposed to be our blood.”
“What do you think, Jagdish?”
Of course, they wouldn’t leave him alone about it. Oh no, he’d been there that terrible night. Jagdish had actually fought the Black Heart, then he’d bravely kept him imprisoned, and Jagdish was the only man who had the balls to command that monster to spar against him. Or at least, that’s what many of the Vadal warriors were saying. The ones who thought Jagdish a fool were smart enough to only say it behind his back.
Jagdish took his time looking at the many warriors sitting around the long table, and the others who were standing around the edges, all eagerly awaiting his opinion. He’d drawn a crowd. The hall had even quieted down a bit to hear what he had to say. Jagdish poured the last of the beer down his throat. The cheap watery swill wasn’t nearly strong enough tonight. “All I know for sure is that’s the last of my month’s beer allotment.”
“You can have one of my ration, Risaldar!” exclaimed one of the youngest, who signaled a slave to bring another pitcher.
Maybe being the resident expert wasn’t all bad. That was like the . . . eighth? Tenth? He couldn’t remember, but the soldiers kept them coming, so he wasn’t complaining. The pitcher was set in front of him, and Jagdish refilled his mug. “I was sent away before I heard. The sentence will probably be announced tomorrow.” The younger warriors seemed let down, the veterans were used to never being told anything, but all soldiers liked to guess about how their leadership was going to screw them next. “It could be execution or it could be another duel. I just do
n’t know.”
“Bidaya threw a bunch of us at him before, and what a mess that turned out!” shouted one of the drunks. Then he realized nobody was laughing, and he was catching a few angry glares from his friends. “No disrespect, Risaldar.”
Jagdish just kept drinking, pretending to have not heard. He’d weathered far worse insults from far more important people.
“So if it’s to be a fight, Jagdish, you know him better than anyone, how many of us will they have to toss at that maniac so he can die happy enough for the sword not to break?”
“If the judges rule that way . . .” Jagdish mulled it over. “Hmmm . . . Tough question. Honor would demand a sporting duel, and that’s hard when there’s an ancestor blade involved. Depending on the ground and what we’re allowed to bring, pole arms, maybe bows, it’ll square up quick, even with him using Angruvadal, our armor, numbers, and reach go a long ways. Give us space to maneuver, we’d do better. A close engagement where Ashok could get his back against something solid and only fight a few of us at a time . . . Tricky.”
“Come on, Jagdish. We all figure if that’s how the judges decide, you’re probably the man leading the charge.”
He hadn’t thought of that, but he was certainly expendable enough. “To make it sure? Assuming I’m given fully equipped veterans, of the best Vadal has to offer, I’d ask for a paltan.”
A few mouths fell open. Jagdish knew Ashok’s capabilities far better than they did, and he’d just suggested fifty experienced men to give them a fair fight.
“We might have a chance if I’m allowed archers.” Jagdish took another drink. “Winning would still be questionable. To minimize casualties I’d want two full paltans at once.”
“A hundred men against one?” A risaldar from another legion had walked up to their table. “I do believe this man has had too much to drink!”
Jagdish looked down at his mug. Sadly, not even close. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with. Anyone who underestimates the Black Heart is a fool. You might think the stories are exaggerated, but legends exist for a reason. They say he’s only a man . . .” Jagdish chuckled and shook his head. “Even without the sword in his hand, he’s something else.”