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Chapter 15



When at first the boys had not returned from the hunt, Toramana had not been concerned. Parth and Rawal were young, but they had been raised in the Bahdjangal, where it wasn’t odd for the hunters of their tribe to spend many days away from the village, foraging to survive, and only returning home after they had gotten a proper kill. That had been in an unforgiving swamp, trapped between the House of Assassins and the sea. In comparison, the forests above the Creator’s Cove were a relative paradise. There were no crocodiles, venomous snakes, or roaming demons here, just plentiful game and solid ground.

It was on the second day that Toramana grew worried, but not enough to ask for help. His tribe had a reputation to maintain. If two of his young hunters had gotten lost in terrain as tame as this, it would bring shame to the People of the Woods. They were unique among the faithful, nearly as poor as the casteless, only they had never lived in the Law-abiding world. Their ways were their own. Toramana had earned Ashok’s respect and been named one of the Sons’ officers because his people were superior archers, trackers, and scouts. He couldn’t afford to lose face before the so-called civilized men by having it known his own flesh and blood had gotten lost in the woods.

Worse…if the others helped search, what if Rawal was found by a city man? Such indignity would never be lived down.

Instead Toramana had sent several of his loyal hunters to track the boys and discreetly bring them home. Yet, after two days of failure, Toramana had been forced to swallow his pride and bring dishonor to the swamp people by asking for help.

Keta—as always—had been eager to help. His assistant, Javed, had gathered volunteers to send up the slopes to look for them.

None of these illustrious leaders had thought to trouble Thera about such a mundane matter as two missing boys. She hadn’t found out until a day later, when she had asked one of Toramana’s tribe where everyone had gone and been told of the swamp chief’s prideful hesitancy to ask for help. She was the Voice of the Forgotten, busy running a settlement and planning a war. Everyone just assumed she would be above such petty concerns, which frankly annoyed her to no end. She wasn’t some aloof Thakoor, lording over her people from her opulent estate, and she hated it when the men defaulted to old habits and treated her like their prior first-caste masters.

Thera was warrior caste at heart, and happy to have the excuse to put on her boots and walk up a mountainside. Besides, she’d been feeling overwhelmed trying to come up with a plan of attack against the Law that would offer any chance of success and could use the fresh air. A search party was a fine excuse to stop banging her head against the wall for a time.

Of course, it would do no good for her to simply walk up the slope and present herself to Javed for assignment as if she was any other mundane member of the Cove. The faithful would surely fawn over her, and then she’d end up more of a distraction than a help. Normally she would have commanded some of the Sons to accompany her, but most of them were busy training the next group of saboteurs who were to be sent out shortly. She’d need more eyes than just hers and Murugan’s so she turned to the only other people staying at the Sons’ terrace who weren’t occupied with something important…

The slaves she had freed from the House of Assassins had nothing better to do. Their brains might be mush, but they had eyeballs and sense enough to point.

During her time in the Lost House, she had been stunned by the wizards’ ruthless callousness. Every one of them had been recognized as a child because of their magical gifts, kidnapped from their real families, and taken to Lost House Charsadda to be raised as an assassin. Those who were vicious enough to adapt to their cutthroat ways and pass the trial in the Graveyard of Demons became full members of the house. The stolen children who were deemed unworthy to face the trial for whatever reason had their minds magically broken, leaving them as docile slaves to their haughty brethren.

Many of those slaves had been killed when the demons attacked the Lost House, but twelve had survived. Thera couldn’t just leave them in a cursed swamp to fend for themselves, so she had brought them along. And oddly enough, they had obeyed her, probably because technically she had passed the trial in the Graveyard of Demons, which would make her a member of the Lost House, and thus their rightful master. The thought made her sick, but they’d been so simple they needed somebody to guide them, or they probably would have just died in the swamp.

Though the slaves had been relatively helpless at first—emotionless simpletons, only acting when directed—the spell had seemed to weaken over the ensuing seasons. Most of them remained mute or inarticulate, but the effect was clearly fading, and some of them were beginning to show signs of real personality again. Thera had seen moments of genuine emotion, and even curiosity, from a few of them.

They were still only trusted with simple, repetitive tasks, but Thera reasoned there was nothing simpler than walking through the forest in a line until you tripped over a body. So she had gathered the girl cutting vegetables in the kitchen, and the three boys who had been mucking out the horse pen, and commanded all of them to accompany her.

It wasn’t a pleasant march up the side of the crater. Rain had been falling sporadically for the last few days, a fact that had surely hindered Toramana’s trackers. They met another group of faithful on their way down, and once they got over their excitement at being addressed by their prophet, they pointed her toward where they had left off. When she saw how organized the searchers were, with all the woods around the top of the Cove having been divided up, and they were concentrating on the area where the boys had been last seen hunting, Thera guessed correctly that the search must have been organized by Javed. Their second priest was very meticulous like that.

Unfortunately, there had been no luck yet. That was a grim sign, because if the boys were still alive, surely they would have heard all these people shouting their names. Some had begun to fear that the boys had foolishly tried to scale the rugged mountains above the forest. Ashok had told her that such a climb would have been difficult even for him. If a pair of unskilled boys tried that they would have surely tumbled to their doom.

After the other group left, Murugan told her, “They are looking where they are expected to be and finding nothing. I have an idea.”

“What’s that?”

“In Thao lands, we pride ourselves on climbing rocks. Warrior and worker both, except we know which ones to learn on. You practice on the ones that won’t kill you, then move on to a real challenge.”

Thera had grown up in a land of misty hills. The most interesting thing to climb near House Vane was a tree. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s exhilarating.” Murugan grinned. “It must sound odd to a flatlander, but the higher you go, the braver you must be.”

She refrained from asking her bodyguard how high he’d ever climbed, as Murugan was sensitive about anything that might be seen as questioning his courage. “The swamp people come from a mud bar that’s only a few feet above the sea. You think their children might have overestimated what they could do?”

“Possibly. Sometimes a climb will look reasonable from the bottom, but then once you’re a ways up it, things change, luck runs out, and it’s hard to make your way back down. Your arms get tired, fingers bleed and slip, your legs cramp, miss a toe hold, and next thing you know…” Murugan made a whistling noise. “Thud. A not uncommon way for young warriors to die where I’m from.”

“Then it makes sense we’d find them at the bottom. If you were an adventurous child, which one of these would you try to climb?”

Without hesitation, Murugan pointed at a jutting peak to the northwest. “That one.”

It looked like every other rock to her, though it was the tallest point around the Cove. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been tempted to tackle it myself. Just look at that thing…It would be a challenge, and at the end you’d be treated to a view the likes of which only the gods usually get to see.”

It was a good thing she kept her bodyguard so busy, otherwise he’d go off and break his neck. Yet Murugan’s logic was sound. The swamp folk were daring. They weren’t warrior caste, but their pride in their physical accomplishments was equal to warriors’. That would be quite the feat to brag on. It was as good a place to look as anywhere else.

As the six of them walked toward the peak, she could hear other searchers shouting the boys’ names through the trees. Parth. Rawal. Thera had met both. They had been among those who had followed her around the swampers’ village all winter. They seemed like good boys. She hoped for the best but feared for the worst.

Unfortunately, two-thirds of Thera’s group couldn’t talk, so there would not be as much shouting of names. “Spread out and watch the ground. We’ll keep a few yards between us.”

“If they see something you expect them to speak up?” Murugan asked pointedly.

Thera sighed as she looked over her magically damaged crew. “Just…get my attention somehow. Alright?” They stared blankly back at her. When they’d done that in the House of Assassins she’d found it unnerving. Now that she knew their story, their witless nature just made her sad. “Got that?”

Two of them managed to nod. It would have to do. They spread out and did as they were told.

“They seem to be improving,” Thera said.

“Oh, in leaps and bounds, Prophet.”

“Don’t mock me, kid. They’re still in there. They’ll snap out of it eventually. When Dattu saw his brother Kabir murdered, it shook him from the spell long enough for him to light the spark that destroyed the House of Assassins.”

“I wasn’t mocking. I vowed to serve whomever the gods chose. I give thanks every day they picked someone who believes in mercy.”

Thera grudgingly accepted that compliment.

The rain had made the ground soft, and the pine-needle cover was slick. They were quickly drenched and chilled. They spent an hour walking between the trees, as she and Murugan shouted themselves hoarse to make up for the silent remainder.

They were nearing the tempting peak when Thera heard someone whisper, “Stop.”

At first she’d thought that had been her bodyguard, but then she realized that it had been a woman’s voice. In disbelief she turned toward the only other female in the group. The slave was plain, short, and probably only a couple of years older than the boys they were looking for. She was so quiet and unobtrusive that it was easy to forget she was there at all. Having no way of knowing her real name, Thera had named her Laxmi.

The slave was staring at Thera, wide-eyed.

“You talked!”

“Stop,” Laxmi repeated, this time with more urgency. She was shaking, only it wasn’t from the cold.

Thera realized that the poor girl was terrified. “Everybody hold up!”

“What is it?” Murugan moved his hand to his sheathed sword.

“I don’t know.” Thera walked slowly toward Laxmi, and tried not to sound too excitable. No reason to agitate the poor thing anymore than she already was. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Laxmi looked ahead of her, where there was a relatively dry patch, clear of needles and protected from the brunt of the rain by a thick knot of branches.

“Tiger.”

By the time Murugan drew his sword, Thera already had a knife in each hand.

Thera squinted at the dirt patch, thinking the poor girl had to be imagining things, because tigers were rare in this part of Lok, and there’d been no sign of such a dangerous predator inside the Cove—until she saw the massive paw print for herself. “Oceans!” Then she instinctively looked up as her father had taught her, to make sure the beast wasn’t crouched in the trees directly overhead, waiting to leap down on its prey.

Murugan rushed over until he could see the track as well. “That’s a big cat.”

“Tiger…Not tiger,” Laxmi whispered. “No. Worse.”

“She’s gone from silent to babbling. What’s she going on about?”

“I don’t know,” Thera told him. The poor girl hadn’t spoken for who knew how long, but something about the track had shaken her from her stupor. “This sure changes the search, though.”

“It might have carried the boys off. They’ll do that, you know—hide their kill in a tree trunk or something.” Murugan looked around nervously. Even a skilled warrior was wary when it came to a silent hunter that could remain unseen until the instant it sank its fangs into your neck.

Thera commanded those who were too oblivious to realize there was danger near. “No more spreading out. Everyone draw near.” Then she moved to Laxmi’s side; she was staring off deeper into the forest. Thera squinted in that direction but couldn’t see anything except for trees. “What is it?”

“Omkar,” she squeaked, clearly terrified out of her wits.

That name stirred bad memories, for he had been Thera’s appointed teacher in the House of Assassins. “Omkar’s dead.”

“An evil, evil man.”

“I know…Was he your teacher too?”

Laxmi turned toward Thera and nodded vigorously.

Though Thera had been considered special enough to be spared his wrath, Kabir had warned her about Omkar’s vile nature. The fat man had delighted in sadistic murder, malicious even by the assassins’ standards. It was rumored he was as cruel to his students as his targets.

Thera sheathed one of her knives so she could put a comforting hand on Laxmi’s shoulder. “Omkar’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. Understand?”

“I know it’s not him,” she squeaked. “But like him.”

The girl had spotted the track, but Thera had no idea why that reminded her of the fat old killer from the House of Assassins. It was a curious bit of nonsense, but the tiger was a bad enough omen on its own for now.

“Come on. We need to warn the others there’s a predator in the Cove.”


Hours later, the bodies had been found. Thera knew even before the messenger reached her, because Toramana’s cry of rage and grief had echoed off the mountains. She was told the boys had been mauled and then stuffed into a tiny cave, only a quarter mile from where Laxmi had found the track.

As tragic as that was, something else had begun to gnaw at Thera’s mind, but she hesitated to speak of it in the woods where there might be unseen listeners. Instead she cautioned Murugan to tell no one else about the slave waking up, and then they had walked back down to the Sons’ terrace. The whole time Thera kept an eye on the girl, but if Laxmi wanted to speak more, she hid it well.

Once safely home, Thera had taken Laxmi to her quarters, wrapped her in blankets to get her warm, and fetched some of the stew that the girl had been preparing earlier. Thera had left Murugan outside to guard the door, with instructions to turn away anybody unless it was Ashok miraculously returned or the Forgotten himself.

Thera sat across from the slave and gave her a chance to eat before prodding her.

“This is good,” she told her. “You’re a fine cook.”

As usual the girl wouldn’t make eye contact, she just kept staring into her bowl, seeming small and forlorn.

So Thera tried to talk to make her feel at ease. “I’m a terrible cook. Warrior wives are supposed to know how to feed our husbands, but I never learned that well. Probably one reason he didn’t like me! Among many. Of course the casteless here are even worse, as they’ve never been given spices in their lives so they’re afraid of them. A casteless would eat an old shoe and be thankful. We’ve got terraces where spices grow like weeds and hardly anyone here who can do a damn thing with them, but not you. This is the best stew I’ve had. We’re lucky to have you.”

Surprisingly, Laxmi said, “Thank you.”

Thera grinned, as even that little interaction suggested the assassins’ magic was crumbling. “I’ve been calling you Laxmi for the last little while, but I don’t know what your real name is.”

“Laxmi is better. I’d like to keep that one.”

“Sure. Whatever you want.” The spell really was broken for her. That meant there was hope for the others as well. Thera breathed a sigh of relief. “We’ve talked before. Well, I’ve talked. But I feel like I should introduce myself. I’m Thera.”

“I know. You’re the one who saved us.”

“It was a group effort, Ashok and the Sons of the Black Sword and me.”

“You were the one who wouldn’t leave us behind, even though your hands were hurt.”

That was true, but Thera liked to imagine that she had merely done what any decent, honorable sort would do in the same circumstances, burned hands or not. “Do you know where you are?”

“The Creator’s Cove, home of the faithful.”

“You must listen to the Keeper of Names’ sermons?”

Laxmi nodded, like she was embarrassed to say yes.

Thera tried to lighten the mood. “Of course you have. Keta talks enough for all of us! He’s got a sermon for everything.”

Laxmi actually smiled a little. “I like them. My parents said religion was illegal. Master Omkar laughed at it. But I like it when the Keeper talks about the gods and us.”

Good. In a life so miserable, it was good that she could find happiness in that. “How much do you remember about…where you were before?” Thera was hesitant to call the House of Assassins by its name, because she wasn’t sure what that reminder would do to the poor girl.

“All of it.”

“Oh…” Thera could only imagine what that entailed. “Where were you from before that?”

“Gujara.”

“The northern jungles. I hear there’s a lot of tigers there. Is that how you recognized the track?”

Laxmi shook her head. “Yes but no.”

“The track was hard to see. How’d you know it was there?”

“The magic lingered. I could feel it before I could see it.”

Thera went cold. The delicious stew formed a nauseous lump in the pit of her stomach. This was what she’d been afraid of. “You can sense magic?”

Laxmi nodded vigorously.

“That’s a rare talent. I’ve only known a few people like that. One of them was Ratul, a brave man who protected me. Another you probably met, a worker named Gutch. He was the big, jolly one who wintered in the swamp with us. You’re very special to have such a gift.”

“I’m not that good at it. I have to be very close.”

“I want to ask, in the woods, you spoke of Master Omkar…”

“He taught me several patterns.”

Impressive, if true. The Lost House wizards usually knew two or three different spells by the time they attempted their raid on the Graveyard of Demons. “He tried to teach me some, only I wasn’t very good at magic, though.”

“I was.” Surprisingly, Laxmi actually looked at Thera as she spoke, revealing there were tears in her eyes. “I was very talented with the patterns. That’s not why he declared me unworthy to take the trial. They…they…”

“It’s alright now. That foul place has been destroyed.”

“Good.”

Thera let Laxmi collect herself before asking, “The patterns Omkar showed you—one of them was the tiger pattern, wasn’t it?”

Laxmi sniffed and nodded, confirming Thera’s worst fears.

The Cove has been infiltrated by a shape-shifting wizard.

Was it Sikasso’s men, come for revenge? Or was it the Inquisition, preparing to destroy the rebellion once and for all? If the Law knew about their hideout, the rebellion was doomed. She would have to alert her officers, but subtly, so as to not alert the tiger.

It was a challenge to keep her voice calm while her blood ran cold. “Listen, Laxmi, for now, speak of this to no one else.”

“That will not be hard for me.”

It took a moment for her to realize the poor girl had actually been making a joke, and then Thera snorted and laughed so violently she spilled some stew. “I guess talking too much hasn’t been an issue for you lately! Welcome back.”

There were actual real human expressions on Laxmi’s face, a sort of emotional, weary joy. “It’s still foggy, but it’s nice to think again. Or some thinking at least, but it’s like I can start a thought but it’s hard to get to the end. But it’s better than before. The pattern puts you in a dream where you can’t help but do what you’re told. Master Sikasso called it quieting the mind.”

“You were taught that one?”

“I was. I was very far along in my training before I disappointed Master Omkar for the last time. He said I was good at magic, but weak.”

“Meaning you didn’t want to murder innocents.”

“Master Omkar said that was how the house earned its way. He thought I was soft, so he ordered me to kill a slave. I hesitated, so he did it for me. The next time when I hesitated, I became the slave. You understand?”

“All too well. If it’s any consolation, Javed cut Omkar’s disgusting head off and gave it to Keta as a present.” Then a thought struck her. “You know how to do this quieting of the mind, but do you know how to make minds…unquiet?”

“I think so. Maybe? The patterns were set on them, but they start to fray. I might be able to pick apart the threads.” Then Laxmi beamed as she successfully completed that train of thought. “Yes! I can help the others! I know how.”

Thera had rescued twelve people with the extremely rare ability to use magic, who all had at least some training from the most dangerous wizards in the world, and her rebellion currently possessed more demon than most great houses to fuel them.

That could change everything

If they survived that long.


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