Chapter 9
Six years ago
“You seem troubled. What are you thinking about, mistress?”
“I’m thinking about what’s the best way to kill my husband and not get caught.”
Thera Vane’s arranged marriage was not a happy one.
“Ha ha, yes, such a sense of humor.” Her personal attendant glanced around nervously, but they were alone in the bed chamber. Then she went back to brushing out Thera’s long hair. “You are most amusing, mistress.”
“Of course,” Thera muttered as she looked at her troubled reflection in the mirror. “I was only joking.”
Arranged marriages were the norm among her caste. The higher the status, the more likely your family would marry you off for political reasons, sealing contracts, creating alliances, and so forth. That was just the way of things. It was the one time you were better off being unimportant. Low-status warriors could often marry for love. Nobody cared about them enough to use them as bargaining chips.
Thera had thought her odd reputation would spare her from being used like that. Normally the daughter of a war hero would be in great demand, but Andaman Vane had been demoted and punished for his disobedience. They no longer had an estate or riches. Though her family had managed to keep Thera’s occasional seizures a secret, everyone knew about the injury in her youth and the many years it had taken her to recover. What warrior in his right mind would want to marry a poor girl from a bad line, with bad luck and bad health, to bear their sons?
Sadly her low status had merely delayed the inevitable. She was no first choice, and to present her as such would be an insult, but the great house had decided she would do as a widower’s replacement. She had married late. People often said better late than never, but for such a wretched man, she’d have preferred never.
“Life would be simple if Dhaval would just get himself killed in battle, but he’s too much of a coward to lead from the front.”
The slave girl was growing nervous. “You shouldn’t make such jokes, mistress. The roik is not a kind master.”
There should have been some measure of pride, being married to a leader of one hundred soldiers, but Dhaval Makao was a petty, bitter man, rotten to his core. “The only reason he attained that rank is because of politics. He’s a warrior in name only. In House Vane he wouldn’t be worthy to dig latrines.” Thera sighed. “But I suppose I’m not in Vane anymore. I’m in the great house that conquered it.”
“If Roik Dhaval heard you say such things, he wouldn’t see the humor. He would take great offense.”
“I’m aware.” Thera was Dhaval’s third wife. The first had died in childbirth, as had the baby. She suspected the last vestiges of his humanity had died along with them, if he’d ever been human at all. Dhaval’s second wife had fallen down the stairs and broken her neck. Or at least that’s what he had told the judges, because beating your spouse to death during a drunken rage was illegal. The Law was rather clear on that.
The slave kept brushing the tangles from her hair, while Thera cursed herself for saying anything at all. Opening up had been foolish. She had slipped, but that’s because she had no one else to talk to. She had no friends here. The slave girl would rat on Thera in a heartbeat if Dhaval knocked a month off her obligation.
Loneliness was making her desperate. The women of Vane had quite a bit of autonomy, and could even serve as karta and head a household. In Makao, a wife was expected to be a silent trophy that produced babies, more of a beautiful pet than anything. Thera wasn’t good at silence, and thus far, had no luck getting pregnant. She suspected her long illness had left her barren. So far her marriage had been a year of uncomfortable silences punctuated by Dhaval’s angry, drunken outbursts. He was too proud to ask a judge to grant a divorce, and she’d already vowed the day that he lost his temper and tried to toss her down the stairs like her predecessor, she’d stab him in the throat, Law be damned.
The slave had stopped combing.
“What is it?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare, but this scar on top of your head…It’s from the thing that fell from the sky?”
“You’ve heard about that?”
“We all have. There was a boy in my village, got kicked in the head by a horse, broke his whole skull. He wouldn’t wake up, but the surgeon told us about a girl from Vane who’d been hurt far worse and how she’d eventually healed. He didn’t make it. It’s a miracle you survived.”
“Miracles aren’t real. I survived because Vane blood doesn’t die easy. Thankfully it healed without being a misshapen mess.”
“You can’t hardly tell your head was ever broken, and you can hide it well. You are very pretty, mistress.”
So was the slave, which explained why her wretched husband had claimed the poor girl. Dhaval liked to collect pretty things.
“Lucky me.” Thera had never taken much pride in her appearance, but she recognized that she was decently attractive, though a bit strong and plain by Makao’s snooty standards, but good enough, which was why Dhaval had accepted when the Vane arbiters had offered her as a wife. She suspected the reason his powerful family had approved the contract was the women of Vane had a reputation for toughness, so she’d be more difficult to break on accident should their barbaric son lose his temper again, and thus spare them future embarrassments in court.
“It could be worse, mistress.”
“I do not disagree.” Dhaval had only tried to strike her once. It had been over dinner, but she’d threatened to stab him with her fork, and they hadn’t eaten a meal together since. “He’s at least smart enough to know when to back down.”
“I meant that he doesn’t beat us slaves…Often.”
Thera didn’t like having slaves. The whole concept bothered her. They were just regular people, temporarily deprived of their status as whole men because of some violation of the Law. Thera could take care of her own affairs, comb her own hair, fix her own clothing, and fetch her own food. But whenever she tried to do anything on her own, her husband became offended. Dhaval loved having slaves do all their menial tasks. It made him feel important. This particular girl had been a worker in one of the villages his garrison protected, so she’d been obligated to his estate to make up for their unpaid debt.
“He’s not so bad, as long as you don’t upset him.” The girl seemed hesitant to continue. “But it’s like you’re determined to upset him, then he takes his anger out on us. Perhaps if you weren’t so obstinate?”
Thera was growing annoyed. “Just comb it so the scar stays hidden and quit talking.”
“Yes, mistress.”
By the time she was done dressing in the silly bunch of colorful silks, jewelry, and headdress that her useless husband insisted was appropriate attire, another slave arrived to announce the arrival of a visitor.
“Does Dhaval wish for me to stay hidden in my chambers, or does he wish to parade me about like a show pony to impress his friends again?”
This slave was an old man, who’d once been a cobbler in the city of Kanok, before he’d been punished for overcharging the army on a shipment of boots. “Neither, mistress. Roik Dhaval has gone to a meeting at the great house. The visitor is here to see you.”
Thera was suspicious. Who would want to see her? The other wives ignored her. She was a social nobody here, but since she had no use for the vapid, useless beauties the other officers were married to, Thera was fine with being ignored. Hopefully it wasn’t Dhaval’s family. They either barely tolerated her, or held her in outright contempt.
“It’s a risaldar from Vane, who says he was in the city on business. He didn’t wish his arrival announced to the entire house, but asked to speak with you alone.”
There was only one risaldar of House Vane who would go out of his way to visit this particular estate. Thera rushed past the slaves and practically ran for the stairs. From the balcony she saw him, a bit more wrinkled and grayer around the temples, but still as powerful a presence as ever.
“Baba!”
Andaman Vane grinned when he saw his daughter. “Hello, Thera.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Overjoyed, she had to hold onto her ridiculous frilly dress to keep from tripping on the stairs, but when she got to the main floor she leapt into his arms and hugged her father tight. It was the happiest she’d been in ages.
“I didn’t know you were coming to Kanok.” Then she realized he was still standing in the entryway, wearing his boots. In Makao it was rude to enter a home without taking your shoes off. The slaves hadn’t even invited him inside! Her own father! That was insulting, but he seemed so glad to see her he hadn’t taken offense. “What’re you doing here?”
“I had to deliver some reports to the great house. I don’t have much time.” He glanced at the two slaves still watching curiously from the top of the stairs, then whispered, “We must speak privately.”
“Of course, this way.” Barefoot, she led him out the door. There was a large garden in the middle of Dhaval’s estate where Thera spent many hours because it was quiet, secluded, and enabled her to avoid her new family. “I have a garden where I like to pass the time.”
The bushes had once been carved into animal shapes—a fashion copied from the warmer houses in the north—but Dhaval had eventually given up on the tedious practice, so now the central garden of their estate was more like a small overgrown forest. When they arrived at the quietest part, her father took in the wooden targets that Thera had tied to the decorative fence, with the thousands of notches left upon them from her throwing knives, and nodded appreciatively.
“For a moment I thought maybe you’d taken up gardening.”
“I try to stay in practice. Apparently being able to pin a running rat with a spike at twenty paces is considered unladylike in these parts. How was I to know that?”
“The Makao are rather flamboyant and impractical. They’ve got you dressed like you’re about to lead a parade.”
Thera laughed. “They consider this casual. Can you believe it? I couldn’t even kick a man above the knee in this frivolous outfit if my life depended on it. And these are their warriors. You should see how their first caste dress. They walk around like puffy, embroidered, giant flowers.”
Speaking of clothing, her father was wearing the drab uniform of a risaldar, nothing like back when he’d been a mighty phontho, covered in bright ribbons and clanking medals. He wore only one medal now, a simple bronze medallion in the oval shape of a banyan leaf, awarded for courage in battle. It was the first award he had ever earned decades ago, and when she’d once asked about it, he’d told her it was the only medal that had ever really mattered to him. That was just how her father was. In all the years since his fall, he had never once acted bitter or resentful for choosing to stay by her side, but had instead rejoiced daily that she lived.
“So how is life among the perfumed fops?” her father asked, still smiling.
She almost told him the truth. He had no idea what manner of monster their house had married her off to, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him how miserable she was. Andaman Vane was a proud warrior, driven by honor. He’d probably challenge Dhaval to a duel…Only Dhaval came from a powerful family, and her father had very little status. Her husband would just dismiss the challenge. If Andaman Vane angered Great House Makao again, this time they would surely take his life.
“It’s fine. I’m doing well.”
“What of your health?”
There had been one seizure, but it had been here in the garden, and there had been no witnesses. She’d woken up lying in the dirt, aching from violent muscle spasms. If the Voice had spoken that time, there’d been no one around to hear. It had left her weakened for several days afterward, but she’d blamed it on a fever and Dhaval had believed her.
“I have been well.”
He looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping on them. “And the Voice?”
She shook her head. Only Thera and her father knew about the Voice. Not even her mother had known about it before she had passed away. If news of her curse got out, marrying well would have been the least of her worries. The Voice was the sort of strange thing that would attract the attention of Inquisitors.
He sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. My greatest fear is that it comes upon you again, and I won’t be around to protect you.”
“It’s been years since that…thing…last spoke. I think it’s gone.”
But her father didn’t look so sure. “May we be that fortunate. Now, I apologize for being so abrupt, but I have little time. I’m not supposed to be here at all. I’m merely serving as a guard for our delegation, and if they find out I left my post, I’ll be severely reprimanded.”
Thera was shocked, it wasn’t like her father to shirk his duty. He’d only done that once before, and it had cost him dearly. “You should go before you get in trouble!”
“Seeing you is worth the risk. We traveled for a week to get here, yet our arbiter wouldn’t even give me the smallest courtesy and allow me to visit my only child, who lives right down the street. To the ocean with him.” He took hold of her arm. Somehow his hands of stone were always gentle when it came to her. “You must listen carefully, Thera. I’ve come to warn you. A house war is coming.”
“What?” There hadn’t been a house war in the west in her lifetime.
“The raids between Harban and Makao have been escalating. They’ve kept Vane very busy. I must say, your father has regained quite a bit of his old glory recently. I’ve led three raids already this year, looted two towns, and captured a whole garrison. It’s certainly reminded the men how much better things were back when I was in charge.”
“I hadn’t heard about any of this. Has the Capitol authorized it?”
“Not at all. In fact, they’ve denied both great houses requests for reprisals, but things are spiraling beyond the first caste’s control. There will be house war…No more raids. I speak of full-fledged warfare, the total might of both sides brought to bear against each other. It’ll be glorious. I’m surprised your husband hasn’t spoken of it. Your new family is in the thick of things.”
She let that pass. They rarely spoke at all. There was no way to explain her relationship that wouldn’t put her father in a difficult position. “Are they mad? If the Capitol doesn’t approve, they’ll set an example. I don’t know how many times you told me that growing up. Don’t enrage the Capitol. They’ll send the Protectors in and kill everyone.”
“They probably will, but in times of great strife comes great opportunity.”
“Wait…What’re you plotting?”
“It’s best if I not say, and safer if you’re not involved. You have a comfortable life here. I don’t want to disrupt it.”
Thera laughed. “Oh, I know you too well. You’re up to something. Please, disrupt this comfortable life. I’d rather know the truth.”
“It would put you in danger.”
“As if I’ve never had to keep a secret before!”
“You’re as stubborn as your mother.”
“She was soft hearted. You mean as stubborn as you, old ox.”
“You have me there, little tiger…However, this would test your loyalty, your new family versus—”
“Vane,” Thera stated without hesitation. “I choose Vane.”
None of that seemed to surprise him. He chuckled. “Very well…In a total war, if Makao is too busy fending off Harban, whose warrior caste is nothing to scoff at, then Vane has an opportunity to be a vassal no more. We’ll break off, and declare ourselves free of Makao. We’re tired of bleeding for them. Let the fools fight, and once they’re fully committed, then we would have the chance to reclaim what is rightfully ours.”
Thera was shocked by the audacity of the idea, and she had just been plotting how best to murder her husband. “Rebellion? Who is with you?”
“All of my old officers will follow me, and their men will follow them. Among the first caste, the name of Andaman Vane is worth salt water, but those who matter will still follow me into battle. The first hand out ranks and titles like holiday treats, but they don’t understand real authority only comes when soldiers respect their commander. The Capitol won’t care, as long as we pay our taxes and obligations. Our arbiters won’t like it, because they never like when warriors take the initiative, but once I secure victory and we achieve great house status again, they’ll be quick to act as if it was all their idea and claim the glory for themselves.”
“And if you fail, they’ll heap blame on you alone while they plead their ignorance.” Her head was swimming. Thera had to sit down. She picked the closest bench, heedless of the dust on her fine dress. “This…this is…”
“Bold,” he finished for her. “Of course, if I go through with it, you’ll either have to deny me and pledge your undying loyalty to Makao, or you’ll have to flee this place and return home. Even if you did forsake me, they still might try to use you as a hostage in negotiations. That’s why I came here today, to warn you. Vane means everything to me, but I am not some Capitol politician who will use my own flesh and blood as a pawn. I willingly risk my own life, but that is my choice. I will not force that upon you.”
This was a lot to absorb. “So you’ve come to ask your daughter’s permission…to rebel against the Law?”
“When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound particularly dignified. I wanted your opinion.”
“Really?” Her father was one of the greatest war heroes in the west. “My opinion?”
He smiled. “I’ve missed having my best advisor by my side. And also I wanted to make sure you have an honorable way out first, so if I fail I don’t drag you down with me.”
Thera was quiet for a long time. She had a question, but she was afraid that she already knew the answer. “Who gave you this idea?”
Andaman Vane took a deep breath. “It is my own.”
“No…It isn’t.”
“Then why ask the question if you already suspect the answer? It is my own now.”
“This is what the Voice told you the last time it spoke. You never told me what it said. You declared it to be nonsense, and said not to dwell on it, but I could see it in your eyes. You were scared, but you were intrigued too. This was it, this was what that thing told you about, wasn’t it?”
It was obvious where Thera had gotten her stubborn nature from. “I may not know what it is, where it comes from, or what it wants, but I know a good idea when I hear it.”
“What did the Voice say? What’ve you been trying to protect me from?”
“I am out of time. I must go now.” He began walking away.
Thera reached beneath her many silks, pulled out one of her hidden throwing knives, and hurled it end over end, planting it into the wooden target in front of her father’s path with a solid thunk. And then she demanded with all the authority she could muster, “What did it tell you?”
He stopped and gave a resigned sigh. “Oh, my tenacious child, how I have missed you.”
“I have to know. Please. I beg you, Baba. Tell me the truth.”
Her father regarded her solemnly. “It said it kept you alive for a reason, to deliver its message. It said everything is going to change soon. I didn’t believe it, but it predicted this war. It saw the future, and I didn’t believe it until I saw those things with my own eyes. Specific things, during the chaos of battle, random events you…it, couldn’t have known about years before they happened.”
When the Voice came upon her, she couldn’t hear it, as if she was sent someplace else, but it was loud and clear to those close enough to listen. “How can it tell the future?”
“I don’t know. But it did, I swear to you it did.”
“Did it say how the house war ends?”
“In a great bonfire, a thousand bodies piled high, while the Protectors watch them burn.”
“Are you among them?” she asked, hesitant, afraid to know.
“It didn’t say who was on the grisly pyre, but the Voice declared the time of rebellion to be at hand. The time of rebellion, Thera. Who else could it be speaking of other than Vane? This is our chance!”
She could see the gleam in his eye, the new energy he possessed. For the first time in many years, Andaman Vane had hope. She couldn’t take that away from him, not after all that he had sacrificed for her.
“If you think this is for the best, I trust you. Do what you must.”
“I promise that I will. The Voice said you would be the instrument that brings about this rebellion. Now I am certain. Thank you, Thera. We will not fail,” Andaman Vane declared with all the sincerity of his great heart.
* * *
Thera dreamed of long forgotten gardens and foolish promises. The Voice never lied, but it was easy to misinterpret, and it made no allowance for wishful thinking. It gave hope, but hope could kill sure as an executioner’s blade.
It had taken several slaves to remove the tiger trap, but after that Sikasso had let Thera keep the room. Once her head had cleared from the spell she’d been under, she’d been able to take in just how luxurious her surroundings were. The murals had been painted by a master: serene scenes of nature and bright, colorful recordings of great battles. She knew from the many burglaries that she’d committed that any of the sculptures here could be moved for a fortune. The value for just the jade and ivory in weight alone was impressive, let alone what collectors would pay for the illegal antique statues of old gods. The carpet was softer than the best bed she’d had as a child of the warrior caste, and the bed…well, once freed of the ropes, it was so indulgent it was like lying on a cloud. Truthfully, these were the nicest quarters she’d ever slept in, and Dhaval’s family had been pretty rich.
All that luxury didn’t keep Thera from trying to figure out how to escape. A nice prison was still a prison. She may have been untied, but the door remained locked. There was a window, with glass so fine that there wasn’t so much as a hint of distortion or discoloration, but she was blocked from opening it by solid iron bars. The view outside was nothing but low, fat trees and fog, providing her with no clue as to her actual location.
For the first day after their agreement, Sikasso had left her alone, saying that she’d need time to recover her faculties from the invasive magic that he had used on her before they began work. Slaves had returned her rough traveling clothes, all freshly washed and repaired, though they didn’t give back any of her many knives. She’d have to improvise something else for stabbing people in the meantime.
Then they had brought her a feast. At first she’d thought the slaves were preparing a banquet there was so much, but it was all meant for her, and it was all wonderful, with enough spice to bring tears to her eyes. One downside of living outside the Law was that you often ended up living off slop fit for untouchables. Eating well again was a bit overwhelming. Sikasso must have been trying to impress her.
It was said a leopard didn’t change its spots, and a cruel assassin wouldn’t suddenly become a friend. Even if Sikasso could free her from her curse, she had no doubt that he’d kill her the moment she was no longer of use. Deal be damned, she was getting out of here.
Whenever the slaves unlocked the door, she noticed that a wizard remained in the hall, watching. Or at least she assumed he was a wizard. They all looked like normal men, but this fellow kept one fist clenched, hiding something between his fingers the whole time. More than likely a piece of demon, and he was certainly ready to set her on fire, or whatever it was wizards did, should she try to run out.
Though she tried, the slaves wouldn’t speak or even make eye contact when they delivered food or removed dirty plates. Whenever she spoke to them, they’d ignore her until the task was complete, then look back at the wizard in the doorway, and he’d dismiss them with a nod of his head. She didn’t even know if they were actually condemned slaves, or just very unlucky workers to have such odd and dangerous masters. At least they looked healthy, clean, and well fed.
She’d eaten enough at lunch to survive the week, but they still brought her dinner anyway. Luckily the locking mechanism was rather loud, so she was able to hide what she was working on before they entered. Previously, she’d decided that this time she would try to make conversation with the wizard. Thera would even attempt to be charming. As a product of the warrior caste, she wasn’t very good at charming, but she knew that she was attractive, and there were times a smile and batting her eyelashes got her further than threats and sullen glares.
“There’s plenty here if you’d like to share.” She held up a bowl full of lamb in a thick red sauce.
“I do not.” The wizard was a handsome man, thickly bearded, with strong features and broad shoulders, everything that his superior Sikasso was not.
“No need to stand there in the doorway. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m to make sure of that.”
“I’m Thera. What do they call you?”
“My name is not your concern.” Even though he was probably several years younger than she was, he had one of those deep voices, where everything he said was conveyed with gravitas. He should have been a judge.
“No need to be rude.”
“There was no need for you to cut Vilsaro’s throat in Jharlang.”
Thera lost her fake smile. “Vilsaro, huh? I didn’t catch his name at the time.”
“He was my friend.”
“Well, your friend shouldn’t have put his hands on me.” While the wizard snarled at her, she stuck a big piece of lamb into her mouth and began to chew. “Mmm. That’s good. Your loss.”
He obviously wanted to say more, but apparently he had more respect for—or fear of—Sikasso than he had desire to avenge his dead friend, because he said nothing else on the topic.
“I am Kabir.”
“See? Wasn’t that easier? It is a pleasure to meet you, Kabir.”
When the slaves were done serving, the wizard closed the door and locked it.
As soon as they were gone, Thera pulled out the thin piece of iron from her sleeve and got back to work. It had been a decorative end cap for one of the shelves until she’d pried it off. Then she retrieved the statue from beneath her pillow and went back to sharpening her shiv while she ate. The man with extra arms sitting cross legged must have been a common image back during the Age of Kings, because despite the Inquisition’s best efforts to destroy all images of illegal gods, she’d seen quite a few of these around. Hopefully whoever he was, he wouldn’t mind her using his base as a whetstone.