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Chapter 30



Without water they will fall.

Those words had sent Thera and the Sons of the Black Sword on a mission of righteous vengeance.

For weeks they had ridden along the slopes of the Akara River Valley and into the mountains of Thao, northward toward the high desert. It was rugged, desolate country, and they saw very few people, none of whom were foolish enough to question the identity of the numerous and well-armed band.

Thera often cursed the Voice. In the rare times it manifested it tended to be cryptic, confusing, often communicating in riddles that only became clear after the events the gods had predicted transpired…but this time, the god who was living in her head had given her a good idea, an actual workable course of action, where even a force as small as the Sons could strike against the Capitol and make the first caste feel the cost of their decisions.

After the Voice had come upon her, she had awakened on the roof of the barracks, surrounded by worried faces. Serving as the gods’ mouthpiece always left her dazed and weak, a state not too different from the seizures that had plagued her since the bolt from Heaven had first struck. It was Keta’s duty as Keeper of Names to record the Voice’s pronouncements, except this time nearly the entire population of the Cove had seen and heard the manifestation of the Forgotten.

As soon as Keta had repeated the words, she had known exactly what to do.

Without water they will fall.

It would be risky. Not just because of any great house forces they might encounter along the way, but it would be difficult to make the journey there and all the way back to the Cove before the first snows of winter blocked off the mountain passes. If the weather turned early and the Sons were still on the Thao side of the mountains, it would be difficult to elude the forces the Capitol was sure to send after them.

When Thera had told her officers that she had been inspired with a way to strike back against the Law, but that it would be a long, exceedingly dangerous journey, they hadn’t cared about the risk. The faithful had been gripped by such a religious fervor after seeing the Forgotten’s image that every last one of them would have marched against the Capitol itself armed with nothing more than their belief that the gods were on their side.

Compared to that, what was destroying an aqueduct?


Thera and her officers sat around a campfire made from sagebrush, so exhausted from another long day on horseback that none of them talked. They just ate their rations and stared into the distance, tired beyond caring. Even a gods-inspired fever can only last for so many days in the saddle before it is replaced by a kind of weary numbness, where you don’t think, you just ride.

They were in the high mountains now, and ahead of them lay the desert, home of the mighty Capitol, the beating heart of the first caste. The mighty Akara was nothing more than a turgid stream here, and within another week, the city that shared that river’s name would be in their sight.

The Sons had followed her, trusting, even though she hadn’t yet revealed their actual destination. She had three hundred men sneaking across the borders of multiple great houses, any of which could crush them like bugs. All they knew was that they would strike at one of the Capitol’s most precious resources. She’d not yet told them what the specific target was for a reason she couldn’t even divulge. Only a handful of her wiliest followers knew there was potentially a wizard spy among them.

There would be no room for error. And with faith being gradually replaced by fatigue, she needed to raise their morale. Thera had been raised by the greatest raider the west had ever seen, and she’d watched how he took care of his people. She knew when it was time to get a warrior’s head right.

Thera looked around the leader’s council. There was Murugan of Thao, dedicated bodyguard, close and wary as always. There was Gupta, worker of Jharlang, risalder of gunners; Shekar of the Somsak, risalder of skirmishers; Toramana of the swamp people; risalder of archers; Eklavya of Kharsawan, risalder of infantry; and Ongud of the Khedekar, risalder of cavalry. She had requested one other advisor to come on this mission, and that was Javed of the caravan people, merchant turned priest. She had ordered him to accompany the Sons because he was among the few in the Cove who had traveled extensively through the central desert. Such knowledge could prove invaluable.

Only by taking one of their priests, it had made sense for the other one to stay and lead the people of the Cove. Of course, Keta had hated that. Nor had he liked the idea of Thera putting herself in danger by personally leading this raid. She could see Keta’s logic, but how could she ask the Sons to risk so much, based on the cryptic words of the god in her head, and not be there with them? The Sons no longer had unstoppable Ashok to inspire them. Keta wasn’t fit for such a role. Frankly, neither was she, but the idea of her could serve. She’d finally told Keta that if he didn’t like it, next time he could be the one to get stabbed in the brain by the gods, so he would stay, and that was final.

“Javed.”

The priest looked up from his meal. “Yes, Prophet?”

“You have been to the Capitol. Tell us about it.”

“Is that why we’re here?” He blinked a few times, too tired to comprehend. “We can’t possibly be attacking the Capitol…”

“Humor me. What’s it like?”

Javed thought it over. He was a handsome, well-groomed, confident man, which seemed odd for a priest, probably because the only other priest she had ever known was Keta, who was small, odd-looking, and intense. “I’ve been to the markets there mostly, as a worker of my status would never be allowed inside the more important distracts. Yet any part of that city is a remarkable sight. They say it is the most beautiful city in the world, and having traveled across every great house, I believe this to be true.”

“It is a place for fat firsters to roll about in all the bank notes they stole from vassal houses as taxes,” Ongud muttered.

“That is probably true, my friend, but what notes they don’t use for beds they spend on architects and gardeners.”

“And whores!” Shekar added.

Most of them laughed, though Eklavya reached over and thumped Shekar hard in the arm. “The Prophet is a lady!”

“A lady from the warrior caste of House Vane, who whipped every other house in the west.” Thera loudly cleared her sinuses and spit into the fire to show that her feelings were not so delicate. “Trust me, Risalder, if I was ever offended by the shocking idea that soldiers enjoy the company of pleasure women, I wouldn’t hesitate to let you know.”

Their smiling at that was good. Each time something miraculous happened to remind them that she was the Voice, they usually spent the next few days being obnoxiously careful around her, as if she was made of glass, and might fall over and break in a stiff wind. She needed them inspired, but it was a fine line to walk, and she had a rebellion to run. There wasn’t time for such coddling nonsense. It was good to remind them that she was just flesh and blood, same as the rest of them, and she’d been a criminal longer than most.

Javed was looking at her curiously, though, and she had to remind herself that this last event was the first and only time he had ever seen the Voice actually manifest. It appeared that even someone faithful enough to become only the second priest in the whole world still needed time to ponder upon seeing something like that. But then he shook his head as the spell was broken and went back to his tale.

“It is vast—I believe the only city more populated is Vadal City, but that is a sprawling, chaotic swirl of colors and styles that seems to go on forever. The Capitol is stark, sitting alone in the desert, surrounded by walls of sandstone, and the buildings within are taller than you can imagine, with each Order competing to be more magnificent than its neighbors. Even their slaves go about dressed in the finest silks and jewels, because no family can stand being seen as poorer than anyone else. A curious mix of wealth and indolence, the Capitol is unlike any other city you’ve ever seen.”

“I have never seen a city at all,” Toramana said. “I thought the ones we captured were cities, they were so big, but I am told those are merely towns.”

“All of Chakma would fit inside the Capitol’s grand bazaar with room to spare. The streets are so wide that elephants lumber down them side by side, even though it’s too hot for elephants there, and the creatures are miserable in the sun. The judges don’t care.” Javed seemed to be enjoying telling stories, and the risalders had awakened enough to pay attention. “There’s a theater with ten thousand seats, and even that isn’t big enough to satisfy their desire for constant entertainments, so they hold plays in the streets, and there are musicians on every corner. Every night, some family is throwing a feast, and they compete to see which is the greatest. There are fountains and statues, and they even have a zoo, filled with animals captured from every corner of Lok.”

“My son Rawal always wanted to see a city.” Toramana said gruffly.

Javed fell silent, but then rested a comforting hand on Toramana’s shoulder. “Rest easy, noble chief. As one of the faithful your boy resides forever in the city of the gods, the glory of which makes the Capitol look like a casteless shack.”

That actually seemed to comfort the big man. “So the Keeper has said.”

Thera didn’t know if that paradisical afterlife was one of the things Keta had made up, or one of the things taught to him by Ratul, who had also probably made it up, but the idea seemed to ease a father’s grief, so it was good.

“As the prophet, I declare those boys will be remembered as full Sons of the Black Sword, because if they hadn’t been taken too soon, they would’ve surely served, brave as the rest of you.” Thera had only told the slyest of her warriors—the crafty ones she could be certain would keep their mouths shut—about her suspicions that those boys hadn’t been killed by any natural beast, but that was best left unsaid for now.

“To Parth and Rawal.” Ongud lifted his canteen. “They never saw the Capitol, but the rebellion will defeat it for them just the same.”

Everyone joined the salute, raising whatever container it was they had to drink from, half of which were already empty, but such was the nature of being on a long journey.

“Now, Javed, tell us of the aqueducts.”

“The aqueducts? They’re massive stone constructs, like rivers raised high above the desert. It is said that the first caste built their city in the middle of the continent, because it was the farthest place from the impure ocean, but the Capitol has few wells, and you have to dig incredibly deep to get any water at all. So the aqueducts are what keep it alive. They’re so big that when merchants pass beneath in the summer, our entire caravans sometimes stop to enjoy the shade. There are three.” He reached over and picked a stick from the ground, and then used that to draw a star in the sand before him.

“That is the Capitol.” Then he made a line above it. “The first aqueduct ran from the Nuanjan in the north, along the border of Vokkan and Zarger, but as the Capitol grew that was insufficient for its endless thirst. So next they turned their eyes to the west, drinking from the swift Tunka and passing through Karoon.” A second line to the left. “Last of all, they sipped from the icy runoff of the Devakula glaciers, running west of the city of Akara, following the border of Devakula and Makao.” A third line below.

The priest was no fool, and he paused for a long time after he suddenly understood the target of their mission. “And today”—he stuck the stick into the sand down and to the right of the third line—“we are about here.”

The men on the opposite side of the fire had stood so that they could see. Once they were out of the mountains, it would be a straight shot to Akara.

“Without water they will fall,” Javed muttered, staring at his map.

The leaders understood now, and all eyes turned toward their prophet, surprised by the audacity of their mission. This was no mere raid. This was a crippling blow.

“I’ve spoken in private with a few of you already. Eklavya?”

“Yes, Prophet?” The young risalder snapped to parade quality attention. He couldn’t help himself. Such was the orderly nature of the Kharsawan…The other thing their warrior caste was renowned for was their love of engineering, especially building—or more importantly, tearing down fortifications.

“Have you given any more thought to our earlier discussion?”

“As to how to destroy such structures? I have several ideas.”

“I helped,” Gupta added.

“Gupta helped,” Eklavya agreed. “Miners spend a great deal of time worrying about why things collapse. Between us we have multiple strategies that should work, though we won’t know for sure until we lay eyes on the thing. As directed, I gathered another twenty strong workers, used to hard labor, and placed them among the infantry.”

“We have stone breakers among them,” Gupta said. “To see what they can do by hammer and spikes alone is miraculous. And if necessary, my gunners’ powder can be used to make a small crack a very big one, very quickly.”

“I’d prefer to save the powder so that we can shoot whoever comes after us instead.”

“As would I and my gunners, Prophet. Shooting has spoiled us. Swinging them like clubs would be much harder work and not nearly as satisfying.”

“Oceans,” Ongud said, clearly awed by what they were trying to do. “We’ll need those guns. Such important works are sure to be well protected. Make sure to tell your smartest men these plans of yours, so if either of you die or are indisposed we can carry on without you.”

“I was just awaiting the prophet’s permission.” Eklavya looked to Thera, and she nodded. “It will be done.”

“How well will this sky river be guarded?” Toramana asked.

That was one thing Thera did know. “They stretch for far too many miles for warriors to watch the whole thing at once, but there will be patrols on both sides, Devakulans on the east, Makao on the west. Vassal House Vane had to obligate warriors to that duty every year.”

“Then we will surely have a battle.” The swamp man smiled. “Excellent.”

“The likelihood of that depends entirely upon how fast we can destroy the thing,” Eklavya said. “They’re huge and constructed to last for centuries.”

Not all of them were convinced. Shekar was Somsak, who were legendary raiders, but they tended to loot and run without thinking about the long-term strategy. He gestured at the other two lines. “So we break one and water the desert, but the other two are beyond our reach. They’ll still be able to drink.”

“Don’t think like a warrior.” Murugan stood behind Thera, the only one not looking at the map, carefully keeping his eyes away from the fire so as to not damage his vision in the dark. “We’re used to tasting dust. Think like the first caste.”

“I am incapable of such softness.” And since they had all seen the tattoo-faced warrior fight like a wild beast, that was easy to believe. “Even their men are made of flowers.”

“Exactly,” Thera said. “The first are used to a life of easy comfort. They have fountains that vomit water and public baths to lounge in and lawns of green grass in the middle of the desert. Once we deprive a city of nearly a million people a third of its water supply, all that is gone. They won’t die of thirst. Oh no. But for the first time they will be afraid they could. They thought they could order the deaths of all the casteless with impunity, but now they’ll realize that their actions have consequences. Their damnable Great Extermination has a cost.”

“Hmmm…We damage their morale, but also after we destroy this one, they will have no choice but to send many more troops to guard hundreds of miles of the other two, which means many more warriors who won’t be hunting non-people.” Then Shekar caught himself. “Casteless. Sorry, Prophet.”

“You’re smarter than you look, Somsak.” Thera studied all the faces clustered around Javed’s clumsy map. It was obvious their enthusiasm had been reawakened now that they understood the purpose to this journey. “Alright, then. Now your duty is to go back to your paltans and make them understand exactly what’s at stake. We’re not just giving the Capitol a split lip because we can. We’re teaching them as long as the casteless aren’t safe, neither are the first. This fight is bigger than our rebellion. It is our chance to break the Capitol’s will so we can save the lives of millions. The gods sent us here. Do you understand me, Sons of the Black Sword?”

There was raucous agreement. The first caste was cursed. These were proper soldiers.

“When the battle comes, I expect my risalders to lead with the wisdom of Jagdish, and every last Son to fight with the ferocity of Ashok. Let’s bleed the Capitol and be home before it snows.”

“We will not fail you, Prophet,” Ongud promised.

“I know you won’t. Now go to your men.”

Only Javed and Murugan remained, as neither of them had a paltan to lead and hearts to inspire.

“That was…unexpected,” Javed said. “The Capitol takes the aqueducts for granted. Even when great houses clash with the Capitol, they’d never attack such symbolic monuments because every other great house would turn against them and destroy them utterly. And no criminals have ever been so brazen. It’s a bold plan. Are you sure this is what the Forgotten meant?”

Thera sighed. “You can never be certain with the Voice. I wish it were otherwise, but we do our best and hope.”

“You’re telling the truth,” Javed marveled. “I mean, I believed before enough to walk across half the continent to find you, but…the Voice was not what I expected. Everything Keta told me is true. You really don’t know why it says what it says and you’ve got no control over it.”

Thera chuckled. “Keta’s right. I’d tell everybody how it really works, but Keta thinks it would scare the faithful too much. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you volunteered to serve a very fickle god.”

“The Keeper prefers to call the Forgotten’s nature inscrutable. Who are we mortals to question? No matter. Now that I know where we are going, I can help serve as a guide, and range ahead to scout. In a few days we will reach the high desert, and I know it well.”

“Thank you, Javed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get some sleep. I’m exhausted.”

“Of course.” Javed placed his palms together in a sign of respect, and then stood and began walking away, only he hesitated, just outside the firelight.

“What’s troubling you, priest?”

“I’m sorry, but have you heard of Shabdakosh?”

“Vaguely.”

“It was a desert village. A waypoint for merchants and the first traveling to the Capitol. The residents there were slaughtered by a casteless uprising, wells poisoned, homes burned. Many innocents perished.” His voice grew distant. “It was a tragic day.”

“I heard about that afterward. They blamed Ashok but he had nothing to do with it. Why do you bring it up?”

The priest paused there in the darkness, as if mulling over his words. “The closeness of that violence shook the Capitol, much like what we intend to do…Only the first caste’s fear made them worse. More reactive. More vindictive. Without that massacre, they might not have ever voted for a Great Extermination.”

Thera didn’t know much about the Capitol’s internal politics. She tended to just think of the judges as a distant but malignant force, but what else could the Voice mean? Andaman Vane had been inspired to rebellion because of the Voice, except the rebellion it had promoted hadn’t been the one he had started. Her father had died as a direct result of believing the prophetic words that had flowed through her.

“Do you think I’ve got it wrong?”

“That’s not my place to say. I don’t know. It’s just a random thought. We all make mistakes…but some mistakes are greater than others. Good night, Prophet.” Javed walked away.

When he was gone, Murugan said, “Our rice merchant seems troubled.”

“He wasn’t raised warrior caste. Our people are taught since birth to never hesitate, it’s pick a direction and run.”

“That makes us effective.”

“It also makes us rash sometimes. Workers tend to be deliberate, but to be fair that organized merchant mind of his is probably the main reason the faithful haven’t started eating one another in the Cove.” Thera signaled for her servant, who had been waiting in the background. “Laxmi, would you bring my bedroll?”

Only Thera, her bodyguard, and Keta knew about the unquieting of the minds, and that the House of Assassins’ slaves could think and speak again. As far as the Sons knew, Thera had brought silent, unobtrusive Laxmi along to serve as her maid. It seemed an appropriate thing for a prophet to have a servant. Only Thera and Murugan knew that the girl was their wizard.

When Laxmi handed her the blankets, Thera whispered, “Any luck?”

Laxmi shook her head no.

Very few people were as gifted at sniffing out magic as Gutch had been, so she couldn’t just tell if somebody had a bit of demon in their pocket like the big worker could. But Laxmi was confident that if anyone used magic nearby, she would be able to tell. The spy might still be in the Cove, but if he was among the Sons of the Black Sword, Thera intended to flush him out. Now that she’d revealed their target, a spy was almost certain to try and alert his masters.

And once she caught him, after she cut the spy’s hands off so he couldn’t do magic anymore, she would turn him over to Toramana and let him avenge his boys.


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