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Chapter 4

Amid the ruins of Kanok, Javed Zarger, the Keeper of Names, taught those who had been humbled.

The crowd listened intently as he preached to them of the gods and their great plans for the people of Lok. He told them that he was a priest of the Forgotten, dispatched to share the truths that had been stolen from the people by the Inquisition, which he had once served. Javed warned them that the demonic bloodshed that had consumed this great southern city had only been the beginning of the invasion, that there was still a great and final battle yet to be fought, and that only through the bloodline of Ramrowan might man be spared from extinction. Javed chastised them for their wickedness, for if Great House Makao had not been so eager to exterminate their casteless, then there would have been children of Ramrowan still here to defend them. The people wept and begged forgiveness for offending the gods, but such forgiveness was not within Javed’s power to grant. Their only hope was to change their ways and follow the counsel of the gods’ chosen from now on.

To be seen by as many eyes as possible, Javed preached while standing atop a plinth in the middle of a vast courtyard. The plinth had once held a statue of a famous Inquisitor, but the locals had recently torn it down after their Thakoor had banished that Order from his lands. The bronze Inquisitor had been replaced by a priest of flesh and bone.

The mob was enthralled by his words. He dragged them along, varying his tales in pitch and intensity as he read their mood and adjusted accordingly. Javed had always had a gift for manipulating the emotions of others. The Inquisition had honed this into a weapon. Now he tried to use that weapon for good instead of evil, not to obscure the Forgotten’s wisdom but to share it.

When this sermon was over, the crowd reluctantly dispersed. Experience had taught him those who were ready would understand his words and obey. Others would try to but fail. The rest would fill their hearts with bitterness and deny the truth they’d seen with their own eyes. So be it. He had done his best and could linger here no more.

Javed hopped down from the plinth and walked toward the back of the courtyard, where an ornate palanquin was waiting, guarded by half a paltan of fearsome Makao warriors. The bodyguards knew to part before him and let Javed through, because their master was a frequent and avid listener to Javed’s sermons, and had become one of the priest’s most ardent students. The Personal Guard might take offense at aiding this criminality, but they knew their place.

Thakoor Venketesh Makao swept open the palanquin’s curtain and stepped out into the fresh morning air. “A fine lesson today, Keeper. Must it really be your last among us?”

Javed stopped before the boy ruler of Great House Makao, but he did not kneel. No offense was meant, or taken, because they both understood that they were freemen, bound not by Law, but by gods. “It’s difficult for me to abandon the newly converted, but the time has come for all of you to stand on your own. The gods have whispered to me that I’m needed elsewhere.”

Venketesh had already tried to talk Javed into staying, offering him wealth and status as a court advisor, but he understood that a priest answered to a master greater than any mortal Thakoor. Venketesh was still a child, yet he possessed great responsibility, and many of the advisors he had relied upon since the untimely death of his father had been killed during the demon attack. When all had seemed lost, Javed had inspired the young leader with new purpose, and no fire of religion burned hotter than that of a recent convert.

It was outlandish to imagine that a Thakoor of a great house had openly embraced illegal religion, yet Venketesh had allowed Javed to use his house’s printing press to mass-produce illegal scriptures, The Collected Prophecies of the Forgotten’s Voice, and then helped send them out into the world. In defiance of the Capitol, Venketesh had driven the Inquisition from his lands. The members of his court who had protested had been dealt with harshly, for though Venketesh was young, he had proven himself to be incredibly ruthless.

The demons had torn Kanok’s heart out. His people had lost their faith in the Law. They had been despondent and defeated. Javed had offered them a new belief to cling to. Like a drowning man, desperate to hold onto anything that floats, the people of Kanok now clung to the gods.

Javed prayed that they would survive without him.

“It has been an honor to preach to you and your people.”

“I understand. Know that you will always have the eternal gratitude of Great House Makao. You saved my life and helped save my house.”

“I merely did what the gods wanted me to do. They allowed me to wield a black sword for a time, and it was their will that I gave that sword up. I was called to be the Keeper of Names, not a bearer.”

“You let go of an honor that no one has ever willingly given up before, but I don’t speak only of you taking up Maktalvar and slaying demons with it, Keeper, but what you did in the days afterward. The demons killed thousands. Entire districts burned. My family mansion, which had stood for centuries, was swallowed by the ground! Our monuments toppled. My people despaired, until your words set a fire of religion in their hearts. In my heart. We do not wallow in pity for the past but look to the future. For that, you have my thanks.”

Javed didn’t know if he had done these people a favor or not, because the path of the faithful was a difficult one, and it was a path they would have to tread without him. “You’ll still face many challenges. The Law hates the truth.”

“It doesn’t matter who the Law hates, but what the gods demand. You taught me that, Keeper. We are armed with your holy books. Carry your holy message to the rest of the world. When the great and final testing of man is near, Makao will serve.”

Javed left Kanok.


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