Chapter 3
Lord Protector Devedas had crossed the frozen mountains to find the plains on fire.
It had been a long journey from the central desert, and they’d been caught in a brutal winter storm along the way. The cold had killed their horses, but it had only inconvenienced their riders. It took more than weather to stop a Protector.
His men had been miserable, but too proud to ever let it show. The other Protectors had been unlucky enough to be born northerners, where the sun always shined and the air didn’t cut your face, so the journey had been harder on them than it had been for Devedas. Though they’d come from the soft lands of green grass and silk, each of them had still survived the Order’s brutal program, training in the Hall of Protectors, high in the unforgiving mountains of Dev, so they had simply gritted their teeth, called upon the Heart to keep their extremities from becoming frost bitten, and marched on.
His companions had only trained in Dev. He had been born there. It had made him. His home had been slick rocks covered in treacherous snow, and ice crevasses where one misplaced boot meant they’d never find your body, where giant predatory bears—so white they might as well be invisible—lurked in wait. He’d lived beneath a volcano that routinely belched fire and molten rock and drank sulfurous water that had gushed out of the ground steaming hot. On the southern coast, it occasionally got cold enough to freeze the air in your lungs, turning it sharp as daggers, so you’d cough up blood or drown in it.
This crossing had been pleasant in comparison.
The snowstorm had slowed them, but his small band of Protectors had pushed through the Thao passes, and then marched south into Akershan lands. Somewhere in the vast area of this great house was hidden the headquarters of the casteless rebellion, and that Devedas suspected that was where they would catch their former brother, Ashok Vadal.
Ashok’s fall had brought dishonor to them all, and he had murdered one of their own in Neeramphorn several months ago. No one in the Order would rest until Ashok had been put down like the rabid dog he’d become.
After the traitor was slain and his shame erased from the world, then Devedas intended to return to the Capitol, to be hailed as the hero who had stopped the most infamous criminal in generations. It was illegal for a member of the Order to seek personal glory, but the rest of the Protectors didn’t know what Devedas knew. There was a conspiracy among the powerful men of the Capitol to overthrow the judges—a terrible crime—yet he had agreed to look the other way. The judges deserved to be cast down. A mighty change was upon them, and before it was through, Devedas intended to be crowned king.
All he had to do was find and kill his best friend first.
His Protectors had claimed new horses, tack, and supplies in the first settlement they’d come across. It was a poor place, and what they took would cause great hardship to the worker caste there, but none dared argue with the demands of four servants of the Law. Riding was better than walking, and his men had breathed sighs of relief, as it was all downhill from there.
They had been riding along the banks of the Akara River for two days when they saw the plume of smoke.
Akershan was notorious for having wildfires that could stretch for miles but there was still snow on the ground, so it was unlikely that this was natural. Plus, in the two decades he’d served the Law, Devedas had put many buildings to the torch, and the smoke always had a certain color when it was someone’s home that was burning. From the amount, several structures were on fire, perhaps even a whole village.
“Let us investigate,” Devedas told his men.
“Hopefully it’s the rebels attacking again.” Abhishek Gujara was obviously excited at the prospect of a fight. They’d endured weeks of hard travel, hunger, and discomfort, so a good battle against lawbreakers would certainly cheer them all up. Protectors could be a grim bunch, but they never lacked for enthusiasm when it came to applying their trade.
“If we’re lucky they’ll be led by the Black Heart himself,” Jamari Vadal stated flatly. “And we can get this over with.”
They pushed their horses hard, but these were herding mounts, not used to carrying men in armor. It took them a while to get close enough to ascertain the cause of the smoke.
It was a settlement of maybe three hundred people in total. Only a handful of homes belonging to the higher status members of the worker caste were made of wood, the rest were the tent homes common to these lands, round to survive the constant winds, with walls made of hide or gray felt. Most of those were untouched. However, across a small stream was a separate, smaller living area, crowded and muddy, and currently entirely aflame.
Devedas slowed his horse to a walk so he could better assess the situation. The others followed his example. He used the Heart to sharpen his vision, until distant things became clear. There was at least a full paltan of fifty warriors there. The banner they were flying consisted of vertical green stripes on a tan flag. The symbol of Great House Akershan was supposed to represent the grass on the plains, or some such nonsense. Devedas had always struggled to pay attention during Master Mindarin’s lessons on heraldry.
“They’re burning that casteless quarter,” Abhishek muttered. “I wonder why?”
“It’s their house’s property to do with as they wish, so it’s none of our concern, but if it’s because they’ve been caught aiding the rebels I want one alive to interrogate.” Devedas thumped his horse with his heels and forced it into an awkward gallop.
Surprisingly, these casteless were fighting back, and from the looks of it, had achieved a tiny—albeit temporary—bit of success. The warriors must have been surprised to meet actual resistance, but they were warriors, and casteless were casteless, so it appeared to have quickly turned into a massacre. There were a couple obviously dead warriors lying in the mud, but for every dead warrior, there were ten dead casteless. Their rough weapons—mostly repurposed farm tools—were still in their hands, but there were a few splintered spears and stolen swords among them, and it was illegal for the non-people to possess arms.
So it was the rebellion then. Serves them right.
There were still pockets of resistance between the burning tents, but the warriors appeared to have the matter well in hand.
“Who is in command here?” Devedas shouted.
The warriors had been so focused on their mission, that they’d not heard the Protectors approach. Several of them immediately pointed toward where their flag had been planted into a pile of straw. The risaldar in charge of the butchery seemed shocked to see silver armored Protectors riding up to him. One of the mightiest enforcers of the Law was a rare sight, four was unheard of.
“I am.” And then the officer saw that Devedas wasn’t just wearing the fanged visage of the Law on his chest, but also the special insignia that marked him as the head of that entire fearsome Order. The color drained from his face as he meekly asked, “How may I serve, Lord Protector?”
Since Devedas held the power to declare almost anyone in the world a violator of the Law, and then immediately carry out their sentence, he was used to such reactions. It was good this risaldar knew his place.
“What’s going on here?”
“Orders direct from the Capitol to our Thakoor earlier this week. We’re to put all the casteless here to the sword.”
From the looks of things, they were being rather thorough about it. Non-people were being struck down left and right. Spears were thrust into fallen bodies to make sure they weren’t just faking. A few non-people were crying and begging for mercy, swearing that they weren’t aiding the rebels, but not too far away could still be heard the sounds of battle, proving them liars. If they weren’t rebels, they were at least collaborators.
“Odd. Why would the Capitol even know of or care about this one village?”
“My apologies, Lord Protector. I didn’t speak clear enough. It’s not just these here, but all of them. Every quarter across the north, from the Akara to the eastern Nansakar is to be burned. We’re to spare none of them.”
As Devedas watched, a casteless child ran from one of the burning tents, but a warrior caught her by the hair, and hurled her screaming back into the fire.
“Every single untouchable…Not just those who are rebelling?”
“This is the third quarter we’ve struck in two days. The first two didn’t even know what was happening until it was over.” The risaldar seemed haunted as he said that. This certainly wasn’t the glorious battle that young warriors dreamed of, that was for sure. “I know they’re not really people and the Law has spoken but…” then he realized he was on the verge of saying something that could be construed as subversive and stopped. “The Capitol’s request will be carried out expediently, I assure you.”
“That’s a vast area. There has to be a multitude of casteless there.”
“Tens of thousands, Lord Protector. Here…” The officer reached into his uniform and pulled out a folded letter. “So you know I speak the truth.”
Saddle creaking, Devedas leaned over to take the orders. At some point the risaldar had left bloody fingerprints on the paper, now dried. He read carefully. The order was legitimate, lawful, and stamped by a senior arbiter. His horse began to shake nervously beneath him, nostrils flaring as the thick smell of burning flesh and hair reached them.
“It’ll get more difficult as we go. Word has already spread that we’re coming, so they’ll go into hiding, or be like these fools and actively try to stand and fight. I don’t know if the Capitol understands there are a lot more non-people in this province than there are warriors.”
The Order of Census and Taxation surely knew the exact population down to the last casteless and goat, which meant the judges knew and simply did not care. Trying to kill all the casteless was madness. Previously, he’d made the mistake of voicing his disgust in the Chamber of Argument, as the clueless weaklings and sheltered fops had debated such a bloody scheme. If Omand wanted a crises sufficient to shake the Capitol, he was about to get one.
“You have the Law on your side,” Devedas said as he handed the letter back. “I’m sure your Thakoor will give you whatever support you need.”
Devedas turned back to look at his men. The youngest among them was Abhishek, but even he was a five-year senior. None of them were strangers to this kind of grisly business. They might not be as unfeeling about carrying out their darker duties as Black-Hearted Ashok had been, but the Law required Protectors who would do what was necessary and not flinch. If any of them objected to what was happening here, they were careful not to show it.
Suddenly there was a loud noise, like a crack of thunder. It made Devedas’ poorly trained horse rear back, frightened. As he got the beast back under control he demanded, “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” the risaldar said. “Excuse me, I must see to my men.”
The sound had come from inside the flaming casteless quarter. Two warriors came running out, dragging a third between them. That one was dangling limp, with a small wound on his back, and drizzling blood from a gaping hole in his chest. Whatever had struck him had punched a hole through his armor, front and back, and clean through his torso. They were carrying him to aid, but as the Protectors watched them go by, it was obvious that nothing would be able to save him.
“Curious,” said Abhishek, right before his head exploded.
Blood hit Devedas in the eyes as the sound of thunder washed over them. Abhishek toppled from the saddle as his horse bolted.
Devedas’ horse nearly threw him as well, but moving faster than any normal man could, he was able to dismount and jump aside to land smoothly.
Perplexed, Devedas wiped the blood from his face with one hand. Abhishek was lying in the mud. The top of the young Protector’s skull was split open as if it had been hit with a war hammer. Bone and brain were visible to the light of day and spread upon the ground. His eyes were open and staring. Even with the Heart of the Mountain to sustain their lives through terrible injuries, that blow had been so sudden, so devastating, that death had been instantaneous.
“What manner of witchcraft is this?” shouted Jamari as he ran to Abhishek’s side.
“Fortress magic,” Devedas snarled as he drew his sword. “Find the wizard!”
He ran in the direction the thunder had come from, leapt high over a burning tent, and landed on the other side in a clank of steel and rattle of chain. He moved through the swirling smoke, searching. Bits of burning felt were drifting into the sky. Then he saw a figure holding a strange device, still shrouded in a gray haze. Since warriors were running from him, that had to be the wizard. Furious, Devedas shoved the terrified soldiers out of his way.
But the wizard’s deadly magic had caused the casteless to rally. One of them charged him with a pitchfork. Devedas kicked the tines aside, slashed the thigh to the bone, and kept moving. Another threw a hatchet at him. Devedas caught it and hurled it right back, striking the casteless in the throat. He collapsed with a gurgle.
The wizard was wrestling with his strange device. It was about a foot and a half long and appeared to be made of metal and wood. He saw Devedas coming for him, and the look upon his soot-stained face was one of pure terror.
Devedas darted between the terrified casteless, rapidly closing the distance. The wizard pointed his device, but Devedas called upon the Heart to give him all the speed it could. A terrible roar and shower of orange sparks erupted from the wizard’s device and he felt something hot move past his cheek. Immediately behind him a casteless woman was knocked off her feet.
The magic must generate a great deal of force, because the device was lifted high, nearly torn from the wizard’s grasp, but he managed to bring it back down. It had produced even more of the odd white smoke. The lawbreaker reached for something tied to his waist—the horn of a bull—but whatever evil magic he intended to work with it, he never had the chance.
Devedas’ sword was forward curving in the southern style, made for removing limbs. He stepped through the haze and struck. The device went bouncing across the dirt, along with the wizard’s hand. Devedas kicked the wizard in the chest, launching him back ten feet. He landed on his back and slid away.
As he moved forward to finish the job, Devedas saw that this was no powerful wizard. He was filthy, terribly thin, and dressed in rags like the rest of the non-people. The kick had broken multiple ribs so he let out an agonized wail. The wail became even more pathetic when he realized his hand was missing, and began thrashing around, trying in vain to stop the gushing of his stump.
The other two Protectors caught up a breath later. Behind them was a pile of dying rebels who’d been foolish enough to get in their way.
“Secure the prisoner. Tie off his arm so he doesn’t bleed out. I want this one alive.”
Furious, Devedas walked to the device and picked it up. He had to shake it until the severed hand fell off. It was a curious thing, steel, with bits of moving brass on it, far heavier than it looked, and the metal part he was holding was hot to the touch. It didn’t seem so dangerous up close, but then he looked back toward the casteless woman who’d been struck by it instead of him. It had blown a hole clear through her guts. It was a ghastly and fatal injury. She may have only been a non-person, but Jamari bent down and quickly cut her throat anyway, mercifully ending her screaming.
They walked out of the burning quarter, Devedas with the killing device, and his men carrying their would-be wizard. Around them, the slaughter resumed. Now that the warriors knew there had been deadly Fortress magic hidden here, their savagery increased. Not that there had been much mercy given before, but it was an impossibility now. Warriors who trained their whole lives were especially offended by magic which could make pathetic non-people their equals in combat.
“Torture what you can out of him. I want to know where the rebels hide, and I want to know where he got this thing. I’ll be along shortly.”
Devedas stopped and knelt by Abhishek’s body. He had been a good man, reliable, and a loyal servant to the Law. They’d just spent months cold and hungry together, and it was easy to become fond of someone who suffered beside you. Now he’d have to strip him of his valuable armor and arrange for the locals to deal with his corpse.
They had an incredibly dangerous job, and it was rare for one of them to live long enough to complete their entire obligation and return to their house, yet every single death under his command seemed a great personal offense. First Ishaan, and now Abhishek. There would surely be many more to come. That thought pained him. For though Devedas was an ambitious man, he was not a disloyal one.
“Forgive me, Abhishek. I didn’t expect this. You deserved a better death.”
Talking to the dead was absurd. The Law declared there was nothing beyond this. Their lives were a temporary spark clad in flesh and bone, and when it was gone, that was all. Devedas reached down and closed the dead Protector’s eyes anyway.
As he walked away from the massacre, Devedas held the strange device up to the sun to study it. From the soot around the metal parts, it was obvious which was the dangerous end. It even had a strange and distinct smell, a mix of sulfur, charcoal, and urine. A Protector had senses which allowed them to see arrows coming and the reflexes to dodge out of the way. Even as fearsome a combatant as Abhishek was, he’d never even had a chance against this thing. If the casteless in this province had many more of these hidden, things could turn very ugly, very quickly.
“Pardon me, Lord Protector Devedas? Is that you?”
He turned to see the snarling face of the Law, and growled at the Inquisitor’s mask, “What do you want?” The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was the Inquisition.
“I was just informed of your arrival,” the Inquisitor said. “I’ve been ordered to observe this paltan as they participate in the test, in order to write a report about the results for the Capitol.”
He didn’t know this Inquisitor from any of the others, but he felt like he understood everyone in his rival order well enough. They were malicious, sneaky, liars without honor, the lot of them. The Inquisitor had even worn his fine metal mask, usually reserved for holidays and important events, instead of the more practical and comfortable cloth kind they were issued. He supposed in a way, today probably was a holiday for them.
“You can tell your master, Omand, that once the casteless who escape across the river into Dev or across the mountains into Thao tell the rest about this bloodbath, word will spread until every non-person in the world decides they have nothing left to lose. When they panic and rise up against their overseers, he’s sure to get that crisis he wants.”
The Inquisitor gave him a small bow. Another northerner then. “I don’t know what you speak of, but I will be sure to record your opinions on the matter and pass them on.” Then he nodded toward the device in Devedas’ hands. “If I may see that, please.”
“It killed one of my men.”
“My apologies, Lord Protector, but the Law is clear in such things. Seized illegal magic, especially items believed to have originated from the island of Fortress, are to be turned over to the Inquisition as soon as possible.” He held out one hand expectantly. “I will have it rushed back to the dome for study immediately.”
Devedas mulled over just killing the annoying man where he stood. That would be one way to end his report to the judges…But he was correct. The Law was clear. And more importantly, Devedas had made an arrangement with the Grand Inquisitor that greatly benefited them both. It would be unwise to jeopardize it over something so petty.
“Take it.” He smacked the mysterious weapon hard against the Inquisitor’s open palm. “And hope these rebels don’t have too many more of these.”
“That is doubtful, Lord Protector. Fortress seems to like annoying us by letting some of their craft out into the Law-abiding world, but they are too insular, too isolated, and the rebellion too poor to actively trade.” He took the device by the wooden handle. His eyes could be seen through the holes in his mask, and he seemed impressed by the thing. “We’ve found these before, but never one so compact. This would be easy for a rebel to conceal…Now, may I ask what brings you all the way out here?”
“It is none of your concern. I have other Protectors already on assignment in this region. Do you know their current location?”
“I do not. I can send for—”
“That will not be necessary.” Devedas began walking away.
“May I inquire if you are here searching for Ashok Vadal?”
Devedas didn’t bother to answer. He knew his former brother better than anyone else alive. From what he’d seen today, if Ashok had truly joined with the rebellion, he wouldn’t allow this carnage to continue unopposed. Anything Ashok considered a crime he would be compelled to stop. The object of his devotion might have changed, but Ashok never would.
The Inquisitor called after him. “Ashok Vadal hasn’t been seen for months. He could be hundreds of miles away.”
It wouldn’t matter if it was a thousand, Devedas knew that Ashok would be drawn here soon enough.