Chapter 9
Jagdish had not specifically forbidden him from entering Vadal City but Ashok had decided it would be for the best if he waited outside. His presence would only inflame fury or invite fear. Devedas was already hated in this house. His diplomatic delegation would face enough challenges without the specter of Ashok riling up Vadal’s first caste even more than they already were. Honorable Jagdish had given his report and made his appeal to Thakoor Bhadramunda Vadal, Harta’s son and successor, but would that be enough to sway this prideful house to action?
Judging by the reactions Ashok had seen on the journey here, Jagdish was beloved by the common people. To worker and warrior both, Jagdish was the hero who had stepped up again and again to lead their house through a time of crisis. They had even written songs about him; Ashok had heard several being sung along the road. Vadal’s demon-hunting wizard slayer had gone on to be a master strategist who crushed other houses in battle. Because of his humble origin and disgrace—and dare they even mention his association with criminals—the members of the lower castes saw something of themselves in Jagdish. He’d been just like them once, and even in his current glory it was obvious he never forgot where he came from. As one of the songs had declared, Jagdish remembered his roots and lived by his code.
It seemed even the casteless loved Jagdish. Unlike the other great houses, Vadal had never fully implemented the Great Extermination, and the armies commanded by Jagdish had ignored it entirely. Ashok had never seen casteless sing about a whole man before. It was odd to him, seeing casteless quarters still occupied here, because everywhere else he had been recently, those all lay abandoned or ruined.
Yet the devotion of worker, warrior, and especially untouchable meant nothing to the first caste, and only they would be able to decide the future of Vadal City. If Jagdish could not convince them with words, then Ashok would be left with no choice but to convince them by the sword and a thousand guns. He would prefer not to, but time was short, and the demons many.
It was a beautiful day, as most days were in Vadal. The sun was warm, but not too hot. Birds sang from every tree. Vadal City was vast and sprawling across a dozen hills, stretching far beyond its original walls. The mighty Martaban River passed through the city, for though water was the source of evil and the home of hell, it was necessary to sustain life, and this much life required an incredible amount of water. Vadal City never really stopped, it just tapered off as the buildings got smaller with more space between them. It was surrounded by dozens of small towns and villages that had all grown together over the centuries.
Ashok had picked one of those villages on the outskirts to stay in, with his identity concealed, and his location known only to Jagdish so he could be sent for if needed. He hid, not out of fear of the Law—Ashok was far past caring about that—but rather because once word got out that he was still alive and somehow in possession of an ancestor blade, the hungry duelists would inevitably arrive to challenge him in an attempt to seize Angruvadal for themselves.
Ashok was weary of killing normal men. They no longer presented a challenge. He’d prefer to save his wrath for demons and dark gods.
The inn he was staying at was a humble one, but the food was hearty. Ashok sat outside beneath the shade of an oak tree and ate his curried chicken and rice in peace, his face hidden beneath a big straw hat, with Angruvadal wrapped in his merchant’s cloak by his side. It was doubtful any random worker here would recognize him, but it was better to be careful.
Ashok passed the time listening to the workers as they went about their business. Women gossiped. Children played. All these humble people knew was that a great war had just ended in victory, and life would be good for them once more. Mostly they rejoiced that the rationing was over, and trade could resume. They praised Jagdish and spit on their idea of Devedas. They had not heard about the devastation of the Capitol or Kanok. The greatest enemies they could imagine were Sarnobat, Vokkan, and hunger, and those had just been crushed. He heard not a single mention of his name, probably because they all thought he was dead. Ashok would enjoy this moment of peace, because if Jagdish failed to sway Bhadramunda Vadal, it would be ruined soon enough.
He heard a man approaching. Ashok could tell that he was very old from the shuffle of his feet and the thin wheeze of his breathing. He walked with a cane, which made a thunk each time it was ponderously placed into the hard dirt. Ashok expected the old man to pass him by, but instead, he stopped a few feet away.
“May I join you, Ashok?”
This man was clearly too old to be Jagdish’s messenger. Then he realized that the stranger had brought an odd stillness with him. The nearby chatter had nervously ceased. The children ran away. A dog barked at the scent of the odd stranger. It was as if when the villagers saw this new arrival, they all decided they had somewhere better to be and hurried to get there.
Ashok lifted the brim of his hat, and scowled when he saw that the old man was dressed as a wizard, in dark robes decorated with feathers and bones. The wizard’s back was crooked, and his hands were so thin that they weren’t that different in appearance from the dried bird talons that hung from the necklace around his wrinkled neck. The wizard’s eyes were clouded so gray he must have been going blind.
Despite the decades since they had last met, Ashok recognized him almost immediately.
“Kule.”
And in that brief moment, Ashok was a fake boy again, an amalgamation of parts and beliefs, stitched together with threads made of Law, stripped of his memories and fear, and presented to the Protector Order so that he could die as quickly as possible for the greater good of this house.
This was his creator.
“It has been a long time, hasn’t it, my boy?”
The moment of weakness was over, and Ashok was once more the man he had become. “Over a thousand lives have passed since you left me with the Protectors.”
“Mind if I sit?”
“That depends. Would you prefer to die standing?” Ashok asked that without animosity.
“So that is how it must be?”
As one of the conspirators who had perpetuated the great fraud that was Ashok’s life, Kule needed to die for his crimes. It was that simple. If Kule had been present at Bidaya’s party, he would have died along with his master.
“Do not pretend there is any other possibility.”
“Well then, at my advanced age, one recognizes that every possible way I’m likely to die is equally undignified, so I will sit and rest.” There was a wooden stool beneath the tree. Kule tottered over to it and groaned as he lowered himself into place. “Ah. Much better.”
Ashok hadn’t been prepared for this unexpected meeting, so it took him a moment to decide how to proceed. When he had confronted Bidaya, he had been filled with the righteous fury of the offended and a profound sorrow for the loss of things he couldn’t even remember. Suddenly placed before him was the man who had stolen those memories. It turned out that his anger remained, but it had long since cooled from a boil to a simmer.
“Explain why you are here, wizard. Then once I am finished with my lunch, I will kill you.”
“You always were direct. Even as a child you never wasted time on frivolous nonsense. That’s probably one reason Angruvadal picked you.”
Ashok went back to eating his rice.
“If you can’t tell, the time I have left is already short. I have lived a very long life. Recently my health has taken a precipitous turn for the worse. Dying in bed or dying by the vengeful sword of a boy who once took shelter in my home, either way I’m dead. My dying today should not make much difference, and at least one of us will get some satisfaction from the event.”
Ashok kept chewing.
“Very well.” Kule had never been given to displays of emotion. He must have passed that trait on to his creation. “I have come to tell you that Thakoor Bhadramunda listened to Jagdish’s earnest request, but his distrust of Devedas—and you—seemed insurmountable. Bhadramunda believed honorable Jagdish had been tricked by the Capitol’s guile, and this alleged demon invasion is another elaborate scheme to conquer us. After all, didn’t the Capitol use the threat of demons against us once before?”
“This time it’s no trick.”
Kule nodded. “Of course. And you are no Devedas. Which is why I stepped in. Young Bhadramunda has known me his entire life. As the only one of Harta’s many children who was magically gifted, I was assigned to be one of his tutors. He is not a very capable wizard, but that’s not his purpose in life. As the wisest of the heirs, his purpose now is to see to the well-being of this house. Given time, I’m sure he will grow into a fine leader. Our new Thakoor is named after his grandfather, whom I also served. You know, after you picked up Angruvadal, Bidaya believed that her husband Bhadramunda must have been your real father? The prior bearer having his way with some random casteless woman and leaving a half-caste bastard offspring made far more sense to her than the idea that our ancestor blade would pick a non-person to wield it.”
Ashok savored a bite of his chicken.
“You accentuate that your plate is nearly empty. I see my time is short…Though if Bidaya had guessed true that would make you our new Thakoor’s uncle, and Harta’s half brother, a thought which surely troubled Harta a great many times.”
“It shouldn’t have. My true father was a casteless named Smoke. His obligation was the cremation of bodies.”
“How do you know this? The casteless quarters you came from were all wiped out.”
Those barracks—and all their residents—had been burned to keep Ashok’s true nature a secret. “The casteless keep a secret genealogy. My birth was recorded in this book.”
“Hmmm. Curious. I didn’t know the fish-eaters had such a thing.” Kule seemed amused at the idea of illiterate fools doing something so odd. Who cared about the birth of non-people? “Though it really doesn’t matter which of them sired you, whether it be bearer Bhadramunda or cremator Smoke, since I’m the one who made you into who are.”
“Do you expect my gratitude?”
“Shouldn’t there be gratitude to the one who dropped a thing to watch it shatter against the ground, but who then picked up the shards and carefully glued them back together into something better and stronger than before?”
Ashok took a drink of his wine. The wizard’s audacity was impressive.
“Your construction was a painstaking labor. Everything you have ever believed was only there because I whispered it into your ear. Then I used magic to brand those ideas onto your mind forever. I am no mere father, Ashok. I am a sculptor. You are my masterwork. My only regret in my long life is that I couldn’t ever brag about my greatest single accomplishment to my wizard peers, because what I had done was so very illegal. I came here to see you in person, because I wanted to marvel at my art one last time.”
Ashok almost killed Kule right then, but he had already said what he was going to do, and he would not waste perfectly good food. “You said you stepped in with the Thakoor. How?”
“I told Bhadramunda that I thought you must be telling the truth, because I did not build Ashok to lie. I reminded him that our spies had confirmed the demonic attack against the Capitol, and that the damage was as great as you claim. Most of all, I planted seeds of fear and doubt into his heart by reminding him demons were the greatest threat of all. Man can be reasoned with. Demons only kill.”
“So he has agreed to Devedas’ proposal?”
“He has agreed. It took great effort on my part, but the rest is details for the Arbiters to work out. Luckily our house is already mobilized for war.”
These workers would surely be saddened to hear that their food rationing would continue, but that was a far better fate than being devoured by demons. “Good.”
“Devedas and the Capitol will have to make many concessions to Bhadramunda to earn our cooperation, but ultimately Vadal will stand united with you against the demons. You may begin building your grand defense here. This would not have happened without me. You are welcome.”
Ashok kept eating.
“There is to be no thanks from you at all, then? Nothing?”
“Why should the sculptor care what his clay thinks? Today you did what was best for your house. That should be sufficient.”
Kule snarled, and in that moment Ashok could once again see the younger, meaner, more ambitious wizard he had known. “I have always done the best thing for my house. I suppose I just wanted to hear the words thank you come out of your mouth once before I departed for the endless nothing.”
Ashok watched the happy people pass by and knew that soon enough their joy would be replaced by fear, as word of the demonic invasion spread. But that knowledge would give them a chance to prepare. Kule was a thief of memories and master of lies but, at least at the end of his miserable life, his words to his Thakoor had helped give these people a fighting chance.
Insufficient.
“You will receive nothing but contempt from me, Kule. My family died quickly. You failed at murdering me slowly.”
“Such ingratitude. Oh, well…What a foolish goal for an old man to have.” Kule took a small vial out of his robes and swallowed the contents. “Ah…So bitter…”
“What is that you drink?”
“A deadly poison.”
“Hmm…” Ashok didn’t like being robbed, but dead was dead.
“Even now I help you, Ashok. If the demons are truly on their way, having the fallen bearer who our house must reconcile with murder a respected court wizard would only create more animosity. Someone will find my body here in the shade of this comfortable tree and suspect I sat to rest my feet and my tired old heart finally gave out. I knew once you found out I was still alive, you would certainly kill me. How could I expect anything other than a relentless pursuit of justice from you? I made you that way.”
Ashok grunted in acknowledgment. “Are all the other conspirators dead?”
“You know of Bidaya and Harta. Chavans died of a fever years ago. I am the last.”
“Then the matter is closed.”
Kule looked down at the frail hands resting in his lap but seemed unable to move them. “This poison…works quickly. I have only one question left for you, Ashok. I built you not to survive, but to die. I took away your fear and left you…impossible responsibility.” It was becoming increasingly difficult for Kule to speak at all. “Everything. Everything I did…was designed to make you perish. To court…death. To love…death. How…do you still…live?”
Ashok understood why now, but even if he told Kule, he wouldn’t have grasped it in time. Assigned a higher purpose, Ashok had been designed to be its perfect servant. The purpose had changed. Indomitable Ashok had not.
“You have deceived yourself all these years, Kule. You are no artist because you do not comprehend what you have done. Now you will die without ever having your answer.”
“I was the one…who taught you…such cruelty…” The wizard smiled, then his head lolled forward on his frail neck. Propped up on his cane, his body remained on the stool rather than sliding off into the grass.
Ashok finished his lunch and left Kule to die alone.