Chapter 4
High on a bluff overlooking the freezing desert, Ashok sat atop Horse, marveling at the destruction the Sons of the Black Sword had wrought.
A section of the Capitol aqueduct had collapsed. The water must have kept running for a long time before word had reached the source to divert the flow, because it had turned a rocky valley into a lake, and that new softness of the ground had caused mudslides that had made other sections of the great structure shift and crack. Ashok was no architect, but to his untrained eye, he guessed that a few hundred yards of the massive stonework would have to be replaced. Maybe more if the shifting had caused damage inside its hidden channels.
Only a few months had passed since the attack, but thousands of workers and craftsmen had been gathered and were now busy repairing the damage. There was a tent city below him, and that camp was guarded by a great number of warriors, prepared in case the Sons of the Black Sword somehow returned to finish the job. It appeared there were even a great number of casteless drafted to labor among them. Even though the casteless had all been condemned to death, that wouldn’t stop the Law from pressing them into service first and wringing every last bit of use out of them. First they’d be used to fix the Capitol’s water supply, and then the forces of the Law would go back to murdering them. The Law was pragmatic like that.
This spectacle was not what had brought Ashok here, however, and he quickly returned to his mission before being spotted by any guards.
Mother Dawn had told him that Thera would need him in Kanok. Soon he would reach the first of the mountain passes that would take him down into Makao lands, but those passes would probably still be choked with snow and impassable to any regular man. He would have to abandon Horse and continue on foot, trusting in the Heart of the Mountain to keep him alive.
Along the way he hoped to retrace the path of the Sons of the Black Sword, hoping that perhaps he might find some clue as to their whereabouts. Last he had heard, Thera had been with the Sons. Just because the mysterious Mother Dawn had told him one thing, that did not make it true. Mother Dawn seemed to be able to predict the future, had appeared to the faithful wearing many different faces, and seemingly had the ability to travel across great distances in the blink of an eye, but none of that rendered her infallible. The fanatics considered her a heavenly messenger. Ashok knew she was something more than human, but not what. Thus far Mother Dawn had consistently aided the rebels, but he didn’t know if that loyalty would continue, or if she would ultimately betray them to further her own enigmatic goals.
Ashok also hoped to find the Sons because he had been named their general. It was an archaic title from the time before the Age of Law, but it meant it was his responsibility to lead them. As far as Ashok was concerned, he was a leader in name only, as he did not consider himself a proper officer. Ashok was a figurehead, with no understanding of how to be a normal soldier, because he had never been a normal anything. Officers led, but following Ashok into battle was a certain way for mortal warriors to get themselves hurt, for Ashok ranged across the battlefield to wherever he could do the most harm, always fighting with unmatchable savagery. When regular warriors tried to keep up with Ashok Vadal, they died.
The Sons had been in much better hands when cunning Jagdish had commanded them. A consummate warrior, Jagdish had been an exemplar of his caste: honorable, effective, and never spending the lives of his men foolishly. Though apparently, judging by the ruin of one of the Capitol’s greatest works, the subsequent defeat of a great house army, and their clean escape afterward, Jagdish had taught the Sons well! The results of this attack were astounding. No band of criminals had ever struck against the Capitol so blatantly before and survived. His officers had drastically exceeded all of Ashok’s expectations from when he had chosen them. Ashok may not have been a good commander himself, but apparently he had an eye for talent.
Oh, what an odd journey his life had taken, that Ashok could now feel pride in how good he was at inspiring rebellion.
As Ashok rode through the narrow valleys where the Sons’ running battle had taken place, he searched for signs of his army. It was too dry to snow much here, so the sandy ground was mostly visible. Everything of value—every dropped weapon, bit of broken armor, strap, or buckle—had already been scavenged, but there were still clues about what had taken place. The obvious being the unnatural stacks of stone, left in memorial by the families of local warriors on the spots where the bodies of their sons and husbands had been collected, as was a Devakulan tradition. There were a great many of those funeral piles. The Sons had fought well.
There were other indications of battle as well, including scorch marks on the rocks left by Fortress powder bombs, and lead smears from where the gunner’s bullets had ricocheted off stone. The sheer number of those bullet scars baffled Ashok, for his rebellion had possessed sixty rods in total when he had last seen them in Garo. The sheer quantity of these marks seemed far too numerous for so few weapons, unless the Devakulans had sat here all afternoon and let Gupta’s gunners pour volley after volley into them.
Ashok reached the end of a deep canyon that appeared to be a dead end. Here was where the Sons had stopped to make their final stand…yet they had prevailed and escaped so cleanly that it was as if the desert itself had simply swallowed them. There were no more clues to point him in the right direction. Wind had long since obliterated any tracks that might have remained, otherwise the warrior caste would have chased down the Sons already.
He had not known what he’d hoped to find here. Perhaps some sign only he could read, left behind to tell him exactly where Thera was to be found safe. What foolishness. Ashok cursed himself for wasting time on this diversion and turned back toward Makao.
A short time later he heard someone approaching on horseback. From the sound echoing on the canyon walls, it was a single rider, moving quickly. Being spotted now would not do. He had managed to avoid warrior patrols so far, but surely word of his encounter with the demon in the desert would spread, and the forces of the Law would be on the lookout for him once more. Ashok coaxed Horse under a shadowy overhang, where they could hide and wait for the other rider to pass by.
Ashok heard the rapid clomp of hooves slow to a walk. The other rider stopped a mere twenty yards away and the rider dismounted with a great deal of grunting and muttering about the discomfort and the miserable cold, which got the response of displeased snorting from what sounded to be a very large horse.
“I know you’re out there!” The rider’s voice was so loud in the cold air that it must have startled him, because when he continued it was at a much more conspiratorial volume. “I was in the work camp when you rode by. You’ve got so damned much potent black steel magic on you that your passage is about as subtle as a Vadal hurricane, and there’s only one piece of black steel I’ve ever come across that feels like that peculiar shard stuck in your heart, Ashok Vadal.”
He recognized that voice, but it couldn’t be. “Gutch?” The last time Ashok had seen the illegal magic smuggler had been on the far end of the continent, and he had been on his way northward from the swamps of Bhadjangal with Jagdish, carrying a fortune in demon bone packed onto a train of mules.
“I’ve been following the lingering magic trail all morning, and frankly, my ass is too sore to continue at this reckless pace…so please have mercy upon your humble servant Gutch and show yourself, General, so we can get out of this rocky maze before a thousand vengeful Devakulans arrive to murder us.”
Ashok rode out into the open, and sure enough, sitting upon a gigantic steed was the ponderous bulk of the worker Gutch.
“I did not expect to see you here.”
“I didn’t expect to be here either!” Gutch grinned, appearing to be genuinely relieved, when he saw that it really was Ashok he’d been chasing. The enterprising criminal was larger than ever, considerably plumper than when they’d been subsisting on roots and lizard meat in a swamp. Back then they’d all been dressed in rags. Now Gutch wore a fine coat made from the fur of a white southern bear, with a golden sash across it that suggested he was a very wealthy merchant. “Oh, thank goodness. For a moment I was worried I’d come across some other random bearer, and I was going to have to explain how this was all one great big misunderstanding! There’s only a handful of your kind in the whole world but that’d be just my luck now, wouldn’t it?”
Gutch led Ashok across the desert.
They had ridden swiftly from the canyon lands, as Gutch had been eager to put some distance between them and the aqueduct camp’s multitude of guards. Rumor among the worker caste there was that there were Inquisitors hidden among their number, monitoring the repairs in order to catch saboteurs. Gutch didn’t know if that was true, but it was better not to risk an encounter with the masks.
Once they were several miles from the camp, Gutch slowed his mount to a walk through the sagebrush, and Ashok drew alongside so he could question the criminal.
“Do you know where Thera is?”
“Sorry, I don’t. She was separated from the Sons during the battle and not been seen since.”
Ashok could not feel fear like a normal man, but his stomach could still tie itself in a knot of worry for someone else. “Her safety was the Sons’ responsibility.”
“Yeah, how dare they?” Gutch said sarcastically. “The way I hear it, they followed her plan, when she insisted on leading them into battle herself, to poke the Capitol in the eye like no one has ever done before. Then they managed to survive while being scattered and hunted. It was the smart one from Kharsawan, Eklavya, who took your woman’s orders and figured out how to collapse the aqueduct. The boy is clever. He would’ve become a master in some kind of trade if he’d been lucky enough to be born in the worker caste, that’s for sure! But that ploy used up most of their powder. And then Ongud the horseman was who managed to get them through the canyons in one piece despite being outnumbered ten to one. That bunch’a slothful ingrates, achieving the impossible against insane odds. And they still should’ve died, if me and my boys hadn’t come along to save them.”
Gutch was right. Ashok’s anger was misplaced. Thera’s safety was his obligation. Not the Sons’. “Saltwater.”
“I’m sure your woman is fine, Ashok. She’s a crafty one. Don’t worry. If the Capitol had caught her, they’d be bragging about stamping out another false prophet. If they’d caught the ringleader of the rebels who took away their water, they’d be crowing about it to any who’d listen. They haven’t, so they don’t,” the big man assured him, before turning in the saddle to look at Ashok, as if still trying to believe his eyes. “I truly thought you were dead.”
“I was dead for a time.”
“Ah…” Gutch grimaced when Ashok didn’t elaborate on that pronouncement. “You were never a man to dwell too long on pleasantries, like ‘Nice to see you my old friend and associate, Gutch. Thank you for saving my army of religious fanatics from certain doom and hiding them from the Law all this winter, at your great personal expense.’”
“The Sons of the Black Sword are safe?”
“Most of them, yes. Thanks entirely to me. You’re welcome.”
The criminal had always been full of surprises. While Ashok was motivated by a sense of duty, Gutch was motivated by profit. It was as foreign a philosophy to Ashok as the religious mantras of the monks of Fortress, but somehow, it seemed Gutch usually managed to do the right thing by his friends.
“Your efforts are appreciated.” Ashok gave Gutch a deep nod of respect. It was as close to a proper bow as could be done from the saddle, but even that seemed to surprise Gutch, as Ashok was not known for showing such considerations. “Can you take me to them?”
“That’s where we’re headed now. They’ve been hiding out at one of my many properties. This particular place is far from any trade roads, with no nosy neighbors to inform on us, and enough roofs over their heads that even a wizard pretending to be a bird won’t notice that many extra bodies. In the rare event that a warrior patrol happens by, I’ve got secret passages aplenty. Rebels hide easier than contraband.”
“You are doing illegal business here?”
Gutch roared with laughter that was loud enough to startle Horse, who was bred for chaos and combat. “Sheltering a rebel army is the least illegal thing I’m doing there! I can’t wait to show you what I’ve been up to.”
Ashok had never understood the nuances of worker-caste rank, but Gutch was wearing the insignia of someone with extremely high status, and that haughty station was reinforced by the many diamonds and rubies encrusting his golden rings and chains, and the fact he sat upon the biggest Zarger warhorse Ashok had ever seen. Such a fine animal would be quite the prize, so muscular even fearsome Horse did not sneer at this one in contempt.
“Why are you disguised as a wealthy man?”
“Disguise? What disguise? My good Ashok, I’ll have you know I’ve been rather busy since you were declared dead. I’m a leader of industry now, respected in every great house I do business, which is nearly all of them, and even in the golden halls of the Capitol itself, where the bankers need to use wheelbarrows to cart about the notes I have amassed to my name…which, said name is, and has always been, Vinod of Guntur, should anyone of an inquisitorial bent ask about me.”
“If we see any Inquisitors I will simply kill them.”
“That works too. How are you even here? The whole world thinks you’re dead, defeated in a duel by Lord Protector Devedas. They held parades in the Capitol celebrating his great victory before they appointed him Raja.”
“What is…Raja?”
“Some new office, I think it is like a great commander of sorts.” Gutch waved one hand dismissively. “You know how the first caste is with their offices and titles. This one’s special, though. He’s got an army made up of warriors from every house. All the printers’ presses across the land were commanded to make copies of this announcement to post for all to see. They cut a whole forest worth of paper to make so many flyers announcing the promotion of Devedas to this mighty new station that I can’t believe you’ve not seen one yet.”
So his brother would make himself king after all? This did not surprise him, for Devedas was a man of incredible will. Though it did pain Ashok that the infamy of his name had surely helped propel Devedas along his path of illegal ambition.
“Devedas cut my throat and I was hurled into the sea. Only the shard of Angruvadal was not done with me yet so it sustained me. Lingering near death, I remained in prison for a time.”
“You’d have thought the Law would have crowed about having you captive!”
“They obey a different Law in Fortress.”
“Fortress? But nobody goes…” Gutch tilted to his head, thinking that surely Ashok was joking, but Ashok did not joke. “Nobody’s been to Fortress and lived to tell the tale.”
“I escaped their prison, defeated a wrathful god in an abandoned city beneath the sea, then burned the island’s ruler and hurled him from a tower. I think I may be their king now. It is a very confusing place.”
Gutch stared at him, mouth agape, for if this was anyone other than Ashok telling such a mad tale, he certainly would have called him a liar. “Well, you’ve been busy! Yet here you are now, and if my keenly honed smuggler sense isn’t irreparably broken, that’s another ancestor blade at your side.”
“It is. I took Akershan’s from them.”
“Oceans, man! There’s only like a dozen of the things in the entire world. How many do you need? Wait. So does that mean the Law knows you’re alive? Never mind. I’ll get you to my estate, and you can take your men and be on your way while everyone else still thinks you’re dead. As soon as the Law realizes you’re still kicking they’ll be ransacking the countryside looking for you again.”
“After I defeated Bharatas and claimed this sword, I announced to the army of Akershan that I still lived.”
“Why would you do that?”
“It was an attempt to protect the casteless. I warned the warriors that if their extermination continued, I would be displeased, and would not return their sword.”
“You’re certainly not one to take advantage of anonymity. Well, at least we’re a long way from the Akershani border. The Law will never suspect you were in these lands, so my operation will remain unexamined and safe.”
“I killed a demon just east of here yesterday. There were several witnesses.”
Gutch sighed. “I swear every time you speak, my life grows more complicated…Wait. A demon near here? How’d it walk so far from a river? That would’ve taken forever to cross the desert. I haven’t sensed even a whiff of living demon magic in forever.”
Being able to sense the presence of magic was an exceedingly rare gift, and why Gutch had become an accomplished smuggler in the illicit trade of demon parts, but even a bloodhound could not follow a scent if it was buried deep enough. “This demon traveled here underground.”
“Well, I certainly hope they don’t make a habit of that!”
Several hours later, they reached Gutch’s estate, which consisted of a cluster of workshops, cabins, and a stable above a canyon which was filled with a warren of scaffolding, ladders, and pulleys to bring up buckets of some kind of ore. The place looked dusty and poor. Dozens of rough men were moving across the wooden walkways between pits and mineshafts, carrying tools, and doing various worker things Ashok had no understanding of. Though he had seldom bothered to learn what their purpose was, Ashok had seen hundreds of busy places like this scattered across Lok.
“This does not look like a criminal enterprise.”
“Then I’ve done well, if it passes even the suspicious eye of a Protector.”
“Do not call me that.” Ashok had been forced to kill many of his former brothers now, and they had all been good men. Better men than him. Ashok would not claim an honor that was not his. “I am no longer a Protector of the Law.”
“Alright, former Protector, then. Regardless, I’ve done my job, for if the Law realized what I’ve got going on here—and in many other places like this—the Inquisition would choke on their own masks and the judges would soil their robes! This is an audacious endeavor, even by my rather high standards.” Then Gutch eyed him nervously. “In fact, experience has taught me that despite your current legal status you retain enough of an ingrained dislike for certain criminal behaviors, that I’m a bit worried you’re gonna forget our previous associations—and dare I say camaraderie—that you’ll reflexively lop my head off when you see what we’re up to here.”
Since last they’d met, Ashok had spent a very long time shackled and starving in the dark, with nothing else to do but contemplate the multitude of terrible things he had done in defense of a Law that was built on a foundation of corruption and lies. Memories of the past had gnawed on him more than the dungeon’s rats. The structure of perfect obedience built into his mind by the wizard Kule had crumbled worse than the Capitol’s aqueduct.
“I decide my own Law now, Gutch.”
“Ah, then I shall not worry about you suddenly decapitating me, then!”
“I did not promise that.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
They were spotted by the workers and a shout went up, “The master returns.” Servants promptly ran out to take their mounts. Ashok had to give Horse a comforting pat on the head to assure him this was fine, because otherwise it was his nature to bite strangers. Gutch would probably say that Ashok and Horse were similar in temperament like that.
Gutch dismounted and told one of his men, “Find the leaders of our honored guests. Tell them I have a wonderful surprise for them, and to meet us inside the factory.” After that worker rushed off, Gutch gestured for Ashok to follow him down a cobblestone path. “I’ll show you around, then we’ll have a hearty supper. We may dwell in a forsaken stinking hole of a desert, but I make sure my people eat well.”
Whatever it was Gutch was excited to show him must have been very interesting for a man of such profound appetites to postpone a meal after such a long journey. The two of them walked to a humble structure. Ashok might not understand worker-caste things, but surely this rough desert barn they were heading toward could hardly be called a factory. It was big, but decaying, and had lost many boards and shingles to the wind. The workers at the entrance appeared to be stacking boxes, but they stopped their act when they saw who it was and greeted Gutch warmly—he was either a kind master or paid them very well—and then stepped aside. From the blades Ashok noticed were stashed nearby, these weren’t laborers. They were guards.
Inside the barn, Ashok realized that the appearance had been deceiving, for this was truly a factory as much as any of the smoking monstrosities the worker caste had built in cities like Neeramphorn or Vadal City. There were dozens of laborers toiling. A great coal fire was burning in the back of the barn, and molten metal was being poured into forms. Ashok marveled how the workers moving those flaming things about with metal tongs were so heedless of the sparks that they worked barefoot. Women and children were sitting on the floor, using files to shape small metal parts, placing those parts in bowls, and then pushing the bowls down the line to the next worker for more attention.
Gutch had to shout to be heard over the noise. “The illicit nature of this endeavor makes it hard to have a centralized location that can make everything, but I simplified the plans so even the dumbest fish-eater can assemble the parts once they get them. We send them out disguised as other products. Here? We make barrels and the lockwork parts. I’ve only got a couple places that can handle work that fine. Nearest place carving wood for stocks is across the border in Zarger, and I’ve recently taken over another logging camp in Kharsawan to get production up, but worse comes to worst, your rebels can fashion a handle out of a sturdy stick.”
Ashok understood no point to any of what Gutch was saying, except the big worker was brimming with genuine excitement, for Gutch was as gifted at industry as Ashok was at combat.
“I bought up all the sulfur left in Shabdakosh. The nearest powder gets made over near Karoon, where they’ve got caves with millions of bats in them, then near Guntur or Ambara where they’re not too far from giant cliffs that seabirds have been shitting on for generations, and it’s all ready to mine. Nasty business that, but I pay them well.”
He recalled the words of Thera, explaining to him the nature of the illegal alchemy she’d practiced. “You speak of Fortress powder?”
“Indeed I do, and your Sons of the Black Sword should be glad they’re not wintering at one of my properties that makes that nasty stuff instead of this one. It turns out there’s some complications to making powder in such big quantities. We had a vat of it explode for no reason in the wilds of Sarnobat and flatten half a village. Now that was quite the economic setback!”
With growing dread, Ashok was beginning to understand the true scope and nature of Gutch’s operation. No wonder he had been worried Ashok would cut his head off, for this was one of the greatest crimes imaginable. Fortress magic was banned. Anyone caught with any of it was to be immediately executed on the spot.
Ashok, Protector of the Law, would have immediately slaughtered everyone here and then burned the place to the ground. Ashok the rebel could only steady himself and then ask, “You’re manufacturing Fortress rods and alchemy on the mainland?”
“Obviously.” Gutch went over to a big crate of ore and gestured for a few of his workers to come help. “Move this aside, please, so I may continue giving my tour to our most esteemed visitor.”
With a great deal of grunting and heaving the workers moved the heavy box, which had been strategically placed to cover a well-concealed hidden door. No casual inspector would have bothered. Gutch unlocked the secret door with a key attached to one of his golden chains and opened it with a flourish for Ashok to see what was on the other side.
“These are all complete and stashed for a rainy day, like when your Sons of the Black Sword were in sudden need of rescuing by me and my boys. Though thankfully it didn’t actually rain because that makes the powder very unreliable.”
Behind the door was an old mining pit, and it was filled with Fortress rods. At least a hundred of them. Perhaps more. Ashok walked inside to examine them more closely. These were not like the ones that Ratul had gotten from the isle of Fortress, which had gone to arm Gupta’s gunners. Ashok did not care for those things, but those had obviously been crafted with great painstaking pride. That skill made sense after Ashok had met Sachin Chatterjee, master of the Weapons Guild of Fortress, and seen how seriously the foreigners took their duty to defend their island. In comparison to those, Gutch’s rods were blocky, simple things. The rods from Fortress may have been untraditional and without honor, but they were still proper weapons built with all the care that art entailed. The guns of Lok looked more like rough farm tools, designed to be churned out as quickly as possible.
“How many of these have you made?”
“Over the last year, it’s hard to say exactly because of how spread out we have to be, and it’s not like criminal enterprises keep meticulous yet incriminating records…but thousands.”
“Thousands?”
“Come on, Ashok! Considering the legal challenges, distance, and time involved, that’s a rather impressive achievement. A forge master smith of lesser talent would still be overwhelmed by the magnitude of this challenge, but not industrious Gutch!”
Gutch misunderstood his tone. Ashok was not scoffing at the amount for being insufficient, but rather because he was stunned by the audacity of it. A mere sixty rods in the hands of his rebellion had routed a great house army and felled an entire unit of Protectors.
This changed everything.
“Well, perhaps almost a thousand, by the end of this month that is, and that’s spread out across all of Lok, but as you can see there’s a great many more coming. I’m not sure how many of the early batches made it to their final destination without getting intercepted by the Law. I’m still conquering the logistical challenges there, but I can assure you that many of my fine products have been promptly distributed to the rebellious non-people as per Mother Dawn’s instructions.”
Ashok should not have been surprised. “This is her doing?”
“It was her suggestion and financial backing. You know how meddlesome those bankers are when it comes to money—though the schematics she supplied me were admittedly top rate, but this endeavor is my doing. Without my expertise she’d still be making a handful a year, and most of those would be promptly seized. It takes a man of vision to accomplish so much in so little time! Before my legal troubles I was rather respected in Vadal City for a reason you know, and Vadal City is the greatest city in the world. Fools say it’s the Capitol, but the Capitol only makes Law, while Vadal City makes everything else, and I was the best forge master smith they’ve ever seen.”
A banker…Of course, to Gutch, Mother Dawn had appeared as the wealthiest example of his caste. She always looked like whatever she needed to in order to be trusted by whomever she was trying to sway. To the warriors, she was warrior caste. To the workers, a fellow worker. Oddly enough, for Ashok, she’d been casteless.
Whatever she really was, Mother Dawn had unleashed chaos into the Law-abiding world. Ashok had mostly gotten over his reflexive disgust for Fortress rods, and now he recognized them merely as the tools they were. As a prideful swordsman he had no love of something that could make anyone with a few days of training the match of a warrior who had fought his entire life, yet if enough of these deadly things were concentrated in the hands of the casteless, exterminating them would become nearly impossible.
Gutch waited, hesitant and anxious, as Ashok stood there looking at the illegal weapons, his expression inscrutable. Finally, the smith asked, “Well? What do you think?”
“You still have your head.”
“And for that I’m exceedingly grateful!” Gutch grinned. “So you approve?”
Honestly, Ashok was torn. He had vowed to save the casteless, but he couldn’t predict the repercussions of a change this great. No one could. He doubted even the gods and their prophecies knew what would happen if the lowest of the low were suddenly capable of besting the warrior caste in battle. And once they did, what loyalty would they have toward a Law that had just condemned them all to death? What respect would anyone have for a government that would make such a terrible pronouncement and then fail to complete it? Man and demon both were abandoning their traditions. The world was changing too rapidly, old ways were dying, being replaced by the unknown new, and such uncertainty left him uneasy.
“This will either save us or damn us all, Gutch. I know not which.”
“Huh…” The big worker thought that over for a moment. “Not the answer I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.”
“Ashok lives!” someone shouted from inside the factory. “Praise the gods!”
Ashok turned back to see who was yelling illegal religion and saw a young man dressed in humble worker’s garb. Then he realized it was Eklavya, warrior of Kharsawan, and it was good to see he was still alive, for he was one of the best among the Sons. When they had met, Eklavya had been a humble, low-status warrior of Kharsawan, and a secret believer in the old gods his entire life. He had proven himself in battle against man and demon and become one of the leaders amongst their gang of defiant rebels.
Eklavya rushed into the secret room as if he couldn’t believe his eyes, and reached out to touch Ashok’s arm, apparently to confirm this was no illusion. “Can it be?” And once he understood Ashok was flesh and blood, he snatched his hand away, so as to not give offense.
“At ease, Risalder. It is I.”
“Forgive me, General.” Eklavya quickly bowed. “My senses were overcome.”
“Rise, Eklavya. Having learned what the Sons accomplished while I was away, it is I who owes you respect.”
The warrior got up, and quickly wiped his suddenly damp eyes with the back of his hand, because warriors of some houses did not like to display their emotions before witnesses—Kharsawan among them—even if that emotion was genuine relief. “I knew you’d be back for us.”
“It took longer than I liked. What’s the status of the Sons?”
Eklavya immediately snapped to, because he was an officer first, religious fanatic a distant second. “There’s a handful still recuperating from their injuries who won’t be able to travel for a time, but we’ve kept most of your men alive, in good health and good spirits. All your chosen officers survived, and we’ve been busy. Our numbers have grown substantially as we’ve gathered more secret faithful recruits from the armies of Devakula, Makao, Zarger, and even distant Harban.”
“These were also told where to find you by Mother Dawn, I assume?”
“Don’t look at me. I didn’t tell her they were here,” Gutch said defensively. “I’ve not seen her since she gave me her investment money.”
“The recruits mostly come from her, General, but some just got curious and hopeful enough after the aqueduct fell to come looking for us, and our scouts picked them up and brought them in.”
“Have you been checking for spies?”
“Of course. If there’s a mask among them, I’ll take responsibility and fall on my sword. You’ve got a hundred and eighty more proper warriors since last we met. We’ve been integrating them best as we can while staying out of sight. Plus we’ve trained more rebel workers and casteless to use Gutch’s guns, and Gupta’s gunners have more than tripled in number from what you had in Garo. Say the word and the Sons are ready to fight anyone.”
He had no doubt they’d willingly fight the whole world if he asked. “Well done, Eklavya.” That report was far better than expected. If they were a proper army, Ashok would have recommended they all receive commendations. “Have you word from Thera?”
Eklavya cringed as Ashok dashed his hopes. “I was praying the prophet was with you. We’ve not seen her since the aqueduct fell. After the main body of the Sons escaped into the canyons, we sent scouts everywhere. We found her bodyguard, Murugan, slain, but Thera was missing, along with the priest, Javed.”
That news saddened Ashok, for Murugan Thao had been a good lad. “Did Murugan die well?”
“It looks like he fought several witch hunters, crippled one, and took another with him over a cliff,” said a woman who had entered the secret room behind Eklavya. Young and petite of stature, she’d been so quiet that Ashok had barely noticed her presence before. “Murugan must have been very brave.”
Ashok suspected that was true, as Murugan had been devoted in his duties and utterly loyal to Thera. The boy had understood how rare it was for one of his caste to get a second chance at redeeming his honor and done the most with it. “How do you know they were witch hunters?”
“From the amount of magic they had on them. Though I couldn’t sense it until they were close and then it was too late.”
The girl claimed she could sense magic, which was an exceedingly rare gift. Ashok looked to Gutch, who nodded. “She’s not as keen at it as I am, but she speaks true.”
The girl looked vaguely familiar to Ashok. “Who are you?”
“I am Laxmi, stolen from Gujara, once a slave in Lost House Charsadda, then servant of Thera. Now I’m the lone wizard among the Sons of the Black Sword.”
She was barely recognizable as one of the mentally broken slaves they’d freed from the House of Assassins, and then led from the swamps. It was heartening to see the vile spell used to make Sikasso’s magically gifted slaves mindless and docile be so thoroughly defeated.
“The rest of the freed slaves used their abilities to help defend the Cove. They fought well. Their minds were greatly improved from before, but when I left they still spoke as if they were in a fog. You seem fine.”
Laxmi flashed him a brilliant smile. “It’s good to be back. Knowing the pattern, my brothers and sisters will recover too.”
“She’s been a gift from the gods, sir,” Eklavya testified with obvious pride in their wizard. “We wouldn’t have survived the canyons without her.”
Ashok could not help but be suspicious. “Wizards are rare and valuable. You could find status and comfort anywhere you wished inside the Law. You choose to stay with the Sons on your own free will?”
“These are my people now, General Ashok. I owe you and Thera my life.”
“There is nothing owed to me. I am sure Thera would say the same. You are no longer a slave. Do as you will.”
Yet there was clearly no question in her heart. “Then I will continue to serve.”
A once-broken slave had healed and found her place. Even though it felt as if the entire world was spiraling into chaos, that small moment pleased dour Ashok. Life goes on.
“You honor the Sons of the Black Sword. Welcome.” That was all the time he would allow himself to dwell on frivolous things, for there was work to do. “I come from the Cove with dire news. Eklavya, gather the rest of the officers so that I can brief them. Then prepare the men to march. We will leave in the morning.”
“Our destination, General?”
“I’m going to the city of Kanok. The Sons of the Black Sword will follow as best they can. That is where we will find Thera.”