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Chapter 24

“Get away from the river! We must go now.” Javed, Keeper of Names, ran to where one of the casteless was desperately trying to pull his nets from the water. “Leave those.”

“I need ’em. They’re the only thing I own.”

“You can’t use them if you’re dead.” Javed smacked the back of the obstinate fool’s head. He used his flesh-and-blood hand, rather than the steel hook, tempting as that might be.

“If I leave me nets they’ll get stole.”

“Then stay here and die with your precious trash.” Out of patience, Javed kept moving down the shore, roaring at the remaining casteless. “You must go. Follow the others. There are places prepared for you to hide and shelter all throughout the city. You have been assigned to one of those. Go. There you will find sanctuary.”

But many of the untouchables were hesitant to leave their quarter. They’d spent their lives being beaten for crossing those boundaries unless a whole man commanded them to. And Javed, being a priest, was something new and different from the Law-abiding men who traditionally ordered them about. The faithful trusted him. The rest did not. Besides, they hadn’t seen any demon sign yet, so they were far more worried about raising the ire of the Law than getting eaten. The only evidence they had that demons were coming was the word of this crippled priest, and most of the casteless still here didn’t even believe in the gods at all, so why should they trust him?

“You must move! Damn you, fools, get out while you still can.”

For weeks he had tried to prepare these people for this day, but right now he was so annoyed by them that he was beginning to root for the demons. The faithful had listened, obeyed, and run. Most of the others walked, and they did so reluctantly, worried one of their fellows would steal their meager belongings as soon as they looked away, or perhaps so they could have an opportunity to rob someone else themselves.

Javed had liked the casteless of the Cove far more than these, and he had still murdered a great many of them without compunction. The Vadal City casteless were infuriating in comparison and it took everything in his power to not use the small bit of demon he had procured for himself to turn into the tiger form, so he could terrorize these dregs into moving. Even a three-legged tiger was faster than a foolish casteless.

After several more minutes of pointless yelling, on the verge of abandoning the stubborn remainder, Javed found himself alone in a shadowed spot between the ramshackle buildings. The casteless who’d been crammed into these stinking barracks must have been devout to have left so quickly.

He took a deep breath and then uttered a prayer to try and calm his desperate anger. “Hear my plea, gods. Among these are the bloodline of Ramrowan, blessed among all men. It is my duty to guide them. It is my duty to keep them safe and teach them the words of the Voice. I must record their names and lineage in the holy book. Help me help them, for you have said only the descendants of Ramrowan will be able to prevail on the last day.”

“Why?”

He glanced around to see who had asked him that. Very little light made it between the teetering stacks of casteless shanties, so he saw no one nearby. “Who’s there?”

When no answer came, Javed shook his head. Surely imagined voices were a sign that exhaustion and stress had caught up to him. He began walking away, because the rest of these fools weren’t going to get themselves where they needed to be without him.

“Where are you going, Javed? You asked for a higher power to hear your plea. A higher power has answered.”

Javed’s blood turned to ice, for that time he recognized the voice.

“I asked you a question, Senior Witch Hunter.”

Slowly, Javed turned back, to see there was a hooded figure standing in the shadows of the hovel a floor above him.

“I have forsaken that title.”

“No, you have disgraced that title and thus the title has forsaken you.”

In the darkness, Javed could just make out the shape of horns and fangs and the gleam of gold…So this was how he would die. “Grand Inquisitor Omand.”

“You know it is I, so why do you not kneel before your superior?”

“I kneel only before the gods now.”

THEN KNEEL.

The command slammed into Javed’s head so hard it felt as if his skull might burst. Reeling, he stumbled and fell onto the sand. Omand’s words had smote him, but the shanty was unaffected, as if the thunder had been contained entirely inside Javed’s head.

“Kneel, Javed, for I have ascended, obtaining magic beyond your meager comprehension. I have made myself immortal, and the patterns of the ancients are in my hands now.”

The world was enveloped in an impossible stillness. The sound of the river vanished, as did the noise of the perpetually bickering casteless. It was only Javed and his vengeful former master.

“I have obtained copies of your so-called scriptures.” Omand spat that word with disgust as he floated down toward the sand. “I read them all, marveling as I did so that you threw away your noble obligation to write a work of fantasy and become a groveling worm before the Mother of Dawn. You pledged your loyalty to a slave, whom I destroyed with ease.”

Javed struggled to stand.

I SAID KNEEL.

That time the command was followed with a violent rebuke, and Javed was hurled back to smash through the flimsy wall of a casteless hovel. The words had hit like a mace, and he lay there, coughing as accumulated years of dust rained down on him.

“I had such high hopes for you once. Very few men possess our particular gift for detachment. Perfection cannot be hindered by pity or empathy. It can only be achieved through a perfect clarity of thought. Your skills as a witch hunter were second to no one but me. Your future was so very bright…And now look at you, nothing but a scrawny dog herding untouchables instead of sheep.”

Javed managed to gasp. “What do you want from me?”

“I’m a god now, Javed. What do all gods want? To be obeyed, of course. Apparently, we gods require priests to do our bidding. I know of only one priest, and you have already served me capably once before. So I offer you this new obligation. You have preached the doctrine of Mother Dawn to the masses. Now you will preach mine instead.”

Javed understood instinctively that Omand could crush him like a bug, but he no longer feared death, only failure, so he answered without hesitation. “No.”

“What?”

“I said no.”

“Such surprising defiance.” Omand approached, gliding inches above the ground. “I would grant you anything your heart desires—power, riches, knowledge of a hundred magical patterns and black steel by the pound to fuel them.” The darkened eye holes of the golden mask lingered on Javed’s pathetic hook hand. “I can restore your body and give you long life and lasting strength. I can make you stronger than a Protector. My priest would have palaces, feasts, slaves, pleasure women. Name your price and I will grant it…or refuse this obligation and die.”

Untempted, Javed shook his head. “I will never serve you again.”

“What is it about these unseen gods that inspires such devotion? They are distant and aloof. I am right here. They give nothing while I offer everything.”

“They are the beginning, the true first. Whatever newfound power you have, you stole it from them. You’re nothing but a thief.”

“Oh, how little you understand the true nature of things.” Omand’s mask shook disapprovingly as he chuckled. “The only difference between them and me is the distance of time. What seems a miracle to you, was mundane to them. They didn’t spring fully formed into existence from the endless nothing. They came here from elsewhere, as builders, designers, architects, creators, artists…most certainly there were some thieves among them. Who are you to judge your betters?”

Again, the priest forced himself to stand, but this time Omand didn’t smite him back down. “I know what you are now.” Javed leg’s wobbled, but he spoke boldly as he recalled the words of the Voice as recorded by Ratul. “You’re the Father of Night. The master of lies and corruption who will attempt to thwart the plans of the Mother of Dawn. You are the necessary evil. Without your meddling, the great work could not be finished.”

“So that’s what that name means.” Omand paused, as if savoring this new title. “Night Father…I find this mantle acceptable.”

“The Forgotten’s Warrior will defeat you.”

“That part remains to be seen, but I suppose we will find out soon enough. Before I kill you for your insolence, Javed, I asked you a question. Why? Why was it written that only the descendants of Ramrowan could defeat the demons at the final day? Surely, you must know, for that day has come.” With the sudden sweep of one of Omand’s gloved hands, the waters of the Martaban were thrown aside in a great wave, a hundred feet wide and fifty feet deep.

And revealed beneath were demons.

Hundreds of demons.

The waters came rushing back, hiding the terrifying demonic army, and striking the shore with a mighty splash. But even as the droplets rained down, they made no noise on impact, as Omand still controlled the world around them. “Why did the ancients think so highly of these untouchable scum? What plan did they put into place that could possibly make pathetic casteless useful against such a deadly foe?”

“If you’re the god, why’re you asking a mere priest?”

“I already know. I am testing the knowledge of the faithful, to ascertain how badly you’re about to lose.”

“No…You really don’t know, and if there are limits to your omnipotence, you’re no god at all.” Fate sealed, Javed scoffed at the mask. “You know of the ancients’ words, but you don’t understand them at all. You took their power, but it is like a child stealing his father’s dagger. I hope you cut yourself.”

Anger crept into Omand’s voice. “The thing you worship is nothing more than a phantom of the past, pushing all of you about like pieces on a game board, directing you toward its ends, no different than how I manipulated the judges of the Capitol. I once thought the great game was politics, but the great game is everything, and everything is the prize I intend to win.”

“Yet here you are, doing exactly as the gods predicted.”

There was movement behind him, and Javed turned back to see that the waters of the Martaban were frothing. The demons were rising.

“Explain yourself,” Omand demanded.

Javed began to laugh. Even with demons at his back and an angry demigod in his face, it was a joyous laugh, because Javed trusted in the wisdom of the Forgotten. “Do you think the Keepers wrote down every prophecy the Voice gives us? If the Voice revealed to Ratul something that was to be kept secret from our enemies, to be passed down from Keeper to Keeper, to be told only to the Forgotten’s chosen at the right time, do you think we would be so foolish as to write it down?”

“You will tell me, or I will rip it from your mind.”

“I am not just the Keeper of Names, Omand. I am the Keeper of Secrets. Your ignorance will be your downfall. By the Forgotten’s will, your suffering will be eternal.”

GIVE ME THIS SECRET.

The Night Father’s command was so mighty that no mortal could possibly resist it for long.

Rather than betray the Forgotten’s chosen, Javed threw himself into the river.


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