Shadowblood

Chapter Six

Two tall white-robed Terrarchs, faces gold-masked, led Rik through the Palace corridors. Four burly black-robed humans accompanied them, and their scarred and pock-marked faces were not masked. Rik could see that their tongues had been torn out. They were mutes of the sort that most conservative Terrarchs still favoured as servants. He doubted they would be able to read or write, but no doubt they could slit a throat or pin down a screaming prisoner with the best of them.

The Terrarchs did not speak to Rik nor did he attempt to start a conversation with them. Soldiers and Palace servants looked away as he passed. Most put their heads down and moved on swiftly, as if he were carrying some contagious disease and they did not want any exposure to it. He could not blame them for that, but it made him feel suddenly alone, in the middle of a Palace filled with people. He forced a smile on to his face. He was simply going to have to rely on his own wits and inner resources and put his faith in the long arm of Asea’s influence.

They made their way into the part of the building that Joran had taken for his people, and began to head down stairs. Rik’s heart sank as they descended, and then rose again just as quickly when he saw they were merely going down a couple of floors and not heading for the cellars. He needed to get a better grip on his emotions, but it was difficult when all control over his circumstances appeared to have slipped from his grasp.

He recalled some of Asea’s words. A sorcerer must be able to control his own mind and his feelings. Often they are the only things that he will have control over, and mastery of the external world flows from mastery of the inner one. He tried to take them to heart as they approached the door of the Inquisitor’s chambers and one of his escorts gave a discrete coded knock.

“Enter,” said the Inquisitor within.

Joran wore no mask. He was dressed in the sort of tunic that the upper echelons of Terrarch society used for less formal meetings. It was white and trimmed with green, the traditional colour of Al’Terra. Discrete golden studs, cast in the shape of an eye, held the collar in place. A golden sash was wound round his waist.

The chamber was luxuriously furnished, and a number of books lined the shelves. A small table stood between two high backed chairs. On it were two glasses and a bottle of wine.

“Be seated,” said Joran pleasantly. Rik was immediately on guard. The High Inquisitor waved his henchmen away, leaving them alone in the room. Rik glanced around, wondering about hidden listeners, and guards. He did not doubt that there would be some. He sat down and once he had done so, the Inquisitor did the same.

Rik studied Joran. The Inquisitor was handsome in the lean, narrow-jawed manner of the Terrarchs. His eyes were very dark, his ears lobeless and finely pointed. His silver hair was cropped short in a manner that was not fashionable. His features were very pale, which Rik assumed came from constantly wearing his mask.

“I have heard a lot about you,” said Joran. His voice was pleasant, his manner agreeable. At this moment, it was hard to imagine someone who sounded less like an Inquisitor, which made Rik even more tense. Joran noticed.

“Relax. We are not ogres. I am not going to put you to the Test of Iron and Fire.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” said Rik, not wanting to say anything, but finding that there was something about the Inquisitor’s manner that made him want to babble. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. This too did not go unnoticed.

“Your patron is very powerful, and she has petitioned the Queen to have you adopted into her House. I am here to ascertain whether you are worthy of such an honour.”

Rik very seriously doubted that this was the only reason why Joran was talking to him, but it hardly seemed diplomatic to point this out.

“I appreciate you coming all this way,” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Joran chose to ignore it.

“It is very unusual for a half-breed to be adopted into the ranks of one of our oldest clans. In fact, I cannot think of a single example of it. The adoption laws were meant for full-blooded Terrarchs. The Lady Asea must think very highly of you.”

“I’m afraid you will have to ask her about that.” There was something lulling about the Inquisitor’s gentle tones. Rik found himself echoing his manner. Was there some sorcery at work here, or some narcotic incense in the air? If there was he could not identify it, and this did not seem like the time for cleansing ritual sorcery.

“I have and she does.”

“I am grateful for her kind words.”

“As is only proper. Her attention is a great honour. She is one of the First, and one of the greatest of all Terrarchs. I have long been an admirer of hers.”

I’ll bet you have, thought Rik. Sincere as Joran sounded, Rik did not believe him for a second. He could not help but see the Inquisitor as an enemy, and that made him doubt anything Joran said.

“Have you any idea of your parentage?” Joran asked.

“None,” said Rik. “I was brought up in Temple Orphanage in Sorrow.”

“From which you vanished aged about eight or nine years old.”

So he knew about that. Rik felt the jaws of the trap beginning to close. “I left.”

“You left?” There was a certain amount of amusement in Joran’s voice. “You simply walked out.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I was not happy there.”

“What made you unhappy?”

Rik shrugged. “Discipline. I did not like being made to learn to read and write. I did not like the masters, or the work they made us do.” It was hard to keep the bitterness from his voice even now.

“A great many people would have been grateful for such an education. You were being taught an uncommon skill, one that would have fitted you for gainful employment.”

“Alas I did not appreciate that at the time. And by the time I had found out how hard life was on the streets, I could not go back. I knew they would not take me.”

Joran appeared sympathetic. “How then did you survive?”

“Begging, and scavenging.”

“Until you went for a soldier.”

“Yes.”

“You joined the Seventh when you were fifteen. That means you must have spent a considerable time on the streets.”

“Yes.”

“Many would not have survived that.”

“I was lucky.”

“You certainly seem to be, to have made your way from the streets of Sorrow, to the corridors of this Palace. I don’t think anyone could deny you are very lucky.”

“I am aware of it.”

“Your military record was not so distinguished, at least to begin with. I notice you were flogged, at the order of Lieutenant Sardec.”

“You have obviously read my record. I’m afraid it shows I was never good at taking discipline.”

“Yes, it does. At the same time, I can see that you were commended for bravery on a number of occasions, and were selected for the Foragers from the line company. That shows your commanders must have thought you a superior soldier.”

What it really showed was that Weasel and the Quartermaster considered him a superior thief, and had a use for his talents. They had seen to it he was transferred. If the Inquisitor did not know that, Rik was not going to tell him. “Again, you would have to ask them.”

“I already have. They agree. And you have since distinguished yourself in a number of ways.”

“I have done my best to serve the Queen.”

“Tell me about Achenar.”

Rik told him about the buried city of the ancients, and the Spider-Demons that inhabited it. He found himself shivering as he recollected the dank depths and the sinister things that scuttled there. He told him about the summoning of Uran Ultar and the way Sardec lost his hand, and how he himself had shot the Prophet Zarahel. Joran was a good listener. He concentrated on Rik’s words most flatteringly, and when he finished said, “So far your every word accords with what others have told me.” There was a slight note of insinuation in his voice.

Before he could stop himself Rik said, “And why not? It’s the truth.”

“I never said differently. I find the whole thing fascinating. So it was your deeds in Achenar that brought you to the Lady Asea’s attention.”

“I believe so. I had never met her before then.”

“Indeed. And she certainly chose to place great trust in you. I mean she selected you to infiltrate the Serpent Tower and rescue Queen Kathea.”

“I volunteered,” said Rik, a little too quickly for his own liking. It was a lie too. Asea had given him no choice in the matter.

“Why did she do that?” There was a cat-like quality to the Inquisitor’s manner now, as if he were coming to the part that really interested him, and where he expected Rik to trip himself up.

“Someone had to do it.”

“And she chose you. To sneak into one of the best protected fortresses in the world, wrapped round with charms woven by an ancient race, and bound to the service of one of the greatest Terrarch wizards. That was quite a feat.”

“She provided me with counter-magic.”

“And we both know that Lady Asea is the greatest of all Terrarch sorcerers.” There was a note of sardonic mockery in Joran’s voice now, as if he knew something that Rik did not, and was simply waiting for the contradictions to emerge.

He knows nothing, Rik told himself. He’s simply insinuating things and hoping you’ll make a mistake.

“I am in no position to judge that.”

“She has been teaching you magic. She told me that.” Rik shrugged, not wanting to say anything incriminating. He was really starting to dislike this one-sided game, where all the cards were stacked in Joran’s favour. Joran made a deprecating gesture with his right hand and said, “If you are a Terrarch that would not be a crime.”

“And we are here to decide whether I am a Terrarch, are we not?”

“Amongst other things. How did you get into the Serpent Tower?”

“In a cart, hidden among supplies.”

“And that was before the Tower vanished.”

“You know it was.”

“And yet even after the Tower vanished, you managed to escape along with the Queen. That is quite a feat.”

“We used an ancient escape device.” Joran raised an eyebrow. Rik understood now why the Inquisitor was not wearing a mask. His features were very expressive, and at this moment they expressed mocking disbelief.

“It was fortunate you knew how to do that?”

“I was told how to use it.”

“By Asea?”

“No, by a Serpent Man whom Ilmarec had enslaved.”

“Why did he do that?”

“He hated Ilmarec and wanted revenge.”

“How did Ilmarec make the Tower vanish?”

“You would have to ask him.”

“I would love to. Sadly he is not available for questioning. Witnesses claim the entire tower rose into the sky.”

“That it did.”

“Asea was attacked by a Nerghul while you were in Morven.”

“Yes, she was.”

“Do you know who sent it?”

“Why should I?”

“Perhaps she mentioned her suspicions to you. It is the product of the darkest sort of necromancy.”

“I am willing to believe that.”

“Very kind of you to say so.” For the first time a hint of annoyance appeared in Joran’s voice, and with it a measure of threat. Rik wondered if he was going to call for his henchmen and order him dragged off to the cellars.

If that were the case, Joran himself would be dead in a very few heartbeats. As soon as he made the decision, Rik relaxed. He was committed to a course of action now. He was not powerless; whatever happened here he would share his suffering with this arrogant fop who had under-estimated him.

Joran’s head tilted to one side as if he had noticed the change come over Rik. Perhaps he had. The Inquisitor probably had several centuries of experience interrogating humans. He pushed his chair back a little, as if he was the one who felt threatened. He took a deep breath and steepled his fingers, the very picture of a Terrarch in control of himself and the situation. Rik wondered what magic Joran knew and whether it could protect him. He could not help but feel that the Inquisitor had made a mistake by agreeing to talk to him alone. Perhaps Joran had begun to realise it too.

“Yes,” said Joran, after a long pause. “The darkest sort of necromancy, a sort they are most familiar with in Sardea.”

“I have never been there.”

“And yet you know the Lady Tamara.” Shock surged through Rik. How did the Inquisitor know about that? He kept silent, staring at Joran, waiting for some cue. Joran’s smile widened a fraction. He gazed at a point somewhere over Rik’s shoulder. It was all Rik could do to keep from turning his head to see if someone was sneaking up behind him. He did not want to take his eyes of the Inquisitor though.

“You talked to her in secret at the House of Sardontine.” Rik felt almost like laughing in spite of the trap opening at his feet. He had feared the Inquisitor would accuse him of many things, but being a Sardean spy was not one of them.

“Who told you that?”

“The Inquisition has eyes and ears everywhere. You were seen to disappear into Lady Sardontine’s chambers. Most people assume you were having a tryst with the Lady herself. I have reason to think that you were consorting with one of the Dark Empire’s most effective agents.”

Joran smiled. “Does Lady Asea know about that?”

“Well?” asked Joran. “Does Asea know?”

“Does it matter?”

“It might. If, for instance, she has been dealing with the Sardeans and you were merely her agent, then perhaps you could save yourself by telling us the truth.”

“Is that how it goes?”

“I don’t know. Enlighten me.”

“Asea has not been dealing with the Sardeans.”

“Yet she met with Malkior in Harven. We know this. So did you, as a matter of fact.”

Was Joran merely fishing? What did he really know? “I met him at a ball given by the Harven Council of Merchants.

“Of course, what else did you think I meant?”

“Nothing. I was merely stating a fact. If by having contact with the Sardeans, you mean meeting someone at a ball, I am sure many other people must qualify for that as well.”

“You are not in any position to get clever with me, youth. Let me spell things out- in Morven, you met with Tamara and Jaderac. So did Asea. In Harven you met with Tamara’s father, Lord Malkior. Here in Halim you personally met with Tamara again. Shortly after all of these events, Queen Kathea was assassinated, by Lord Malkior, who it is claimed you then killed. Have I summarised events correctly?”

“Yes.”

“You can see that it would not take much effort on any fair minded person’s part to put a somewhat sinister interpretation on these events.”

“I can think of other interpretations, such as the truth.”

“Ah, the truth. At long last we get to it. So tell me what is the truth of these matters?”

“Tamara and Jaderac were already at Morven. They had business with Ilmarec, were trying to win him over to the Sardean cause. They were not then the enemy. We were not at war with Sardea.”

“That has changed. What makes you think Malkior killed Kathea?”

He told me so, Rik wanted to say, but common sense kept him polite. “He was there. He had blood on him. He boasted of what he did.”

“To you. There are no other witnesses.”

“I am surprised that you cannot produce some. You seem to have them for everything else.”

“I am not sure I like your tone.”

“And I am not sure that I like yours. Perhaps we can both do our best to be polite under the circumstances.” Rik wondered if the Inquisitor was really as shocked as he looked. It was possible he was not used to being talked to in this fashion.

“Your patron is very powerful, and her influence shields you to a certain extent, but it is unwise to make me angry.”

Rik knew that was undoubtedly the case. He bit back a hasty retort and spread his hands apologetically. “I do not like being accused of being a Sardean spy. All my life I have been a loyal subject of the Queen. I swore an oath to serve her as a soldier.”

He sounded quite sincere, even to his own ears, and he suspected it was really the case. He was loyal to Asea and the army, and he supposed when push came to shove he was loyal to Talorea as well. If humans had to live under Terrarch rule then better there than Sardea, that was for sure.

Joran pushed his advantage. “What did you talk to Tamara about?”

“She wanted me to kill Asea. She offered me quite a lot of money to do so.”

“You admit you talked with an agent of a foreign power about assassinating a high noble of the realm.”

“It seemed like the best way of finding out what she wanted. As your spies have no doubt informed you, Lady Asea is still alive.”

“You are starting to be insolent again, young man.” Joran stressed the word man as if it were an insult. Rik paused and took a deep breath, calming himself, unwilling to be provoked further, to cede the advantage in this interrogation.

“I resent the insinuation that I might actually wish to do harm to my patron, the one who shields me, as you have pointed out, from your wrath.”

“Does Asea know of your discussions with Tamara?”

“Of course- who do you think told me to go ahead with the meeting?” That was something a Terrarch would have no trouble believing. Humans were notoriously incapable of independent thought as far as they were concerned.

“So you are saying that Lady Asea ordered you to make contact with an agent of a foreign power.”

“For purposes of finding out what that agent wanted.”

Joran looked at him. “How much did Tamara offer you to kill Asea?”

“As much as I was prepared to ask for. She told me the Queen-Empress herself would not be ungrateful.”

“Were you tempted?”

“I have no sympathy with the Sardean cause and would do nothing to further it.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“I was not tempted. Anyone can make promises. Asea has done more than talk.”

“I could have you burned at the stake simply for talking to Tamara. You know that?”

This was the crux of the matter, Rik thought. “You could have my life for many things. We both know that. You are an Inquisitor. I am a human.”

“No, youth, you are not. You are a Terrarch and must be tried as such. I have made my decision on that at least.”

Rik was taken off balance by this sudden switch, as he suspected the Inquisitor wanted him to be. Joran smiled. “Do not worry. You are not beyond my reach. If I decide you are guilty of treason, your action will stain a Terrarch house. Lady Asea’s actions have consequences for others beside you.”

“I expect she knows that.”

“Yes. I expect she does. You are free to go.”

“Inquisitor Joran thinks he’s being subtle,” said Asea. She sat by the fire, a book of ancient sorcery open on her lap.

“In what way?”

“He is making it very clear to all that you are my creature, Rik. I petitioned the Queen to make it so. Any disgrace that befalls you will be associated with me. He is forcing me to protect you in order to protect myself and my House. He thinks it will constrain my ability to manoeuvre.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Yes. The process has already begun. I made the petition before Kathea was killed when you were still the hero of the hour. Now Kathea is dead and suspicion falls on you, and by implication on me. Recognising you as my ward emphasises this. There are many ways he could build a case against me, if that is what he wishes.”

“Do you think he does?”

“You have a lot to learn about politics.”

“Tell me something I do not know, Milady.”

“I am a power in the land, Rik. There are many beholden to me for favours, and some think I have influence on the Queen herself. Perhaps once I did.”

“I do not follow.”

“Inquisitor Joran is a very ambitious fellow. He is looking for leverage on me to further his own aims. I have no doubt that at some point down the road, some well prepared case will be shown to me, and I will be asked to do something for him in return for getting it dropped. It will probably be done in such a way that it will be easier to buy him off than to fight it.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“No, Rik. It’s politics.”

“What if he is sincere? What if he really decides he wants to bring you down?”

Asea laughed. “Others have tried in the past, Rik. I am still here.”

Rik hoped she was not the one being over-confident now.