SWNOVELS Iceblade: Chapter 9
KASHIA PASSES ROUND a bowl of flatbread with cheese and dried apples followed by glasses of water.
“Get some food and drink down while we wait. Might be your last chance for a while. I dispatched a messenger to bring Shan’domir down here. He will arrive soon.”
She has already warned us there will be no wine or any other luxury while we are still in the middle of an operation. I find a place to sit on the rough-woven rugs and cushions spread against the bare stone walls of Kashia’s underground base. Marin says this cellar is one of several in the city.
We eat in silence. Nem sits a little apart, wrapped in her own dark thoughts and memories. Marin breaks the tense atmosphere first.
“Nem. You did the right thing. Don’t let it distract you from what comes next.”
She doesn’t respond. This time his words and support are not reaching her. He tries again.
“Look, I heard everything, same as you did. Akadian was describing all the vile things he was planning to inflict on Trengar to force him into giving up the names of his paymasters. I’m as sure as you are that he heard the name of the head of House Kandil as clearly as we did. That was all Trengar needed to deliver. You saved him days of torture. He didn’t need to go through that.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that I just murdered my friend.” Nem relapses into silence.
The effects of my mistakes seem to be continuing even after Trengar’s death. I move across to sit with her.
“Nem. It’s my fault all this happened. Can’t you go back to blaming me for everything, like you did before? Get your head clear for this meeting with Shan’domir. Marin is going to need your background knowledge, even if you only spent your first ten years in Annubia.”
She wipes away the tears with a shrug of impatience.
“Blaming you doesn’t work so well by invitation.”
“Fine. I withdraw the invitation. Now you can blame me unilaterally.” I thrust another flatbread into her hand.
Nem looks up at Marin as she takes it, and an unspoken acceptance seems to pass between them. She has regained her focus and is back on course. Which is just as well because the messenger is back, ushering a huge Annubian through the stone archway into the dimly lit cellar.
Shan’domir is dressed in the deep red and orange robes that mark the traders of his desert homeland, except that he carries the style to the limits of flamboyance. Heavy gold circles pull at his earlobes while more gold bands adorn his neck, glittering against his dusky skin.
But I catch the glint of steel behind the torc and see the canny protection beneath the apparently vain fashion statement. I suspect the heavy curved blades at his waist are razor sharp and any concession to fashion will vanish the instant he demonstrates knowing how to use them to deadly effect. He sweeps Kashia into a bear-hug of an embrace.
“Hey! So how is my beautiful spymaster these days? Not too overworked by this invasion I hope?” His broad smile is white and gold, revealing expensive repairs that match the line of the two parallel scars sweeping diagonally across his face. He steps back, still holding Kashia’s shoulders, pretending offense. “Seems you have been too busy to talk to your old friend till now, at any rate.”
“Safer for both of us to keep meetings to a minimum, Shan’domir.” Kashia gasps, recovering the breath this bear of a man has just squeezed out of her. Their familiarity reveals him to have been part of her spy network for a while. I wonder whether spying or trading is his main occupation.
Kashia introduces Marin. Seems the trader already knows Nem. I get the feeling the casual way the two Annubians greet each other is a cover for a more complicated and longstanding relationship. Maybe their common heritage means they have insights to share.
Marin sits and shares food with Shan’domir as they talk. Somehow it doesn’t surprise me to hear Marin speaking fluent Annubian and I wonder what other skills he has that I still don’t know about. The soft lilting of the southern language blends with the shadows of the cellar and I move over to sit beside Deris, needing something to take those last images of Trengar out of my head.
“Deris, what were those things that Kashia dropped on the archers?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know, except that spies and assassins have their own arsenal of poisons and distractions. She would have been careful to use something already known to the Rapathians, to reinforce the association with House Kandil.”
The images of Trengar are still there. Maybe the answer is to acknowledge them instead of trying to blank them out.
“The way Trengar moved when he was fighting those Rapathians. I’ve never seen anything like it. Do you understand what was happening?”
“Not really. At least now you know what you look like to the rest of us when you go off on one of your… rampages.”
So much raw power and speed combined with the precise, disciplined way the Eldrin go about harnessing it. I’m amazed Trengar managed to hold focus long enough to deliver his message to Akadian. Maybe his seven years’ training made the difference. I try to imagine what it would take for me to even be aware of what I’m doing during one of my…
Yes. Tell it like it is. Rampages.
Shan’domir stands and walks to the middle of the rough-paved floor.
“Well, everyone. I can give you the short version of the useful information we have managed to sort out between ourselves. First, since the invasion happened I have been asking questions around the inns and alehouses of the immigrant quarter––mainly inhabited by Annubians, for those of you less familiar with this fair city. And the feeling is almost universal. If we cannot make an alliance and stop this invasion, Annubia will be next. So your captain has kindly given me authority to send a message to the Khalim––may the sun shine forever on his name––and ask him to prepare such an alliance with Samaran. If the feeling is the same in the illustrious court of Annubia and he agrees, our formal treaty with King Tandarion will be sealed in due course.”
He gives us a few moments to take this in. No one seems particularly surprised that Marin has taken it on himself to set this up before even asking permission from the king. I hope this isn’t something that will get him executed for treason or whatever this sort of thing gets called.
I raise an alarmed eyebrow at my usual source of explanations. Deris tries to stifle a grin, then whispers in my ear.
“Don’t panic. Tandarion delegated military decisions to Marin and Jantian in the first message that Lania managed to send after the invasion. Marin might be pushing boundaries a bit here, but I think everyone understands the need to form alliances. After all, an alliance with Annubia was planned back when they invited Nem over here to achieve the same thing by marriage to Prince Tieran. If the prince hadn’t been poisoned back then, we would already be planning a shared strategy with the Khalim.”
I have barely had time to let out a sigh of relief when Shan’domir starts speaking again.
“And I may be able to shed a little light on what the Emperor is after in your beautiful country.” He pauses for a moment, considering his words. “My apologies for being unable to give you much detail, but… state secrets, you understand. The wrath of our Khalim––may the sun shine forever on his name––can be somewhat terrible. Not to mention painful.”
I’d swear he flinched. Briefly but visibly enough to make me wonder where he got those interesting scars on his face. Having the illustrious Khalim on our side sounds more risky than it did a few moments ago––but even more useful, providing all nations fear his wrath with equal apprehension.
Marin tries to ease the tension. “Shan’domir, I’ll let you decide how much to tell everyone, and I will not divulge anything else you might have mentioned in our discussion.”
The spy-trader seems marginally reassured.
“Thank you. Enough to say that the Usurper has several times sent spies and assassins to Annubia to discover the location of our place of power. The place similar to your own Maratic. Few even know its name––and we are committed to keep it that way. No Rapathian spy ever returned home, not even to report failure. Although I suspect the penalty for reporting failure would be far worse than the quick death we graced them with. Usually.”
Marin looks around at the others. “Does that give us a better idea about why Lord Farang is so desperate to find Maratic in a hurry?”
Silence. There is one flaw in this line of thought and Nem confirms it.
“When we were at the hunting lodge I overheard Farang telling the Rapathian guard captain he only wanted to find Maratic so that he could kill the Eldrin.”
Shan’domir clears his throat. “I… had the dubious pleasure of a few meetings with your high-ranking traitor. Before his change of allegiance became public of course. We discussed trade agreements––nothing more, I swear. But I gained the distinct impression that he likes to play several games at once. The main one being focused on gaining wealth and power for himself. I would say he has never let truth get in the way of his acquisitiveness.”
“You mean he may have guessed, or even discovered, that Purmut is after Maratic’s power source but he can’t risk revealing what he knows for fear of being seen as a security risk to be removed?” I still haven’t quite grown used to my new ability to figure out strategy.
“Exactly’ Shan’domir turns his full attention to me. “Not until the Fang fully controls Maratic and its power will he have enough leverage over the Emperor to drive a profitable bargain.”
I search for a solution to the jumble of ideas in my head. “Shan’domir, we went through all this after Nem listened in to Farang’s conversation. The Shadowblade is unlikely to grant his power to any Rapathian, and the only technique we know for using Maratic’s power directly is to spend years of discipline and training, taking it on gradually…”
Oh hells. We’ve just seen Trengar demonstrate another way of doing it.
Shan’domir reads it on my face.
“Well, my little Blade adept. Seems like you have just understood the same thing I did a few minutes ago, when Kashia told me what you people have been up to recently.”
I’m horrified at what his words are implying. “But I would never help the invaders in that way! Knowingly give them access to gathering that kind of power from Maratic in days or even hours. It would destroy what is left of my country, my friends… I would rather die than do that.”
He doesn’t answer for a few moments and I can tell he is thinking hard, searching for alternatives.
“I believe you, oddly enough. Maybe because your friends seem to trust you in spite of your wild and erratic history. The question is, now we have answered the how of it, we have to discover who. Assuming it is not going to be you.”
“Hmph, thanks.” But it is a painful reminder at how easily their fear and suspicion of my abilities could return tenfold. Shan’domir moves his gaze from me to the others.
“Who else could there be? How many other adepts roam the kingdom of Samaran?”
Marin thinks for a moment. “People complain quickly enough when Blade adepts start their careers of extortion and murder. We go after them soon as we can. As far as I know, the country was clear of them for several months until we found Ariel.” He frowns suddenly. “Shan’domir, I didn’t actually tell you the identity of the adept who accidently gave Trengar that ability.”
The big Annubian gives him a slow smile. “You didn’t need to. I can feel it in her, same as you can. Same as I can feel the nascent power in you––and the struggle you are having to prevent it growing stronger.” He shrugs resignedly. “Alas. I am getting careless. That was something I should not have revealed.”
“Don’t get too excited about it.” Kashia slaps him on the shoulder. “I figured out your allegiance and training with the Nishan the first time I saw you fight. Which was to save my life, so I didn’t give you away then and I won’t now. And neither will anyone here. So relax. There is no reason for your ruler to add anything more to your facial decoration.” She flips a mischievous hand towards his scars and he grabs her wrist. Playfully, but the kind of playful you would expect from a large bear.
I know very little about the Nishan, the Annubian league of assassins, as their creed demands absolute secrecy. Still, the revelation explains the feeling of danger I have been picking up from Shan’domir from the moment he stepped into the room. Maybe the ability to sense that kind of power goes both ways.
Shan’domir looks thoughtfully at us. “It would appear that I am going to have to trust you Eldrin people a little more than I had intended. Necessities of war I suppose. So while I am here I will give you another scrap of useful information. One of my… associates mentioned that a very attractive young lady residing in the Rose Mansion has been asking questions about the location of the Palace of Thorns. This is risky for her. In the extreme. She may be inviting herself to be transferred there if she does not stop. And her description is very similar to the appearance of your own Blade adept.”
Cold shivers run down my spine. This must be the other place Alina told me about. The one where clients have full permission to hurt the slaves for their own warped pleasure.
“Marin! What can I do? Alina must be searching for the location in the hope that I can rescue the slaves in that place.” I have been wanting to try this rescue more than anything, after I failed to get her out of captivity. One look at Marin tells me this is going to be another of those difficult choices between the Eldrin and my sister before he even speaks.
“Ariel, no. You can’t do this. It is impossible for several reasons. Remember what happened when you freed your people from the slave-pen? They just captured more to replace them. And that is exactly what they will do even if you manage to get anyone out of the Palace of Thorns alive.”
“You knew! You knew where it was all along and you didn’t tell me!”
Marin waits patiently until I have calmed down and shut up.
“Ariel, I didn’t know, because whatever you think about Tandarion allowing the Rose Mansion to exist, I can assure you he would never tolerate anything like the Palace of Thorns. It must be something the Rapathians set up as soon as they arrived here. But it doesn’t change the fact that the only way to stop it is to get to the source. Drive the Rapathians back to their own country.”
“That won’t help their victims who will still be condemned to that kind of slavery for however long it takes, will it?”
Shan’domir steps between us. “I can perceive a certain tactical difference of opinion here. Impulse versus strategy.”
I glare at him. “Strategy takes too long!”
“And your impulses will bring disaster to anyone who gets too close to you.” Shan’domir turns to Marin. “My people cannot aid you directly in your fight with Rapathia until we receive official permission from our ruler. But we may be able to remove… how shall we say, an awkward internal distraction? We will collect information. Discover who are the clients of the Palace of Thorns. Then we will remove them. Permanently. Once they are well away from the vicinity of course. We can make it look like robbery was the motive.”
He moves to the door and turns back to me. “All it means is that the tormented captives will probably be transferred to the slave pits, breaking rocks for the road being built to transport gold out of the Northlands. Let us hope the work is an improvement for them.”
“So. Not just Maratic that Purmut is after, then?” Brac looks up from sketching every Raksan survivor he can remember from Trengar’s attack.
“The Usurper may have a main strategic interest in finding Maratic but he is not going to turn his back on a fiefdom full of gold if it is sitting there waiting for him.” Shan’domir gives us a flamboyant bow and disappears through the door.