Son of the Black Sword

  “Hello, my friend. It appears that you are feeling better. It turns out that Protectors are as difficult to kill as the legends make them out to be. Pierced, burned, poisoned, and drowned, yet still among the living. I knew you were the one I’ve been waiting for.”

  The voice sounded familiar. He’d not gotten a very good look at him that night, but Keta had been a memorable lunatic. “You came to see me in prison. . . . You called yourself the Keeper of Names.”

  “That is correct. I am Freeman Keta.”

  “A free man?” Ashok snorted. “There’s no such thing.”

  “Of course you would believe that. Your only freedom has been to serve in an approved manner, which if you think about it, is entirely contrary to the very concept.”

  “I remember all that nonsense about not belonging to any house or caste.”

  “I’m impressed that you can remember anything at all. That poison was strong enough to drop an elephant.”

  The warrior caste didn’t use poison. The Law declared that to be a cowardly assassin’s weapon, which meant Ashok hadn’t been the only lawbreaker on that bridge. It had to be something rare and extremely potent to have this much of an effect on his body. Those who touched the Heart of the Mountain were immune to most poisons, and if he were ever exposed to this particular mixture again, the Heart would be ready to counteract it and there would be no effect at all.

  One song completed, the casteless began a new song outside. He found the song strangely familiar.

  “May I ask you a question, Fall?”

  “That isn’t my name.”

  “That’s how it was recorded in the book.”

  “What book?”

  “The most important book of all books. The book that tells us who we really are, but I’ll call you whatever you wish, even if that name is a lie.” Keta dipped his head in apology. “So, Ashok, why did you try to escape at the bridge rather than fight? There weren’t that many warriors between you and freedom. From the stories I’ve heard, they wouldn’t have been able to stop a bearer. Why not cut a path through them? Why risk your life instead? Why put yourself in the water?”

  That wasn’t a question. That was many questions, and the answers were so complicated that Ashok wasn’t sure about them himself. “I didn’t want to kill them.”

  “You kill everyone. Why not these?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You chose the unknown rather than the familiar. I believe you will be doing that quite a bit in the near future. I believe before you discovered the truth, you would’ve killed them all without a second thought. You’ve been lied to for so long that now you see the whole world is crooked, but the Forgotten knows that you’ll learn to see things as they really are. I don’t know your mind, but you going beneath the water is a sign. Did you know that among the beliefs of the old tribe, before the kings, some believed in a thing called baptism? It represented rebirth. A man would be submerged beneath water, and when he came out of the water, it represented a rebirth, a new beginning. This is your new beginning!”

  “I’m on a barge of fools,” Ashok muttered to himself.

  “What caused you to leave the prison? The last time we spoke, you seemed content enough.”

  Duty. But Omand had ordered him not to speak of it. “My reasons are my own.”

  Keta grinned. “We both know that’s a lie! You own nothing. Even your most prized possession owns you, not the other way around. You’ve never determined a thing for yourself. Blind obedience has carried you through life like this river carried your body to me. You go where the current takes you, Ashok.”

  He was still dizzy and nauseous, but Ashok sat up. Keta seemed surprised that he was able to do that already, and he was even more surprised when Ashok grabbed Keta’s collar, twisted it tight, and dragged him over to whisper, “Listen carefully, Keeper. I’ve no patience for lectures. Who are you and what do you want?”

  “Of course you’re impatient!” Despite being on the edge of strangulation, the Keeper didn’t cower. He was made of sterner stuff than his appearance suggested. “I should have known the Forgotten would pick a man of action. I understand. Believe it or not, I was a lot like you once.”

  Ashok sincerely doubted that. “The Forgotten? So you’re one of those fanatics.”

  “I serve the Forgotten. That’s what a Keeper is. It’s an office in the priesthood, left over from the Age of Kings. You’d think an expert on murdering the religious would already be aware of such things.”

  “I never needed to know the particulars.” Their kind disgusted him. Devotees to the old ways were enemies of all that was good. He drove his knuckles into Keta’s neck. It wouldn’t take much effort to crush his throat. “You’re all the same to me.”

  The Keeper grimaced as his face turned red. “It has been proclaimed that you must meet the prophet. I’m the only one who can take you there,” he gasped.

  “How do you know I seek him?” Ashok demanded.

  “You already are?” That seemed to surprise the Keeper more than the threat of strangulation. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  “Explain.”

  “You may have a mission from man, but I have a mission from the gods. Ultimately they take us to the same destination. I’m supposed to convince you of the truth. I’ve been called to be your guide.”

  “I need no guide. I travel alone.”

  “Your teacher, then!”

  “There’s nothing you have to say that I want to learn. If I have been reborn, it is as a man with even less patience for foolishness than before.” Ashok squeezed harder.

  “Your Order has been searching for years and failing. You can’t meet the prophet until the Keepers arrange it. A test . . . You must . . .” Keta was about to pass out. “I have to proclaim you worthy first!”

  “I see.” It was tempting to snap the fanatic’s neck and get off this blasphemous barge, but Ashok let go of Keta, who scrambled back, gasping. “I will pass your tests. You will take me to this prophet.”

  Keta rubbed his bruised throat. “I won’t if you’re attacking the Forgotten’s loyal servants.”

  “Very well. I will respect your office for the duration of our journey. You will take me to him.” Ashok found the next few words so extremely distasteful that they were difficult to speak. “I will become his servant as well.”

  “What?” That statement was so surprising that it registered even through the indignity of being choked with his own shirt. “I’ve not . . . But . . . You’re already—”

  “You are not so eloquent that you’ve swayed me into worshiping your false gods, Keeper. I have my reasons. Do we have an agreement or not?”

  Keta seemed thoughtful, if a bit intimidated. However he’d expected his god to deliver the miracle of the cooperative Protector, this certainly wasn’t it. “We have an agreement.”

  Chapter 29

  The others were up top, in the dying sunlight, poling their huge cargo barge along against the swift current. It was tedious work, and Keta was impressed by the seemingly endless stamina of the casteless who lived upon the rivers. The men worked in tandem, singing a song with a rhythm that told each one when to push so that no distance was ever lost to the relentless water.

  Thera was sitting on a crate, sharpening one of her many knives. She hid the blade inside a sleeve when she heard Keta climb up the ladder. Those who dared to carry arms in defiance of the Law became very proficient at concealing them. “How goes it, Keeper?” She must have noticed the spreading bruise on his throat. “Not well, I take it.”

  Keta sat next to her. He was troubled and trying not to show it. “Some of us are more set in our ways than others.”

  “We’ve got ourselves a whole man who has spent his entire damnable life eliminating folks like they’re vermin, and he’s supposed to be the meanest man ever turned out by an order of right hard bastards. He can’t be the one. This is stupid.”

  Since Keta had assumed his office in the priesthood, he wasn’t use
d to having people supposedly on his side scoff so openly, but he didn’t mind. Doubt kept him from getting a big head. “The Voice made it sound like he is. I don’t know what put him on it, but Ashok was already on the right path. He was already seeking the prophet.”

  “Why? How?” Thera obviously didn’t like that at all. “What does that mean? To kill?”

  “No, to serve.” She had an incredulous look on her face. “I know. I thought the same thing. This has to be true. I have faith.”

  “And I have knives, so if he’s not the one we’re looking for, and you decide this is some Inquisition plot to get close to us, say the word. I’ll wait until he’s sleeping and cut his throat. A magic sword can’t do much for him while he’s asleep, and he won’t be so indestructible with a gash from ear to ear.”

  Thera may have slit more than her fair share of throats, but he doubted killing Ashok would be that easy, even coming at him while he was asleep, and the rebellion couldn’t afford to lose her. “We might not understand the wisdom of the gods, but this is all part of the Forgotten’s plan. I’m sure Ashok is the one.”

  “Good. I didn’t stick my lips on some bastard firster’s food hole for no reason. You better know what you’re doing.”

  “I might not, but the gods always know what they’re doing.”

  “Keep saying that, Keeper, and you might start believing it yourself.”

  She was trying to goad him into another religious argument, but Keta let it pass. On their long journey north they’d had many philosophical debates, most of which had been brief, heated, and usually left him feeling annoyed, angry, or depressed. It was remarkable that Thera, who had personally been through so much, could believe in so little.

  Thera cleared her throat and spit over the side. “My faith in the Forgotten isn’t as strong as yours, but I’m sure it’ll last until the rebellion runs out of notes to pay me.”

  Her admitting to such base motivations just made Keta sad. “I know my interpretation of the vision is correct, Thera. Just do as we planned. We’re supposed to be here.”

  “We’ll see.” She rose and put her hood up. “In the meantime, if our Protector decides to start dispensing judgment, you’re on your own, and I’m swimming for shore. He might be able to fight, but he can’t swim to save his life.” Then she walked away.

  “He’s stubborn enough he might put rocks in his pockets and walk across the bottom to pursue you!” he shouted after her, but she just gave him a profane gesture and continued walking. He sighed, then watched the passing river and the setting sun while listening to the laborers sing their rhythmic pace.

  Keta had been preparing for this moment for years, yet he was still plagued with doubt. The Forgotten had long ago taught what must be done, and now it was Keta’s duty to prepare the way for the gods’ triumphant return. He’d known this would be difficult. His new charge was a product of the callous governing caste. Ashok’s cruel, distrusting nature shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him.

  The two of them came from extremely different backgrounds, but they shared the same teacher.

  Sometimes I really wonder why you picked me for this, Ratul . . .

  Chapter 30

  Four years ago

  “The demons must be emerging from the sea again,” the overseer said as he entered the storehouse.

  Alarmed, Keta the butcher sprinted to the entrance, meat cleaver in hand. He looked toward the distant shore, but saw no monsters. The ocean was its normal blue, not blood red like the last time. “Are they coming?” he gasped. It had been nearly twenty years since their last incursion into the lands of House Uttara. “How do you know? Have you seen them?”

  Yet the overseer wasn’t panicking like most men would if they’d seen such horrors. “Calm yourself, butcher.” The large man scowled as he moved one hand to the whip at his side. Like all overseers, he was a hard man, but unlike most appointed to his station, not a totally unkind one. Such disrespectful questions could earn a beating. They were both casteless, but even amongst the lowest of the low, there was order.

  Keta bowed his head. “Forgive me. I was little the last time the demons came. They slaughtered everyone.” Realizing that he was still clutching the sharpened cleaver, Keta quickly dropped it onto a nearby table. The Law said his kind were not allowed weapons, only tools necessary to perform their work. “Fear made me speak out of turn.”

  The overseer let go of the whip. “I’ve seen the ocean beasts myself. Only a fool would be unafraid. There have been no raids, yet.” Remarkably, he even took the time to answer the young man’s questions. “This morning I was told that one of the Protectors of the Law is on his way here.”

  Keta’s mouth was suddenly very dry.

  “A Protector is coming all the way from the capitol.” The overseer scratched his head. “That’s a long journey and this house isn’t so big to warrant such a visit. I bet demons have been seen along these shores again. What else could attract a Protector’s attention?”

  An uprising . . . but Keta didn’t speak. The Protectors kept order between houses and the castes in their place. He could only pray to the Forgotten that it was demons from the Haunted Sea and not another purge that brought such a perfect killer into their midst . . . What a horrible thing to wish for.

  “Regardless of the reason for the visit, the master wants his holdings in top shape for a visitor of such high status.” The overseer glanced around Keta’s storehouse. Cured meats hung from chains. Barrels of salted fish were neatly stacked in the corners. The storehouse was already extremely neat and organized, as Keta had learned a long time ago that the best way to avoid trouble was never to cause any. “I can’t imagine a warrior who can kill demons with his bare hands inventorying meat, but clean everything just in case.”

  “As you command, it will be done.”

  “And one other thing . . .” the overseer leaned in conspiratorially. “I heard the master giving instructions. If it is demons and we’re raided, the warriors are to protect the master’s household first, then the town, then the livestock next, and once the cows and pigs are safe, only then see to the casteless quarter.” The overseer’s disgust was obvious. “It’s nice to know that years of loyal service has made it so that our master values the chickens more than he values the lives of my children.”

  Was this a test of his obedience? “That is how they are valued according to the Law.”

  “I don’t think demons honor the Law . . .” The overseer’s eyes darted toward the discarded meat cleaver. “I’d keep that handy if I were you.”

  “That is just a tool necessary to fulfill the responsibilities assigned to me.” Keta said automatically. “I would never—”

  “Of course . . .” The overseer nodded, pretending he had not noticed the way Keta had held it earlier. “It’s just a tool. I forget myself. That’s not a wise thing to do with a Protector coming. I will spread the word. Get back to work.”

  He waited until the master’s man had left the storehouse before returning the meat cleaver to its place on his apron. The overseer was correct. The master and the Law were correct. A sharpened piece of steel was just a tool. The spears, knives, and clubs Keta had been secretly stockpiling beneath the barrels of fish were also just tools.

  His mind was the weapon.

  * * *

  “I think the overseer might join with us when the time comes,” Keta whispered to his fellow conspirators.

  “He strikes me as the master’s man,” Baldev said. “I wouldn’t trust him.”

  “I don’t know. He seemed truthful. I think he’s had enough of the Law. Same as us.”

  “The overseer’s words are worth saltwater.” Govind’s teeth were visible in the dark when he grinned. “Besides, he’s given me the whip one too many times for no good reason. He’s getting his throat cut, same as the rest of the master’s pets, when the time comes.”

  There was a constant low level of noise in the bunkhouse, as was bound to happen when you packed over two d
ozen casteless men, women, and children into one shack, so they weren’t too worried about being overheard. There were many other bunkhouses just like this one on master’s lands, and each one had its own conspirators as well.

  “When the time comes? We keep talking about that like it’s the return of the Forgotten.” Baldev was casual about his blasphemy. “If this Protector is on his way because of us, the time needs to be now. We need to strike soon.”

  The dirt floor was covered in straw. Everyone slept on top of their personal belongings to keep them from getting stolen during the night. Keta rolled over on his meat cutter’s apron to stare at his friend. “Are you mad? We’re not ready. There aren’t enough of us.”

  “The master’s house only has a hundred warriors. We’ve got twice that now.”

  “Have you been out in the sun too long, Govind?” Keta was actually surprised the fisherman could count that high. “Your duty is to mend the nets. That’s all you do. Sleep, eat, shit, screw, and mend nets, and then complain about mending nets to us before you repeat it all the next day. Your whole life you’ve worked on nets. How good are you at mending nets?”

  “I’m really good at mending nets.”

  “So if I grabbed any two men here, and sent them to the beach tomorrow, they together would be able to handle nets as good as you by yourself?”

  “Of course not. It takes time.”

  “Exactly, stupid. The warrior caste’s only duty is to fight and train to fight. That’s all they do. That’s all they care about. You hear them on the other side of that fence, hitting each other with wooden swords from dawn to dusk. They’re as good at their duty as you are at yours. No, we wait, until we have enough to overwhelm the house all at once. And then when we win, and we win fast and clean, all of the casteless in this province will rise up and kill their warriors too.”

  Baldev was the strongest, but he knew Keta was the smart one. “And there’s so many of us that even the other houses won’t be able to do a thing.”